WECB’s
Milk Crate Presents:
Guilty Issue 2
2 e m u l o V
Pleasures
WILL INGMAN
NORA ONANIAN
LAUREN LARKING
SOPHIE SEVERS
ADORA BROWN
SARA O’CONNELL
NAT SzczepanskI
ADRI PRAY
KARENNA UMSCHEID
IZZY DESMARAIS
JULIA NORKUS
ANDREW JOHNSON Most photos on page by Will Ingman.
DESIGNER:
Lily Hartenstein EDITORS:
Nia Tucker Kyle Woolery Nora Onanian Sarah Fournell Lily Hartenstein
SARAH FOURNELL
LYDIA AGA
MAXWELL REID
LILY HARTENSTEIN
NIA TUCKER
HARRY BATES
EVERLY ORFANEDES
KYLE WOOLERY
WRITERS:
Will Ingman Lauren Larking Sophie Severs Adora Brown Sara O’Connell Nat Szczepanski Adri Pray Karenna Umscheid Izzy Desmarais Julia Norkus Harry Bates Lydia Aga Maxwell Reid Everly Orfanedes Maura Cowan
MAURA COWAN
Table of Contents
Songs We Used to Hate ............. p.4 Learning to Love Your Guilty Pleasure... p.5 Just Girly Things ............. p.7 Guess That Makes Me The Supervillain .. p.9 Cock Rock .................... p.10 Can’t Spell Hating Women Without Emo .. p.11 Glee Covers Better Than The Original .. p.13 The Boy Band Stan to Queer Kid Pipeline .. p.15 The Soundtrack to my Childhood ............. p.16 Decoding Distortion............ p.17 Music Made in the Cell............. p.19 Christian Guilt But Make it Sexy ....... p.20 The Nostalgia Factor............. p.21 Nothing About Disco Sucks ............. p.22 ‘Cause Fracking is What?............. p.23 Streaming Service of the Future............. p.25 Emo’s Forgotten Classic............. p.26 Love Letter to the Mix CD ............. p.27 Underrated Pop-Rock Perfection............. p.29 Undoing Damage Done............ p.30
SONGS WE USED TO HATE (BUT NOW WE LOVE) “Hope in Suffering (Escaping Oblivion and Overcoming Powerlessness)” by Yves Tumor
Lily Hartenstein
Maura Cowan
“Favor” by Julien Baker “Wide Open Spaces” by the Chicks
Everly Orfanedes “ride the dragon” by FKA Twigs
Nia Tucker
“the last great american dynasty” by Taylor Swift
“Diary” by Bread
Harry Bates
Karenna Umscheid “Your Love” by The Outfield
Will Ingman
Julia Norkus
“My God” by The Killers (feat. Weyes Blood)
Read about how we grew to love these tracks and more on our site, linked with this QR.
LEARNING TO LOVE YOUR GUILTY PLEASURE:
A 5 Step Guide
The concept of a guilty pleasure is something I’ve been acquainted with since my childhood. For years, I would feel guilty about the media and music I consumed. As humans, we tend to over-categorize everything, and the lines between “good” and “bad” get filled with different connotations which inevitably, blurs them. Very quickly we learn that varying music genres fall under the “good” and “bad” categories. Therefore, we constantly question, “Are the songs I listened to too girly? Are they only supposed to be for boys? Was what I was listening to lame?” I felt all of these things. As I continued to grow and explore music, I realized that the idea of feeling guilty and shamed over the music I loved was an absolute waste of time. I learned to let go of embarrassment and learned to accept that whatever I liked was “good” because I liked it. As someone who has come out of the other side of the guilty pleasure, I feel it’s my duty to help others reach this point. Today my friends, I crafted you a 5 step guide for learning how to overcome your guilty pleasure and embrace your true, guilt-free self.
1. TALK ABOUT IT.
2. GET OVER YOURSELF.
The more you talk about your guilty pleasure, the less likely you are to let the You might consider a person guilt part consume you. Talking about that prides themselves on your guilty pleasure might also open more doors for you. You might find people who having an eclectic, superior, or relevant music taste. outwardly love those artists and aren’t In reality, none of that afraid to have in-depth conversations about matters. Not everything them, or you might find people who want to bond over their guilt just as much as you you do or consume has to be the absolute best or the do. The best friendships are usually built most niche or the most on a foundation of complaining. Know that underground. other people have guilty pleasures.
By Sara O’Connell
3. Know that other people have guilty pleasures.
All people have guilty pleasures and feel equally as guilty as you do about yours.
4. Acknowledge why It might be considered a “guilty pleasure”
Do people rag on this artist because it’s pop music? Do they dance too much? Do they dislike it because they don’t like the colors on the album art? If these are the reasons, it might be more of the hater’s issue than yours… If the artist is problematic, that is a toughy. You’ll need to discover where you draw the line between what is excusable to you and what you cannot stand for. Consider what ways you as a listener may be enabling them.
4. REGISTER THAT TASTES ARE SUBJECTIVE AND IF PEOPLE TELL YOU THAT YOUR MUSIC TASTE IS BAD, THEY DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY’RE TALKING ABOUT. Following #3, if you like it that’s all that matters.
You might be thinking that these steps are obvious and won’t help you in your journey of self-discovery. However, learning to not feel guilty over the things you love is a big step toward maturity and will allow you to feel more comfortable with your likes and dislikes. The reality is that nobody should ever really bwe shamed for the music they listen to. In a world where people constantly give unsolicited opinions on topics they may or may not know about, you’ll need to be prepared to stand firm in your guilty pleasure.
WARNING: THIS ARTICLE MAY OFFEND MUSICAL GATEKEEPERS. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.
Just Girly Things By Sophie Severs
We all know that one person whose only mission in life is to invalidate your taste in music. Conversations with them are filled with condescending questions, such as “What? You don’t know that Phil Spector produced the Wall of Sound?” and statements along the lines of, “Okay, but you’re not a true music fan if you haven’t listened to Frank Zappa.” They lord their esoteric tastes over you, having mastered the art of pretension, constantly putting you down to feed into their own sense of musical superiority. Those who have had the most trouble being considered as legitimate curators of taste are women. Young girls especially have been repeatedly shamed for liking music found in the mainstream. It does not seem to matter if there is meaningful experience connected to a song—it will be whittled down into a baseless memory by the time the elitists are done preaching their musical gospel. One might say something along the lines of: “Oh, you cry to Adele? Well, I cry to Radiohead’s “Creep” every night, so that automatically makes me ten times cooler,” or claim that artists like Taylor Swift are so overrated while acting like The Beatles haven’t also been streamed over 1.7 billion times.
