Noise Made By Volume 3: Innovators

SOUTHERN HEMISPHERE ∙ FALL 2025

FRUITSLICE PROUDLY PRESENTS...

NORTHERN HEMISPHERE ∙ SPRING 2025

VOL. 3

INNOVATORS

Editor in Chief

Starly Lou Riggs

Managing Editor

Casper Orr

Editorial Staff

Andi Rand Bailey Bauer Foster Hilding Katie Lauck Kayla Thompson Sissi Ho Timothy Arliss Obrien

Scowl Photo by Rachel Bennett

Layout Design

McKenna Gray Melanie Zhgenti

Contributors

Ayal Alves Casper Orr Helena Lima Kayla Thompson Leo Fazio Marcello Calixto Meg Streich Rachel Bennett Starly Lou Riggs Timothy Arliss Obrien

Cover Art by Marcella Calixto

Dear readers, Here is my current fixation: reading about the theory of Queer temporality, AKA the idea that time works differently for Queer folks than those who feel comfortable in “normative” societal roles.

I first heard about this idea from the podcast Rainbow History Class, hosted by Hannah McElhinney and Rudy Jean Rigg, in an episode called “In Search of Queer Time.” Sure, yes, everyone experiences time a little bit differently, like how we see slightly different color tones and think our own uniquely different thoughts. However, the concept behind Queer temporality is based on cultural markers, those moments that keep us from feeling ephemeral by presenting life as a concrete series of events in a straight line (pun intended). Think prom, getting married, having children, buying a house, etc. But what happens when these markers don't reflect a lived reality? What if “adulting” isn’t a thing? In my 30s, I continue to feel like a child, if only for the fact that I still play and explore the arts in a way that doesn’t hold me back or tie me down to a vision molded out of normative roles. I am reinventing my own reality again and again.

And in absorbing multiple realities like a cosmic sponge, I’ve recognized my ability to create has expanded as well. Once lost, my cognitive wheels stuck in the mud of cultural expectation in a world that made quite literally no sense to me, I am now building a home assembled by bricks of jazz, doom, choral singing, beastly screaming, and the like. Music is liberating. It is also a timebased art and a temporal adventure.

In living as Queer time travelers, it feels inevitable to do things a little bit differently. The word “innovation” often has a sticky ring to it, inviting in capitalist ideology and the notion that monetary gain is a prime incentive for creation. But I argue that the desire to create is inherent! This innate drive comes from community, from the want to connect. It is pure and human to explore, to be curious, and to piece together new things. Passion pulls us together. No matter how we experience time, the act of creating something entirely new comes from the ideas of people, cultures, and creations throughout history. Many of us have had to reinvent ourselves time and time again. It is here and now, dear readers, that I implore you to explore your own spaces and sounds.

Make some noise. Do whatever feels best for you. xoxo, Starly

Starly Kind Photo by Ana Gouveia

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“Forever is a Feeling,” as is Agony, as is Relief, as is Love Words by Kayla Thompson

P

urely for my own conscience, I feel I have to begin by admitting that I did not luxuriate in the musical and lyrical genius that is Lucy Dacus’ “Night Shift” the first time I heard it.

In the spirit of an even more complete transparency, I’ll admit that I still didn’t like it the second, or third, or even the fourth time I listened to it.

My taste in music is both far-reaching and increasingly particular and specific. I blame this on my mother, who, when I was a child growing up in the early 2000s, held on to a vast collection of CDs (that crisscrossed decades and genres) for as long as possible. On any excursion that highlighted a drive longer than 45 minutes, my siblings and I would help her choose an album to soundtrack the trip to. Everywhere I look in my childhood, I see my brother, sister, and I crammed into the backseat of a purple-grey honda accord, cycling through the electronic beats on the Black Eyed Peas’ The E.N.D. (2009) and belting the neverending chorus of hey’s in “What’s Up?” off the 4 Non Blondes’ Bigger, Better, Faster, More! (1992).

Nearly all the music I came to love in my adolescence came to me through my mother, and much of it is informed by the eclectic, raw, and angst-driven music that spilled over from the turn of the century, into the new millennium.

Having been raised in my mother’s image–all Alanis Morissette’s Jagged Little Pill and Pink’s Missundazstood–I never really stood a chance. As much as I tried to resist the allure of Lucy Dacus and draw myself away from the power ballad pull of “Night Shift,” I was fighting a losing battle.

For years, Dacus’ work lay just beyond the periphery of my sonic palate. Her name always sounded familiar to me, but it wasn’t until Boygenius got their claws in me (via “Me & My Dog”) that Lucy Dacus made her way into my field of vision.

Still, no matter how many times I tried to listen to her debut, sophomore, and junior albums (No Burden, Historian, and Home Video), I just could not receive the message. There was some mental block standing between me and her music, and I’d heard “Night Shift” played and recommended one too many times on one too many social media apps to trust that it could touch me in the way I always want music to touch me.

The point of any art, in my opinion, is to move you in some way, and it wasn’t until the 2023 release of Boygenius’ The Record that I felt genuinely moved by Lucy Dacus. I truly think I experienced a brief glimpse of nirvana that first time I heard her voice on “Not Strong Enough.” The entire song is structured like an architectural masterpiece, but the emotion and movement that Dacus delivers in the bridge and final chorus is a kind of rapture.

I do not listen to music or albums as much as I feel them; as much as I let the syncopation and the lyrics run over and flow through me until I trust it, deeply. I feel each punch of each word in a song, and I don’t think I have ever felt, or will ever feel again, as eviscerated and bruised as I do across the repeated refrain of “Always an angel never a God,” followed by the heights Dacus’ voice soars to before falling back down as the song comes to an end: I don’t know why I am the way I am There’s something in the static I think I’ve been having revelations Coming to in the front seat, nearly empty Skip the exit to our old street and go home Go home alone Every generation says that they don’t make music (or television or movies or any art, really) the way that they used to, but I sincerely believe that no one will ever produce a song like “Not Strong Enough” again. It is its own perfect storm. A tempest. A one-thousand-year flood.

When I listened to “Night Shift” again after marveling at the beauty of Dacus’ voice in “Not Strong Enough,” it was as if I was listening to an entirely new song. “The goal is to haunt,” Ta-Nehisi Coates writes of journalism, stories, and art in The Message (2024). Something had changed when I returned to Dacus’ solo work. I was haunted.

By the time Dacus’ fourth studio album, Forever is a Feeling (2025), was announced, I had torn through her first three albums again, searching always for another taste of what I first found in “Not Strong Enough.” I exhausted the reserves of No Burden, Historian, and Home Video. I listened to endless loops of “Troublemaker Doppelganger,” “Hot & Heavy,” “Addictions,”

“Nonbeliever,” and “Body to Flame,” and still, I was hungry.

On release day, I listened to Forever is a Feeling four times through, trapping myself in a continuous circuit of nothing but the album in my ears as I took a bus from the Greyhound terminal in New York Port Authority to the depot in Wilmington, Delaware, often rewinding the songs to catch certain lyrics or melodies.

