Issue 73: The Domestication of 90s Indie Rock

o 52 From Groupie Freaks Geeks | |22 18 Interview The Future Funky: A History ofQuest Afrofuturism in Music | 20 | 28 A | 40The Revival of Pop Music N| o 73 FallN2023 Where in the WorldtoisTumblr Masochism? withIsTJ Connelly for Transcendence 43

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Staff Staff Writers Ahaan Chaudhuri Aki Gaythwaite Alexandra Anderson Alexandra Fu Amy Oh Ananya Chaudhuri Ashley Hart Bryana Dawkins Cameron Alsop Camille Amaditz Chelsea Henderson Connor Briston Dakota Castro Jarrett Emily Greenberg Ethan Matthews Ev Ogier Gabriel Winston-Bailey Gabriella Trinidad

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Genevieve Kopp Sofia Kolobaev Niko Mallias Phoebe Moore Bella Ramdayal Alexa Rand Tabby Randlett Roshni Subramonian Sofie Wendell Michelle Wu Lily Zanze Photography Michael Ault Michelle Wu Alejandro Hernandez Margot Murphy Elizabeth Zhu Jackson Goodman Nivedita Pai Gwen Egan Edzani Kelapile Olivia Watson Krista Brochu Max Rizzuto Charlotte Hysen Anna Kelly Hannah Bocian Justine Tam Seha Khan Adriana Olea Sophie Quisenberry Samantha Davidson Sebastian Wicke Thea Keene Elizabeth Scholl BellaJoli Gedeon Mia Rapella Charlie Bershatsky Claire Adner Emily Boyl Tara Milani Isabella Pozzi Alex DuBois Genevieve Kopp Maya Solanki Victoria Brennick Kelly Thomas Jace Arrigali Helen Cai Emily Kobren Mukki Gill Praagna Kashyap Emily Zakrzewski Coby Sugars Emma Lawson Ashlynn Braisted Muhammad Elarbi Faith Nguyen Kimmy Curry Emily Greenberg Julia Finocchiaro Alder Whiteford Taliyah Fox

Meet the Staff

About Mica Kahn Position Promotions Major Cultural Anthropology Graduating Spring 2025 Favorite Venue Gillette Stadium Tastemaker Since Fall 2022

Farah Caban Position Design Major Business and Design Graduating Spring 2025 Favorite Venue The Warfield, CA Tastemaker Since Spring 2023

Ev Ogier Position Staff Writer Major English Graduating Spring 2024 Favorite Venue Paradise Rock Club Tastemaker Since Fall 2022

Gwen Egan Position Photo Major Journalism & Design Graduating Spring 2024 Favorite Venue Sinclair Tastemaker Since Fall 2023

Listening to

Jungle Volcano Zach Bryan & Maggie Rogers “Dawns”

Quote

“Let me do some reconnaissance real quick.”

The 1975 “About You”

Taylor Swift 1989 (Taylor’s Version)

“Sounds about right.”

Gorillaz Demon Days Two Door Cinema Club “Sun”

Pretty Sick Makes Me Sick Makes Me Smile Blur “Coffee & TV”

“Does anyone else want to talk about American rock band My Chemical Romance?”

Car Seat Headrest “Martin”

Searows “Funny” Katy Kirby “Cubic Zirconia” Slaughter Beach, Dog “My Sister in Jesus Christ”

“‘I love you. I’m glad I exist.”

Daniel Caesar, MGM Music Hall

Photo by Alder Whiteford (Computer Science & Finance)

Table of Contents Cover Story

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The Domestication of 90s Indie Rock

Editorials

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It seems like rock music has always struggled with growing up, but the 90s and early 2000s were a time when great American rock bands grappled with maturity.

Features

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Towards a Phonk-y Future: On Drift Phonk, Funk, and Their Collective Past Drift phonk has proliferated in the past few years through globalism, internet subcultures, and the streaming economy. How did we get here, and what’s next for the ever-metastasizing genre?

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Better Off (Leaving Lazy Interpolations) Alone?

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In a time where the state of the world requires faith and even the once devoutly religious are turning to secularism, the dancefloor’s uncomplicated road to spirituality is vital.

Where in the World is Masochism? The Search for Sky Ferreira’s Second Album While record labels may be a necessary evil, Sky Ferreira’s ever-elusive sophomore album Masochism is proof that an artistic vision can be hard fought.

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Before the Algorithm, There Was Bandcamp TikTok stardom may be the most common way for an artist to succeed now, but audio distribution service Bandcamp has been a stalwart for artist discovery for years.

Interpolations in modern pop music seem to be getting lazier and lazier, made worse by industry trends, TikTok, and music marketing.

A Quest for Transcendence: Finding Spirituality on the Dancefloor

Doja Cat’s Demons: A Calculated Character Shift Fans once knew Doja Cat as a bubbly, charismatic pop persona, but the controversial shift in her image may be more intentional than meets the eye.

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Q&A With TJ Connelly, Boston Sports’ Most Prolific DJ Tastemakers recently sat down with sports DJ TJ Connelly of Fenway Park and TD Garden fame, discussing energizing miserable crowds, championship parades, and sneaking 100 gecs into Boston sports.

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Inside Boston’s Gay Clubs: An Interview with DJ Stevie Psyclone DJ Stevie Psyclone, prolific in the queer Boston nightlife scene, talks about formative gay clubs, queer solidarity, and Chappell Roan.

Reviews

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Show Reviews Lana Del Rey

Album Reviews Eartheater, Olivia Rodrigo, Kylie Minogue, James Blake

Interviews

Etcetera

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A Conversation with Hotline TNT Hear from Hotline TNT frontman Will Anderson on their upcoming album Cartwheel, signing to a label, and Drake.

Taste of Nostalgia: Turn on the Bright Lights by Interpol Staff Writer Terrance Dumoulin takes a retrospective look at Interpol’s 2002 existential classic.

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Just a Taste Of: Liloh

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Discography: Beck

Get a sneak peak into the artistic mind of Liloh, Northeastern’s newest indie prodigy.

Take a closer look at some of the most impactful, and disastrous, work of the alternative icon’s career.

Calendar November Su

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Flo Milli

Runner

Tinashe

S.G. Goodman

House of Blues

Crystal Ballroom

Brighton Music Hall

The Sinclair

Kesha MGM Music Hall Eloise

Addison Grace

Dillon Francis

Brighton Music Hall

The Grand

Royale

Big Night Live

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Ritt Momney

Yeah Yeah Yeahs

GAYLE

Rod Wave

The Sinclair

MGM Music Hall

Brighton Music Hall

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6LACK

Roosevelt

MGM Music Hall

Paradise Rock Club

Afrojack

Roadrunner

RL Grime

Big Night Live

Galantis

Bob Dylan

Roadrunner

Jonas Blue

Big Night Live

Orpheum

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The Grand

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The 1975

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Hot Mulligan

Tool

Lost Kings

TD Garden

House of Blues

TD Garden

Slaugher Beach, Dog

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The Grand

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Men I Trust

Beach Fossils

Liz Phair

KOTA The Friend

Lil Uzi Vert

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House of Blues

Roadrunner

Paradise Rock Club

MGM Music Hall

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Earl Sweatshirt Royale

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Haley Heynderickx

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Bea Miller

Hunter Hayes

Paradise Rock Club

Paradise Rock Club

Andrew McMahon

Nation of Language

Club Passim Roadrunner

The Sinclair

Rockommends

Jeremy Zucker November 5 @ Roadrunner

The 1975 November 12 @ TD Garden

For the more introverted concert goer, Jeremy Zucker’s “is nothing sacred?” tour is the perfect blend of passionate vocals and emotional storytelling.

Coming to the Roadrunner on November 5th, feel a sense of belonging at Zucker’s intimate concert and answer the question: Is nothing sacred?

In case you haven’t heard, the 1975 are “Still at Their Very Best,” and they’re playing at TD Garden on November 12th. Don’t miss your chance to hear all their greatest hits and witness their unique, captivating performance before they (maybe) go on hiatus.

Noam Dor (Music Industry)

Phoebe Moore (Psychology)

December Su

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Stephen Sanchez

Doja Cat & Ice Spice

Roadrunner

TD Garden

Gus Dapperton Royale

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Ezra Furman

Oso Oso

Model/Actriz

Peppa Pig

The Rockwell

Palladium

Brighton Music Hall

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Lowell Memorial

Anjimile

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The Japanese House

Mariah Carey

Roadrunner

TD Garden

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Aqua

Darren Criss

Inst. of Contemp. Art

House of Blues

Emerson Colonial

Alanna Springsteen

Theatre

Roadrunner

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iHeartRadio Jingle Ball

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Travis Scott

Travis Scott

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Steve Aoki Big Night Live

Aqua December 6 @ House of Blues

Ms. Lauryn Hill and Fugees December 13 @ TD Garden

Come on, Barbie, let’s go party! The DanishNorwegian dance-pop group, Aqua, will be at House of Blues on December 6th. Join Aqua for the Barbie World Tour and dance the night away.

“Ready or Not,” here she comes! R&B legend Ms. Lauryn Hill will be stopping through Boston on December 13th, accompanied by the Fugees. This world-famous hip-hop trio is sure to put on an iconic show, where you can here some of the most influential hits to come out of the 1990s.

Mica Kahn (Cultural Anthropology)

Lily Zanze (Political Science and International Affairs)

Editorial

Doja Cat’s Demons: A Calculated Character Shift Over the past decade, Doja Cat has advantageously employed the limelight to create a lovable and light-hearted persona, easing her way into fans’ minds and hearts. With simple yet unforgettable lyricism, distinct, spirited production, and an infectious affinity for playfulness, Doja Cat escalated to great heights in her music career, capturing devoted and passionate fans along the way. Her vibrant, flirtatious character was so fascinating to audiences that it had practically absolved her from all prior defamations and attempts at cancellation: racism in her early works and in the online space, public outbursts at celebrities and fans alike, and a generally unapologetic attitude towards her past. The vast majority of her audience was ready to forgive and forget at the drop of a new single, knowing that the latest trending song she released would inevitably be irresistible.

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With this power, however, came a darker underbelly.

In the later months of 2023, Doja Cat transformed her bubbly online personality into something of a satanic monstrosity.

Starting by shaving her head and eyebrows, fans expressed concern as she tugged at the strings of mental health, stating she was looking for control in her career. Tired of being an industry puppet and facing constant criticism in every avenue, she was nearly pushed to the brink of leaving music forever. Her hunger to break ties with the character she upheld eventually reached a pinnacle, leading to her sudden, jarring changes in appearance.

Demonic imagery painted her page, establishing a new satanic aesthetic that was the complete antithesis of her previously bright image. Contrasting greatly from the

protective and defensive stance fans took for her prior controversies, a premature post-mortem for Doja Cat began without hesitation. With a simple shoulder shrug, audiences chalked up her new, crazed state to a side-effect of fame, and longed for what once was. They missed their favorite SoundCloud veteran, the up-and-coming singer and rapper with a sharp ear for R&B melodies, and of course, the silly internet meme they could laugh with. Her humor contributed greatly to the allure of her persona, giving people another glimpse into the normal-person-turned-popstar pipeline in an unconventional yet endearing way.

Her 2018 novelty hit “Mooo!” especially characterized her as a goofball, enamoring

fans, while showcasing her ability to work in tandem with punctuated lyrics and a whimsical yet hypnotic track.

Using this momentum, Doja Cat’s electric debut studio album, Amala, established her signature sound in a very public way. Alternating between raunchy tracks like “Wine Pon You” and “Candy,” impishly playful songs like “Go To Town,” and punchy tracks like “Tia Tamera,” she was consistently dynamic and devoted to crafting an original, mesmerizing sound on the album. This momentum only snowballed further the following year when she released her sophomore album Hot Pink. Recreating the same balance of fresh, flirtatious, and fun music, her already well-known releases amassed viral success. With TikTok in its prime over the 2020 quarantine, several Doja Cat’s songs were swallowed by the platform and spit out as trends, taking the form of lip syncs, dances, comedy bits, or thirst traps. Soon, no one could stop talking about her music; it was nearly impossible

for OG fans to gatekeep her talent any longer as she was swept fervently into the mainstream. She quickly reigned as a champion in each genre she dipped her toe in, creating a greater amalgamation of those genres as she went. She collaborated with artists across pop, rap, and R&B, introducing herself to the smallest minority of people that didn’t already recognize her music.

Undeniable talent paired with a delightful, magnetic personality, particularly following the release of her third album, Planet Her, captivated pretty much anyone that crossed her path. Her creative vision for the album and in her music videos was radiant, with a slight tone of mischief. Her chemistry with her features — namely SZA, The Weeknd, Saweetie, and Megan Thee Stallion — was easily observed by viewers and portrayed eye-catching, memorable narratives related to the song’s lyrics.

Regardless of the nature of the song, neither the videos nor the performances took on an intense feeling of severity. Even when her

songs took on darker or more painful subject matter, Doja Cat always had a way of making it both enjoyable and relatable in a way that was entirely her own.

Understandably so, many years of rigorously maintaining the same character and caliber of work with no room to expand, grow, or explore novel concepts made her sinister social media appearances almost inevitable. While she emerged as fresh as a rose from the concrete, many were shocked at the inconceivable number of thorns, and were ultimately scared away. She made an effort to maintain a “meme-like” approach to her social media content, but disdained the aesthetic she’d perfected, again claiming that industry motives had always dictated her self-portrayal. The claim may have merit, but her indisputable charm and personality that came alongside the music seemed

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Editorial Designer: Jamie Tishkoff (Business Administration and Design) Fall 2023

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anything but industry manufactured. In fact, for many, it was that genuine, fun-loving behavior that was a leading factor of her growth.

Still, perhaps it was a necessary break from being the beloved pop star, a role that undeniably harbors enormous pressure, and one that requires too many hands on an artist’s creativity. Her virality at times seemed to misconstrue the essence of her music, squeezing her into a “perfect package” of palatable, republishable, trendy nonsense. Her original works were constantly appropriated into soundbytes, taking away the value of the cohesive narratives she was creating. Combined with being social media’s favorite object of scorn, it was clear that the only way to release herself was a carefully calculated change into an entirely new entity.

Doja Cat’s Instagram showcased handmade paintings of demonic figures, a sculpture of herself covered in blood, tattoos with cryptic messaging and animal skeletons, and digitally-morphed photos of her face turned into an alien-like creature.

