The SoCC

By Emily Faulks

I remember being at home during the Fall 2020 quarantine period and discovering The Flaming Lips’ Pitchfork documentary of their 1999 album The Soft Bulletin. I did not know them outside of some of their classic songs like “Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, Pt. 1” and “She Don’t Use Jelly,” that were conceptually and aesthetically different from this album- this was something special. I hung onto every song on the album for dear life, as its messages of grief and existential dread felt particularly salient during the pandemic. Now that COVID’s presence seems more of a backdrop to “normal” life, I have moved through the Flaming Lips discography to compliment the laughter and joy that has flowed back into my day. The Flaming Lips concert, even with an emotionally varied setlist, captured the loving relationship between the band and their fans- we all celebrated life and celebrated music.

It has been a long time since I have been to a concert alone in Denver, but it seemed fitting as I alone traveled through the stages of grieving with The Soft Bulletin as my guide. I entered while the opener, Particle Kid, started their set. The lead singer, Micah, trotted around stage with a long black cape and cried out with a Kurt Cobain-ish rasp. I couldn’t help but imagine myself being at a reincarnated Nirvana concert until I heard the psychedelic synthesizers and reverb in the guitars drill into hypnotic freestyles that would last for several minutes. The most intriguing part of the set felt more like a performance art piece, something like a “Happening” piece in the 50’s where the last song turned into another long jam after people backstage tossed confetti over Micah’s head in celebration of his birthday while he continued to scream “LIFE- LIFE…” I thought I was witnessing a manifestation of a quarter-life crisis as the drums and guitar patterns started to deteriorate into amorphic static. Micah crawled around the stage continuing to repeat this word for several minutes, playing with the tone and frequency of his voice behind the blaring instruments. The crowd also moved through waves of discomfort and awe watching the performance. It seemed like his mic eventually got cut off, and the band did a short sign off before getting off stage. The opener got me more excited as Particle Kid was clearly a group of performers that revered the interactive nature of The Flaming Lips’ concerts.

After standing around for some time, the lead singer of TFL, Wayne Coyne, walked around the stage getting all the props and goodies for the fans prepared for the show. Finally, the whole band came onstage in the dark, while Wayne stepped in the spotlight with a large robotic red bird. He opened the show by talking about how in previous tours they used to have a different bird that Wayne would pretend to fly around the stage in tandem with the bird noises from “My Cosmic Autumn Rebellion.” Unfortunately, long story short, the original bird broke but now they have this new bird that ACTUALLY flies. Wayne started the set by throwing the bird up to the sky and grabbing a spotlight to cast a magical beam up while the bird fluttered around before landing in front of the mic. Everyone was singing along, even if they did not know the “bird song” (like myself) from the brilliantly animated lyrics on the fluorescent panel of lights.

It was not uncommon for Wayne to stop singing through the set and encourage everyone to scream and dance for the sake of spreading love for each other and for having live shows again. “This could be the last concert ever, for all we know,” Wayne said once, “so we might as well make it the best fucking concert ever!”  And that it was. After the first song, the tech crew came onstage with a leaf blower and started to fill a clear plastic ball with air, while Wayne stepped inside the orb. This would be his temporary home, he would rock back and forth and roll around while singing in his perfect, inhuman voice. I was not expecting him to sound exactly like his recorded songs because of age and production edits, but it was so uncanny seeing him and hearing him the same as I would imagine.

The first time he stepped out of his clear ball was to move to a different inflatable structure: the infamous pink robot. Standing at about 20 feet tall, this massive giant danced with air to “Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, Pt. 1” with Wayne playing hide-and-seek under its legs. The whole concert seemed like a return to childhood; we were encouraged to move freely and inspire each other to be fully immersed in the music. A few songs later another massive inflatable structure, a rainbow, arched over most of the large stage with Wayne in his ball singing underneath. Streams of confetti would fly out from the stage or from Wayne’s confetti cannons. Halfway through, the whole band played happy birthday to Particle Kids, Micah, and Wayne praised the band for their passionate opening set. Throughout the show, Wayne exuded the most positive energy both through his singing and his actions. In the jam section of “Ego Tripping at the Gates of Hell,” Wayne picked up a spotlight attached to a cord and lassoed it manically around, inciting the audience into a dance frenzy. A few songs later, a medical team had to go into the audience and Wayne stopped the show to make sure everyone was safe.