It is an album of movements: from an independent to a major label, from friends to lovers, from a former sound to something (somewhat) new.

There has been, in my opinion, an astounding amount of criticism tied to the album, with much of it linked to listeners’ dissatisfaction with the changes her work seems to have undergone in the new record; the culprit that is often blamed is Dacus’ move to a major label.

While I won’t pretend to have studied or practiced music in any kind of professional or academic capacity, I had no such complaints. Like many of Forever is a Feeling’s critics, I too have watched my favorite artists fall from grace as a result of revolutions and upheavals in sound and concept. But I don’t believe this is one such case.

What sets apart the particular innovation in Dacus’ sound is what so many listeners and fans find compelling about her music in the first place: the heart and emotion at the core of her work. While I won’t pretend that the transition to a major label had no impact on the resulting album, I’m not convinced that Forever is a Feeling is a significant or detrimental departure from her independent work.

I think, in fact, what’s different about Forever is a Feeling, and what is at the root of so many fans’ disappointments and discontent, is that the album is primarily one about love and hope. While Forever is a Feeling does not have the same predilection for the anguish, gloom, and guttural emotion that populate Dacus’ first three studio albums, it does not suffer for turning toward a different affect, nor does it entirely abandon the ache at the center of the human experience:

We both know that it would never work You’ve got your girl you’re gonna marry her And I’ll be watching in a pinstriped suit Sincerely happy for the both of you (“Big Deal”) I’m thinking about breaking your heart someday soon And if I do, I’ll be breaking mine too (“Limerence”) Meeting your family was a trip Seeing what you got from them For better or worse A blessing and a curse (“Modigliani”) Simultaneously, while maintaining vestiges of the emotional punches pulled across No Burden, Historian, and Home Video, Forever is a Feeling explores the beauty and hope to be found on the other side of that ache; especially when what’s waiting for you on the other side of that ache is love: You may not be an angel But you are my girl (“Best Guess”) If the devil’s in the details Then God is in the gap in your teeth You are doing the lord’s work Every time you smile at me I don’t believe in anything anymore Except you and me supremacy (“For Keeps”) Pull me by the ankles to the edge of the bed And take me like you do in your dreams I’m not gonna stop you I’m not gonna stop you this time, baby I want you to show me what you mean Then help me with the crossword in the morning You are gonna make me tea Gonna ask me how did I sleep (“Ankles”)

If anything, this new emotional overture adds a new depth and intensity to Dacus’ discography that only lends power to her artistic voice and vision. Music and art and poetry and stories are meant to make you see things differently, in a new light. Forever is temporary, and always, and contemporary, and nothing new. Forever is taking the past disappointments and fear and history, burning it, and fashioning something else from the ashes. Overall, everything I understand, know, and feel about this album can be summed up in just two lines from a track near the end of the record, “Bullseye” (featuring Hozier!): “When one world ends / The other worlds just keep spinning.”

Maybe I am looking at this all through rose colored glasses, but it seems to me that Forever is a Feeling is a kind of rebirth. An acknowledgement of both pain and healing; a knowing that a new world will emerge and persist. A testament to the atmosphere you find yourself in when a pipe dream of desires finally, finally, comes to fruition. “Forever is a feeling, and,” as a listener and fan following the same tunnel toward the same light that Dacus has across her work, “I know it well.”

A DIY SOCIAL HUB FOR THE INDIE MUSICIANS AND LIVE MUSIC LOVERS Words by Timothy Arliss OBrien

In an era where social media platforms prioritize algorithms and advertisers over real human connection, Freakscene emerges as a breath of fresh air for DIY artists, musicians, and community builders. Corbin and Nico founded this grassrootsdriven platform. It launched in January 2025 with a simple mission:

No corny billionaires, no algorithms, no AI bots, just events and community online!

Before the pandemic, platforms like facebook served as a public square for local events, but as social media evolved, instagram became the dominant space. However, its algorithm-driven structure doesn’t serve the needs of the DIY music scene, and leads to lost interactions and disunified communities.

Recognizing this shift, Corbin began developing Freakscene.diy, announcing its creation in November of 2024, and beta testing the site by later that year. By the time of its public launch in January, over 10,000 members joined in the first month, proving demand for a community-driven alternative.

Before the advent of facebook, myspace, friendster, livejournal, and xanga, people used message boards just like Freakscene to connect and share information about music in their local communities. These online spaces served as a digital meeting place for fans and musicians alike, allowing them to discuss shows, bands, and upcoming events. Similarly, Freakscene serves to bring back the grassroots digital online community for fans of underground music, providing a space for sharing news, discussing concerts, and showcasing local talent.

The spirit of connectivity found on Freakscene mirrors the early days of online indie music scenes, where fans and musicians could come together and celebrate their shared passion for underground music and rant and rave about their favorite up-and-coming artist.

Freakscene is a gathering place for those who love to hang out, make music and other forms of art, and enjoy talking about movies, and other

things happening in their local communities. Those who wish to share their excitement for music and discover new and exciting things to do in real life are also invited to join! Freakscene is all about community, creativity, and celebration.

Through its forums, event listings, and networking opportunities, the platform empowers users to exercise the power of the spaces they already exist in, leveraging their local communities for greater creative impact.

While DIY music remains a cornerstone of Freakscene, it’s not the only focus.

Corbin describes the platform as a space for

“anybody and everybody who cares about making and being in community with the arts.”

This includes photographers, zinemakers, comix artists, musicians, comedians, and more.

With over 11,000 members and growing, Corbin envisions Freakscene not just as an online hub, but as a realworld force. Plans for Freakscene-hosted events and a possible festival are already in motion. The ethos of DIY remains central: no paid advertising or corporate interference, just raw music and art.

“For me, this is important,” Corbin says. “I can’t host house shows anymore, but I can host 11,000 people in an online community. Freakscene is how I can continue to contribute.”

As the world grows increasingly uncertain, Corbin believes in the power of holding each other up.

“We can’t stop everything happening, but we can hold each other while the world burns. Community and joy are just as necessary as resistance.”

In a digital landscape dominated by profit-driven engagement, Freakscene.diy offers a radical alternative—a place built by and for the people. For those who want to experience proto-social media indie art, music, and DIY culture, Freakscene is a unique and innovative option. It offers a radical alternative—a place built by and for the people.

E V A S D O G ENUES THE V C

Words by Casper Orr

oncerts are a place for creatively expressing our authentic selves, but what happens when venues only cater towards one type of “self ”—a white, ablebodied, heterosexual cisgender person? The answer is just as paradoxical as the narrow view of “person” is; the rest of us are pushed out or unwelcomed.