It wasn’t quite the bubble-gum princess aesthetic adopted by “Kiss Me More,” and

was certainly not welcomed as such. With no releases in two years and a startling amount of shock value, people began speculating that the sudden tone shift was a ploy for attention.

Aggressively grabbing this sentiment by the throat, Doja Cat released a single, justly titled “Attention,” alluding to her struggles; her lyricism depicted her frustration in not being able to clearly articulate who she is, and that her efforts are often discredited and made fun of. The content of the song was incredibly compelling, showing maturity and self-awareness not present on social media. In fact, her social media undoubtedly alienates the same content creators that only celebrate the Doja Cat marketed to the masses, and draws in those who are willing to discover what more she has to offer.

Her strategy has played a vital role in the successful release of her newest album, Scarlet, where she shows incredible range in composition, lyricism, and style. Her true versatility shines through each track, showing great intention and deliberation for the narrative she wants to deliver. She fools around with the same joking tone from Amala but swirls it with

a darker, harsher production and delivery that parallels the darkness in her media bursts. She dexterously weaves in the same qualities of her prior music with a newfound sophistication, drawing from her lived experience and inner turmoil to show the urgency of her decisions.

Doja Cat’s personality shift demands to be recognized in her album, and is a masterclass in the art of surprise. Now, for the first time, it’s no longer up to the collective to decide on the merit of her music; it’s the individual that gets to buy in.

Undertaking such a monumental change could have landed her in a world of hurt and disrespect, but her skillful maneuvers and love for sour taste was plenty to send her on her way to being completely invincible.

• Snehaa Ram (Business Administration and Communication Studies)

Taste Of Nostalgia:

By Interpol Recommended Tracks: “Hands Away” “Leif Erikson” center stage and unifies the noise, elevating it to something entirely unique. Songs bleed into each other conceptually, nurturing an almost unconscious raising and dampening of moods. This is to say that the music itself – divorced from the record’s overarching themes of pining, desperation, and nostalgia for a reality that could have been – has the ability to lord over the listener effortlessly.

The album’s heavy emotional weight doesn’t hinder its listening experience either. Just when you think a track is becoming boring or played out, its entire sonic landscape will turn on its head, leading into high intensity bridges or abrupt transitions to another track. The band seemed to know exactly how much instrumental upset and psychological distress someone could take without completely falling apart, and would bring listeners to the brink again and again.

Even with the strong, consistent lyrical motifs, each track is able to stand on its own as a singular listening experience. “Untitled” is a masterclass in tone-setting despite only containing a single verse. Songs like “Obstacle 1” and “PDA” drip with urgency and the band’s cry to be loved. They also happen to be songs that demand some sort of movement – it’s an impossible task to stay totally still while listening. Even on the vulnerable and borderline unbearably raw tracks like “Hands Away,” there is an intense swell of rhythm and movement. Instruments fade in and out of frame, bolstered by Banks’ vocal delivery. No matter how depressing or emotionally jarring a track feels to the listener, Banks seemed to feel worse based on his singing alone.

Comparisons were drawn between the band and the British post-punk scene of the early 1980s, particularly Joy Division. While

critics initially claimed that Banks invoked Ian Curtis through parallels of gloomy vocals and relatively monotone delivery, it was clear that Interpol was entirely its own entity. This is especially seen on “NYC” and “Roland.”

The former introduces the album name through continuously repeating “It’s up to me now, turn on the bright lights” over the signature split-guitar and unifying bass riffs.

With a subtle twist of irony, Interpol created a perfect love song to an imperfect New York, whether it loved them or not. “Roland” pierces the melancholic veil, bringing together intense energy and borderline violent lyrics in a frantic and disturbing track.

The album ends on a slower but equally tense note with “Leif Erikson,” driving home themes of unrequited love both with the city they came up in and in Banks’ personal life. The final track also dials back the instruments and lets Banks’ lyrics really shine through, painting a simultaneously vivid and abstract picture to be left with.

Turn on the Bright Lights was the culmination of years toiling in relative obscurity while acts signed deals and embarked on world tours around them.

Luckily, it opened the door to a wider audience and solidified the band’s resolve to make it in the scene. Now, just over 21 years later, the album is seen as one of just a handful of defining records of the post-9/11 New York DIY scene. Despite coming from and reacting to an incredibly tumultuous time, the music itself is still poignant. Interpol was able to create something that tapped into universal feelings of loss, heartbreak, and struggle, securing its place in history.

• Terrance Dumoulin (Civil Engineering and Architectural Studies)

Designer: Karlee Malcolm (Design)

Y2K New York City was an explosion of creativity across indie rock and post-punk.

Bands such as The Moldy Peaches, The Strokes, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and LCD Soundsystem all broke onto the scene around the same time. Each band enthralled the masses in their own way, but the 2001 terrorist attacks forever altered the scene, turning teenage angst and energy into sorrow and uncertainty. No act was so able to tap into the sudden melancholy of the times as Interpol.

Turn on the Bright Lights was released in August 2002 to critical acclaim, offering a less cheery and carefree take on the times than other bands they had come up alongside. Droning guitar-led arrangements propel listeners through the album, all guided

by Paul Banks’ emotionally gutting, haunted vocal efforts. Despite seeing friends and other colleagues succeed around them in the years leading up to their signing with Matador, the band refused to compromise their sound and play copycat. The result was an entirely new sonic addition to the scene. Turn on the Bright Lights matched the despair and painful confusion that enveloped post-9/11 New York City through songs that were pure tension without any sort of tangible release. Every aspect of their sound felt planned to maximize urgency without a specific direction. Before their debut album, Interpol could have been passed over as an overly angsty group of losers; after, it was clear that they dealt in something far more existentially pressing.

Nearly every track on the record incorporates repetitive instrumental passages marked by separate, largely discordant guitar riffs. As each song risked being torn apart from the inside, bass takes

Etcetera

“Untitled” “PDA”

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Feature

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You’ve spent years refurbishing your 2009 Honda Civic into an ear-splitting, drag-racing, exquisite machine. The souped-up monstrosity isn’t just a bright red hunk of roaring metal with threefoot rear fins and no mufflers at all, it’s your baby. And it’s time to share your baby with the world — on TikTok, of course. You’ve already meticulously curated your edit compiling epic shots of your ride, and now all you need is an equally swaggering soundtrack. The only option is phonk, a genre dripping with edginess and choice drifting accompaniment. “Murder In My Mind” by Kordhell is the obvious pick; not only will its massive popularity garner more views, but your Civic deserves the most legendary of tracks.

The car community isn’t the only one obsessed with the phonk sound. Weightlifting videos, reality TV edits, and catwalk compilations are but a few short-form video genres that frequently use the music.

Its characteristic powerful basslines, high BPM, and distorted hiphop samples make it perfect for any adrenaline-inducing content, insinuating an aura of general power and coolness less effective in other genres. But this universality has led to its appropriation by equally problematic groups, particularly far-right political figureheads and propaganda machines. It’s just as easy to find a video of Shalom Harlow strutting down the runway as it is to see a rousing Trump campaign speech followed by a highlight reel of his most memorable public appearances — all set to the sound of phonk. Compilations showing political commentators “owning the libs” have become somewhat synonymous with phonk, and the genre’s intrinsic qualities only serve to enhance and proliferate the magnitude of these figures.

But phonk music’s origins are a far cry from its current online uses. Today’s phonk is really a distinctive subgenre “drift phonk” after its titular use in the drift community, which evolved from decades of trailblazing hip hop, trap, and funk. The first evidence of recognizable phonk textures is in the underground 1990s Memphis and Houston hip-hop scenes when producers began experimenting with slower, rougher sounds. DJ Screw, inventor of the chopped and screwed technique, began incorporating elements of funk and jazz into his hiphop, pioneering cross-genre fusions with tracks like “My Mind Went Blank.” Other acts like Kingpin Skinny Pimp and the Three 6 Mafia did the same, creating cutting-edge hip-hop mixes fusing disparate genres for the first time.

The geographic and stylistic diversity of these early experimenters meant they never categorized themselves under one label, let alone “phonk.” The term was later popularized

by SpaceGhostPurrp in the early 2010s when he began further innovating on Memphis and Houston rap, initiating its mainstream proliferation. He recalled the similar West Coast-indebted G-funk genre when dubbing himself “real Miami phonk” at a 2011 show, saying “tha phonk is slang for funk,” immortalizing the intrinsic link between funk experimentation and this ever-evolving brand of hip hop. The label seemed to stick, and SoundCloud acts like DJ Smokey, DJ Yung Vamp, and Nxxxxxs continued developing a distinct, lo-fi hip-hop sound under the name, frequently sampling their Memphis and Houston forebearers. The quantity of new acts leaning into these production techniques led it to become a seminal internet microgenre of the 2010s, much like vaporwave, cloud rap, and others.

But phonk’s fellow SoundCloud genres would never evolve quite the same way — the consequences of globalism, internet subcultures, and the streaming economy all led phonk to assume its current status. Phonk as a fundamental online presence began in the late 2010s when Russian and Eastern European producers expanded upon the works of SpaceGhostPurrp and others. These international experimenters began utilizing sampling and production techniques

by these artists and their 1990s predecessors, frequently including cowbell, upper bass, and harsh electronic production. This new sound quickly gained momentum, with Russian producer Pharmacist’s (aka Triplesixpharmacist) obtusely titled 2019 “North Memphis” an early success story. The track fuses “Ridgecrest Killaz” by DJ Sound feat. Lethal Villain and Lil Yo, DJ Paul and Juicy J’s “Everything is Business (ft. Kingpin Skinny Pimp),” and Project Pat’s 2000 track “I Get Da Chewin” into a gritty mesh of vintage hip-hop, trap, and EDM. Belarusian LXST CENTURY made similar moves, melding Kingpin Skinny Pimp’s bars with somber electronica in 2020’s “ODIUM” to international streaming success. Alongside the burgeoning popularity of similar acts like DVRST and INTERWORLD, this distinct sound was already disseminating globally.

This nascent sound, formally uniting as its own genre of “drift phonk,” saw its early success indebted to its adoption by the online car and drift communities. These creators, whether making YouTube edits, TikTok montages, or Instagram clips, were instrumental in spreading the genre to new listeners. The high-energy, bass-heavy productions were perfect for their montages and edits, and a symbiotic relationship formed — the more epic the music, the more epic the drift compilation. A cohesive aesthetic was quick to follow, drawing from classic drift imagery of fast cars, dark streets, and the grit of urbanity. Neon purple road racers became synonymous with phonk, and anime-inspired electrified figures became the norm.

Drift phonk quickly became a ubiquitous online phenomenon, enabled by this imagery. Generic designs of dark character illustrations bearing their teeth emblazoned album and single covers, electrified purple skulls adorned the thousands of phonk playlists online, and soon every new artist was united under a common visual theme. Conventional industry structures began promulgating this image, and labels like Black 17 Media became instrumental in its proliferation, signing now-icon Kordhell when he had only a few thousand listeners. The label’s signees have since accrued billions of streams and become the face of the genre, all united under the same stylistic theme, both visually and sonically. A united industry force bled into the mainstream media, culminating in the genre largely inspiring the 10th Fast and Furious soundtrack, featuring and cocurated by Kordhell. Phonk was no longer a niche internet genre for a subset of the drift community — it was a worldwide phenomenon.

But as quickly as the genre grew, it also buried its own history.

While technically a subgenre of its forefathers and increasingly disparate in sound, “drift phonk” simply became known as “phonk,” and the genre’s heritage from the 1990s to 2010s became imperceptible. It still fully relied on the same Memphis and Houston rappers who created the sound, but that history is illegible to the average listener. Arguably the most popular drift phonk track, Kordhell’s “Murder In My Mind” samples “Pre Meditated (feat. Peanut, Wako & Lil E)” by Lil Slim, “Player 1 & Bloody Bones” by Pistol Point Blank 1994, and “Think (About It)” by Lyn Collins, but their original recordings remain inaccessible . Some of the artists frequently sampled like this re-exposure; Kingpin Skinny Pimp and Three 6 Mafia’s DJ Paul themselves have expressed appreciation for this new sound, both benefiting through exposure and income, as many have secured sample royalties and co-writing credits.

Does the fault then lie with streaming platforms like Spotify that curate phonk music, but rarely honor the decades of innovation leading to its current state? The genre is inherently non-contextual, relying more on global networks of sampling and resampling than any local scene, and has become a truly 21st century phenomenon. But this placelessness is already uprooting its most recent innovators — 13

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while Russian and Eastern European producers pioneered drift phonk, more and more artists from the US, UK, and Brazil are taking the spotlight. Amid geopolitical strife in the region, it remains a question how much longer these artists will remain figureheads of the genre, even after just a few years since they first popularized drift phonk.

It’s debatable if there really are any figureheads at all. Most people recognize the phonk sound when they hear it, but few can identify a phonk artist, let alone the genre itself. The only thing most artists even have to show for their immense popularity is streaming numbers, due in large part to their music’s mass marketability. Any lifter needing a good pump in the gym can put on a premade phonk playlist, as can a runner, dancer, or even a student needing to grind out a paper. But while anyone can listen to a playlist for hours or scroll through drifting edits for a while, few artists and their work are distinctly memorable. And with some of the genre’s most popular acts having nearly identically stylized names like SXRKIN, SXMPRA, ONIMXRU, and RXDXVIL, it’s not hard to imagine why.

The genre’s sonic monotony doesn’t make this any easier, either.

The style’s homogeneous production style, relying ubiquitously on high bass, sped-up samples, and dark electronics, leaves very little room for differentiation between tracks. The 1990s hip-hop sample library isn’t necessarily going to expand, either, so at some point individual songs will end up indirectly plagiarizing each other.

While drift phonk’s simplicity and low barrier to entry does make it more accessible to younger artists (many of the biggest names are mere teenagers), phonk’s formulaic nature means new songs could realistically be written by ChatGPT. New artists can produce a few songs over a couple months, get added to a popular playlist, and suddenly have millions of listeners. At a certain point, does this ubiquity make phonk just entourage, and barely music at all?

Already this far from its Memphis hip-hop roots, the evermetastasizing drift phonk phenomenon is hard to predict. Its highspeed global nature and volume of releases could lead to even more erasure of its creators, or simultaneously see further success in the mainstream. Kordhell is set to embark on the first ever phonkexclusive tour later this year, opening the door to the most traditional market most genres enjoy. But moving offline into the real world is a challenge in itself, and the question remains how much longer phonk can survive under its own collective weight.