After the band finished playing some of their classic songs like “Do You Realize??” and “She  Don’t Use Jelly,” They finished their set with my favorite song: “Feeling Yourself Disintegrate.” I screamed in surprise because it is such a sad song- there was no way, I thought, that they would play that! But it is also one of the most beautiful songs ever. Wayne played “Waitin’ For a Superman” earlier in the show, another song from The Soft Bulletin, prefacing that it was a sad song but we would all create a supportive environment. No such warning was given for this song, but I think it was because he knew we would be ready. I felt the love from the people around me and from the band as they blended their guitars with surreal ease. In a lot of ways, the only verse from “Feeling Yourself Disintegrate” encapsulated the message from the show: “Love in our life is just too valuable/ Oh, to feel for even a second without it/ But life without death is just impossible/Oh, to realize something is ending within us.” Wayne and the rest of TFL underscored throughout the show, especially in the wake of COVID, that our bodies are impermanent, but love is infinite; “if you give someone love you will receive it thirty fold back,” Wayne preached between the song. The band went off briefly and then played four more songs for their encore, ending with “All We Have Is Now” and the classic hit from The Soft Bulletin  “Race for the Prize,” again, highlighting their message of love and human mortality. The show was a cathartic experience for me as well as insightful. With prosaic musings similar to that of Dead & Company’s Bob Weir, Wayne opened up with personal stories and feelings that made me feel like I knew him a little better.

I hope that The Flaming Lips return to Denver sometime in the future, but Wayne left the set with a big question mark over the prospect of another tour. Whatever happens, we both left knowing that this show touched the lives of so many fans. I walked out of the venue with exceeded expectations and a long drive ahead.

The phrase “the fog is coming” has been everywhere over the last few weeks. Comment sections are riddled with this warning, I’ve even seen a post-it note with the warning in our supposedly-safe school library. But I saw the fog. It came at 9:03 PM MST on March 30, 2022 at 39.776374, -104.969329, aka the Mission Ballroom in Denver. This glorious haze swept over the audience resulting in dead silence. Darkness and silence. I’ve seen what the fog consists of, the lights shone revealing the silhouettes of the legendary Dream Pop duo Beach House.   

The title track and intro of Once Twice Melody launched the concert with plainsong-like chimes; its hypnotizing instruments progress with Victoria Legrand’s voice. Legrand’s delivery has a similar effect to German artist Nico. Her vocals feel ancient, like she is telling some great prophecy carried by an atmosphere of lush synths and strings. Manipulation of the band’s shadows multiplied the allure, I did not see a single facial feature the whole night. Seeing Legrand raise her shadow of a hand at the peak of a song would cause the crowd to levitate in awe.

Soon the synths of “Lazuli” and “Through Me” would climb up and down on a dream-dimension y-axis. Legrand stands tall and mythical with her curly hair draped in the fog. Alex Scalley played his soothing guitar and James Barone hit his drums with gentle precision. Hexagonal lights twist and turn around through the mist, and I heard someone say “look at the lights on the ceiling.” For a moment, these geometric lights had us inside of the Bloom album cover.

Beach House’s sound is so sensory-oriented that the visuals of this show were crucial. Before the show, The band sent out a memo to every one of their ticket holders: 

NO FLASH PHOTOGRAPHY whatsoever will be allowed. Additionally, any other distracting activities will not be tolerated.