Exclusionary venues, concert halls, and DIY scenes can hide behind a variety of different excuses to avoid taking any of the accountability—bad crowds create toxic concert experiences, old infrastructure “can’t” be made accessible (history is more important than the Disabled person), or accessibility is just too difficult or expensive to provide for community members. Their proclamation of a bigoted mindset isn’t necessary because it naturally makes itself known within the scene. If the venue pushes all responsibility for maintaining a safe and inclusive environment— “we cannot control people,” “the crowd’s behavior is not reflective of our values,” “we just don’t want people taking advantage of ADA features (unspoken part: so we won’t offer them at all)” —they promote the culture of intolerance within music spaces.

For people like myself who love shows but are genuinely concerned by venues’ inclusivity, I’ve compiled a list of some venues that have begun to reshape what accessibility and inclusivity looks like in live performance spaces. I highlight four specific spaces that I believe independent venues can look to as a guideline or a roadmap to a hopefully not-so-distant future where there are more inclusive and accessible venues than there aren’t.

The Kimmel Center Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Capacity: 2,500 Vibe: Classical, orchestra, and jazz

The Kimmel Center, a concert hall looking to diversify more classical genres, has made exceptional strides in their goal of creating a community based around inclusivity and accessibility. It’s led by a diverse board that understands the historical lack of representation in the genres that they promote, which is why they have made it their mission to build diverse relationships within their community. Whether it be community engagement programs or an inclusive and safe concert experience you’re looking for, Kimmel Center has you covered.

Many establishments make the proclamation of standing for diversity while really only looking to capitalize off of more conscious attendees, so I fully understand how a pledge is not the endall solution. Thankfully, so does the Kimmel Center. They share all the details with us in their yearly Inclusion, Diversity, Equity, and Access Strategies (IDEAS) Impact Reports. Year after year, the venue has seen an increase in diversity in their staff, offered more accessibility features, and held a greater number of free events which allowed even more guests to enjoy the experience of the Kimmel Center. The venue’s disability accessibility features are extremely expansive, covering a wide array of disabilities unlike many venues in the U.S. Some examples include ALD, AD and ASL interpretations, personal care attendants, sensory kits, and sensory-inclusive concerts. But the most important thing about this theatre is that they want to hear from you; if there’s something you feel could help improve this diverse musical experience, they want your ideas.

The Kimmel Center strives to build a welcoming environment together with their community.

MeowWolf’sHouseofEternalReturn SantaFe,NewMexico Capacity: 625 Vibe:everythingfromcelliststoYoLaTengo

Meow Wolf ’s House of Eternal Return is on my bucket list for its incredible accessibility features and general vibe. Meow Wolf ’s House of Eternal Return isn’t just a concert venue; it also has a weird kid’s art exhibit atmosphere, which I love.

Similar to the infamous House of Yes of New York City (which was purposefully kept off of this list), Meow Wolf ’s House of Return welcomes its guests to dress up or come in costume—just get creative.

Truthfully, Wolf ’s House isn’t just one thing; it’s a concert venue, installation, art exhibit, multi-disciplinary studio, and an immersive experience wrapped up into one building. It hosts family-friendly, 21+, and all-ages events alike.

Wolf ’s House’s philosophy is that art should be accessible to all in the community, which is why they have gone out of their way to destroy some of the barriers that have historically been a part of artistic scenes for people of marginalized identities. As proof of this, they have loanable mobility aids, gender neutral restrooms, and events catering to underrepresented communities.

Since the 2016 opening of Meow Wolf ’s House of Return in Sante Fe, New Mexico, three other satellite locations have sprung up in the surge of its popularity. Denver, Colorado and Las Vegas, Nevada (an extremely accessible city in its own right) were first to get Wolf ’s House locations in 2021. Grapevine, Texas was next to see Wolf ’s House pop-up in 2023, followed by Houston in 2024. If you’re still looking for an accessible art kid’s fantasy venue a little closer to your area, Meow Wolf ’s House of Eternal Return has two locations coming soon to both New York City and Los Angeles.

The Overture Center for the Arts Madison, Wisconsin Capacity: 2,255 Vibe: very eclectic

The Echo Los Angeles, CA Capacity: 350 Vibe: very eclectic

Very similar to The Kimmel Center, the Overture Center for the Arts is also a community-focused organization. The Overture’s mission statement acknowledges that not everyone has access to the arts and who has access has always been a person privileged by the marginalization of others.

However, they’re in the business of leveling the access to all that the Overture has to offer, which includes educational experiences, lectures and panels, concerts, musicals, and galleries.

The Madison-based venue has taken steps to ensure patrons of all backgrounds have the same access and enjoyment of the facilities and shows provided. Offering events that cater towards different marginalized communities, Overture makes sure there is a welcoming environment for all those who’d like to visit this innovative venue.

Aside from specialized events, Overture provides numerous features to ensure a comfortable and inclusive experience, such as accessible seating, loanable wheelchairs, ADDs and ALDs, ASL interpretation, a quiet area, and much more.

They also offer both gendered and gender-neutral bathrooms and encourage guests to “use the space that best fits [their] needs.” The Overture is a great venue to add to your list if you’re looking for a low-key experience.

The Echo & The Echoplex is such a cool alternative concert venue that has been taking the necessary strides to make their amazing location accessible to as wide an audience as possible.

While they are still making improvements to their facility, they take feedback with open ears and hearts. This alone puts them above a lot of other smaller venues that haven’t made the same effort.

At The Echo, patrons using mobility aids are able to access the second floor with an ADA lift.

There’s no part of the venue that’s inaccessible, meaning you don’t have to buy a separate ticket for ADA seating. You are a part of the same exact experience as everyone else in the venue, which sets a new standard for what real accessibility looks like within DIY scenes.

C

a e t a no

l i s a Br The Little Cry of a New Generation Words by Starly Lou Riggs and Leo Fazio

Caetano Brasil carries not only the name of a country, but also its spirit. One of the greatest contemporary clarinet players, he believes in innovation by pushing the bounds of musical methods. With spice and style, Caetano adds his own unique sonic flavor to one of the most traditional genres in Brazil: choro.

With origins in 1800s Brazil, choro—which means “cry” in Portuguese—is a popular instrumental genre that evokes a vast array of cultures with a complex past. Rooted in African rhythms, choro (also referred to as chorinho, or “little cry”) is blended with Middle Eastern and European instruments to create a unique sound. The genre holds the weight of a cultural identity, invoking histories of the injustices of enslavement, colonization, and imperialism.

In a meaningful chat with Noise Made By, Caetano shared with us his path in this world, the struggles and difficulties of being a Queer Black man creating his own voice, and the authentic and inventive spirit that keeps choro alive today.

Starly: I’m very interested to hear more about how you got started in music. I know you started at a very young age and came from a theatrical and artistic family.

Could you start by talking a little bit about your beginnings in music?

I was [always] related to art, drawing, [and] music.” My name is Caetano because of Caetano Veloso. My mother was really into his music, his persona, and [she] named me after him. I started to go to Catholic church. My mother wasn’t really into Catholicism, but for me, that was another way of socializing, to get together with my friends from my neighborhood. I watched people playing music in front of me, playing the acoustic guitar, and I started to think, “Oh, it’s so cool to listen to music! How cool could it be [to play] it with my own hands?”