• Ethan Matthews (Architecture)

Fall 2023

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Designer: Xin Li (Design)

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Interview

Will Anderson is the songwriter and frontman for the lo-fi noise rock project, Hotline TNT. Based in New York City, Hotline TNT recently signed with Jack White’s Third Man Records and have a new album, Cartwheel, coming out November 3rd.

From touring with bands like They Are Gutting A Body Of Water to opening for Snail Mail and Soccer Mommy, Anderson is a major player in what Stereogum has dubbed “The New Wave of American Shoegaze.” Cartwheelis a follow-up to 2021’s Nineteen In Love, an album written during the height of the pandemic. Cartwheel finds Anderson in a more stable place both in the world and in his personal life.

Tastemakers spoke with Anderson over Zoom about signing to a bigger label and how he balances his band’s growth with his commitment to DIY. This interview has been edited for brevity and clarity.

Tastemakers Magazine (TMM): Congrats on the new singles! When you made 2021’s Nineteen In Love, you had just moved to New York City in the midst of the pandemic. How was the process of making Cartwheel different?

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Will Anderson (WA): When the pandemic happened, I was trapped in my apartment for about a year straight. A lot of those songs were about one specific person who was on the other side of the continent at the time. A lot of the songs were about her. As far as the new album goes, it took a bit of a longer time to write and the recording process was a bit more spread out. Cartwheel is a little bit more collaborative,

a little bit more social, and I played a lot of the songs live, so I could see how the audience was rocking with it before I put it on tape.

TMM: How does signing to a bigger label alleviate some of the stresses you may have felt about making music a career?

WA: It does, and it doesn’t. I never thought music would be a career, and it’s still not. It’s been a natural progression – we’ve gotten bigger since our DIY origins for sure. Our 2022 tour opening for Momma and Snail Mail was a great example of the fact that we are playing these huge rooms, but we can’t really afford to do this. We’re not getting paid enough from touring to support five grown adult people in this band splitting $200 bucks a night. It’s not enough money to live on. I’m still DIY in many aspects of my life, but I’m 34 years old and if I want to keep playing music and going on tour, which I do, I need to make more money, and that opportunity presented itself with the bigger label. I can’t do it all by myself, even though I still believe very strongly in DIY. I don’t want to abandon where I came from, and I still believe that it was an amazing way to start putting art out into the world.

TMM: You recently completed a West Coast tour with the likes of They Are Gutting A Body of Water (TAGABOW), Sword II, Toner, and Enumclaw. What was that tour like, and what is it like being in this scene of shoegaze-adjacent bands?

WA: We’re a family, I would say. I met Sam from Toner ten years ago or so, through playing shows together. It became clear after a couple of

Doug from TAGABOW is a newer friend, even though we came up around the same time. Doug is very special to me, everyone on that tour is. But Doug and Sam especially, we all kind of were on similar paths around the same time and we talk on the phone and collaborate all the time. We are doing slightly different things musically, but it’s all under the same umbrella sonically. That tour was a very special one, we are all still talking about it. When the idea to do it came to me, it was one of those classic things where we were thinking about it, now we’re talking about it, now we’re doing it. It was awesome.

TMM: You recently announced an album release show in Brooklyn.

How are you feeling about that show and people getting to hear Cartwheel, which is looking like it’ll be Hotline TNT’s biggest album to date?

WA: I’m not nervous. If this album fails by Third Man’s metrics, it’s not a failure by our metrics. We have a grassroots fanbase, and I’m sure it’s gotten bigger since we announced signing to this new label and gone on these bigger tours, so I’m just excited. I don’t know if it’s going to translate to a wider audience, I don’t have any expectation that it will, but if it does, that’s cool.

TMM: On your Spotify page you posted a Cartwheel inspiration playlist, which featured a surprisingly wide ride of artists, including

Drake. How did he inspire you on the album?

WA: I’m a super mega Drake fan, I have been since Take Care. I was living in Canada at the time, and I’m not even Canadian but there was some weird sense of pride seeing him blow up into this huge megastar.

Something about the way he interacts with the world as a figure and personality touches my soul in a weird way, and I know it’s corny. A lot of pop culture is corny, but he owns it, and that’s what I love about him – he doesn’t shy away from it. I was talking to Aramis from Enumclaw about this and he’s the exact same way. After seeing Drake live, it’s like if you’re not trying to be the best band in the world, why are you even trying at all? You should make this as epic and as cool as possible. That can be a little at odds with this DIY culture sometimes, but it doesn’t have to be. I’m trying to do both.

Designer: Nicholas Alonzo (Architecture)

years for us to realize that our attitudes on the music industry were on the same page. Every decision I make with the band, I run it by Sam. I trust him with my life and my career decisions. He doesn’t agree with everything I do, but I still run it by him and see what he thinks.

TMM: Why is the album titled Cartwheel?

WA: It’s a lyric in “I Thought You’d Change.” I don’t want to expose too much, I like letting people make their own interpretations, not that there is anything too coded. A lot of the time I write the lyrics and figure out what they mean later. For a while, Cartwheel and “I Thought You’d Change” were back and forth between the name of the song and the name of the album. I wasn’t sure which was going to be which.

But Cartwheel felt like a succinct statement. It’s about trying to do something cool but ending up in the same spot you started.

■ Lucas Cooperman (Media and Screen Studies and Journalism)

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Feature

BETTER OFF (LEAVING LAZY INTERPOLATIONS)

ALONE?

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been a more effective approach.

Sampling and interpolation are similar concepts, but there is an important distinction. Interpolation is when a musician takes a part of an existing musical work, like a melody, verse or chord progression, and uses it in a new work. It is different from sampling because interpolation involves the recording of new audio while sampling solely uses the original audio. Many recent songs that use interpolation combine it with sampling, for example, “Alone” involves Petras singing the melody from “Better Off Alone” while the instrumental from the song samples the original instrumental.

This dull usage of an older, well-known song isn’t just relegated to “Alone.” For decades, sampling and interpolation have been common techniques in music, but why does it seem like songs that lazily use these methods are now more plentiful than ever?

The answer may lay in how music marketing has evolved – and how social media has become a tool used for music discovery.

INTERPOLATION: A HISTORY After the world shut down due to the COVID-19 pandemic, music discovery has been pretty different. Social media became a popular tool for music discovery, so songs were able to market themselves in new ways. That being said, to better understand these recent attempts at attention-grabbing interpolation, it is beneficial to examine some songs that utilized interpolation before the shutdown. These songs didn’t have to rely solely on the cheap marketing tactics that are popular now, so many of these W songs use interpolation in ways that aren’t

as lazy as the ones that relentlessly pop up today.

One early salient example of this phenomenon is “Whatcha Say” by Jason Derulo, which samples “Hide and Seek” by Imogen Heap. Derulo took the stripped back, eery electronic ballad about lovers dramatically parting and turned it into an upbeat yet dramatic song from the perspective of a remorseful cheater. While his version isn’t as lyrically and sonically complex as the first version, Derulo managed to introduce a new perspective on the moral happenings of the first song.

The instrumental of Derulo’s version was also revamped to better fit the landscape of popular music at the time. Both of these songs hold up as important moments in their respective genres, even though “Whatcha Say” has also gained notoriety through its usage as a meme.

A more recent example is “7 rings” by Ariana Grande. The song borrows its melody and chorus structure from “My Favorite Things” from the musical “The Sound of Music.” Grande sings about all the luxurious things she has while borrowing a melody that was originally used in a musical that ends with the main characters fleeing from the Nazis. Grande’s inability to consider the context of the original track makes this interpolation come off as gimmicky and insensitive. While excessive wealth may very well be Grande’s favorite thing, the interpolation in this track ultimately comes off in poor taste, both morally and musically.

Nicki Minaj herself has also used blatant interpolation multiple times in her career. In 2014, Minaj shocked the world and changed pop music forever when she released “Anaconda.” The track uses a

Designer: Sean Drew (Design)

It’s the spring of 2023. The days are just beginning to get longer, and the weather is getting warmer. As it inches closer to the changing of the seasons, music fans from all over had one question on their minds: what is going to be the song of the summer?

To everyone’s relief, Kim Petras and Nicki Minaj thought they knew the answer to that question. In early April, they teased a collaboration in a seconds-long video where Minaj introduced the duo over a fun dance beat. An up-and-coming pop star and one of the most famous rappers around? What more could you ask for? People were excited.

Maybe this could be the song of the summer.

But the thing was, it already had been.

The song Petras and Minaj teased, “Alone,” interpolated the song “Better Off Alone” by Alice Deejay, originally released in 1999. While a good amount of the hype for their new song was due to the musicians themselves, a considerable amount of buzz surrounding the track involved the interpolation. “Better Off Alone” is arguably one of the most well known and loved electronic music tracks, and people were excited to see what modern twist Petras and Minaj would give the track in their upcoming single.

To no one’s surprise, the single ultimately did not live up to the high standards that had been set by “Better Off Alone.” While the original song was about considering leaving someone, the new version includes Petras asking someone “what’s it gonna take to get [them] all alone?”

In the verses, Minaj raps over a trap-inspired version of the original beat that somehow discards everything that makes the beat so entrancing.

Instead, trying to introduce a new meaning to a genre-defining song could have

“A song that could’ve been great became sanitized and soulless due to the interpolators relying on the recognition of the original song.”

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vocal sample from “Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-a-lot and features Minaj singing some of the lyrics from the aforementioned track over a variation of the original beat. Minaj has a similar point of view to Sir Mix-a-lot in her iteration of the song, but she instead uses the opportunity to take pride in her body and her sexual endeavors. During this time, it was shocking for a female musician to express her sexuality in such an overt way, and the controversy behind this song helped it grow quickly in popularity.

After a few years, more public controversies, and a retirement scare, Nicki Minaj released “Super Freaky Girl,” which interpolates “Super Freak” by Rick James.

This newer song has a similar message to “Anaconda,” but it wasn’t nearly as inventive.

Since “Anaconda” was released, music that is about empowering female sexuality has become quite commonplace — everyone in modern popular music is a “super freaky girl” now. The inclusion of the interpolation in this song added nothing but a cheeky reference to the original and a bland, unchanging instrumental. Musicians like Minaj once could use interpolation in imaginative ways, but nowadays, the copious amounts of people using interpolation in an imitative fashion make modern attempts of this technique come off as lazy.

WHAT MAKES THIS SO BAD? Many recent songs that interpolate old hits come off as disingenuous for a couple reasons. A song can come off as not having a lot of care put into it when the interpolation is gimmicky. “I’m Good” by Bebe Rexha and David Guetta is a noteworthy example.

The hook from the original song by Eiffel 65 is painfully daft on its own, but the duo somehow makes it even more brainless by changing “I’m blue” to “I’m good” and making their song about partying. The song relies on recognition of the original melody and beat, which were interesting due to their europop influences, and demolished

by Guetta’s polishing to fit in with the mainstream pop sound of today. It’s almost as if Rexha and Guetta stole the original song and did nothing transformative.

Other interpolations, like the one used in “Super Freaky Girl,” carelessly cater towards modern mindsets instead of crafting a point of view that isn’t immediately dated. A popular trend for these songs is taking older songs and putting a feminist twist on them. While this idea is good in theory, songs that employ this trick usually go no further than choice feminism-inspired lyrics that ironically uphold patriarchal ideals. Coi Leray’s album COI is full of songs like this — “My Body,” where Leray asserts

she can get with whoever she wants simply because she can during a chorus that interpolates “It’s My Party” by Leslie Gore, is just one example. Few listen to top-ten hits for thought-provoking commentary, but this type of song is somehow oversaturated on Billboard charts anyways.

Perhaps the biggest mistake these types of songs commit is underestimating the intelligence of the consumers. Music listeners aren’t stupid, and they’re able to tell when a song being pushed towards them is an obvious cash grab. An exceptionally poor interpolation can cue listeners into realizing that the song they’re listening to is nothing but an attempt by a major label to gather high streaming numbers instead of the effort of an artist who is trying to authentically make music. In the end, the goal of these major labels is to make a profit no matter what, even if it’s at the expense of artistic integrity.

THE EVER-CHANGING (YET BANAL) WORLD OF MUSIC MARKETING In 2020, the world changed. The COVID-19 pandemic swept the world and forced everyone inside. With nothing better to do, people turned to the Internet. The app TikTok got even more popular than it had before, and suddenly a large amount of the population was addicted to scrolling through hours of thirty second or less videos.

Soon enough, musicians who had previously been unknown could blow up overnight, even sometimes overtaking wellestablished musicians on Top 100 charts.

Music industry executives had to scramble to think of ways to redirect the spotlight back to their signed musicians. This concern led to a plethora of different new methods of music marketing specific to short form video apps. However, tactics like dance trends and faking the indie status of newly signed musicians never quite took off, so they moved onto something a bit more tried and true: interpolations.

Since these viral videos are so short in length, it’s easy to promote a single verse or even a few lines of a song without revealing what the entire song sounds like.

Therefore, a musician can tease the part of the song that is interpolated without putting it into context in the rest of the song, which

effectively catches the attention of listeners.

If this sample was this catchy here, imagine how great the rest of the song must be!

Jack Harlow used this strategy when advertising “First Class.” During the chorus of the song, he mumbles over part “Glamorous” by Fergie. This interpolation is particularly genius because it capitalizes off the early 2000’s nostalgia, and Harlow knows this since he allows it to take precedence over his added lyrics. For the rest of the song, ironically, Harlow raps about the newfound fame he has on a song where he piggybacks off of the recognition of someone else’s melody and lyrics. “First Class” ended up being the most successful song from the album it appeared on, but it seems as if that success was due to a barely-there interpolation that ripped off the original song instead of Harlow’s talent as a rapper. While the idea behind this interpolation was quite smart, its use in the actual song was lazily executed.

“First Class” did a decent job at demonstrating the most obvious reason as to why lazy interpolations have become so popular from a marketing standpoint.

The “Glamorous” interpolation pulled in millennials who are nostalgic for their childhood, while Harlow appealed to the Gen Z audience. A popular older song paired with an up-and-coming musician who is well-liked by the younger demographic can

produce an audience with a wide age range, which results in more people streaming the song. While “Glamorous” is relatively new compared to some of the other interpolated songs mentioned, it still had a similar impact.