Male prestige is overpowering in the music scene: what they say usually goes. Even Hollywood has picked up on this notion, presenting archetypes of uppity indie record store owners denying sales to clients in High Fidelity and putting the manic pixie dream girl trope on a pedestal when women like music that is not traditionally “girly”—i.e, Summer in 500 Days of Summer liking The Smiths. Many use fan base demographics to directly invalidate the work of popular artists, forgetting that some of the most respected artists in music history initially had fan bases that were mostly female-identifying. That’s right hipster kings, The Beatles really did have a fan base of girls. Just because women listen to it does not imply that it is entirely void of meaning; perhaps it signifies that there is actually something there that makes it stand out. After all, things are usually popular for a reason. We as women have become so accustomed to not defending our music choices after they are repeatedly attacked. We sadly nod our heads and concede to the opinions of our so-called musical superiors, while men fight tooth and nail to protect their images of their beloved artists. But we don’t have to. Musical gatekeepers, I ask you this: What would the world be like
if everyone took your advice and listened to the music you listen to? Would there be world peace? Would everyone finally be happy? Absolutely not. The diverse range of music available is what makes the music scene so beautiful. You certainly don’t have to like every piece of music out there—but you don’t have to shame others for liking things that you don’t. Music is something that continues to change as time goes on. There is no set standard that measures how “good” something is—all music taste is inherently subjective. People are ultimately going to like what they want to like. Letting people, but especially young women, explore art without putting limitations on them is crucial to keeping the music scene diverse. Believe it or not you can appreciate Harry Styles while also loving Car Seat Headrest. In shaming people for what they listen to, you are effectively ridding people of their musical autonomy and therefore decreasing the diversity of listening within music as a whole.
Do not let others’ opinions compromise your enjoyment of the things you like. Stand your ground and refuse to adhere to labels others put on your music. You and your interests are completely valid! Be a confident example, and others will follow suit. Music elitists, I want to assure you that no artist is single handedly “ruining music”; in fact, that seems to be your job. You make the music scene—which is supposed to be a safe space for appreciating creative expression—hostile and exclusive. There is a difference between healthy criticism and demeaning someone’s taste. A word of advice: if you don’t want to be hated by all of your friends, mind your own business and attempt to diversify your listening habits. Your music taste isn’t “more refined,” it’s just smaller. As cheesy as it sounds, just try to find the good—give things a genuine chance before automatically discarding them as vapid.
IN OTHER WORDS: DON’T HATE, APPRECIATE!
GUESS THAT MAKES ME THE SUPERVILLAIN By Lydia Aga
I think there’s a Shakespeare in every corner of the South Bronx. And maybe a few Homers sprinkled throughout Fort Greene. All my favorite poets have always been rappers. Amidst the endless blocks of white picket fences and the decades-old momand-pop shops of Secaucus, it was always me, Q-Tip, Phife Dawg, and Ali against the world. My creative writing teacher, Mr. Mara, taught me three things about life that year: 1) knowing how to make a mean plate of eggs is a must, 2) good form = a good punch, and 3) you always find art in unexpected places. Every Friday, he’d make us do a writing exercise where we’d have to create a story out of random words generated off some website just to see what we as 15-year-olds could cook up at 7:45 A.M. I didn’t think I could ever be a writer. I didn’t know how to articulate how awkwardly I stuck out within my white suburb within those five minutes. Stringing together Mr. Mara’s chosen words of the day, racing against the clock, and attempting to critique the stereotypical suburban bubble I lived in while being first-generation, Black, and a young girl coming of age amidst political turmoil felt too large to tackle. It always felt like I was running out of time. I wanted to say so much within those 5 minutes that my teacher gave us. I wanted to blow everyone away with how much I had to say about the world — how perfectly horrible it was and how perfectly horrible this world made me feel about being Black, being a girl, and being almost 15.
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Cock Rock:
A Lesson in Rock and Roll Hello fellow music enjoyers, and a special hello to Rock and Roll lovers! Today, I want to introduce the somewhat niche subgenre of rock known as, “Cock Rock.” Cock Rock first arose in the 1960s and 1970s, a time when music was beginning to become increasingly experimental and lyrics became raunchier. With the rise of artists such as Elvis Presley and The Beatles, new doors for music, specifically for Rock and Roll, were beginning to open. Songs about puppy love and chaperoned dates were out — sex and drugs were in! Thus, Cock Rock was born. The guidelines for a song to be included in the “Cock Rock” genre are pretty broad, but generally these are some of the requirements: Sung by men. Contains Sex deprived energy (incel vibes). Lyrics are very
By Everly Orfanedes
aggressive and contain themes of toxic masculinity Overall vibes are very horny. In the ‘70s and ‘80s, bands such as Motley Crue, Kiss, and Led Zeppelin were dominating the subgenre. But over the past few decades, the genre has begun to deeply expand in the amount of content and the different styles of music that are supplying it. The popularization of ‘80s, ‘90s, and 2000s Punk and Indie has brought forth a new wave of Cock Rock. You may know these bands as “incel” music, depending on how much social media you consume. Bands such as Weezer, Blink-182, and Green Day are staples in the grunge/pop-punkesque development of Cock Rock. Today, Cock Rock continues to thrive and live on. As music styles continue to evolve and change in popularity, Cock Rock has become less exclusive to hard rock, and has become much more adaptable to genre. Bands like
Greta Van Fleet and The Arctic Monkeys are some popular examples. Underground bands, such as the indie rock duo, Moth Wings, are also continuing to keep the sub-genre alive. It is important to emphasize that Cock Rock is NOT exclusively for those who have cocks. Remember, music is for everyone! Anyone can listen to and enjoy music, no matter the genre, no matter how you identify, and no matter how many cocks are mentioned in a song. So, musicians and music enjoyers: let’s all rock out together! To help as you begin your journey of exploring Cock Rock, check out this playlist, which consists of a multitude of Cock Rock classics, and some of my own personal choices.