I asked my mother to give me an acoustic guitar as a Christmas present. She couldn’t at the time, as it was very expensive for her.

But she gave me a recorder and a book with popular children’s music from Brazil.

I was playing by myself with no pretension, just playing, asking some friends of mine who were at the school of music: “What note is that? Why is it noted this way? Why does one note look black, the other looks white?” I discovered that in my neighborhood, there was a weekly workshop with children. I knocked at their door, and they accepted me. Marcello Gonçalves, who was the conductor of this workshop, he is very passionate about Brazilian music. He taught us how to play through the Brazilian Popular Music repertoire.

Leo: What led you to choro and to the clarinet?

He presented choro to us— we didn’t know anything about choro! But that music caught me in a very strong and unexplainable way. I was there playing that music, addicted to it, addicted to listening to the masters. He gave us copies of CDs and vinyls by Jacob do Bandolim [and] Pixinguinha. We have a collection here in Brazil that was very popular in the

‘80s called Chorinhos de Ouro (The Golden Chorinhos), collected recordings from several musicians [like] Nilze Carvalho and Toco Preto, playing the standards of choro repertoire. I was like, “Oh my god, I need to play all the choros that exist in the world!”

Starly: How old were you then?

I was 9 to 10 years old, in Juíz de Fora. Borboleta— butterfly neighborhood. I grew up there. I lived 17 years of my life in [that] neighborhood.

I was playing lots of choros with a recorder, but choro has a huge range of notes and melodies that the recorder can’t reach. Marcello said, “You need another instrument to play choro.” I was thinking of a flute—I was listening a lot to Altamiro Carrilho, a very important Brazilian flute player. But then, a clarinet showed up.

Starly: How did it show up?

Marcello used to work in a school of music [that is] very famous in Juíz de Fora called Pro Musica. He was a teacher there and they had a clarinet that wasn’t being used, so he borrowed the clarinet and presented it to me.

Marcello played a bit of

“Music is not going away from me.

I have to surrender!

Take me!”

saxophone. He was into reed instruments and explained to me how to [make] the sound by blowing the reed. The first time I played the clarinet, I took out the first note [and] said, “Wow! What is happening?” I can’t explain, I was really taken by the instrument. That was really clear for me at that time: music is not going away from me. I have to surrender! Take me!

Starly: It sounds like everything kind of fell into place! I think it’s beautiful.

It seems the city gave you choro. I see it now, because there is choro nightly as a community effort, multiple nights, different places. How does chorinho speak to you in your community?

Choro is one of the most democratic genres of music.

In knowing the fundamentals of the language—one tune, two tunes—you can already sit on the roda de choro and play with other people. People that, like you, play one or two tunes, [or] people that [have been playing] for three or four decades. For me, it’s really inspiring the way choro connects us through the exchange.

Leo: One thing I feel when you’re playing is that you have a very good control of your instrument, and you’re always trying to go to the next point. You’re always trying to reach the next level. I feel every time you’re playing, you’re like,

“I know this, but where else can I go from here?” What is the force inside you that motivates you to look for this place of crossing boundaries and ripping things apart?

Wow! You are a very adept listener! I’m so happy that this intention that’s inside me, a sense of exploration of pushing boundaries, is reaching other people. I think the kernel of it is that before I am a musician, I am an artist. Making art is what moves me for everything. I’m curious about music, about fashion, about exploring possibilities, of being and communicating.

Choro has this feature. You learn a repertoire and you sit wherever you are in to rodo de choro—here, in Paris, in Recife, São Paulo—and you play the same repertoire with people you haven’t seen in your life. And music happens!

But before I’m a musician, before I’m a chorão, I’m an artist.

If I can’t play a note anymore, I’m going to be drawing. If I can’t draw anymore, I’m going to be on the stage playing [a part].

If I can’t [do that], I’ll do another thing that allows me to express and reinvent myself.

For years, I thought that my music and I were the same thing, [that] if I am apart from my music, I am nothing.

And then, some years ago, I started to realize: my music is an important part of me, but I am not my music. My music grows from me, but I am an individual who is thinking, criticizing, and being curious. I think it’s related to this, to pushing boundaries.

Leo: Observing you playing, I see that you move a lot.

I feel that your corporeal expression is very important to you. How would you describe the relationship between your body language and your music?

I think it’s crucial. I feel that expressing, not [only] to play a G or an F#, but to play the note with intention, [there] needs [to be] a body movement.

[It’s] not really planned, but it’s allowed. I feel the impulse of moving, and I allow my body to do this. In choro—in instrumental music in general—we have a very male environment. Especially straight white males. They are really busy maintaining a “behavior.”

As I used to say, for me, the fight is over. I have already lost the fight. Because I’m a Black man, a Gay guy in this

environment, and if I try to behave like them, I will fail.

I can’t be another thing that I am not.

Leo: Did you try at any point to “fit?”

It’s a bit sad to talk about it, but it’s real. It works like a compensation.

Leo: You have to prove your worth.

Yes, [to] prove and create some illusion of guarantee.

In the sense that if I play very well—if I am beyond the expectation—they have no space to question me. I think when I started to play professionally, that came true through these guys of Clube do Choro. Some people really embraced me, really supported me and encouraged me to play my music the way I was playing: full of improvisation, in the spirit of pushing boundaries. But other people were always trying to find problems. And I know today what the problems were.

I started to conduct my own career. I created my own group to play choro with my original compositions. I recorded my first album in 2015, and started to exist like an artist for their eyes, getting their respect. The validation, the watching. As the years went by, I committed to this

“

I feel that expressing, not [only] to play a G or an F#, but to play the note with intention, [there] needs [to be] a body movement.

Photo by Jurien Huggins

process of allowing my movement, my impulses, of wearing what I want to wear, of moving how I want to move, creating other meanings and other ways of being in the choro environment.

Starly: And you’re writing your own choros too. It’s not just existing in these places and playing these choros that people know—the standards—but also creating it. I’m curious to hear more about your work.

I started my work as a band leader in 2013 by [the] influence of Roger Rezende.

He’s a very good friend, a samba composer and player.

He said to me, “You have to create a band for your work.”

I hadn’t thought about it until then. I started to plan how to make it come true.

I realized that [the] choro people I was meeting at the time weren’t the best option, because I needed some more open-minded people to play with me. At the time, I was experimenting with the samba scene and networking, meeting new people. I found a quintet of musicians that today is a quartet, [who], as we say in Portuguese “bought my fight” [comprou minha briga].

Starly: What does that mean?

[They] supported my ideas. We started to rehearse. I wanted to play choro standards, jazz standards, my original compositions, [and] music from all around the world that I

was listening to! I was in love! “Oh, this music from South Africa, let’s play it!”