Like stated before, the point of this thoughtless interpolation is to make a profit. For musicians who seem to need that initial spark of interest, like Kim Petras and Nicki Minaj, this technique is a quick and simple way for them to boost their streaming numbers. Even though “Alone” was considered a flop by many listeners, it still has over 57 million streams on Spotify, indicating that it did make an impact, both monetarily and in popular culture. Even though interpolation in most modern songs is done lazily, its benefits outweigh its drawbacks for musicians and the major labels that back them.

However, if listeners had a say in what music was released, I’m sure most would agree that at least for now, musicians should leave interpolation alone.

• Rilyn Szabo (Behavioral Neuroscience & Design)

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Where in the world is Editorial

Masochism?

The Search for

Designer: Jensyn Ford (Communication and Graphic Design)

Fall 2023

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Sky Ferreira’s Second Album

For any aspiring pop star to make it big in the domineering media wonderland that is Los Angeles, record labels are a necessary evil.

When a fresh face walks onto the scene and has some buzz behind them, it’s only up from there. After clocking in enough hours on SoundCloud or playing enough live shows, a record executive whisks up the young talent and boosts them into a life of infinite star power.

This promise of success, however, is only on paper. While record labels do offer alleged services that can propel a starlet, the fine print of what this success costs can get murky. According to Icon Collective, many major record labels, when signing artists and investing in them, have contract deals that give the artist a lesser percentage of royalties. Along with this, labels allegedly push certain narratives for their artists. Recently, many musicians under major record labels have expressed disdain over their label wanting them to manufacture virality. In an interview with Fast Company, multi-awardwinning musician Halsey said she has been told by Capitol Records that she “can’t release [her new music] unless they can fake a viral moment on TikTok.” This is just one occurrence of record labels obstructing the artistic process for recording artists, but one of the best — and perhaps most insidious — examples is in the case of Sky Ferreira and her ever-elusive sophomore album Masochism.

At the start of the 2010s, Sky Ferreira was the new face of what female pop stardom could be. Pulling stylistic and musical references from her idols Fiona Apple and Hole, she wanted to break away from the polished and cagey personas of popstars at the time. Ferreira took a DIY approach to pop music, recording on bottom-of-the-shelf software and sharing her blog-honed taste. This led to her cult status on SoundCloud — a music sharing platform that she now claims to be locked out of thanks to her label — and success on Tumblr in the late aughts. In 2009, this online fame led her to sign to her first label: Parlophone, then Polydor, where she released her first EP Ghost. This EP propelled her into the eyes of many adoring fans on Tumblr, finally bringing her to her present musical captor, Capitol Records.

From the beginning of her career, Ferreira has been slighted by the music industry. Polydor wanted a new Britney, in a way that was ”a wholesome teenager from Los Angeles, but sexy as well, but in a weird way because [she] was underage,” she told The Guardian in a 2013 interview. She was able to break free from this record deal by sending them too much music — 68 songs to be exact — and sign on with Capitol Records, bringing a shiny $1 million contract with it.

There she released her breakaway EP Ghost with hits like “Everything is Embarrassing” and “Lost in my Bedroom,” and started working on her first and only album, Night Time, My Time. This album incorporated a whole host of glitchy pop rock chords piled with new-agey synths, something that Capitol was hesitant to sign off on.

Ferreira spent upwards of a year recording and re-recording tracks for her managers before ending up in a stalemate with her label. All of these songs ended up being lost in the archives of Capitol. She was desperate to release something good but was low on funds. Capitol allegedly told her she was welcome to “use [her] own money to finish it,” as Ferreira said in a 2013 interview with Vulture. So, she took matters into her own hands and ultimately created Pitchfork’s #15 and Rolling Stone’s #21 picks for the top 50 albums of 2013. This feat came as a shock to herself and critics alike, with Pitchfork calling the release of this album “both a relief and a bit of a shock” in their review.

This goes to show that while record labels have the financial means to supply artists with the tools to hone their art, they sometimes aren’t willing to go above and beyond to meet their talent where they are at because of the potential to lose profit.

By escaping the confines of a perfect pop image, Ferreira beat her label at their own game. She even boldly displayed her work with an album cover of her naked upper body, showing the world that she was in full creative control. It was the beginning of her brand as a modern punk girl, inhabiting a pop music space and making the suits at Capitol increasingly concerned. While riding the wave of her new found success, Ferreira faced many blunders and setbacks, like bailing herself out of jail for possession of an illegal substance or canceling her tour with Vampire Weekend for hemorrhaged vocal cords. Through this, she was still able to claim her stake as a promising new musician. On July 16, 2014, she posted on X, formally Twitter, announcing the production of her sophomore album, Masochism. However, with her luck, it ccould be surmised that there might be a rocky road ahead.

Over the years, there has been a litany of Masochism updates from Ferreira and stan accounts alike. There is even a detailed timeline containing all of the updates and mishaps for the album’s release, found on Reddit’s r/popheadscirclejerk. Upon first glance, this can seem like a combination of poor planning, laziness, and refusal to cooperate. However, in an Instagram post in 2019, Ferreira stated “being ‘difficult’ or ‘high strung’ doesn’t give people the right

to damage & stall my career. I am in a DIFFICULT situation & I have to be ‘difficult’ to get through it.’” She has developed an image of a tough rocker chick with a more soft and emotional side, but she believes many people do not care about her situation. Ferreira, as well as other women in the music industry who speak out against their labels, are often subject to unfair criticism from critics and fans alike. One user on Reddit’s r/popheads expressed that “the label is a convenient excuse for her laziness.” It seems that the more time passes, the more fans believe Ferriera is crying wolf.

Today, this elusive second album is still at large. According to Ferreira in an interview with Rolling Stone, the album has been wrapped since 2015. However, alleged creative differences have led to a perpetual stalemate between her and her label, causing it to be reworked and re-recorded many times. Ferreira has been a fervent supporter of herself, ever since she was first signed and doesn’t want her label to change any integral part of the album. While it is confusing how a record label wouldn’t want to keep an artist with a prolonged album release, this just means that there is a likely chance of something bigger than creative differences at play. Some have suggested drug abuse, alluding to her recent performance at Primavera Sound 2023, where one publication described her as “pomp, coughing, throwing dull [hello’s].” Recently, a self-funded campaign called “Free Sky Ferreira” flew a “#FREESKY” banner

across Capitol Records. This might have been the work of overlydedicated fans, but Ferreira herself has been known to support this campaign, liking and commenting on posts with that message.

This behavior may hint at those more speculative reasons behind her album’s delay. In the meantime, fans of hers have to wait in a seemingly endless game of will-she-won’t-she.

However, in an unusual turn of events in the “Sky Saga,” the scorned artist announced a mid-sized tour across the continental US and UK that commences on November 25th. While Ferriera has recently performed a collection of small performances in five East Coast cities, she has not been on an official tour since 2014. News of this magnitude in the music world only means one thing: a high possibility for a new album. The tour announcement, along with the release of a new album, gives rise to the possibility of new information being released on what exactly happened to her the past decade.

Ferreira’s resurgence may be on the horizon, but this potential for success doesn’t erase the exploitation and unfair criticism she has faced in the music industry thus far. But if one thing’s for sure, she will stick up for herself and fight tooth and nail to make sure her music is heard.

Because, according to her, “the only way to get stuff done is trying.”

• Tommy Paulus (Cell and Molecular Biology)

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Boygenius, MGM Music Hall

Photo by Emily Kobren (Design)

Girli, Sonia

Photo by Elizabeth Scholl (Pharmaceutical Science)

Maisie Peters, Roadrunner

Photo by Taliyah Fox (Game Art & Animation)

Cover Story Rock music has always struggled with growing up. When it comes to genres like jazz, blues, folk, or classical, old age tends to signify a sort of wizened mastery that lends a credence of artistic maturity to the music itself — popular consensus, for instance, would tell you that both Giuseppe Verdi and Mississippi John Hurt put out some of their greatest, most defining work near the very end of their lives. For whatever reason, this does not seem to be the case with rock music — when you think about older rock stars, you’re much likelier to imagine them struggling against the grain of old age rather than flourishing in it. Maybe there’s something about rock music that demands a certain youthful vitality, or maybe rock musicians just don’t want to grow up.

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The time period spanning from late 90s through the early 2000s, however, was one of those rare instances where the stars aligned for a general turn towards maturity and the domesticity that comes with it, at least in the realm of indie rock. Perhaps it was the spirit of the times — the hazy aftermath of the grungy early 90s combined with a tentative End of History optimism — or perhaps it was a unique consequence of the irony-addled 90s that, when the great American indie rock bands of the late 80s and 90s finally grew up, they were just too self-conscious to ignore it. Whatever the reason, here lie some of the very greatest documents of three such bands as they grappled with maturity.

Pavement Descended from the confrontational acerbity of groups like The Fall, Pavement was indebted to noise and clamor right from the get-go.

Their early works are reflective of this: their 1992 debut album Slanted and Enchanted crackles with a lo-fi buzz that still sounds bracing today. But there was always a sunny California tunefulness to them that only grew more pronounced over the years — 1994’s Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain boasts some of their most charmingly poppy numbers, and even the zonked-out eclecticism of 1995’s Wowee Zowee has a strangely amiable country lilt to it that helps ground its intermittent spurts of chaos.

Their 1997 album Brighten the Corners stands as the culmination of this gradual shift. It’s the warmest and balmiest album in their

oeuvre — so warm and balmy, in fact, that many still mistake it as mere complacency. (Rock critics generally seem to balk at these types of musical maturations as a sort of spiritless “retreat,” perhaps because their willful insularity tends to make their political and subcultural uses limited.) But if it really is the sound of a band finally settling on a familiar aesthetic, then it’s the comfort of doing so that allows them to expand on the individual building blocks of their sound.

In fact, it might just be their most tonally rich and instrumentally accomplished album: the guitar lines sporting a melodic, crystalline chime that cuts right through their woozy psychedelia, and the tempos slackened just enough to give them space for the loveliest guitar interplay of their careers. As for the lyrics, even seemingly offhand lines such as “Embrace the senile genius” and “Simply put, I want to grow old” show lead singer Stephen Malkmus’s youthful insurgency finally giving way to a very middle-aged search for contentment. His conclusion? “Worlds collide / But all that we want is a shady lane.”

Sonic Youth Sonic Youth is a band whose direct lineage can be traced back even further than that of Pavement — all the way back to the industrial grind and pummel of late 70s no wave. Their 30+ year career arc is full of as many twists and turns and fascinating one-offs as befits a band of their stature in the realms of alternative rock, but their work throughout the 90s is particularly instructive. Coming off the heels of 1988’s totemic Daydream Nation, they upped the self-consciously immature brattiness of their poses and swung for the big leagues with Goo and Dirty; afterwards, when they inevitably reeled back, they also grew up — first by turning down the brattiness (Experimental Jet Set, Trash and No Star) and then by turning down the noise (Washing Machine).

It was only in 1998, however — four years after de facto frontman Thurston Moore and de jure frontwoman Kim Gordon had their first child — that Sonic Youth arrived at what was to be by far their mellowest and most lyrical album. For a band weaned almost entirely

on industrial claustrophobia, the outdoorsy domesticity of A Thousand Leaves comes as not just a shock, but a revelation. The song “Hoarfrost” is representative of the album’s spirit: startlingly atypical in both the directness of its seasonal imagery (“The colors turning brown, freeways passing by us…”) and the intensity of its quietude, with those frosty tangles of interlocking electric guitar played so softly that they almost sound acoustic.

But there’s also a genuine sense of contentment here that was so very rare for the band, with a beguiling warmth of timbre and a languid, unwinding quality to the melodies themselves that coalesce into some of the richest moments in their discography. Consider “Karen Koltrane”’s resplendent interlocking guitar pattern that rises out of its trippy midsection, or how the shimmery psychedelic portion of “Wildflower Soul” naturally gives way to one of their sunniest and most sentimental guitar lines. It’s not like they’ve abandoned noise completely — the squalls of feedback that temporarily engulf both of these tracks are as savage as they’d ever get. But unlike their earlier spats of apocalyptic despair, the difference here is that they finally seem like they have a destination in mind. “We’ll know when we get there,” sings guitarist Lee Ranaldo in “Hoarfrost.” “And we both knew we would.”

Yo La Tengo Yo La Tengo, powered for over three decades by the admirably longstanding marriage of lead singer/guitarist Ira Kaplan and drummer/ songwriter Georgia Hubley, may very well be the ultimate purveyors of musical domesticity. Their particular vision of romance — of shared hideaways and kooky private jokes and murmured but unwavering love — is one that remains wholly unique in the often tempestuous world of indie rock. Even through the Velvet Underground worship of their early years, they’ve always had a strain of mellowness to them, certainly more so than Pavement and Sonic Youth. It was only until the ambient late-night gauze of 1993’s Painful, however, that their formal command of both tune and noise finally solidified.

1997 would see the band arriving at their magnum opus. I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One remains a landmark in indie rock; a bohemian synthesis of pop ephemera that perfects just about every idea they had been reaching for since their most humble of beginnings. Just compare an early track like “Mushroom Cloud of Hiss” — which sports a three minute feedback section that feels structurally disjunct from the rest of the song — with the much more lyrical use of feedback in a song like “Damage” from their 1997 opus I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One, here deployed as yawning chasms that deepen and accentuate Kaplan’s murmured disconsolations.

The line “I hope I mumbled goodbye as you walked out the door” sums up their worldview quite touchingly: a lovesick demureness that somehow never tends towards futility or self-pity.

After Beating as One, their music would get even more subdued, first with the suburban nighttime anxieties of 2000’s And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out, and then coming to a quiet apotheosis with 2003’s Summer Sun. Perhaps no other record of theirs places as much emphasis on pure color and texture, and these particular colors and textures are some of their most sublime: listen for the trumpets morphed to sound like bird calls peeking above the early-morning blear in “Beach Party Tonight,” or the strangely sitarlike sound of the guitar tone on the adorable “Little Eyes.” Crucially, however, they retain both a generous capacity for songfulness as well as an unwavering commitment to a quiet intimacy that only seems to deepen with time.

Like Brighten the Corners and A Thousand Leaves before it, their burgeoning mellowness was largely criticized as complacency: here was the very moment where they finally fell out of those hip indie media cycles. But when you listen to them sing about each other, you get the sense that they don’t mind all that much — they’ve always preferred their little corner of the world anyway.

• Keene Quiros (Business Administration)

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Interview

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When it comes to sports, few cities have a resume that stacks up to Boston’s. To fans, names such as Tom Brady and David Ortiz may be most ubiquitous with the live sports experience. However, despite never suiting up for games, TJ Connelly is just as impactful.