Scan the QR code for a cock rock playlist:
“I SEE YOU COLD, I FEEL YOU HEARTLESS, BITCH. YOU STUPID FUCKING BITCH.” - ASKING ALEXANDRIA, “NOT THE AMERICAN AVERAGE” “WHY DID YOU GO BE“I NEED A GIRL THAT I TRAY ME? YOU’RE SUCH CAN TRAIN” - BLINK-182, A WHORE.” - FIDLAR, “DUMPWEED” “WHORE” “I KNOW WHERE YOU’VE BEEN, YOU’RE RUINING MEN.” - THE STORY SO FAR, “ROAM” “I HATED “SUCH A SIMPLE LITTLE WHORE.” - MAYDAY PARADE, “WHEN I GET HOME YOU’RE SO DEAD”
By Maura Cowan
Can’t Spell Hating Women Without “Emo”
WHAT I SAW. YOU STUPID LYING BITCH, WHO’S DAVID?” - BUSTED, “WHO’S DAVID”
“SO WEAR ME LIKE A LOCKET AROUND YOUR THROAT, I’LL WEIGH YOU DOWN, I’LL WATCH YOU CHOKE. YOU LOOK SO GOOD IN BLUE.” - FALL OUT BOY, “NOBODY PUTS BABY IN A CORNER” “BARELY CONSCIOUS IN THE “I WANT SOMEONE PROVOCDOOR WHERE YOU STAND, ATIVE AND TALKATIVE BUT YOUR EYES ARE FIGHTING IT’S SO HARD WHEN YOU’RE SLEEP WHILE YOUR MOUTH SHALLOW AS A SHOWER. MAKES YOUR DEMANDS... I AL- AND FROM WHAT I’VE HEARD, MOST FEEL SORRY FOR WHAT WITH SKIN, YOU’LL WIN.” I’M GONNA DO” - BRAND NEW, CUTE IS WHAT WE AIM FOR, “ME VS. MARADONA VS. ELVIS” “THE CURSE OF CURVES”
‘Emo,’ and its associated genres, is absolutely rife with lyrical misogyny. It’s been an ongoing conversation for the past few years– think pieces abound as we reflect on the legacy of the 2000s alternative scene. I have grown up on the conflicting scriptures of poppunk and critical feminism since middle school, and I have read all of the takes from sharp, intellectual women grinding the genre into the dirt. But forgive me, mothers, for I have lost the moral high ground: I don’t think I can let go. It’s true, there is a piece of me that wants to laugh these lines off. From a retrospective standpoint, it can be too easy to wave away the misogynistic sentiment in these lyrics as simple products of their time, reduced to rants from sexually frustrated teenage boys... whiny, obnoxious, but ultimately harmless. And this is true of many pop-punk fans I know– most of us are socially conscious and critically engaged, and many (including myself) hold identities that go frequently underrepresented and demeaned in the scene. We still harbor a secret satisfaction from screaming “what a shame, the poor groom’s bride is a whore,” and yes, that often stems from a lingering sentiment that this
form of vitriolic aggression is almost quaintly archaic. “I mean,” we laugh from behind our armor of feminist theory, “who even calls women whores anymore?” We would be remiss, however, to ignore that the privilege of the ‘whiny suburban emo white boy’ is inherently interwoven not only into these artists’ music, but the ways in which they move through the world and handle their positions of celebrity. This is, if nothing else, all too apparent in the history of abuse within alternative scenes– it is now harder to identify bands that do not have allegations of sexual assualt and manipulation against them than ones that do. Over the past few years, we have increasingly seen these artists reckoning with the fraught legacies of their own work. Some are now using lyrics that have aged poorly as ways to open up a conversation about misogyny and growth within the community. Others, taking a more radical approach, have chosen to cut these lyrics or the songs themselves from performances entirely. Still others have not acknowledged them at all, even singing them louder than ever... they are, after all, so often fan favorites.
e e l Six rG r e t t e b s e cov n the tha al n i g i r o
by Nat Szczepanski
When asked what my musical guilty pleasure is, I usually respond with early 2000s bubblegum pop, but the thing is… I don’t exactly feel guilty about it. No, there’s something else I feel extremely guilty liking—Glee. My deepest and darkest secret is that I will unironically play the Glee cover rather than the original song. Something about this unhinged and borderline camp dumpster fire of a show is addicting, even years later. And so, in honor of Milk Crate’s celebration of the things we probably should be embarrassed about, I will be listing, in no particular order, Glee covers that I (controversially) think are better than the originals.
“Bust Your 1. Windows” —
This is not the only song on this list that will feature Amber Riley, and there’s a good reason for that: she was arguably one of the best singers on the show. In her rendition of “Bust Your Windows,” the heartbreak is even more palpable than in the original. I attribute this both to the slight BPM (beats per minute) increase from 107 to 110 and to the richness of Riley’s voice. . . I personally find that Jazmine Sullivan’s raspier, subdued voice limits her potential to fully express the anger and melancholy this song requires.
2.
“Love Song” — The main
reason I prefer this version over the original is, quite simply, the harmonies. I think we can all appreciate the texture added by combining the likes of a soprano, mezzo-soprano and alto (although I would say that Dianna Agron is probably more of a contralto based on her timbre). The original song by Sara Barielles feels as though it’s missing something in comparison. The bridge is by far my favorite part of this cover because it highlights Agron’s lower range, which Glee largely ignored over the course of its run. Instead, they saddled her with pieces that may not have been best suited to her abilities, and while I like her other songs on the show, her lower register is obviously where she’s most comfortable. And I’m just mad we didn’t get more Quinn (Agron’s character) in general.
3.
“Sweet Transvestite” — I know this choice in particular is
going to anger some Rocky Horror Picture Show fans. I appreciate Tim Curry’s original cult classic and am in no way insinuating that it’s bad by preferring another version; it’s just literally impossible to ignore Amber Riley’s insane vocals. The sheer power behind those belts and runs wins her the crown. However, I will point out that the original exudes sexuality in ways the Glee version does not. Curry’s performance is much more sensual, and that is due to his access to a much lower range and his phrasing of lines. Regardless, I’m obsessed with Amber Riley and believe everyone else should
4.
“Mine” — There’s
“I
Feel Pretty / Unpretty” —
just something so This song is the sole reason twisted about turning a song about why the Glee cast ended up in not breaking up into a breakup my 2021 top Spotify artists, and I song. Leaving behind the context can’t even be mad about that. of the show for a second and This is by far the best mashup Glee has ever strictly talking about both songs on done. Where the original TLC version throws a compositional level, the original me off is the drum track; it overpowers the version’s country leanings leave rest of the song in terms of style and actual a lot to be desired. There’s only mixing. I think by slowing the song down and so much country twang that I stripping it back, the Glee version really cuts can handle, Taylor Swift’s accent, to the core emotional message of the song while iconic, does hold the lyrics that the original accidentally shrouds. The back from sounding like more than inclusion of “I Feel Pretty” is an example of words in a young girl’s journal. how this mashup is superior: trading out the Glee’s minimalist interpretation silliness of the original for a more complex really sells the feelings of and ironic narrative. While these characters heartbreak and longing contained may say that they feel pretty, the rest of the within the song. Also, growing up song proves deep down that it is actually the queer in the early 2010s meant opposite. This cover is also better because of seeing very little representation the gay subtext; you cannot tell me otherwise on mainstream TV, so I won’t lie that Quinn and Rachel (portrayed by Dianna about my bias when it comes to Agron and Lea Michelle respectively) weren’t preferring an inherently sapphic in love. version of “Mine.”
5.
6.
“River Deep, Mountain High” — What do you get when you combine the talents of the two best singers on the show? This absolute powerhouse of a cover. The astonishing intensity with which Amber Riley and Naya Rivera approach this song not only does it justice but also elevates it to iconic status. They even raised the key from D# to G#, making this version all the more technically impressive because of the sheer amount of high notes.