I started to experiment with music, with these new friends who were giving me the space to be myself. I was really focused on finding [my] way as a composer. In 2014, I decided to create a personal project that I called Um Ano, Cem Musicas (One Year, One Hundred Songs). From this repertoire, I recorded my first album that came out in 2015 with this quintet—percussion, drums, electric bass, piano, and clarinet and saxophone. After this album, I understood that I have two special features in my music—this choro influence that is in everything I do, and the clarinet.

Cartografias was nominated for a Latin Grammy in 2020, Best Instrumental Music Album. The album was released in December 2019. This specific album, I composed this repertoire that’s kind of a choro—each piece is influenced by a traditional culture in the world.

Leo: Like cartography!

Collecting these maps, collecting these ways of walking through the the world, but without forgetting home.

I’m always thinking of how it

would sound on the 7-string guitar, then transfer[ing] this line to the bass. How would it sound on pandeiro?

I transfer it to the drumset.

For me, it’s always choro, even if it isn’t. I was finding a voice as a composer, thinking how to translate these influences with a deep knowledge of choro language.

[Brazilian] funk nowadays—the way that those expressions were marginalized in the beginning, and then with homogenous culture embracing them? How do you see those genres contributing to the democratization of art? Why do you think there was a force to marginalize them when they started?

Leo: And choro is a genre that comes from every part of the world.

Choro, samba, and funk are Black music, essentially.

Choro started in the 19th century with the urbanization of Rio de Janeiro in a time when we had [people who were then] called “mestiços” that today are people known as Black people—Black people with dark skin, Black people with light skin. And the marginalization of our music, it’s a project beyond the music. Marginalizing our genres, our way of communicating, our way of creating is part of this project of marginalizing our identities.

It’s a continuation! Choro is alive because it could transform. Not in the sense of getting “better” but in the sense of [becoming] contemporary, creating dialogues of our times and our space, moving forward.

Making us sure that in 50 years, people will continue to compose and to create a choro that we can’t imagine now. For me, that’s really exciting!

Leo: Do you see any parallels between choro, samba, and

If you pay attention to the early samba scene in the beginning of the 20th [century], you’re going to see that Pixinguinha, a very celebrated choro instrumental music artist, was at Tia Ciata’s house playing with Tia Ciata, Donga, João da Baiana, Clementina. Samba is like a son of choro. It’s a continuation of choro. People who had less access to “classical” instruments— European instruments—had the same spirit of innovation, the same urgency of expressing themselves, of yelling what they were feeling.

And funk, many decades after it, shares the same mood. I think I engage [with] it in trying to gather these influences, because choro today is marginalized. I think choro was taken by a whiter aesthetic, a whiter way of living, and was appropriated. Of course, we always have Black musicians in the roda, in the choro scene, but I think people forget this sense of belonging to this ancestrality.

Photo: Pixinguinha “Samba do Urubu”

“

Choro is ready to be played in Lollapalooza. Why not! But we have to be committed to this idea, to bring this music to people [who] are listening to electronic music. It’s not about making concessions, it’s about understanding how open this music really is and how it can dialogue.

We have musicians that are trying to rescue this sense of belonging in multiple ways, connecting to the Black composer, Black musicians playing in full Black ensembles.

[Last year] I released a version of “Vibrações” by Jacob do Bandolim that blends the melody of choro with an electronic funk beat, produced by Ever Beatz.

Choro is ready to be played in Lollapalooza.

Why not! But we have to be committed to this idea, to bring this music to people [who] are listening to electronic music.

It’s not about making concessions, it’s about understanding how open this music really is and how it can dialogue. It can be worn with sequins, with shine, with silver clothes! Sometimes we [who] play choro have to take out our high-heeled shoes. We have to do this movement, otherwise the choro is [going] back[wards]. For [people] to know this music, this music has to represent them. I think we learn a lot from this movement.

When I sit with Ever Beatz to create, my mind blows! Because he knows a lot about music. I leave his house with a lot of albums to listen [to] and that is extremely exciting. I can combine this with the music that’s [been] in my life for 20 years! I’m really looking forward to the artist I will become in the next five, ten, twenty years.

That makes my eyes shine.

Photos by Marcella C a l i x t o I’m a photographer and visual artist with a multidisciplinary background that includes architecture, performance, and audiovisual work.

My practice is deeply rooted in collaboration—I work closely with musicians, performers, and fellow artists to create images that reflect the energy, complexity, and emotion of their creative processes.

As someone with my own experience on stage, I bring an embodied understanding of what it means to perform, to be seen, and to be vulnerable. This perspective shapes the way I photograph: with sensitivity, presence, and an instinct for timing and gesture.

In addition to portrait and performance work, I photograph short films—capturing stills and behind-the-scenes moments that help tell the story beyond the screen. My background in architecture continues to inform my approach to composition, space, and visual rhythm, giving structure to what’s often fluid and intuitive.

Through all these intersections, I aim to build images that are not only visually striking, but emotionally grounded—images that resonate with those who make art, and those who move through it.

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01. Editorial collaboration between Difference BR and the incredible performer, actor, and dancer Romulo Vlad 02. Pisciano, music video by singer Imbapê, produced by Grilla!

03. On set of the short film Dance Aqui, by singer Hilreli 04. Creative collaboration between Difference BR and Cesar, performer and singer 05. On stage during the performance Uma bicha, um preto, uma mulher 06. Behind the scenes of Temporal, music video by singer Laura Jannuzzi 07. Carrancas, a fashion project inspired by Brazilian culture 08. Cadê Minha Filha, Bob?, short film stills

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DIVE AND DISSOLVE’S INSATIABLE LEAVES US WANTING MORE Words by Starly Lou Riggs

With a sound akin to chamber music set ablaze, Melbourne’s Divide and Dissolve is reinventing doom metal with their latest release Insatiable: a gargantuan sound with enough power to rip a heart to shreds, then to promptly mend it tenderly. Takiaya Reed, multiinstrumentalist and avid advocate for decolonization, makes it clear that “doom” does not have to live up to its namesake in literality.

Grief is essential to life, but so, too, is hope.

“The album’s title hits on so many levels,” Takiaya speaks to Insatiable. “It’s an album about love, and it feels important to tap into that, now more than ever.”

In a world clouded with ghosts of past and present colonization and perpetual genocide, it is imperative to hold onto the healing powers of community and mutual aid.

The title for the album came to her in a dream, appearing as an intuitive expression of the complex cravings of those in power, juxtaposing the inevitable nourishment of those who sustain systems of safety and care.

“People are constantly feeding into this genocidal energy, depleting all of these resources in the name of so-called power, just to end up powerless,” she

decries. “Whereas people feeding into pathways of love and decolonial energy, honouring loving and benevolent ancestors, experience such a deep sense of fulfilment.”

Released as a single earlier this year, Insatiable’s “Provenance” music video showcases the breadth of pleasure and closeness—it is moving in unison on a sunny beach, recording silly selfie videos on a camcorder, and walking slowly into the sunset. It is also sensual, close—bodies gliding in the dark, playing and exploring in intimate spaces set to the tone of heaving doom.