Though you may not recognize his name, you’d definitely recognize his work if you’ve ever been to Fenway Park, TD Garden, or Gillette Stadium. Connelly has been Boston’s main in-house prosports DJ for nearly two decades. He worked at Fenway Park from 2006-2021, and currently works for the Patriots and Bruins.

Though he boils down his responsibilities to the simple credo “play the songs,” a lot goes into cultivating a unique atmosphere at each venue and keeping the rowdy Boston crowds engaged in-between game action. Tastemakers sat down with Connelly and talked about everything ranging from energizing miserable crowds, DJing championship parades, and sneaking 100 gecs and LCD Soundsystem into Boston sports. He’ll delightfully chat about anything and everything — as long as the conversation doesn’t steer into “Sweet Caroline” territory.

I also try to measure [what I play] by whether a thing is a good song, not whether or not everybody already knows it. I was playing Wet Leg at hockey games, so if something like this is clearly a banger like that, I’m gonna play it. I’ve been playing 100 gecs lately.

TMM: What songs?

TC: “Hollywood Baby.” It seemed like the most approachable and least curse-laden, and I mean, that riff is totally a hockey riff.

You try and make it welcoming for everyone who is there, but keep in mind that as much as there might be the modern country people, there might also be somebody who’s going to hear The Misfits and just be like, “Oh, fuck yeah!” That’s a big part of how you can connect with people, rather than just playing the same dreck over and over again.

TMM: If the Patriots, for instance, are getting blown out, what are you doing to keep the crowd engaged?

This interview has been edited for brevity and clarity.

Tastemakers Music Magazine (TMM): Growing up in the Boston area, did you have a moment where you realized this is what you wanted to do?

TJ Connelly (TC): About 20-ish years ago or so, I was at a game at Fenway — and by that time in my life I was already working in comedy and theater, specifically playing music in-between things in order to keep the crowd engaged. My predecessor was DJing and made some kind of joke with the music and I was like, “Oh, I didn’t know there were other jobs where this was possible.” Then I managed to get the backup gig, and starting on Opening Day in 2008 I was the everyday guy.

TMM: What are your basic responsibilities as the in-house DJ? TC: Play the songs. That’s basically it, honestly. It’s like, make sure that I’m ready to go on game day and that I’m paying attention to what’s happening. Once I’m there it is a matter of knowing how to play with the game action. A good thing happens in the game, you keep the energy up, keep people invested.

These events also have scripts that have sponsored bits or ad reads for each timeout. I know, for example, in this timeout, they have a minute and 15 seconds worth of content, so I’m going to fill it [with music] for 55 seconds.

TMM: Speaking as a music curator, how much flexibility and autonomy do you have bringing your taste into the mix?

TC: I mean, pretty much total in most cases. I’ve been doing this long enough that the people who are employing me are employing me because of my expertise. That hasn’t been true all the time, and there are obviously moments where there are cues. Like for Brady you’re going to play Jay Z’s “PSA,” ‘cause that’s his walk-on music.

TC: I can tell you an actual thing that happened in that case. The very first Patriots game I ever did, they were down 24-0 to the Broncos at the end of the first half. It was like two degrees out, and so everybody is cold and miserable. It was also 2013, which was the year that Daft Punk’s “Get Lucky” was the huge summer jam. At the two minute warning in the first half, I played “Get Lucky”, and [the production team] said to me, “Nobody’s gonna like this, they’re all mad,” and I was like, “Whatever, they’re here. Let them dance.” And you know what? They loved it, and then, pleasantly, the Patriots came back and won. So there’s your hypothetical — I literally did it my first time out.

If the game looks hopeless, just play dance music, let people have a good time.

TMM: How do the nerves of DJing a championship parade compare to a high profile game?

TC: The first one I was terrified. Now, I really look forward to it. It’s the apex activity of my job, and it’s super fun. By the time I was doing the last one, the Red Sox in 2018, I was having some fun with it. At one point I played “Sweet Victory” [from SpongeBob SquarePants] during the parade because why not? It’s a great example where you can connect with people who understand what a thing is and they’re totally into it. For anybody else, it just sounds like a hair metal ballad.

I also played LCD Soundsystem for the first time in 2018. I’m a big LCD person. If you listen to your New England sports teams, you’re going to hear a lot of LCD Soundsystem snuck in all over.

TMM: We have now hit the “Sweet Caroline” section of the interview.

TC: Ah, come on.

TMM: First question: Are you completely sick of that song? Either hearing it or talking about it?

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TC: Both! *laughter* My tenure is complete. The last time I heard it was actually when I was filling in as an audio tech at a Celtics game and the Celtics’ DJ played it. I talked to him on the headset and I was like, “Man, I had a good streak going and he was like, “Oh yeah, I totally played this because you’re here.” I was like, “I want to thank you, but also fuck you.” But it was funny. It was a good bit.

TMM: Do you think it would give Red Sox games a boost on the field?

Interview

TC: What happens on the field happens on the field, and you try and affect it as much as possible from the stands and the speakers.

People get up, they sing, they lose it for going “bum bum bum” some number of times, that does reanimate the crowd. Sometimes, that means there’s a rally in the bottom of the 8th. If David Ortiz is leading off the bottom of the 8th, would that rally have happened anyhow?

Probably.

Also, David Ortiz, real mad whenever it was time for “Sweet Caroline” because he didn’t get his walk-up music. That man loved his walkup music, and literally he would just turn around and stare at the window, and I’m just like holding my hands up in a big shrug. I would love to play whatever he was walking up to instead.

TMM: Taking “Sweet Caroline” out of the discussion, do you enjoy hitting people with those iconic, reusable songs or the less-played choices more?

TC: The established anthemic stuff is the bread and butter, you’re really psyched for that. Any of those ones that you know are gonna work are great. But, by the same extension, if you try something new, and it totally hits, awesome. It’s just a really great feeling, because I’ve probably been sitting there trying to anticipate the right moment to use it for a long time beforehand.

• Henry Bova (Journalism)

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Designer: Matthew Stefanowicz (Communications and Design)

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Etcetera • Trevor Gardemal (Journalism)

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Inside Boston’s Gay Clubs An Interview with DJ Stevie Psyclone

Amongst the roster of DJs across all of Boston’s bars and nightclubs, there’s one that stands out: Stevie Psyclone.

On Friday nights, you can find the Weymouth native DJing at Club Café, a restaurant and gay club that resides in the Pledge of Allegiance Building on Columbus Ave. While queer spaces are few and far between in Boston, Club Café is celebrating its 40th anniversary this year. He is also the venue’s entertainment manager, managing the social media and marketing, booking shows, and scheduling tech staff.

Tastemakers recently sat down with Stevie in person to discuss his setlist curation, Chappell Roan, and the queer nightclubs that shaped him into the DJ he is today.

This interview has been edited for brevity and clarity.

Tastemakers Magazine (TMM): How did you get into DJing? Was it something you were always interested in?

Stevie Psyclone (SP): I didn’t initially want to DJ. All through high school, though, I was obsessed with collecting music. I started going to Machine when it turned 18+. I was 19 at the time – my freshman year of college – and then I was messaging the Friday night DJ, Darren, every Saturday morning. I’d be like, “Hey, what was this remix you played? Oh, can I send you this remix? You should play this song,” and we basically just became friends. I started going in on Friday afternoons to hang out with him while he downloaded music, and that turned into doing some odd jobs around the club. And then he was like, “Do you want to DJ in the pool room on an off night?” I got a really cheap, tiny mixer, and I just kept up with it.

TMM: Were there any gay clubs that were particularly formative to you?

SP: Definitely Machine, and also Mirabar down in Providence.

SP: At this point, I’ve been doing it for so long that I just know my music inside and out. I definitely have a love for pop music, but working here, I’ve had to really diversify my tastes. I’m throwing in Latin, Brazilian, and rap music because we have a really diverse clientele. In terms of crafting my set week to week, I often wing it. I make a folder of stuff that I downloaded recently, the songs that I know are the big hits. Right now, “Padam Padam” [by Kylie Minogue], “Rush” [by Troye Sivan] are ones that I definitely have to play, mixed in with some stuff I’ve downloaded that week.

Photographer: Emily Greenberg (Communications)

TMM: How do you curate your sets and get a sense as to what the audience wants to hear?

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TMM: Speaking of new music, I was wondering if there are any new artists that excite you these days? I’ve noticed you play a lot of Chappell Roan.

SP: I was just going to say Chappell Roan! She started putting out singles over the pandemic, and every song she’s put out, I’m like, “damn, this is well-written and has interesting production.”

Interview

Jessie Ware is another one that I really, really love. She’s been around for a long time, but she made a disco album over lockdown. Her album that she put out this week was also very disco. It’s just good and wellproduced.

TMM: Do you find it difficult to balance new songs with throwbacks and just in general, deciding the songs that you think are good for the club?

SP: I mean, there’s a hundred different ways you can think about it. There’s something called peak hour, which is the busiest point of the night generally. So that’s when I try to play the biggest hits of the night, like the songs that are in the top 10 that people want all night.

But balancing new stuff and old stuff – I feel like my style lends to where I can just go wherever I want most times. On Friday nights, I do play younger, queer artists, pop. But I’ll play other venues – like Blend is more of a 30s crowd – so I can get away with more 70s, 80s, 90s music there than I would on a Friday night.

TMM: Are there any songs that you think are classic club staples?

Like when you’re clubbing, you want to hear these specific songs?

SP: When I go out clubbing, I want to hear stuff that I don’t know. I think it’s impressive when people’s own styles come through clearly.

For a classic club staple in the last decade, I would say “Don’t Start Now” by Dua Lipa. “Future nostalgia” was not what anyone else was doing. And every time you play it, people are going to go off.

TMM: There’s been a lot of discussion recently about Boston’s nightlife. I’ve heard these complaints for years, especially with the closing of Machine. What do you think of Boston’s nightlife scene?

SP: It’s not a surprise that nightlife is shrinking. I think the laws of Boston make that incredibly difficult. There are archaic blue laws around like liquor and closing, and then the T isn’t open and Ubers are jacked up. Something that always shocks people that I’ve learned is – so if you want to open up a bar or a nightclub, you need a liquor license. Do you know how much a liquor license costs? $600,000.

Never mind purchasing a venue, renovating it, hiring staff. The way around it is if somebody buys a venue, they could inherit the license, but that doesn’t allow new spaces to open up.

There’s no queer venues that are owned by people of color. There are nightlife producers like FROLIC that do stuff for people of color, which is great, but it’s not ownership. And I think all of those variables really just lend to the nightlife suffering. Dani’s Bar, the new lesbian bar, is opening up, which is very rare. Since I turned 18, that is the first new place I’ve seen open.

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TMM: It’s great to have a space for queer people, and there’s not a lot in Boston. Do you have anything to say about the importance of that and the role that you see Club Café playing in it?

SP: Yeah, with Club Café and the owner Jim, the forefront of Jim’s mission is always community and philanthropy. He took over the business in 2008, and it’s just always been about supporting the local sports teams. If there’s any disasters, God forbid, like with Pulse or with Puerto Rico, we’ve done fundraisers. We’ve donated our door covers for an entire night to these benefits. I think where he’s done that tirelessly and thanklessly, it shows in the community.

I hope more and more queer people come and visit us and continue to help us be the safe space that we always are trying to be. Support us, support all of the local venues. If people aren’t going out to support them, they’re going to keep disappearing. I really just hope more places continue to open up. I hope Dani’s is successful, and that’s a good jumping off point to inspire other people to open a venue.

Designer: Edzani Kelapile (Media Arts)

This is a huge venue. To have a full, sectioned-off nightclub is rare now, particularly where they’re owned. Legacy is not owned by queer people; there are gay parties that happen there. Club Café just really nails home fundraising and being a part of the community, and I think that’s what’s led to the success of us being open for 40 years.

• Chelsea Henderson (Journalism and Communications)

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Sam Nelson, Sonia

Photo by Jackson Goodman (Data Science & Business Administration)

Ashnikko, Roadrunner

Photo by Victoria Brennick (Computer Science & Design)

Tash Sultana, Roadrunner

Photo by Mukki Gill (Mechanical Engineering & History)

Etcetera

Designer: Laura Mattingly (Communications & Graphic Design)

BECK DISCO GRAPHY

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Beck, the mononymous alternative artist known for synthesizing numerous genres to shatter cliches, has been consistently creating and releasing music since the mid-1980s. Beginning as a true folk artist, albeit dabbling in blues, he began to hit his stride following a move to New York City and an introduction to anti-folk counter culture.

Beginning his career performing in subway cars, he incorporates everything he can to keep all eyes on him, shaking up any environment with his signature quirkiness. Since 1993, Beck has released fourteen studio albums, evolving his craft and dabbling in performance art to continuously service his unique artistry. Eight of these albums can be used to reflect the rise (and fall) of the artist across his thirty years in the music industry.

Stereopathetic Soulmanure – 1994 The first of three albums released by Beck in 1994, Stereopathetic Soulmanure is an amalgamation of years of independent work and demos. Having started in folk and performing on buses trying to get the attention of passersby, Beck’s work is built on the foundation of improvisation and attention-grabbing techniques. His ventures into the anti-folk culture of New York City expanded on this with the idea of breaking norms and mocking the seriousness of musicians everywhere. Beck took this cultural movement into account when forming his album, disregarding industry standards in favor of recording whatever he wanted however he saw fit.

Stereopathetic Soulmanure comes off as disorganized, lacking the flow or story that traditional musicians attempt to establish within their debut. It stumbles aimlessly through genres, from heavy metalinspired screamo in “Pink Noise (Rock Me Amadeus)” to country in “Rowboat.” These are significantly more coherent than ninety percent of the album, with spoken word poetry, random noises, and songs with a singular lyric repeated over and over which can hardly be considered musical. It reads as more of a mixtape, if anything — a combination of years of work with no strings tying anything together, all while various labels were fighting to get him on their roster.

Recommended Tracks: “Thunder Peel,” “Crystal Clear (Beer),” “Puttin’ It Down”

Mellow Gold – 1994 Mellow Gold saw the much anticipated release of “Loser,” Beck’s first big hit from 1993, in a full-length LP. Having taken inspiration from contemporary hip hop, the track rocketed to number 10 on the Billboard Top 100, and rightfully so. Despite working with an incredibly low budget and inconsistent collaborators, Mellow Gold merges genres more artistically than Stereopathetic Soulmanure, incorporating his signature sound bites as opening or closing samples, paving the way for the practice that exists to this day. The vocals and instrumentals are significantly stronger, with raw power that cemented who Beck was as an artist. Lyrically, he is clearly still trying

to disrupt an existing power structure, drawing listeners attention with catchy riffs and surprising, non-traditional elements.