This created a tunnel vision effect; I could only see the band and whatever synesthetic spotlight they occupied. Everything else was pitch black, it was impossible not to be hypnotized by that stage. The audience may as well have melted when the gut-wrenching first notes of “Silver Soul” came on. All of the lights turned white; it makes sense because this is a white-feeling song, right? Most Beach House songs have a specific color; they’ve explored this with the indulgent red sink-hole that is their 2015 album, Depression Cherry. The background lights matched each song and its sonic hue. A Starry Night-esque lilac background twinkled for the spellbinding “Myth.” A machine gun of red lights fired around with the drum machines of “Pink Funeral.” At the chorus, the aforementioned hexagonal lights turn pink and pan across the room in slow-motion as Legrand so gracefully pleads, “don’t let me go.” 

“I’m a woman of few words” Legrand says to a crowd of hypnotized happy neanderthals. I can look around and see the simple thought behind many faces: Music  make me  feel  good. Sure, we were all swaying parallel to the repetitive soundwaves of “Lemon Glow,” but to look around was to see a collective submerged state. Legrand looks down at her audience – or loyal followers – “This place feels like a spaceship, where should we go.” We follow and cheer, drooling. Beach House brain rot has never felt so good.

Our spaceship traveled through the Asgardian bliss of “PPP,” and soon, zero-gravity tears would float around during “Space Song”. As we continued somewhere between two galaxies, a Death Star shot out its dreamy rays from above. A disco ball the diameter of Chewbacca’s left nut is the first off-stage light I’ve seen in this theater. Once the show exited orbit, the crowd did not stop cheering until the band came back on for an encore with “Over and Over.” The audience exited the building like a stream of satisfied water molecules as Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart” played over the speakers.

Guided meditation wouldn’t make me feel as serene as I did after the Beach House show. Is it dramatic to say I feel baptized? As a Jew, I don’t know what baptism feels like; I took to the Catholicism subreddit to understand the experience. To quote [deleted] account, “I felt peaceful and confident. I felt content and joyful.” Exactly. Immersion into the band’s cathartic fog has left me feeling like a toad in a zen garden. I tried to go through this whole article without typing the Beach House review buzzwords: dreamy, heavenly, ethereal – this word I promised myself I’d avoid. But shit, the shoe fits.

When I saw the 80 minute length and massive name of the new Big Thief album, my cynicism got the best of me. A quick, near-empty black and white sketch on the cover further confuses the assuming asshole in my head: big album needs big artwork, right? I saw that large-scale magazines were ALREADY giving this album extremely high reviews before it was released to the public. I texted my friend, curious as to what could possibly be so interesting about this massive record. She responded with a quote that would define the next month: “hey man, let those pasty basement fairies do their thing.”

Lead singer Adrienne Lenker starts the album with an arbitrary statement “Ok?” 

Ok.

The intro, “Change” is a hug. A hopeful one. Maybe change isn’t a bad thing? Maybe it’s beautiful, “like the leaves, like a butterfly.” Things change and death comes. Lenker is okay with this. Maybe I am too. Shit, I am already feeling sentimental. What are you doing to me, Big Thief?

Pulling me into a warm hug surrounded by sparkly fireflies and roaming deer, Big thief also offers acceptance to a presence much more dense than mine: time. The ever-present man in a double-breasted pinstripe suit holds his pocket watch; he points at it, showing that time is constantly taking its toll on us. Big thief looks back at him – looks back at time passing – with open arms of acceptance, bringing us comfort in simplicity throughout Dragon. It can be difficult to approach heavy topics with humor, but Lenker’s lyrics read like a wise, 200-year-old being with a goofy approach to the meaninglessness of life.

As the satisfying jaw-harp bounces on “Spud Infinity,” Lenker bounces back and forth from mature topics to mundane objects, comparing our stressful skinmobiles to a simple potato Knish. Her ease doing this through the whole album is a testament to Lenker’s fluid yet sharp songwriting. 