While lyricless, Divide and Dissolve’s tracks speak volumes, communicating through an array of haunting sounds, including Takiaya’s own evocative saxophone and bellowing guitar. While “Provenance” pairs an echo of lilting horns with the prolific mammoth of bassbooming guitar, tracks like “Loneliness” and “Grief” cut right to the bone, creating a quieter, stirring soundscape before leaping back into pools of gritty noise.

Not having lyrics does not necessarily mean there is no message. The track titles, while simple, singular words, hold a lot of weight. Takiaya seems to be holding them in her hand, extending her word to the world. “Monolithic” speaks to

the cultural idea that things must be all or nothing; if not all one thing, perhaps they are void, but there cannot be a middle ground.

Clearly, this is untrue, as we are none of us monolithic creatures— there is complexity in identity, just as there is in Takiaya’s sound. Coming from a Black and Indigenous (Cherokee) background and experience, Takiaya makes a point of stating that, “Racism is not permanent—though its effects are lasting, felt deeply. If it is to be permanent, that is a really hard thought to have. The idea of it not being forever is great for the liberation and healing of Black and Indigenous people.”

It is in this fluid space of vast possibility that Insatiable sits.

It is heavy, and full of hope. It is simultaneously beautiful, deep, dark, and graceful. A work of true doom genius, Takiaya continues to create space not only for new sound, but for a new future.

Art by Helena Lima

Helena Lima Born in Belo Horizonte, Helena explores the intersection between urban life and fashion photography, creating visual experiments infused with psychedelic references. Her style moves in tandem with the fashion world—her field of study—and often emerges from collaborative processes involving various medias of audiovisual production and visual arts. She works as a makeup artist for editorials. Through these experiences, she transforms other photographers’ images by way of playful, dreamlike collages, evoking new atmospheres, reframing narratives, and expanding the expressive potential of the image.

Nascida em Belo Horizonte, Helena explora a interseção entre o urbano e a fotografia de moda, criando experimentos visuais atravessados por referências psicodélicas. Seu estilo caminha lado a lado com o universo da moda — sua área de formação — e nasce, muitas vezes, de processos colaborativos com diferentes setores do audiovisual e das artes. Atua como maquiadora em editoriais e, a partir dessas experiências, transforma imagens de outros fotógrafos por meio de colagens lúdicas e oníricas, que evocam novas atmosferas, ressignificam narrativas e expandem o potencial expressivo da imagem.

Art by Helena Lima

Art by Helena Lima

Art by Helena Lima

Art by Helena Lima

Learning to Create Without Breaking Words by Casper Orr

Before all else, I am an artist. And pain is the enemy of art.

Spotify recommended Kristen Hayter as an artist I may have interest in during 2022, when she was still performing under the stage name of Lingua Ignota. I discovered SINNER GET READY (2021), “in which I seek but fail to find god in god’s own country, in which I find betrayal and abandonment, fear and loneliness, judgment,” as Hayter states in an instagram post. Her music struck me. She used the sounds of the billowing organ and echoing chorus associated with that of old gospel classics to perform visceral and rageful music about religion and trauma. Songs like “THE ORDER OF SPIRITUAL VIRGINS” and “PENNSYLVANIA FURNACE” made me feel like the vengeful god that I had come to despise. Trust me though, I would have been a righteous god— probably. Her art was not without cost. In late 2023, Hayter retired her persona of Lingua Ignota, citing her declining mental health. At first I was dismayed. Then I was forced to self-reflect. For four years, Hayter lived inside of the memory of her trauma to create her music. I had spent years creating art and writing off of my experiences with religion. I was living in memories I would much rather forget.

How was I any different?

It was not long after her retirement as the wrathful Lingua Ignota that Hayter announced a new stage presence: Reverend Kristin Michael Hayter. This was initially a very off putting rebrand for me. I love some good religious imagery (easter eggs are extremely my shit),

I

but the honorifics provided to religious leaders have always been difficult for me to stomach. It always felt like a way to separate the

priest, pastor, whoever from the people; like he was better than us.

Like he was a god himself. Not to mention it was almost always a man.

Most churches don’t allow women to preach. I think that’s the first reason Hayter’s new project started to grow on me. I figured I had to try it out—to support her journey as an artist, if nothing else.

By the end of 2023, she had released SAVED! SAVED!; ; “the record is steeped in pathos, but now the wrath of god gives way to His

deliverance.” I don’t know if there’s a phrase better than ‘steeped in pathos’ to describe this album or the emotions it evokes. She pivoted

from a musical project steeped in Old Testament Pentecostal roots with

themes of mental health, sexual assault, and abuse to a new creative endeavor based in the transcendental aspect of the Pentecostal sect.

We still get the billowing organs and Hayter’s impressive operatic skills, but her work’s themes are very different now. Under Lingua Ignota, Hayter’s vision was derived from Old Testament Pentecostal beliefs, all blood and brimstone; it is vicious and vengeful, and so is the god that Hayter portrays as Lingua Ignota. But as Reverend Kristen Michael Hayter, she moves from the Old Testament; god is not looking to punish, but to save. Her newer work revolves around healing spiritually and mentally, rather than the painful art centering her trauma that she made for four years. Hayter’s new persona has moved me, even when I thought it couldn’t. Reverend Kristin Michael Hayter is a juxtaposition to Lingua Ignota; while Lingua Ignota represented pain and rage, Reverend Kristin Michael Hayter represents healing. But

e v i l l l i w . e f I is li h where does one learn to juxtapose themself? Where was I to begin?

From the beginning.

I started slowing down when driving past local churches on

my way home from my part time retail job. Not much, but I had always

picked up speed, like the way people do while holding their breath when

passing a graveyard. Like there are ghosts chasing them. So I slowed down. I broke a pattern—a little one—that chained me to a life that

wasn’t worth all of the art that came from it. Then, I continued to break more.

I don’t write about religion like I used to anymore, not

usually. I have my moments and they can be cathartic. But when they were everything, they were paralyzing. When you go to that place—that place on the hill, on bent, scabbed knee—everytime you make art, passion becomes resentment becomes open, gaping wound.

But I will not tell you how to make art, only that the art also

makes you. I was ready to live my life over and over and over again

as a sequence of memories for my practice; willing to waste my life living as a past self that was slowly killing me for art that I could

not love. I was tired of the pain. I was even more tired of doing it to myself.

I will not change my name, nor will I convert back to evangelism.

But I will learn from Lingua Ignota and Reverend Kristen Michael

Hayter; I will heal despite it all; I will find beauty in the pain;

I will live this life; I will make art that I love. And that will be enough.

photos by ALEXIS MAHLER @ LOLLIPOP SHOP

ayal

ANN ANNIE @ SHOWDOWN

AMOS HEART @ CLAY ST STUDIOS

BE PRESENT ART GROUP & LONNIE HOLLEY @ POLARIS HALL

JUANA MOLINE @ MISSION THEATER

RYAN OXFORD @ COLOR THERAPY

ISABEAU WAIA’U WALKER @ COLOR THERAPY

R Y

TIM BERNARDES @ MISSISSIPPI STUDIOS

DON’ T WANNA BE AN AMERICAN IDIOT The day following the 2024 election I began playing “American Idiot” on a loop.