What makes “Loser” special is not that it follows the quintessential strangeness of Beck and rather conforms with a standard 90s sound.

It is reminiscent of Radiohead’s “Creep,” released the same year as a single, full of self-deprecation and influence of several genres, bringing together rock and hip hop to form something universally sonically appealing while simultaneously lyrically off-putting.

Recommended Tracks: “Loser,” “Fuckin With My Head (Mountain Dew Rock),” “Soul Suckin’ Jerk”

Odelay – 1996 Having been labeled a one-hit wonder following the failure of One Foot in the Grave (1994) relative to “Loser,” Beck once again went back to the drawing board, coming in hard with Odelay. He threw his artnoise persona on the back burner, aiming to make songs that were fun and accessible. “Where It’s At,” “Devils Haircut,” and “The New Pollution’’ all received critical acclaim alongside huge commercial success. The bass lines are fun and energetic, while the guitar riffs reassert Beck as a rock powerhouse. Hip hop’s strong influence on the artist remains on many tracks, at times approaching the brink of rap before springing back to a classic rock sound. This album is quintessential nineties, but continues to establish the quirks that now make a track from Beck noticeable from a mile away.

The title of the album, Odelay, is derived from the pronunciation of the Spanish term, “órale,” slang that translates to “okay” but also to “listen up.” The term is repeated in the outro of the track “Lord Only Knows,” following lyrics about picking up the pieces others have left behind. Odelay comes when Beck was seen as a loser, one-hitwonder — he is calling on the people who left him behind to give him a second chance and listen once more. The anglicisation of the term also creates the pun “oh, delay,” reflecting the time it took to put out the LP following the rapid-fire releases of his past work.

Recommended Tracks: “Devils Haircut,” “Novacane,” “Readymade”

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Etcetera

Midnite Vultures – 1999 Originally intended to be a double album, Beck wrote Midnite Vultures as a study of hip hop and R&B. Twenty-five songs were cut from the final tracklist, leaving the final count at 12 tracks, with the most popular being “Sexx Laws,” “Mixed Bizness,” and “Debra.” The goal was to create a fun, high-energy album to tour. The influence of ska on the album, particularly with heavy usage of trombone in “Sexx Laws,” confused not only critics but devoted fans as well. The album feels like a Beck-turned-corporate version of himself, reading as forced and soulless, with his characteristically raunchy lyrics plastered onto a sterilized backtrack. “Nicotine & Gravy” also reflects the most common and profitable music of the time with rhyming lyrics and little variance in sound throughout the track: “I think we’re going crazy, things don’t even faze me / Her left eye is lazy, nicotine and gravy.” While these lyrics are more off-putting than the standard late-nineties hits, the composition is nothing exceptional. Even the ad libs of “Mixed Bizness,” urging listeners to “turn it up now,” feels more targeted towards television syncs than his regular listeners. Despite being arguably more sterilized than past Beck work, namely Mellow Gold and Odelay, it does not take away from the demonstrated mastery of production and songwriting. Coming in a more easily digestible form, the album had a more immediate impact and was received well by critics for the memorable effects and light production with elements of synth and voice alteration.

Recommended Tracks: “Sexx Laws,” “Mixed Bizness,” “Debra”

Sea Change – 2002

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Having just ended a nine year relationship, Beck wrote all of Sea Change in the span of a week, setting the stage for his most emotionally vulnerable work. In the midst of recording, Beck lost several tracks on tape while on tour, dimming his inspiration to record and adding to the melancholia of Sea Change. Not seeking attention, his pain is reflected through melancholic introspection rather than thinly veiled bashing of an ex. The album also features tracks conceptualized almost a decade prior to recording, creating an album not only coming from the brain of a songwriter but from his heart, with the low point of losing

his long-time partner pushing him to release the emotional work he thought the world did not want from him. The noncommercial sound posed a risk, putting the weight of commercial success on his existing reputation, putting everything on the line to put out the message that was conceptualized years ago and made imminent by his heartbreak.

It worked, because the album is considered by many, including Rolling Stone, to be one of the best records of all time.

The softer acoustics stand in stark contrast to the dreamy pink album art, and furthermore the rest of his discography. Vocally, Beck’s tone also changed to a deeper timbre, strengthening the lyrical components of his work to support the softer acoustic sound of the album. His work matured as he moved on from the mixed critical reception of Midnite Vultures, giving truth to the broad transformation suggested by the title – Sea Change.

Recommended Tracks: “Lost Cause,” “Guess I’m Doing Fine,” “Paper Tiger”

Guero – 2005 Signifying a mental and emotional shift from the ennui of Sea Change, Guero was released after Beck got married and had a child, bringing forward a fun, lo-fi sound. The energy and traction of “E Pro” allowed the album to debut at number 2 on the Billboard 200, his first major commercial success since “Loser” over a decade prior. The popularity of “E Pro,” “Qué Onda Guero,” and “Girl” spurred the production of Guerolito, a deluxe album of remixes for almost all Guero tracks.

While the remix album feels like a cheap cash grab following the commercial success of the original, Guero itself is a unique combination of Beck’s quintessential genres while incorporating new aspects of lo-fi for a new era of his life, shaking up the sound he had cemented over the past decade.The title, Guero, reflects the artist’s upbringing in a Chicano area of Los Angeles, with “Qué Onda Guero” translating to “what’s up, whitey.” Beck’s style of sampling in his music reflects the different influences not only on his becoming a musician, but his upbringing, and Guero is the most honest representation of this. With many new experiences, good and bad, happening in such a short time following his heartbreak demonstrated in Sea Change, the

musical elements that Beck grew up with seem to return him to his roots in spite of the turbulence in his life. “Broken Drum” is a tribute to Beck’s friend, Elliot Smith, following his suicide, with the touching lyrics: “your setting sun, your broken drum, your little drugs, I’ll never forget you.” Sea Change started the transition to deeper, more meaningful lyricism, but this period of change in the artist’s life led to him writing some of his most poignant work yet.

Recommended Tracks: “E Pro,” “Qué Onda Guero,” “Girl”

Modern Guilt – 2008 Modern Guilt is Beck’s shortest record and reads as if years worth of songwriting were jammed into a much shorter duration — mostly because that is what truly happened. The opening track, “Orphan,” does little to distinguish itself from the rest of the rock scene, using standard percussion and bass to back soulless lyrics, especially when compared to his work on Sea Change and Guero. There is little distinction from track to track — if listeners weren’t paying attention, they may think the album opened with one ten-minute song, something Beck might have done earlier on in his discography. While its production is clean and consistent, the album lacks character, perhaps due to the aging and maturing of the artist who used to do anything to rebel and catch attention.

The titular track, “Modern Guilt,” sticks out for having some folk twang in comparison to the classic rock tone of its accompanying songs, using syncopated rhythm from a drum kit and more complex guitar melody to bring much needed intrigue. “Youthless” also acts as a strong addition to the tracklist, utilizing classic Beck elements of vocal filters and electronic samples with lyrics that ironically summarize his musical state: “and he’s youthless and forgetting in the bare hymns, tied to nothing.” While he is talented and a seasoned veteran of the music industry, Modern Guilt makes it clear that Beck has lost his spark.

Hyperspace – 2019 Beck’s most recent full length LP, Hyperspace, leans into vaporwave and synth pop, acting as a sequel to Sea Change following his divorce from his wife of 17 years. Change in his personal life acts as a catalyst for change in his musical stylings, which in the past fed into his inconsistency but brought a breath of fresh air into his work following the stale sounds of Modern Guilt. The transition to vaporwave is logical considering Beck’s continued interest in incorporating outsider genres, especially those with electronic elements, making the change feel less corporate than past sonic shifts. “Saw Lightning” has the energy of “Loser” brought back to life over 20 years later, having similar vocal effects in addition to cynical, self-deprecating lyricism.

Despite teasing a new album in 2023 with new singles and touring efforts, Hyperspace comes off as Beck’s swan song, bringing together elements of his scattered discography to say farewell to his thirtyyear-long career. “Die Waiting” brings a sense of finality with its lyrics: “When the sky fades out and the roads all end, I’m gonna wait on you.” The track acts as a reminder of how long Beck has been waiting to make it big since the incredible success of his first hit single in 1993, but the sterilized, simple instrumentation is proof that he is exhausting every effort to return to the top of the charts.

Recommended Tracks: “Uneventful Days,” “Saw Lightning,” “Star” • Julia Towne (Speech Language Pathology & Audiology)

Recommended Tracks: “Modern Guilt,” “Youthless,” “Soul of a Man”

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Feature Fall 2023

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Four hours ago you were slamming back vodka Red Bulls in some random mutual’s apartment. Eight hours ago you were clacking keys at a desk. But those façades wouldn’t recognize you now. Bloodshot and dilated, the eyes around you syncopate with the strobes. Smoke. Sweat.

Monday’s worries liquify. In the pulsing dark, you are imperceptible — only in this instance, being just a body is liberating. As the night unfolds, you begin to understand that this isn’t just hedonism; it’s a quest for transcendence. The dance floor becomes a sacred space, a temple of rhythm and melody where the boundaries between the physical and the metaphysical blur.

To be spiritual is to recognize that there is something greater than oneself, something that extends beyond mere physicality. On the dancefloor, this belief presides as individuals exchange their sense of self for a fluid, communal identity free from the constraints of reality.

Music was created parallel to spoken language as a form of human expression, and since its inception it has possessed the profound ability to heal, evoking emotions that words alone cannot convey. From the primal rhythm of beating sticks around a fire to the pulsating electronica of today, dance music specifically has notoriously served as a conduit for spiritual experience, endowing its disciples with the medicinal ability to be overcome.

The dance music we’re familiar with today found its roots in the 1970s. In the underbelly of East Coast urban sprawl, a revolutionary sound was in its infancy — a synthesis which would interlock the DNA of funk, soul, and electronic music. It was christened “disco,” and its explosion was undeniable. Discotheques like the legendary Studio 54 in New York City became sanctuaries where people from marginalized communities, especially queer people of color, could escape the oppressive social norms of the time. In the heyday of disco music, characterized by its contagious rhythms and lyrics celebrating freedom, it provided a haven where people could shed their burdens and just dance.

But even within this haven, certain limitations persisted. Ballroom culture, a rich and dynamic subculture within the LGBTQ+ community, sprang to life in the crucible of pain and exclusion, particularly within the backdrop of mainstream queer clubs’ rejection. Its genesis can

Designer: Ava Ackerman (Business & Design)

be traced to the marginalized Black and Latinx communities of New York City during the mid-20th century. During this era, many LGBTQ+ individuals, especially queer youth of color, found themselves doubly marginalized, facing discrimination not only from society at large, but also from their own peers. Ballroom began to flourish as an underground movement. Participants competed in “balls,” where categories like voguing, runway walks, and realness allowed participants to, often for the first time in their lives, be authentically themselves. But ballroom culture’s significance goes beyond entertainment; it provided a lifeline for individuals who endured hatred, violence, and homelessness. It became a community bound by pain, resilience, and a collective desire for acceptance.

It’s these roots that enabled dance music to become the spiritual exercise it can be today. Dance music was a true labor of love, concocting the genuine sentiments, culture, and familial bonds of a community, all of which it sonically immortalized. As hallmark dance tracks like Kevin Aviance’s “Cunty (The Feeling)” and Fast Eddie’s “Let’s Go” catalyzed Madonna’s “Vogue” and Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love,” a movement exploded into an evergreen sound and energy. These tracks blended electronic elements with orchestral grandeur, concocting two antonyms elegantly. Such fusion laid the foundation for subsequent dance music genres, including house, techno, and trance, which further experimented with electronic textures.

The otherworldliness of this music can be attributed to its distinct sound qualities. One defining feature is the four-on-the-floor beat, a steady and unrelenting rhythm that has been a staple since the early days of disco, creating a hypnotic and relentless groove. This beat is often punctuated by hi-hats and claps, producing a precise and driving cadence that propels dancers into a state of rhythmic ecstasy. Beyond the beat, dance music frequently incorporates arpeggiated synth lines, a technique that gained prominence during the rise of electronic dance music (EDM) in the 1980s. These arpeggios create a sense of upward movement and elevation, as if the music is ascending. Tracks like Daft Punk’s “One More Time” exemplify this arpeggiated landscape, evoking an uncharted, futuristic sound. The advent of synthesizers and drum machines in the 1980s also contributed to the EDM wave and further 43

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revolutionized dance music. Tracks like New Order’s “Blue Monday” and Depeche Mode’s “Enjoy the Silence” were pioneers in utilizing these technologies that pushed the envelope of electronic music innovation.

The use of vocal samples and repetition is another defining characteristic of dance music. The repetition of a vocal snippet or phrase becomes a mantra on the dancefloor, reinforcing urgency and unity. This quality draws intriguing parallels with religious and spiritual practices where repetitive chants or prayers are employed to induce a trance-like state, allowing participants to connect with the divine. Neuroscientific evidence underscores the power of such repetition; studies have even revealed that repetitive activities, such as mantra repetition in meditation, can deactivate the brain’s default mode network which is responsible for self-referential thoughts and mind-wandering. This state, known as transient hypofrontality, mirrors the trance-like states experienced on the dancefloor and during spiritual rituals. Consider, for instance, the mantra “Om” in Hinduism and Buddhism. Its rhythmic repetition, often coupled with synchronized breathing, has been shown to induce a unique neural state. Studies have observed a decrease in activity in the brain’s parietal lobes, responsible for spatial orientation and sense of self.

This decrease in parietal activity matches what people often describe as a feeling of unity and a sense of ego dissolution.

In a culture where synergy and vibe are the law of the land, the dancefloor becomes a forum for seeking altered states of consciousness through any means, including mind-altering substances. Rave culture, in particular, has been closely associated with the use of drugs like ketamine, MDMA (otherwise known as ecstasy), and other psychoactive substances. During the late 1980’s and early 1990’s, the subgenre of acid house emerged from Chicago and infiltrated the UK rave scene. Acid house, characterized by its association with LSD, emerged as an emblem of the counterculture that was gaining momentum due to the country’s dire political state under Prime Minister Marget Thatcher. “Thatcherism,” as her

policies were deemed, championed free market economics, which prioritized wealth creation over income equality and social services.