The Boy Band Stan to Queer Kid Pipeline BY ADORA BROWN When the Jonas Brothers stepped on stage for their 2021 Remember This tour, I screamed so loud my own ears rang. Fenway Park was packed with girls who had been obsessed with the brothers since their purity ring era. Although they ditched the fedora hats and floppy hair, the Jonas Brothers maintained their grip on much of their original fanbase, many of whom came out in waves to watch them live once more. But our love for boy bands is not solely about music. They had a presence that allowed us to identify with them individually, whether you were a Harry girl or a Zayn girl. The boy band phenomenon is the cyclical, firm grasp that boy bands have had over the years, from the Jackson 5 to NSYNC to One Direction. Our generation altered the way we interacted with these artists. Tumblr blogs, tweets, and Instagram accounts were the heart of the fanbase. Our online engagement created a space for fans to interact more intimately with each other. “It’s not just listening to music. It’s seeing their everyday lives,” said Emerson first-year student Haley Morales (she/her).
Morales went to her first Jonas Brothers concert at the age of seven. Later on, when she first began forming her own music taste, she found One Direction and engaged heavily with them on Instagram. The online community and the anonymity it provided were more forgiving than real life. “I feel like it’s really easy for people to invalidate girls liking boy bands. I think that’s just kind of a facade to invalidate girls’ opinions,” said Morales. The significant online presence of bands like One Direction created a cycle of consuming and creating media online that kept them afloat throughout our childhoods. Specifically for queer people, social media was a place for fans to find community. At age 14, Sogee Franklin (they/them) ran an Instagram fan account for the K-pop boy group SEVENTEEN that at one point surpassed 10,000 followers. The online community was a place for queer youth like them to interact with each other and find validation in their identities. “At the time, I had internet friends who talked about gender and didn’t feel like either [male or female]. For
the first time I was like, ‘Oh wait, that’s also me.’ But I didn’t have the words for it,” said Franklin. But boy bands were also a shield. Their unique “pop masculinity” allowed for a non-threatening aesthetic appeal. Franklin said, “When I transferred schools, being very open about stanning a boy group made me feel like I was protecting myself.” One Direction fan Nahisha Jackson (they/them) notes a similar experience: “There was something that felt subversive about the way Harry dressed or acted that was kind of a genderenvy moment.” In regards to One Direction, Jackson continues, “It felt like they had a level of freedom and this cool comradery in their boyhood that I wanted for myself gender-wise.” The boy bands of our youth were enigmatic performances of gender and sexuality. Queer kids exercised control by finding subtext in lyrics or small interactions between artists, like shipping Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson (ship name: Larry). This engagement spawned a new generation of LGBTQ+ community members who shared a love for androgynous boys with cute haircuts.
Phineas and Ferb:
The Soundtrack to My Childhood
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A lot of people seem to think the shows they watched as a kid are infinitely better than the shows kids are watching today. It’s me, I’m a lot of people. I mean, just think about Disney Channel for a minute, circa the mid to late 2000s. We got Hannah Montana, Wizards of Waverly Place, The Suite Life of Zack and Cody…and don’t even get me started on their original made-fortelevision movies. High School Musical? Camp Rock? Lemonade Mouth? (Okay, I know Lemonade Mouth didn’t come out until 2011 but it is still a top tier Disney Channel Original Movie). While shows and movies like this are entertaining to revisit from time to time, there’s no denying now that they were
obvious cash grabs. Think about it: all those different clothing lines inspired by actual outfits Miley Cyrus wore on Hannah Montana, the toy replicas of Alex Russo’s wand, I even had a Build-A-Bear with High School Musical themed pajamas. They’re fun, but made with a huge capitalist intention. However, there’s one Disney show I can’t say that about: Phineas and Ferb. I love Phineas and Ferb. I love the characters, the over-the-top storylines, the witty jokes, and, above all else, I love the music. I mean, who can forget absolute bangers like “Busted,” or “Gitchee Gitchee Goo,” or, of course, “S.I.M.P. (Squirrels in My Pants).” Of course, Disney still generated plenty of revenue
by making an atrocious amount of merchandise based off the show’s characters Phineas, Ferb, Candace, and Perry the Platypus. But there’s something about the show that keeps it from feeling like yet another capitalistic venture. Creators Dan Povenmire and Jeff “Swampy” Marsh are likely the reason for it. They first met as layout artists for The Simpsons and then wrote together for Rocko’s Modern Life. Inspired by his childhood in Alabama, Povenmire brought his rough ideas to Marsh, and together they created a pitch for Phineas and Ferb. It took sixteen years for it to be picked up. Sixteen years!
By Izzy Desmarais
Music Made in the Cell Not all albums are created or released under the same conditions. Some are constructed in a stone room like Phil Collins’ “In the Air Tonight.” A surprising amount of albums have been recorded in jail or prison, the most famous probably being “Live From Folsom Prison” by Johnny Cash, but the experience of writing music while incarcerated is wholly separate. While there are many examples of albums born of this circumstance, I’ll be diving into my three favorites. I will not focus on why the artist was incarcerated, but rather strictly on the music that came out because of it. First, let’s talk about Slick Rick. Behind Bars is Slick Rick’s third studio album, released in 1992. The lead single “Behind Bars” was released while Rick was still in jail giving the song a couple of different meanings: referencing Rick’s rhyming style and
his literal location. The single is one of Ricks’s best and endlessly replayable. Because Rick was in jail when the single was released, the music video is entirely animated and in my opinion, is one of the greatest music videos of all time. The rest of the album is solid with songs like “Sittin in My Car” and “It’s a Boy” but “Behind Bars” definitely is the standout track. This next album might be considered cheating but I don’t care, this is my list. The Chronic by Dr Dre was released in 1992 and while Dre was not in jail or prison during the making of this album, Snoop Dogg was. Snoop Dogg is a main collaborator on the album, featured on“Nothin’ but a ‘G’ Thang” which was the lead single from the album. Snoop Dog even recorded some of his verses while still in jail. The song, alongside the rest of the album, is foundational in G-Funk. Snoop Dogg’s incarcerated contribution helped establish
the subgenre. My all-time favorite album that was released while the artist was in prison is 2Pac’s Me Against the World(1995). The album was not only famous because 2Pac was in Rikers while the album reached number 1 on Billboard’s Top 200. It also had some of the best songs 2Pac ever made including “Dear Momma” which is even included in the national recording registry for its importance in society. “Dear Momma” is my favorite song by 2Pac because of the emotion and sensitivity shown in the song; it has the ability to touch your heart and make you want to call your momma. “Me Against the World” is not only one of the greatest albums made in prison but one of the best rap albums of all time.