Intermittent sobs provoked not by specific reminders of the fate of our country, but by a general air of dread that for once existed outside of my brain. A high school teacher surrounded by teenagers and full of Gay rage, I found myself back in the egocentric bubble of adolescence.

DON’ T WANT A NATION UNDER THE NEW MEDIA

Words

by Meg Streich

There’s cameras in my classroom. There’s a camera pointed at my desk, and one in the middle of the room.

That one points to everything.

The one pointed directly towards my desk always seemed a little more concerning.

This isn’t here to survey for safety, this is here to look at me. Maybe it says something about me—that I didn’t move furniture when I got there, kept my desk in the surveillance corner. The rise of fascism is dependent on the complacency of its people, and I didn’t move my desk.

AND CAN YOU HEAR THE SOUND OF HYSTERIA? Kids come in throughout the day with varying degrees of malaise, rage, and rage-induced-malaise. Adolescence is supposed to be insular, a cocoon of angst, hormones, tears over anything from math homework to knowing you more than just like your English teacher. What was supposed to be looking inward is now forced to look outward out of self preservation. A time of safety and experimentation became a time to duck and cover.

THE SUBLIMINAL MINDFUCK AMERICA Being tiny, blonde, and feminine to anyone over fifty made me a magic eye poster. The old men who allude to “my boyfriend” looking down onto my shoulder pads and compressed chest.

WELCOME TO A NEW KIND OF TENSION This is the era of kids that grew up with normalized school shooting drills. Elementary schoolers, preschoolers, being made aware by terrified public servants the likely odds that the ease of purchasing a firearm could end in death amidst hanging up their coat and walking to their desk. What to do if you’re in the hallway.

What to do if they’re with a substitute. Women whose husbands voted to expand firearm access, showing their kids how to hide in the cabinet.

ALL ACROSS THE ALIEN NATION Documentation without social security numbers, parents that can’t open an email because the translation on microsoft doesn’t work all the time.

Following the election, truancy rates skyrocketed as immigrant families stopped sending their kids to school.

Always fear sending your kids to school, but not for those reasons.

Fear it because of firearms fear it because of the internet because of other children because of a generation steeped in comparison and existential fear. Not because of that.

WHERE EVERYTHING ISN’ T MEANT TO BE OKAY Youth mental health crisis professional development trainings sit in the cafeteria on a cold metal stool from choir practice that has seen itself through multiple world wars. Questioning what there is left to defund. Knowing the silhouette of a razor blade through jeans, through sweatpants.

Look into your phone, look to the tiktok look to the insta reels because the world isn’t collapsing if @pretti-in-citi has a flawless morning routine. Make sourdough bread

with the camera angled so you can’t see all the depressionepisode cups crowding the counter. All is well if you can still order mouth tape on amazon. Breathing through your nose will fix your jawline. During the onset of the pandemic the first time I started to panic was not at the death toll but at being unable to purchase a jumbo box of cheddar blasted goldfish on amazon, the uncertainty permeating my bubble.

WE’RE NOT THE ONES WHO’RE MEANT TO FOLLOW Out of the room, down the hall, your windows don’t open to prevent them from escaping when there’s not a threat.

Tell the kids it’s a rabid raccoon.

FOR THAT ’S ENOUGH TO ARGUE Sit through meetings with gender inflated pancake makeup lily pulitzer women and their red-hatted roided husbands.

Smile, maybe wear a dress that day. Repeat “Miss Honey” to yourself in the mirror that morning. Wear rings but not on those fingers. Shave. Don’t call them to you. If I could brainwash your children they would wear deodorant.

WELL, MA I’M THE F AMERICA Miss Trunchbull was a dyke... and so am I. Plant your feet and stand your ground. Arm yourself with a thumb ring, roll up your sleeve with a forearm tattoo, dress as yourself. You are proof that there is more. There is a thumb ring wearing, forearm tattoo having, insured and salary-having queer future.

Queer people are everywhere, and deserve to be everywhere.

This is the Faggot America.

I’M NOT A PART OF A REDNECK AGENDA Chevron pants and big hats with a husband named Brandon and a baby girl named Ashleigh. Mass produced house with target aesthetic. Talk about ways to cut carbs in your packed lunch.

AYBE FAGGOT, A NOW EVERYBODY, DO THE PROPAGANDA I pledge Allegiance to the flag. Men only respond to fear for themselves.

AND SING ALONG TO THE AGE OF PARANOIA I want you to scream. I want you to break something that isn’t yourself. Education is our most valuable public resource that is built like an oceanside shack propped up on rotting legs. We need our house, but she can’t stand.

Part of me wants to say it

was going to happen, that it even should happen, a system failing at its purpose.

Failure is not a reason to let something collapse, but it is all the reason to stand firm and try again.

MINI SONG REVIEWS Whose Line Is It Anyway? by Syd Matisse (January 17, 2025) Matisse breaks out onto the scene with her debut single, absolutely cementing herself into “lilith fair revival.” She has a sound I can barely describe other than if Fleetwood Mac was a solo project. Matisse’s debut single has the same elements of the magical, free-flowing soft melody and lyricism often paired with the mystical rock and folk bands that shaped my youth. “Whose Line Is It Anyway?” has me spinning around in my room, arms spread open, like I did when I was thirteen listening to Stevie Nicks’ “Leather and Lace.”

—Casper Orr TEETHSUCKER by Rico Nasty (February 20, 2025) Rico comes back from a short break with another transformation. The first single release of Rico Nasty’s upcoming album ON THE LOW denotes a continuation and maturation of the heavier elements founded with her previous album, Las Ruinas. It’s also a return to some of the hyperpop elements included in one of her most beloved albums, Nightmare Vacation. Prepare to hear Rico as never before.

—Casper Orr Superlover by Allison Russell, featuring Annie Lennox (March 25, 2025) Russell collaborates with Annie Lennox, both Artists for Ceasefire, perform this riveting and moving duet in solidarity with the Palestinian people.

When announcing the song, Russell said, “I don’t know how to pray so I offer up this song… This song is a prayer… All children are our children. All of them.

Everywhere.” Accompanied by string instruments and stunning vocals, these lyrics truly steal the show.

—Casper Orr oyster by chloe moriondo (March 28, 2025) I’m introduced to one of my favorite songs in chloe moriondo’s discography with the release of chloe moriondo’s fifth album, oyster. It’s unlike any of moriondo’s previous work in the best way possible. True to its name, it provides an underwater vibe with muted instrumentals and the clearest vocals. Think The Little Mermaid, but way cuntier. I know this is one of Ursula’s club classics.