In the United States, President Ronald Reagan’s “Reaganomics,” had put the country in a similar, disadvantaged position. Reagan’s presidency also marked the peak of the War on Drugs which saw immense law enforcement crackdown on drug users and drug trafficking. As anti-establishment sentiments rose in both the US and the UK, drugs became even more seductive to partygoers looking for respite from the political upheaval that had ruined their quality of life. Illicit substances were portal to a heightened reality, where sensations were amplified, boundaries blurred, and the dancefloor transformed into a euphoric kaleidoscope. Beyond their experiential effects, they offered a practical advantage, allowing partygoers to dance relentlessly and remain awake throughout the night. Since then, drugs have been a mainstay in club culture, being both radical and thrilling enough to fit the bill.

While those who prefer the couch come Friday night may turn their nose at how the other half lives, the dancefloor has repeatedly greeted the shunned with open arms. Here, the fear of the unknown, the fear of the known, and the desire to be encompassed by something bigger exists just as purely as places of worship.

In a time where the state of the world requires faith and even the once devoutly religious are turning to secularism, the dancefloor’s uncomplicated road to spirituality is vital.

As you feel the crowd wane and the pulses sink, you close your eyes to the colors; tonight you saw purples, crimson red, iridescence — vibrance like this doesn’t exist elsewhere. Warm hands guide you up the stairs and though you didn’t know them yesterday, they were your lifeline tonight. You pass by the bathroom that nursed you earlier and rise to the surface. In the silent streets you feel weightless, transfixed on how this very spot will transform in just a few hours; families will rush out the door, soccer practices will commence, and old friends will gather for brunch. You need water, you need Advil, and you need it all over again next week.

• Ananya Chaudhari (Business Administration & Economics)

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Chai, Crystal Ballroom

Photo by Kimmy Curry (Design)

Greta Van Fleet, TD Garden

Photo by Maya Solanki (Design & Business)

Editorial Designer: Farah Caban (Business and Design)

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For aspiring musicians without record labelowning parents, the best bet for success in 2023 is likely algorithm-based. Artists like PinkPantheress and Olivia Rodrigo owe much of their rapid launch to stardom to TikTok, not curated radio play. It feels almost impossible to discuss the state of the music industry in the past few years without mentioning TikTok, but before the algorithm came to conquer all, the best place to discover something new, niche, and even a little odd, was Bandcamp.

Founded in 2007, Bandcamp is an audio distribution service whose mission is to foster a community where listeners can support their favorite artists directly. Artists on Bandcamp upload their music for free and set their own prices, so fans can financially support artists they love by purchasing their music directly (minus Bandcamp’s 15% revenue share for digital purchases). The fact that anyone can post their music for free is why Bandcamp is home to some of the most delightfully strange and idiosyncratic music on the internet. This artist-focused model emphasizes complete albums instead of Spotify’s playlist-centric model or even SoundCloud’s song-centric model. Instead of having one track picked up by an algorithm and circulated via Discover Weeklys and For You Pages, music on Bandcamp spreads through community. Each user has a “collection” on their profile that displays everything they’ve purchased on Bandcamp, and

artists themselves often recommend music to their listeners. Bandcamp asks its users to actively seek out music instead of waiting for an algorithm to feed it to them.

Arguably Bandcamp’s greatest success story is indie rock band Car Seat Headrest – particularly frontman Will Toledo. Car Seat Headrest began as a solo project, named for how Toledo would record vocals alone in his parents’ car. His early work is typically described as “lo-fi,” in part because his recording equipment consisted of his laptop’s built-in microphone and GarageBand. Bandcamp was the perfect place for an artist like Toledo – the lyrics of his early albums are deeply personal and confessional, but often a bit silly or shocking for

a record label (see lyrics like “dragged a comb / across my boner” or “I wish I was a kid with an adult boyfriend,” both from “beach fagz”). His first four albums were written and uploaded over the course of one summer. An official release would require higher quality audio and considerably more development time, but Bandcamp’s free upload system meant there was nothing to lose from sharing his work, no matter how unpolished.

In 2011, Toledo uploaded what many consider his masterpiece: the album Twin Fantasy. It was unexplored territory for Toledo as his first concept album and thus a far more thematically-focused project than his previous work, while still maintaining his

raw, confessional style. The album explores a tragic and obsessive relationship complicated by insecurity, drugs, sexuality, and depression.

Upon release, it only received around a hundred downloads, but after receiving attention on various music forums as well as Bandcamp itself, Car Seat Headrest began attracting a small cult following. It wasn’t one particular song that caught fans’ attention, but instead the heartbreaking cohesion of the album as a complete piece. Bandcamp’s community was the basis for the band’s small yet dedicated fanbase that continued to support Toledo’s work through Bandcamp’s uniquely direct artist-listener relationships.

Between 2010 and 2014, Toledo released a staggering eleven albums on Bandcamp. His extensive discography provides a uniquely detailed look into how his style developed, especially considering how often Toledo references or rerecords his old work. Countless lyrics and melodies from his earliest albums are reincorporated and repurposed into new tracks, so fans can actually trace the evolution of his skills and sound over the multiple iterations of the same song. His first album with Matador Records, Teens of Style , is entirely composed of reworked tracks from Toledo’s Bandcamp days. In 2018, the band released a fully rerecorded version of Twin Fantasy with improved sound quality and slight tweaks to the lyrics and instrumentation. Toledo built himself a lyrical and melodic canon that he continually references and builds on as he grows as an artist. His own music acknowledges this. The line “I stole every single song that I wrote / from my seventeen-year-old ghost” is from the song “Knife in the Coffee,” which itself is a reworked version of “Clowns in my Coffee,” a high school track that precedes even the name Car Seat Headrest. Now that the band has become a massive commercial success, the Car Seat Headrest Bandcamp is not only an archive of Toledo’s music, but tells the story of an indie artist in the internet age and how online communities have irreversibly altered how musicians are discovered.

In the age of algorithms, it’s rare to hear success stories like Car Seat Headrest. It’s difficult for artists to place their faith in word of mouth when one viral video could mean instant

success. 2010 was a simpler time for music on the internet, but it was also a more insular time; not everybody had the drive to actively seek out music online with only a handful of downloads.

Even Alex G, another Bandcamp success story, owes a small portion of his success to TikTok, which popularized songs like “Treehouse” and “Sarah.”

As of September 2023, Bandcamp’s future is uncertain. The platform was recently sold by Epic Games to Songtradr, a music marketing company, only a year and a half after Epic Games bought it. Nobody is quite sure what this means for Bandcamp yet. This early on, we can only speculate about possible changes, although Songtradr has said they will continue to support Bandcamp’s artist-centric model. At least for now, Bandcamp lives on as a haven for underground music and is a phenomenal place to directly support the next generation of musicians.

Since March 2020, Bandcamp has designated the first Friday of every month as “Bandcamp Friday,” where the 15% revenue share is waived and artists receive 93% of sales (the other 7% being processing fees). If your Discover Weekly is getting stale, consider giving Bandcamp a try. There are genres and concept albums the likes of which you have never imagined just waiting to be discovered — if you’re willing to look for it.

• Ev Ogier (English)

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Show Reviews Lana Del Rey The Pavillion at Star Lake 10.3.23 Reviews Fall 2023

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Even since the humble beginnings of her career, Lana Del Rey’s persona has been sensationalized; she’s been the internet’s original sad girl since 2011’s “Video Games,” a rocker groupie in Ultraviolence, a hippie lover in Lust For Life, and most recently, a Waffle House employee, just because.

Critics often question what tethers these personas, often accusing Del Rey of being a phony adopting aesthetics as a ploy to market herself to her young audience.

Fans, however, have long understood that the tether between these personas is the underlying person herself — Del Rey and her singular perspective, which allows her to breathe beauty into each era of her life. It is that Lana that was on stage in Burgettstown, Pennsylvania, presenting the most lucid form of Lana Del Rey to date.

Del Rey took the stage surrounded by her entourage of performers — her band, her dancers, and her backup singers — opening with her song “Norman F***ing Rockwell” as the dancers presented an interpretive routine to the song’s lyrics. The performance teased what was to come, with Del Rey often happy to step back to allow her performers space. This was taken to the extreme for her performance of “Bartender,” which she began by walking to the left of the stage, pulling a chair out from a small, round coffee table with a mirror on top. As she sat there, she watched herself in the mirror, and sang as her dancers performed, waltzing with one another across center stage. The

audience became infatuated by the dancer’s movements as Del Rey narrated through song, acting as an effective way of getting across the song’s longing and reflection while allowing Del Rey to stick to what she does best: sing.

There wasn’t a song that passed without groups of the audience singing and crying along. The audience related to the lyrics across albums and eras, and hung onto every word sung by Del Rey. This was, of course, by design, with the setlist carefully curated with some of Del Rey’s most popular songs. Standouts included “Cherry,” “Young and Beautiful,” and “Video Games,” all of which featured Del Rey performing with a smile, pointing the mic towards the audience, and thanking the audience for knowing the words.

Drawing strength from the audience, Del Rey largely disregarded her past criticism. This was especially prevalent in the performance of “Ultraviolence,” which is infamous for its line “He hit me and it felt like a kiss.” Del Rey had previously stated she’d no longer sing the line following outraged accusations that she was glamorizing abuse.

In this show, Del Rey played into the lyrics, making her hand into a fist and punching herself across the face as she sang the lyric.

The moment felt emblematic of Del Rey’s distancing from what has defined her as an artist in the past; she is through justifying her choices and trying to cater to a universal audience. This was made

evident by the venue that the show took place in an outdoor pavilion an hour outside Pittsburgh. In fact, the stops on this tour were predominantly small outdoor venues across the South and Midwest. This was abnormal for an artist of her stature, but Del Rey has made clear that she has no interest in acting like an artist of her stature, and so instead of playing Boston, she plays Burgettstown.

The show ended on the titular track of Del Rey’s most recent album “Did you know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Boulevard.” Del Rey left the stage echoing the lyric ‘’Don’t forget me,” an earnest plea from an artist over a decade into her career.

With this show, fans will remember Lana Del Rey in her truest form, away from the “pretty packaging” she’s been known for – an artist looking to please no one but herself and the fans who have truly seen her.

James Ryan (Communications and Media Studies)

Del Water Gap, Royale Boston

Photo by Kelly Thomas (Environmental Science)

Album Reviews Eartheater Powders Released September 20, 2023 Label Chemical X Genre Experimental Tasty Tracks “Sugarcane Switch,” “Crushing,” “Pure Smile Snake Venom”

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Glass is often defined as the utmost sensual art form. Its plasticity allows it to take countless forms, from Dale Chihuly’s monumental sculptures to the humble jar.

Ephemeral light shifts through its prisms, melding and shaping forms at will from the voluptuous transparency it masters. Glass knows no limits — except, of course, when it shatters.

It makes sense, then, that Alexandra Drewchin, better known as Eartheater, is able to do so with her voice. In the music video for “Crushing,” a celestial track off her most recent album, Powders, the experimental musician’s glorious falsetto shatters a wine glass with the composure of a mythical being.

She meanders around a shimmering high-rise, cloaked in ethereal shrills, slinking between hourglasses, decanters, and sumptuous crystalline statues. Likening herself to the glass that surrounds her, it’s as if her own desire fractures this whole world — “you’re a well of reasons to keep crashing / to keep crushing on your shore.” Drewchin can’t help but destroy herself chasing her lover.

The rest of Powders is equally as delicate, fusing art pop, trip-hop, and folk into novel forms. Drewchin explores topics familiar to her past work of lust and love through a more developed, pop-tinged lens. Her previous work has shown a fundamental understanding of the workings of the universe, and here, her universe is being devoured by yearning.

Drewchin melts and shapeshifts on Powders, never being quite opaque enough to grasp, but always passionate with her otherworldly voice. “Heels over Head” stories the tumult of love, where she’s “somersaulting (head over heels)” and “choking on salt water and sand” chasing her lover. Drewchin’s gossamer whisper can be rageful, too. In “Mona Lisa Moan,” she laments his chastity: “How you gonna see me in your dreams / Then freeze when you meet me?” Her divine feminine lust is world-conquering in “Face in the Moon” where she growls, “I could lasso the moon / Squeeze my thighs, fingers clenched tight.” Even with such delicate lyricism,

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While fluid and arcane, Powders is a step towards the artificial for Drewchin. Where she normally tends towards the transfiguration of chrysalises, volcanoes, or mitosis, her music is more manufactured here. The production value of tracks like “Heels over Head” transcends that of her previous work, favoring the physicality of audacious club beats over sparse acoustica. The latter is still evident, but polished beyond the organicness she typically favors. “Pure Smile Snake Venom” meshes these two disparate sounds together, where a dusky industrial verse splinters into a breezy acoustic chorus. The track almost directly transposes her club mixes of 2019’s Trinity against the avant-folk of 2020’s Phoenix: Flames Are Dew Upon My Skin with a novel level of sophistication and finesse.

The record sometimes ends up sounding more like a fusion of her previous styles than an original conceptual ambition. But Drewchin also finds clarity in this contrast — it’s not that she can’t decide between genres, but rather, her insatiable appetite for variety would be

unquenched without compounding as many as possible. Her cover of System of a Down’s “Chop Suey!” is Powders’s most significant translation, where she transforms the numetal classic into sorrowful folk. It’s not only a testament to her range, but the complexity of her music’s entire ecosystem.

Drewchin’s sonic worldbuilding is remarkable, but not quite complete yet.

Powders synthesizes her sonic textures into a melange of dance and folk, but nine tracks isn’t quite enough to fully explore her grandiose ambitions. Luckily, a sister album to Powders is promised to arrive this spring — should Drewchin plunge even deeper in the furnace, its accompaniment should glisten even more.

Ethan Matthews (Architecture)

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Olivia Rodrigo GUTS Released September 8, 2023 Label Geffen Records & Interscope Records Genre Pop Tasty Tracks “all-american bitch,” “pretty isn’t pretty,” “get him back!”

Girl dinner. Girl math. Barbie girl. It-girl.

It’s been decided: the masses are ready to discuss the plight of girlhood, and Olivia Rodrigo has been assigned crisis moderator.