BY ANDREW JOHNSON
By Lauren Larking
Christian Guilt
My mom was a pastor. I grew up lacing my Sunday school sandals each week to color blank drawings of Noah’s Ark and eat Goldfish during breaks. I spent half of my childhood raiding the snack cabinets in the back of the elementary school chapel room, waiting for my mom to finish grabbing her things from her office so we could go home. When COVID-19 came around, I suddenly started spending those Sundays watching Keeping Up with the Kardashians instead of slipping down the scratchy chairs during prayer. I also started paying more attention to the lyrics of some of the songs on my playlists. Listening to songs on the radio like Hozier’s “Take Me to Church” and Sam Smith’s “Pray” made me wonder, why do so many pop artists make references to God and religion? Why did I never notice it before? It didn’t take long for me to realize that I understood exactly what those songs were saying – they were questioning one’s place in religion and its application to real life. From there, a playlist titled “Christian Guilt But Make It Sexy” was born. And it quickly became a new staple on my Spotify cycle. From Fleetwood Mac to Madonna to Mother Mother, everyone seemed to be writing about this one topic in all its forms. Toying with the roles of hedonist and God, Hozier specifically deals with heavy religious imagery in his music. Whether ditching a higher intangible power for physical pleasure in “Take Me to Church” or bringing religion
But Make It Sexy
to the bedroom in “Foreigner’s God,” Hozier makes it all sound so sexy. Madonna previously nailed this idea down in “Like a Prayer,” where she took a controversial fall from grace to liken her intimate experiences to an invocation. Flipping through tracks by Lorde, Frank Ocean, Eagles, Coldplay, Gang of Youths and so many more, I uncovered more imagery, more questions, and more discourse. Florence + The Machine explore the dynamics of relationship and religion in “Big God,” where she needs something or someone divine to help her deal with the emotions she can no longer pour into her lover. It’s eerily sexy in a way it shouldn’t be with deep piano notes and an eventual orchestra that demonstrate this “Big God” with her. I used to feel guilty listening to and watching things that questioned the foundation I grew up on. But eventually, it helped me feel not so alone. Sexy or not, popular artists around the world were coping with it too. Some returned to their religious beginnings and some questioned how to. Meet Troye Sivan on “HEAVEN” who pondered if he would be let into the golden gates because of his sexuality. Or, Sam Smith on “Pray,” who turned his back on the church but still yearns to find God in his darker days. Frankly, I get it. I’ll journal about it and listen on repeat, and wonder what is so sensual about religious guilt. But I don’t really want an answer in the end, because it might start the cycle all over again.
Decoding Distortion: Sometimes, while I’m waist-deep in the latest Merzbow project, or silently screaming the words to Lingua Ignota’s “I WHO BEND THE TALL GRASSES,” I catch myself thinking, how did I get here? How did it come to this? Why do I dread the process of describing my favorite bands to strangers? Why does no one ever hand me the AUX cord? Where, in my sprawling and storied personal history, did I diverge from the popular zeitgeist? More importantly, why is this experience universal, no matter how desperately I try to frame it as wholly unique and individualized? If Spotify’s listener numbers are anything to go by, the above two artists have enough monthly listeners to fill the Roman
Colosseum. So, what pushes the “average” listener into the depths of noise, gothicneoclassical, or whatever genre The Armed are? Short of asking them myself (and believe me, I tried), I sought answers from Adrian C. North and David J. Hargreaves’ 1996 psychomusicological text “Situational Influences on Reported Musical Preference,” which eloquently picked apart my original line of thought as “treat[ing] aesthetic preference and choice as if they…normally occur in a social, emotional, and cognitive vacuum,… independent of the contexts in which people enjoy aesthetic stimuli in daily life.”
This begs the question — what contexts do people enjoy aesthetic stimuli in, and where do mine differ from the norm? Is my deep-fried, nervedamaged taste in “music” a result of my non-traditionally garbage lifestyle, or are there other situational influences worth considering? North and Hargreaves cite a Journal of Personality article by UC Davis Psychology professor Dean K. Simonton, that found “increased levels of melodic originality…when a composer suffered physical and mental stress.” It’s not particularly unfair to compare this finding to a timeless character, the “tortured artist.” Perhaps my recognition of the “increased originality” in the music of those who’ve suffered for their art — take, for example, the laborious production, internal conflict, and crushing post-success ennui that gives Mr. Bungle’s Disco Volante its je ne sai quoi, or the personal self-destruction that lurks ever-
The Science of Sound
present in the history of Nine with an album, Inch Nails’ The Downward rooting through it Spiral. for the undiluted But, the $4.5 million and 1x creative essence drummer’s arm Def Leppard buried within, grants spent on their album Hysteria perspective that could doesn’t change the fact that it’s not be achieved without a Def Leppard album. Suffering the struggle to find it. does not instantly justify a Treating harsh music like piece of music as “good” — or a matter of “conditioning” does it? Perhaps the emotional is played-out, but subjecting labor that goes into an yourself to difficult, unapproachable piece of music unapproachable sounds makes is not of the artist, but of the the corresponding instances listener. of transcendent beauty feel Maybe, the struggle to absolutely sublime, and “like” something un-musical once you’ve heard (and felt) or harsh contributes to a moments like the explosive deeper connection with opening instrumental in its brilliant elements. The “Day of the Baphomets” by uphill battle to find buried The Mars Volta, or the way substance makes that the mid-song interlude in substance, more substantive. Deafheaven’s “Dream House” I definitely had to fight a part fades effortlessly between the of myself in order to like chime of a single Midori’s Aratamemashite, clean guitar and a Hajimemashite, Midori Desu, blanket of but spending a smothering solid week distortion, you’ll find it’s hard to listen to anything else the same way.
By Will Ingman
The Nostalgia Factor:
FALLIN’ IN LOVE WITH “BAD” CLUB MUSIC AGAIN Nostalgia is a strange power. Good memories, once forgotten, can resurface with a new listen of an old song. This is my defense for my sudden obsession with club music, a love so intense that “DJ Got Us Fallin’ In Love” and “Give Me Everything” are both in my top ten songs of the past four weeks. As a fifth grader, it was impossible for me to play Just Dance to “Feel This Moment” by Pitbull and Christina Aguilera without crying. The song represented the love I had for my Elementary School life, and the pain I felt in having to leave it for a completely unknown middle school. Listening to it now makes me hopeful, a reminder of how my life has only gotten better when things change. Most of these songs have been observers of my changing social life, they first found me as an introvert, and revisited me as an extrovert. I began listening to “Love in this Club” and “Club
Can’t Handle Me” alone, because they were a part of the soundtrack to the film Hustlers. Now, I listen to them with friends, in social settings. Club music, for some reason, has documented the entirety of my life thus far. My first re-listen of “Give Me Everything” brought back a rush of memory of the film Pitch Perfect, which was formative to my idea of what college would be like. My obsession with replaying mid 2000s pop songs, however, didn’t occur until it became a song that played naturally, at a party with my friends. The convergence of my childhood memories and newfound collegiate freedom in one Pitbull song was enough to make me listen to it repeatedly for months afterward. I don’t have any distinct memories of listening to “Fireball” but it’s become one of my favorite songs to just sit at my desk and listen to. Perhaps it slipped into my subconscious somewhere at the gym my
parents used to be trainers at, or maybe the upbeat rhythms and the distinct voice of Pitbull remind me of the places his music has marked in my life, and how different they’ve all been. My love for the genre is not for the music, as much as it is for what it represents to me; growth and connection, and an understanding of the constant of change, the good in the unexpected. My love for bad club music would not be as strong if it had not been a stronghold in my life for so long. It has anchored such a distinct place in my heart, I do not think it would even be possible for me to dislike the beat of an 808 followed with“dalè!”. I don’t feel guilty listening to the same music that would soundtrack any film of the y2k aesthetic, though it sometimes looks embarrassing. Music is versatile, and I still stand by the tracks that have followed me throughout my life, regardless of whether they’re considered good or bad.