—Casper Orr Escapist by Duckwrth (April 2, 2025) The fifth track of his most recent album, All American F*ckBoy, Duckwrth experiments with genre. “Escapist” blends contemporary rap and hip-hop with soul and funk, tied together with a combination of fast-paced lyricism and melodic vocals. Not only is this rhythmic and hypnotizing beat calling you to dance, but it has some truly memorable and brilliant bars. Jaw dropping.

—Casper Orr Find Some Space by Dreamer Isioma (April 4, 2025) What can I say about this song, other than it is absolutely mesmerizing.

An alternative indie symphony, Find Some Space uses an intriguing combination of string, percussion, and engineered noise. It results in a sound that contributes to the sci-fi vibe that Isioma has shaped their music around.

—Casper Orr

Pics? By Burly Girlies (April 4, 2025) And Burly Girlies are back! This Vermont-based riot grrrl punk band takes the scene by storm with their latest single, steeped in the influences of predecessors like Bikini Kill and Kitten Forever. Pics? is an exciting continuation of Burly Girlies’ discography, contributing to a biting commentary on misogyny and sexual harassment.

—Casper Orr “Davenport (A Rotten Pear)” by For Your Health (April 10, 2025) For Your Health is back in a big way, now on 3DOT Recordings. Heavy and hard hitting as always, the Columbus-based band just released “Davenport (A Rotten Pear)” alongside a cheeky Midwest horror music video. Coming in hot ahead of forthcoming June 6th album This Bitter Garden (with another single hitting streaming platforms on May 2), For Your Health is fierce, experimental, and is showing their teeth with a whole new lineup. This one’s a must listen.

-Starly Lou Riggs “Conocerla (Amantes Del Futuro Edit)” by Reyna Tropical (April 23, 2025) All I can say is: picante. Known for fusing cumbia and tropical rhythm with bright guitar and electronic beats, Reyna Tropical’s fresh rework hits new levels of dynamic sound. This spicy remix of Conocerla (originally released on the artist’s 2024 album, Malegría) comes out ahead of the May 23 release Malegría en la Oscuridad. The word “malegría” is bittersweet, mixing the words mal (bad) and alegría (joy). This remix adds an additional twist as it turns off the lights, perhaps on the sweaty dance floor where it’s to keep your hips from moving. Dreamy and sensual, Fabi Reyna begs listeners to move with lyrics like “Bailamos despacito pa que nos quite el calor (We dance slowly to take away the heat).” Just press play, close your eyes, and feel.

-Starly Lou Riggs flush by Searows (November 22, 2024) Get ready for melancholy in its purest form. Pacific Northwest artist Searows is a master at capturing the relatably moody by way of weaving acoustic webs, pulling the listener into a foggy dream of feeling. Staying true to their sound, flush is an extention of previous works, featuring Alec Duckart’s lilting vocals and gut wrenching lyrics like “[there is still time]” ending “So I'll scream until / You hear me say it / This has never been your fault”. His entire discography is as hazy as a cloudy sky, but flush is especially fitting for a good tender cry in the most beautiful patch of nature.

-Starly Lou Riggs The Past is Still Alive by Hurray for the Riff Raff (February 23, 2024) A little more than a year ago, I took a "griefiversary" trip to commemorate my grandmother's death and a recent breakup that rocked my world.

While grieving the loss of both my chosen and biological family, I listened to Hurray for the Riff Raff's newest album, The Past is Still Alive. Alynda Segarra's words, "'Cause we drove out to the desert / Just to leave the past behind" sliced through the unfamiliar landscape and enveloped me in feelings I so desperately needed to access. I drove thousands of miles just to see if it would help.

— KD Hack

vol.3 mixtape 1. ALL OF MY FRIENDS ARE GOING TO HELL Reverend Kristen Michael Hayter

2. Superlover

Allison Russell, featuring Annie Lennox

3. Best Guess Lucy Dacus

4. Whose Line Is It Anyway Syd Matisse

5. Canção da Odalisca Caetano Brasil

6. No Me Quieres Reyna Tropical

7. American Idiot Green Day

8. Pics?

Burly Girlies

9. Omnipotent

Divide and Dissolve

10. TEETHSUCKER Rico Nasty

11. Find Some Space Dreamer Isioma

12. poser

PARTYOF2, Jadagrace, SWIM

13. Escapist Duckwrth

14. oyster

chloe moriondo

15. Only Got Your Number Dorian Electra

16. I Can’t Quit Mel 4Ever

17. Mouth

Spike Hellis

18. 223

KFC Murder Chicks

19. way out Ada Rook

Timothy Arliss OBrien (he/they)

Kayla Thompson (she/her)

is a classical music composer and poetry publisher. He hosts and manages the podcast and small press publisher The Poet Heroic along with its metaphysics imprint, the spell crafting and tarot publishing Healers Coven, and on occasion becomes the psychedelic drag queen Tabitha Acidz.Check out more at his website: www.timothyarlissobrien.com

is a writer living in Brooklyn, NY. She is the Senior Editor, Poetry at Fruitslice. ig: @kaylamarie_99

Casper Orr (he/him) is a Trans Disabled writer with opinions (shocker). ig: @casper.orr

Meg Streich (she/her) is a writer, educator, nonprofit director, and senior editor at Fruitslice. Based out of Philadelphia, PA, she can be found running The Big Gay Writing Project, a nonprofit organization focused on creating sober queer spaces, or getting lost in an IKEA. She can take a baked potato out of the oven with her bare hands. ig: @meg.bert /@biggaywritingproject

LEO FAZIO (THEY/ELU) is a musician from São Paulo, Brazil, currently residing in Juíz de Fora. They love jazz and Brazilian music and spend the late hours of the night writing their own noises, often wondering about the great vastness of sound. Their first book of poetry, Anomalocáries, is out now with Editora Primata ig: @leossauro

Starly Lou Riggs (xe/they/elu) is a musician and mulifaceted artist based in Brazil. Xe is a Senior Editor at Fruitslice and can be found screaming into the void as musical moniker and mythical creature Starly Kind. ig: @get.filthy

ayal alves (he/they) is a producer/musician living in Portland, OR, USA who enjoys documenting the magic of musical experience on film. ig: @saroonthenow

Helena Lima (she/her)

Rachel bennett (she/they)

is a makeup and collage artist from Belo Horizonte, Brazil.

Helena explores the intersection between urban life and fashion photography, creating visual experiments infused with psychedelic references. Her style moves in tandem with the fashion world—her field of study—and often emerges from collaborative processes involving various medias of audiovisual production and visual arts. She works as a makeup artist for editorials. ig: @hlimac

has been photographing musicians and live music in Seattle for 6+ years, and has worked with local bands, national artists, for festivals, & on tours. She thrives in both the chaos of the photo pit and the calm creativity of the studio, and strives to capture the unique energy of the shared music experience through moments of color, light, & movement. website: www.rachelbennett.com ig: @rbennettphotography

Photo by Ana Gouveia

@thefruitslice @noisemadeby www.thefruitslice.com Noise Made By Volume 3: Innovators Music zine in collaboration with Fruitslice: A Queer Quarterly