Since its dawn, teenage girls have been the tastemakers of the Internet. They created the modern fandom, cultivating devoted communities that celebrated any conceivable interest, effectively harnessing fan enthusiasm into powerful cultural forces. Moreover, aesthetic as we now know it was the brainchild of the 2010s Tumblr girls. Their impact has reshaped the digital landscape, fundamentally changing the way markets engage with people and the way they consume. But, in their sheer quest for communities free of sexualization and belittlement, teenage girls have been chased from platform to platform as their safe spaces have grown tainted.

Throughout her career, Olivia Rodrigo has been abnormally generous with sharing who influences her work. She’s credited Taylor Swift, Lorde, Alanis Morissette, Avril Lavigne, Gwen Stefani, and other creatives with distinctly female perspectives; the majority of whom have been vilified for taking such a stance. Under the searing-hot lens reserved only for the new, wide-eyed female popstar, Rodrigo now knows what Britney Spears and Taylor Swift learned the hard way: the world is absurdly unkind to young girls. But in this new era of pop stardom, Rodrigo refuses to make the trade-off between artistry and

palatability and, instead, embraces her role as the conductor of this twisted symphony.

GUTS is the brazen older sister of SOUR, teeming with cautionary tales of being burned by duplicitous men and shattered identities past. Exuding the same undeniable charm as its predecessor, it’s encompassed by the bittersweet introspection that comes with leaving the safety blanket of teenage years behind.

Borrowing its title from Joan Didion’s formative book “The White Album,” the opener “all-american bitch” is a slew of sardonic contradictions screamed in whitehot upset. At the age of 18 and on the heels of the unprecedented success of SOUR, Rodrigo was met with the expectation of being everything to everyone all at once. The verse “I’m grateful all the time/I’m sexy and I’m kind/I’m pretty when I cry,” crooned like a lullaby, serves as a poignant reminder of the irony of it all. Criticized for making juvenile music as a juvenile, she also bears the burden of embodying conflicting roles: a role model, a sex symbol, a professional, and an emotionally composed individual — a conundrum emblematic of what is routinely expected of women and mothers.

The album undulates between highoctane pop-punk anthems and nimble ballads, at times sending same-y tracks like “logical,” “love is embarrassing,” and “the grudge” on a winding journey to the periphery. Duller moments, however, are eclipsed by the grander atmosphere being built. Rodrigo manages to capture and bottle the rare essence of shared memories — the moments when heads are pressed against car windows and eyes gaze deep into mirrors in contemplative melancholy. Standout tracks like the lead single “‘vampire” and “lacy” tap into universal frustrations, whether it’s with someone sucking the soul out of you or someone whose mere presence leaves you seething with inferiority.

Much like the erratic frequencies of young adulthood, the album’s flow is cathartic as unexplainable lows are interrupted by bursting highs. “ballad of a homeschooled girl” and “get him back!” take anticipated jabs at social anxiety and lousy exes, inspiring pure havoc in its listener. Rodrigo reminds that, sometimes, the high ground is for losers, and she’d be damned if she didn’t twist the knife just a little.

Like SOUR, GUTS has been criticized for being basic. While the themes and songs don’t veer far from the well-trodden path of contemporary girlhood pop, GUTS

makes simplicity its greatest strength. In a world where girls often face being labeled as “basic” in an attempt to undermine their choices, GUTS invites listeners to appreciate the authenticity in what’s often considered ordinary, forging the craved sense of togetherness.

The closing track, “teenage dream,” feels reminiscent of the conclusion to SZA’s CTRL, “20 Something,” oscillating between feeling doubtful and hopeful. Rodrigo fears what will happen when she inevitably loses her novelty as the young new thing. She confesses, “But I fear that they already got all the best parts of me/And I’m sorry that I couldn’t always be your teenage dream.” In a profound appreciation of the fleeting experience of growing up that guts you and stitches you back together again, the soundscape offers glimpses of late nights with friends, treacherous mornings after, heads down on desks, and parties witnessed through phone screens. Transitioning away from the years that created you is a turbulent and emotionally charged experience. She’s a wreck, but she knows it, and deep down, she loves it.

Ananya Chaudhari (Business Administration and Economics)

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Kylie Minogue Tension Released September 22, 2023 Label BMG Genre Dance-Pop Tasty Tracks “Padam Padam,” “Hold On To Now,” “Tension,” “Story”

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Outside of the queer community, where she has been a mainstay for her entire career, Kylie Minogue’s position in the global pop canon is odd. In her native Australia and much of Europe, she’s the undisputed princess of pop; a household name whose albums always hit number one. In fact, she is the only female artist to earn a number one album in each decade from the 1980s to the 2020s on the UK charts. Her influence is so vast that her public battle with breast cancer in the late aughts led to a significant rise in breast cancer screenings, known as the “Kylie effect.” Yet in America, most people don’t know who she is, beyond her 2001 smash single “Can’t Get You Out of My Head.” On her 16th album, Tension, she proves that she should be an A-lister.

The album’s lead single, “Padam Padam,” swept certain sections of the internet by storm. Although it didn’t chart, its omnipresence in queer circles led to some mainstream crossover, and marked Minogue’s return to zeitgeist. Named after an Édith Piaf song, it’s a dance track full of vocal distortion and an addicting staccato bass line.

Detailing Minogue’s courting of a man at a club, the title serves as an onomatopoeia for his heartbeat. It feels like the natural evolution of yesteryear’s disco revival — Minogue is taking the best elements of an earlier decade’s hits, and rearranging them into something new. It’s a return to innovation for Minogue, whose most recent albums were incidentally

inspired by disco and 20th century country music, respectively. The remainder of Tension continues the trend of futuristic pop music, introducing innovative song structure and constantly subverting expectations.

The Europop-inspired album showcases her mastery of the pop genre through surprisingly intricate dance-pop bangers.

“One More Time,” for example, interpolates the flute hook from Van McCoy & the Soul City Symphony’s ubiquitous “The Hustle” with the skill and restraint that many current popstars could only dream of. Instead of simply riding the sample, she skillfully incorporates it to enhance an already iconic party playlist staple, elevating it to an even more delightful standalone track. A keen listener may recognize the flute hook, and it may subconsciously bring about nostalgia for others, but its only recurs during a fraction of the chorus, and therefore isn’t distracting or derivative. “You Still Get Me High” is another unexpected earworm. It combines the best of both Cyndi Lauper’s “True Colors” and Carly Rae Jepsen’s E•MO•TION, resulting in a euphoric celebration of a long-lasting, passionate relationship, culminating in a glorious final chorus, complete with a saxophone solo.

What truly radiates throughout the album, outshining even the return of her falsetto on the stunningly cinematic track “Story,” is Minogue’s glee; she seems to genuinely love the music she’s making. Take a track like “Hands,” wherein she slowly raps over a meaty bass riff, declaring “you’re killin’ that but I’m queening this.” Dripping in salacious irony, she then commits moderns music’s greatest faux pas, namedropping TikTok. This song should be embarrassing, but Minogue’s mastery of her craft shines through, turning awkwardness into pure enjoyment. This isn’t the first time she’s taken a risk, but it’s the first time she’s stuck the landing in years.

The last few years of Minogue’s career have been a bit of a lull. Of her last three albums, one featured production from Sia and contained tracks like “Sexy Love,” “Sexercise,” and “Les Sex.” Another featured the Australian singer incorporating something vaguely reminiscent of a southern accent into her vocals on every song. The most recent was full of delightful, but ultimately forgettable and rooted in the past, disco music, and its initial success was ultimately stifled by the COVID-19 pandemic. It’s been hard for fans to remember why they fell in love with Minogue

in the first place. Tension serves as a reminder.

Minogue has spent a multi-decade career working towards the perfect dance-pop album, and this might be it. She had lost her touch during the last decade following trends, often a little late, always trying to achieve what the kids are into in the moment. Finally, with Tension, Kylie Minogue is once again deciding what’s cool.

Trevor Gardemal (Journalism)

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James Blake Playing Robots Into Heaven Released September 8, 2023 Label Republic Records / Polydor Records Genre Electronic Tasty Tracks “Loading,” “Fall Back,” “Fire the Editor,” “Playing Robots Into Heaven” James Blake evades easy categorization at every turn. He burst onto the scene in the early 2010s with a series of forward-thinking electronic EPs that made him a name in the EDM community. He gradually shifted toward melancholic singer-songwriter work, then became an acclaimed producer, and now works as an amalgam of the three.

Blake’s career trajectory is storied and strange, flirting with mainstream success but never quite reaching it. He’s produced for the likes of Kendrick Lamar, Beyoncé, Frank Ocean, Jay-Z, and Rosalía, and yet he’s rarely mentioned in the same breath. Just this year, Blake featured on Metro Boomin’s Across the Spiderverse soundtrack, and contributed to Travis Scott’s Utopia, which debuted atop the Billboard 200 chart. With Blake’s latest release, instead of capitalizing on these high-profile appearances with a radioready project, he’s ditching mainstream aspirations, releasing his most varied and uncompromising album yet.

Playing Robots Into Heaven is aptlytitled, wringing spiritual, celestial emotion from cybernetic soundscapes and robotic vocals. It’s at once angelic and automated, like an escalator to heaven. Synthetic sounds run the risk of distancing the listener from the artist, obscuring their emotions in a

digital haze, offering only fleeting moments of striking illumination. On this album, Blake uses obscurity to his advantage, offering minimal lyrics like a guiding lantern through the digital fog. “Loading,” the album’s second single, distills this style into a delicate self-duet, framing Blake’s falsetto in a cycling beat resembling a loading bar stuck at 99%. By letting sonics do the heavy lifting, Blake captures complex feelings of heartbreak, mania, and loneliness that would be flattened into cliché by traditional approaches. Ironically, Playing Robots Into Heaven’s layered, conflicted soundscapes challenge a binary approach to emotion, reflecting a humanity that can’t be found in 1s and 0s.

However, not every experiment pans out. Where “Loading” feels complete and satisfying, instrumental tracks like “He’s Been Wonderful,” “Big Hammer,” and “Night Sky” are too enamored with their foundational ideas to develop them adequately. “Big Hammer” was a bold lead single, with a chopped-up, frenetic Ragga Twins sample slightly outpacing a raveready beat. But, before the track can boil over, Blake turns off the stove, and the track never quite reaches the cacophonous peak implied by its progression. “Night Sky,” from its distorted vocals, rejection of structure, and abrupt switch-ups, reads like an instrumental B-side from JPEGMafia’s All My Heroes Are Cornballs (AMHAC). Unlike AMHAC, however, it’s not confrontational or visceral enough to justify the lack of progression. The greatest sin of Playing Robots Into Heaven is a reluctance to take its ideas to their logical conclusion.

The instrumental track that fully reaches its potential is the album’s titular track. “Playing Robots Into Heaven” closes the album with an emotional gunshot, one cocked and loaded by the preceding two tracks: “Fire The Editor,” an impassioned screed against self-censorship, and “If You Can Hear Me,” perhaps Blake’s most hopeless, desolate track to date. This leg of the tracklist embraces direct vocals, like a desperate confessional cutting through the noise. “If You Can Hear Me” is about looking up and realizing you’ve drifted hundreds of yards away from the people you love. You have been pulled into a riptide and dragged out to sea, setting the stage for the final track. “Playing Robots Into Heaven” reincorporates a recurring noise from throughout the album, that of a faint

sonar pulse calling from afar. Adrift in a vast, silent ocean, you desperately search for that signal, and for a moment, you hear it. You swim toward the sound, but just as quickly as the pulse appears, it flickers and fades away. There’s no answer, and there’s no way back to shore. It’s a harrowing, deeply resigned, and ultimately truthful way to end an album about absence.

James Blake’s talent has always been apparent. At his best, he combines his myriad skills to evoke an emotion with such precision and power that it can almost be overwhelming. On Playing Robots Into Heaven, he achieves this effect in small pockets, but more often than not fails to take ideas to their limit. Blake has many solid albums, but lacks an artistically defining project that holistically illustrates his abilities. By jumping from sound to sound, Blake often finds himself at ground zero. If he wants to reach new heights, he needs a pre-existing foundation to build upon. Playing Robots Into Heaven makes progress in this regard, revitalizing sounds from Blake’s EDM past; however, it continues to prioritize reinvention over the realization of his potential. For James Blake to make true progress, he must value depth over breadth, hone in on the sounds that come most naturally, and regard categorization as a guide, not a curse.

Peter Phelan (Business Administration)

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CROSSWORD

Etcetera

ACROSS

DOWN

2. Rico Nasty is featured on this song with Megan Thee Stallion 6. Who sings the Gilmore Girls theme song?

7. Who’s calling all the monsters?

8. When did Girl in Red fall in love?

9. What was the Smashing Pumpkins first album?

1. What does Phoebe Bridgers say she lives nearby in Halloween?

2. What weather does the Neighbourhood say it is?

3. “Autumn ________ falling down like pieces into place” 4. What is the opening song to ‘Days are Gone’ by Haim?

5. Charli XCX doesn’t want to go here; she wants to break the rules.

ZOOMED

5. School 4. Falling 3. Leaves 2. Sweater Taylor Swift Evermore

1. Hospital

Rosalía MOTOMAMI

Down:

Drake & 21 Savage Her Loss 2nd Row:

8. October Reneé Rapp Snow Angel

7. China Anne McClain

Japanesse Breakfast Jubilee

6. Carole King

Solange Seat at the Table

2. Scary

1st Row:

Across:

Fall 2023

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9. Gish

Can you tell which six album covers we’ve zoomed in on?

LOCAL PHOTO Kim Petras, MGM Music Hall

Photo by Julia Finocchiaro (ComputerScience)

SPOTIFY PLAYLIST Take a trip back to the 90s with these songs from the artists in our cover story, “The Domestication of 90s Indie Rock,” as well as some of their contemporaries.

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

“Shady Lane” – Pavement “Old to Begin” – Pavement “Grounded” – Pavement “Hoarfrost” – Sonic Youth “Karen Koltrane” – Sonic Youth “Wildflower Soul” – Sonic Youth

7.

“Mushroom Cloud of Hiss” – Yo La Tengo 8. “Damage” – Yo La Tengo 9. “Beach Party Tonight” – Yo La Tengo 10. “Little Eyes” – Yo La Tengo 11. “Run Run Run” – The Velvet Underground

Find the playlist on our Spotify page @tastemakersmagazine!

FIND DAFT PUNK We’ve hidden Daft Punk somewhere in this issue. Find her and maybe something cool will happen...

FOLLOW US Like what you read? Check us out online. tastemakersmag.com @tastemakersmag

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