BY KARENNA UMSCHEID
Nothing About Disco Sucks One evening, just as things were beginning to wind down in the Iwasaki Library’s West Stacks, Sylvester’s “You Make Me Feel” cut into my study session and blasted over my headphones. It was as if Mother Nature herself had stopped my last-ditch efforts at writing one of those morbid Canvas discussion posts, and for a good reason: to embrace the vibrancy of life fullthrottle. I stood up, slipped on my jaded Birkenstocks, and fell into the cosmic groove of the impassioned disco masterpiece. From Gloria Gaynor’s “Honey Bee” to Odyssey’s “Use It Up and Wear It Out,” I took those aisles by storm and gave those steel bookshelves the show of a lifetime. For decades, disco has been an artform somewhat looked-down-upon, as the genre is commonly viewed as “tacky” or “cheesy” for its lens of camp optimism and magnetic energy. The sound was designed to lift the spirits of all people, and it’s for this exact reason that disco became such a unifying force of love. It was able to transcend the societal conventions set to divide people from one another. The disco floor became a place where communities of diverse racial, gender, and sexual identities mingled together
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harmful to their visions for a fractured world, and, with that, they quite literally set fire to disco records during a Chicago White Sox baseball game in July of 1979. From that point on, it seems all anybody can remember is that “Disco Sucks!” Disco is my guilty pleasure; a sort of kryptonite for me. The sound makes me move unlike anything else, and so it’s time that I finally come clean about my obsession. As a Queer kid from a conservative town up North, I always found a sort of refuge within the nooks-and-crannies of those aged, 120 beat-per-minute
goldmines. For the entire 3 minutes and 33 seconds of the Weather Girls’ infamous “It’s Raining Men,” I could transport myself into a roaring discotheque full of people just like me, having fun and not thinking about anything else. Disco just has this infectious bliss connected to the sound, uplifting listeners in a universal ‘Le Freak’ sort of way. Today, whether I’m in Boylston Station, DeLuca’s Market, Goodwill, or the Common, I just can’t hold back the need to move whenever that good-sounding love music starts to play. Sorry Nancy Reagan, but I just can’t say no. I no longer want to be secluded in my experiences with the angelic audio of Donna Summer, Diana Ross, the Bee Gees, ABBA, and the Village People. From Brighton to Eastie, we need this music to make Friday and Saturday night comebacks to every single gathering. Disco connects to our hearts, souls, and bodies unlike anything else, so let’s restore the genre to its rightful place as the centerpiece of weekend shenanigans.
By Harry Bates
‘Cause Fracking is What? Detrimental!
The self-proclaimed “Queen of Drag,” RuPaul Charles has built a music and television empire around selfexpression and LGBTQ+ culture. For his infamous franchise “RuPaul’s Drag Race,” millions of queens audition every year for a chance to be a part of a loving community and make a name for themselves, all while RuPaul profits off of their expression of individuality. “RuPaul’s Drag Race” provides one of the biggest stages for drag
performers to gain exposure and build a following. Queens come from all over the United States (and in
other franchises, from parts of Europe and Asia) to compete in a competition for money and the honor of being named the best at dancing in a wig. Weekly Friday gatherings in bars and homes for each new episode of “Drag Race” have created a community of support for all fans to lean on each other. However, despite being seen as a “safe space” for the LGBTQ+ community, the world of RuPaul has a dark underbelly. Between unfair conditions on the set of the competition and the controversy of RuPaul’s contributions to drilling for crude oil, a lot of queer individuals
question the ethicality of watching and supporting the show, the queens, and RuPaul. While it provides representation for a community on a televised platform, the LGBTQ+ community has in a way had to separate the art from the artist in order to appreciate its representation of queer culture. It’s been said that set conditions are less than glamorous by participants on the show. Season 4’s Willam made a statement on Twitter about the long hours, lack of basic necessities, and several instances of being denied food, writing, “EP. 2 Offered show runner Chris McKim some hand sanitizer and as he rubbed, I told him I got it at the store last night when I went with 2 other girls…cuz production hadn’t provided us with stuff after we gave them $ for shit we needed that they didn’t have.”
“RuPaul’s Frack Race,” a song by Dog Park Dissidents off of their album ACAB for Cutie (2021), pretty much sums up every controversial aspect of the world RuPaul has created and criticizes RuPaul himself for participating in the process of fracking. The queer, punkrock duo Dog Park Dissidents is made up of Jon Greco (he/him) and Zac Xeper (he/him). Their music is often driven by queerness and activism, and “RuPaul’s Frack Race” is no exception. “RuPaul’s Frack Race” parodies RuPaul’s song “Category Is…” by pulling rhythmic patterns and lyrics from the original. The band made sure to include the negative impact of fracking on the environment, singing, “Category is: ecocidal crimes against humanity” to emphasize just how jarring RuPaul’s choices are. Later lyrics address the way
By Julia Norkus
that RuPaul capitalizes off of the queens on the show, going, “Well she hasn’t made quite enough money / Off the backs of fiercer queens / So she’ll dig down into the earth / And poison the sky.” Dog Park Dissidents express the misleading presentation of the show—how it is advertised as a competition based on sisterhood and silly challenges but has ultimately become a job and major money grab for RuPaul. As of 2013, during the fifth season of Drag Race, RuPaul made $50,000 per episode. Now in season 14, the show drags out longer to bring higher profit for RuPaul; on what typically aired as a 14-episode series, seasons now carry on to be 16 or more episodes. And this money grab is not lost on viewers, either. Despite the lighthearted fun the show provides, it’s still a moral dilemma for audiences. Like Dog Park Dissidents said, “Good luck after she fucks it up, queen.”
SoundCloud:
STREAMING SERVICE OF THE FUTURE
By Adri Pray
The term “SoundCloud rapper” has developed a negative connotation over time, though taking a moment to sift through the website’s countless projects proves that not everything on SoundCloud is terrible. Louisiana SoundCloud rapper Fredo Bang (he/him) released “No Love (feat. Sleepy Hallow)” on March 24, his first single following his 2021 album, Murder Made Me. With over 137,000 followers on SoundCloud, Fredo Bang proves to be successful on the platform, a feat unmatched by many. “No Love” follows a casual relationship Fredo Bang has with a partner, a commentary on the absence of commitment in a time when he wanted to feel the connection that their relationship lacked. The short lyrics spanning over a moderate tempo allow the listener to digest Fredo Bang’s explicit message before moving onto his next point, almost always following a dramatic beat drop. Like Fredo Bang, Brooklyn-based rapper Sheff G (he/him) sings about the commitment he longs to have with his partner over an electric keyboard baseline on “Break From It,” his latest release following his debut 2020 album, Proud Of Me Now. He accumulated nearly 200,000 listens within the first eight days of the album’s release, showcasing the rapper’s success on the streaming site.
“step back” is featured on South Carolina rapper, midwxst’s (he/him), latest album, better luck next time, with a very techno-inspired sound. Addressing midwxst’s self-destructive habits, “step back” is featured as the seventh track, gaining nearly 50,000 listens since the album’s release. With 34,700 followers, midwxst is a minor SoundCloud success story with a promising future on the website, as “step back” was placed on SiriusXM’s Hip Hop Nation playlist, The Lookout. March 23 saw Big Boss Vette’s (she/ her) “Snatched,” her latest release on the platform where she raps about her successes in the industry. Her profile features 25 singles, as she has yet to release an album on the website, but is consistent with her sound and energy on all of them. Garnering over 15,000 listens on SoundCloud, the St. Louis rapper’s flow is reminiscent of Megan Thee Stallion, as crafty lyrics and intricate 808 drum beats allow her to stand apart from others. Big Boss Vette has 11,700 followers on the website and is considered a “micro-rapper” on the platform, much like midwxst. These up and coming artists qualify SoundCloud as a legitimate artist start-up, contrary to popular opinion. With the music industry ever evolving and changing, it might be time to pay attention to what SoundCloud has to offer.
EMO’S FORGOTTEN CLASSIC BY MAXWELL REID
We all love My Chemical Romance. We all love Fall Out Boy. If you put on “Welcome to the Black Parade”, you’ll be hard pressed to find somebody not singing along to that opening refrain. Hell, I heard “Dance, Dance” in the club the other day. In The Club! Gerard and company are getting the critical revaluation they deserve. Fall Out Boy’s older material still remains a nostalgic and fondly remembered classic among most generations. We live in a renewed age of emo, the older “Emo Trinity” bands are again relevant, think pieces are being written about these albums, even blogs as pretentious and self serious as Pitchfork and The Needle Drop and giving these albums high retrospective reviews. But it’s called the Emo Trinity for a reason. The question must be asked: where’s the praise for Panic! At The Disco? I feel like god damn nobody talks about Panic! anymore, and it boggles my mind. Is it because their past few albums have seen them transition to pop powerhouses? It can’t be, the same thing happened to Fall Out Boy and their old albums are still celebrated. Is it due to the problematic and embarrassing actions of
Brendon Urie? No, if the emo genre has taught us anything, it is that problematic frontmen somehow always survive. Their earlier work is fantastic, how can it be that they are yet to get the critical revaluation that they deserve? I eventually came to the uncomfortable, long winded, yet in my opinion, only correct opinion: A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out, Panic!’s debut album, is an avant garde masterpiece, its experimental, incredibly hormonal, but it is NOT an emo album and has not been viewed in the same light of other emo albums because of this. Let me explain. It’s 2005. Fall Out Boy released From Under The Cork Tree, a great pop punk album with distorted guitars, screams, pop hooks, and melodramatic sensibilities. My Chemical Romance is in between two classic records, both of which heavily feature distorted guitar, screams, pop hooks, and melodramatic sensibilities. In this mixture, you have Panic! An album with melodramatic sensibilities… and nothing else in common with the other emo albums out at the time. Instead you’re treated to echordions, mandolins, synths, and Brendon Urie using autotune in a way that Kanye would replicate a few years
later in 808s and Heartbreaks. Instead of screamo hardcore adjacent breakdowns, this album has Eurohouse dance breakdowns. The whole record sounds like it takes place during teen’s night in an underground circus themed nightclub in a back corner of Prague’s old town. Simply put, no other band had the balls to do what Panic! was doing within the emo scene. But it is still not emo. In between the screams of “Taste of Ink” and “Ohio is For Lovers”, “Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off” becomes a vibe kill at Emo Night. You can’t review the album from a contemporary perspective because it just sounds too alien from any other album it can be compared to. In my opinion, A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out has much more in common with a Black Country, New Road record than any Fall Out Boy record from the same decade (I mean Ryan Ross is practically the Isaac Wood of the 2000s). It’s unique, it’s exciting, it’s a whirlwind, it is wrong to lump it in with these emo records just because they shared a label or some friends. It is a classic all on its own.
Love Letter to the Mix CD My best friend, A, and I haven’t spoken in four years. But before then we were inseparable. We became friends in the gilded age of Tumblr, when pretension and edge reigned over original thought. Each week we swapped music, giving each other mix CDs and Spotify playlists during our lunch breaks. I burned through dozens of empty discs, carefully curating songs that would impress and bewilder her. The need to be better than each other defined our track lists, in effort to dominate each other on the scale of “coolness” that we created on our blog pages but failed to emanate in real life. We were such frauds in our quaint school uniforms. We had one of those intimate friendships that I didn’t realize was, in fact, deeply sapphic until I was hit with the final sucker punch of silence. The harrowing quiet that sucked all the air out of my lungs on the ride home. I don’t know why it all ended. Maybe our mutual
insurmountable jealousy that turned into a deep disdain for each other? It was probably when the playlists stopped being fun and were instead opportunities for vindictiveness. It was when I rolled my eyes at her pretentious song choices and she rendered my picks “tasteless.” And just like that, we weren’t friends. Both of us were too prideful to let the other have the last word. So we didn’t say anything. I was ghosted, then left dead and buried without a word. So I locked the CDs away in my glove box. Their handwritten covers slowly became veiled with a thin layer of dust and their paper corners tattered.
which memory would be dug up from the grave next. With “Space Song” by Beach House came pure dissociation, with A year later, when “Ribs” by Lorde came rummaging through the tears so thick that I had glove box for a napkin, to pull over until I could “Sarah’s Mix” fell out. see again. The stale silence The first one A made for between each song was me. The one with a graph rich with the memories paper cover and sweet from a time when we inscriptions on the flaps were everything to each and doodles decorating other. the tracklist written in It’s been years since her perfect cursive. The I felt the same depth of one with “Hannah Hunt,” pain that I did when our the song that played at rift first occurred. It took the end of the Vampire months of tears and stolen Weekend show– the last glances in the school show we went to together. hallway to fully shake It was the song that was the sadness from our playing when I looked dissolution. I still feel over at A and saw she the phantom wasn’t happy. twinges of Every memory came flooding back as I plunged deep into the saudade of listening to that mixed CD again. Each song unearthed the bone crushing feelings from our distant days together. I drove my car around town that was haunted by our memories for the duration of “Sarah’s Mix.” I sat breathless between songs, waiting to see
heartbreak echo through my body everytime I press play on one of her playlists. And even though we haven’t talked in years, and our friendship ended bitterly, I’d like to think that our time together was immortal. Like we’re tiny dancers in a music box, waiting to be opened up so we can dance again. I listen to the CDs to revisit the times I so desperately wish I had cherished more as I was living them. And I wonder if she listens to A’s mix and relives it all too.
Ashley Tisdale’s “Guilty Pleasure”: Underrated Pop-Rock Perfection aforementioned duds and the inclusion of some of the bonus tracks—namely “Guilty Pleasure,” a slice of ‘80s-inspired synthpop in the vein of The Fameera Lady Gaga, “Whatcha Waiting For,” an indignant tell-off anthem with astonishingly aggressive vocals, and “Time’s Up,” a haunting midtempo poprock ballad produced by The Matrix, best known for their work on Avril Lavigne’s Let Go (2002)—would have made Guilty Pleasure a truly no-skip affair. Tisdale may never have gone on to become a household name, but frankly, most of her Disney peers who did could only ever dream of releasing an album as outstanding as Guilty Pleasure.
Kyle Woolery
impressive tracks. “It’s Alright, It’s OK” is a bombastic postbreakup empowerment anthem reminiscent of Kelly Clarkson’s “Since U Been Gone.” “Masquerade,” featuring backing vocals from MySpace scene queen and metal-pop diva Porcelain Black, is sexy and brooding. “Hot Mess,” an uptempo number about falling for a “motorcycle bad boy” (in Tisdale’s own words), is the #1 hit that got away. Album closer “Crank It Up” is arguably the standout track, fusing gritty guitar riffs with club-ready synths and suggestive lyrics to create an infectious dance floor filler that sounds straight off of Britney Spears’s dark dancepop opus Blackout (2007). Where Guilty Pleasure falls flat is its ballads. The deliciously melodramatic, Porcelain Black-penned “How Do You Love Someone” is an album highlight, showcasing Tisdale at her most vulnerable and her vocals at their most powerful. However, “Me Without You” and “What If ” are dull, trite, and unmemorable despite being written by two of pop’s most soughtout balladeers— Kara DioGuardi and Toby Gad respectively. While not a ballad, “Hair” is another low point, its amateurish nature made all the more evident by its unfortunate position between two songs that do the same spunky pop-rock sound much better: “Erase and Rewind” and “Delete You.” The exclusion of the
By
2009—the year Ashley Tisdale dyed her hair brown, raided her local Hot Topic, started listening to The Used and My Chemical Romance, and released one of the greatest albums ever recorded by a former Disney starlet: Guilty Pleasure. Sure, this “bad girl” persona admittedly feels a bit contrived coming from the singer-slash-actress best known for portraying dorky candy counter girl Maddie Fitzpatrick in The Suite Life of Zack and Cody and snooty theater kid Sharpay Evans in the High School Musical film trilogy, but that’s part of the appeal. Guilty Pleasure succeeds in capturing the essence of the phrase “it’s not a phase,” and it’s glorious. Album opener “Acting Out” formally introduces listeners to Tisdale’s oh-sorebellious new image. The track pairs a guitar-driven sound with on-the-nose lyrics like “Welcome to a new beginning, it’s time to start the show,” explicitly referencing her artistic evolution. Other faux-edgy lyrics like “Up above the surface, I was just a perfect child / But underneath it all, I was craving to be wild” are practically begging to be used as an angsty teen’s AIM away message. It’s a declaration of defiance, an ode to the mall punks, and Guilty Pleasure’s mission statement. “Acting Out” is followed by a string of equally
UNDOING DAMAGE DONE: 5 SONGS THAT PREACH ACCEPTANCE IN PLACE OF GUILT As much fun it is to call certain things “guilty pleasures,” sometimes the notion is expanded to the point where it becomes toxic. Flipping through articles with titles like “Top 60 Guilty Pleasures for Women,” I started to realize the harm that can be caused by labeling certain things in this way. If lunch dates with friends, “skipping out on a diet,” having self-confidence, and crushing on celebrities should be considered shameful, then God help us all. Sometimes, so-called “guilty pleasures” shouldn’t have to be guilty. Thus, it’s important to find ways to normalize these things and not just break free from guilt but feel proud of these perfectly healthy catalysts of joy. Luckily, artists from Florence + the Machine to Yves Tumor are creating songs that can undo some of the damage done.
“Hunger” “H unger” by Florence and the Machine
In this incredibly vulnerable track from 2018, Florence Welch (she/her) enters with an admission. “At seventeen, I started to starve myself,” she sings, going on to use this reference to her eating disorder as a metaphor for an emotional hunger she felt throughout her life. Welch tracks her search for fulfillment and the failed attempts along the way, from turning to drugs to performing for strangers. And with a level of conviction in her vocal tone, she promises that “we all have a hunger” of our own worthy of going after, too.
“Next to Normal” by Lucius
Lucius’s 2022 song “Next to Normal” is a celebration of eccentricity. Frontwomen Jess Wolfe (she/her) and Holly Laessig (she/her) start by singing of losing friends from laughing at the wrong times and overhonesty—innocent quirks that stray from the ‘status quo.’ But they decide, “I don’t want to die / Just trying to be myself / When everyone’s the same / It’s time to separate yourself.” The quirkiness encouraged lyrically is mirrored by the song’s unique sound. From the funky bassline to the squeaky guitar accents and ghostly vocals, “Next to Normal” is perfect for embracing all of the peculiar tendencies that make you who you are.
“Marigold” by Jelani Aryeh Jelani Aryeh (he/him) makes sure that your music taste is one thing that shouldn’t be surrounded by guilt in his 2021 song “Marigold.” The San Diego-born artist sings, “Playing your stereo loud / Flaunting your taste / Blazing the space around you / With love, light and marigold sounds.” This lyric and the pop-sounding song itself both radiate a contagious level of confidence and positivity to ensure guilt-free music enjoyment.
“Feel the Way I Want” by Caroline Rose
Self-confidence doesn’t have to be something to feel ashamed of, and Caroline Rose (she/her) is more than willing to take the lead in declaring it so. “I’m so in love with myself, it’s so romantic,” she sings near the start of her 2020 song “Feel the Way I Want.” And later, “I’m looking good / I don’t think it’s a crime.” Over a funky, electronic-infused soundscape, she repeats the song’s title into oblivion, encouraging listeners to decide for themselves what emotions and level of confidence feel right.
BY NORA ONANIAN
“Crushed “C rushed Velvet” by Yves Tumor
“Crushed Velvet” by Yves Tumor (they/ them) makes a compelling case for wearing what you want. The artist sings, “Girl, I’m selfless / Said I could make it to heaven / I feel my best when / I’m dressed in all crushed velvet.” The song, released in 2021, starts with a low sound, a simple bassline, and darker-sounding vocals, only lightening up after Tumor makes this admission. As acoustic guitar comes in and Yves Tumor sounds brighter and more passionate, the musical transition gives a sensation of releasing guilt.
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