The larger-scope, magic-infused topics near the start of the album – time, celestial bodies, death – are ambitious, but it is vital to the record that they are paired with smaller-scope, intimate affairs. After all, the celestial bodies Lenker sings of would be meaningless without the little animals that flail around beneath them.

“Certainty” could turn a cold, dark heart into grandma’s warm pie. It is one of the loveliest proclamations of feelings for another I have ever heard (“For you, I am a child, believing you lay beside me sleeping on a plane In the future”). Lenker’s country twang intensifies on this song; it is scattered throughout the album, warm and tasty like a tenderly crafted treat. This sound makes the weirdness and nostalgia on Dragon even more intimate in songs with personal stories like “Red Moon” and “Blue Lightning.” Big Thief has completely ignored how uncool country music is right now. With bro-country folks like Florida Georgia Line and Blake Shelton infesting the radios at our local grocery stores, people on first dates everywhere can commonly be heard saying: “I like every genre but country” when asked what music they’re into. It is easy to forget how satisfying a little twang can wiggle into one’s ears; past alt-country folks like Jason Molina of Songs: Ohia and Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billie made brilliant art out of their rural self-loathing, and Big Thief is carrying on the torch for country’s salvation. 

Dragon is a big, slow-cooked stew of many flavors: the base folk stylings are the braised beef, spiced with savory introspection. The indie-rock turn that the band takes in the middle of the tracklist with “Little Things” is a flowing broth of 90’s influenced, swirly walls of sound. The fairytale-like curiosity that characterizes Dragon is sprinkled in here, especially on “Blurred View,” Big Thief’s otherworldly take on trip-hop. “I am the water rise/the waterfall/filling up your eyes when you give me the call/I run for you/run for you.” It is as if Lenker reads a prophecy; her critical moment in her own fantasy, not much different from Frodo’s mythical clash with The Eye of Sauron in The Lord of the Rings.

Eight years ago In the band’s debut album Masterpiece, an appalled Lenker proclaimed that wherever she was “smelled like piss and beer.” Dragon New Warm Mountain smells like earthy campfires and potions, and whatever elves and fairies smell like. If Dragon New Warm Mountain is a place we can picture, the latter half of the album consists of the folk tales that take place on the green spring grass here. Lenker zooms in on the beauty of real things: a laughing fox on “Promise is a Pendulum” and maple cherry leaves falling on “12,000 Lines”. Small ballads like “No Reason” give a gentle tap on the shoulder with warm, life affirming lines. 

Lenker wears her influences on her sleeve as songs become quieter – it is easy to hear Elliott Smith here; the moments of fresh craftsmanship give a delightful spin to her sound. Drilling drum machines come out of nowhere on “Wake Me Up to Drive.” Little pokes in the instrumentation loosen my brain in a knotted spot, untying the tangle of stress. Big Thief in all their hopeful magic dismantle the accepted constructs of country-leaning indie-folk. Usually this genre consists of a man who has been defeated by something, with tears in his beer, and a 35 minute tracklist. In contrast, Big Thief conjures a reassuring, romantic outlook on the wonders around them. Flutes fly up and down like the sparrow outside and Lenker’s soft voice is comforting, of the same family as the death-defying, benevolent deer that shows up every now and then. 

After a very short 80 minutes, the final track, Blue Lightning, comes to an end. A band member says “what should we do now?” It’s almost like I forgot that these are normal people with normal lives. That is the effect Dragon has, for a moment it feels like they are channeling some kind of fairytale enchantment. But Big Thief is just a band, and this is just a collection of songs. The cover is just a sketch of animals at a campfire. Even with the unstoppable forces of time and death, we still get up and bake our potatoes and dance with our fingers and make campfires. Dragon points out the magic of the mundane; Aren’t we just a bunch of stupid animals trying to find some kind of happiness? 

By Augie Voss

While the pandemic still feels far from over, the availability of vaccines has allowed some semblances of normalcy to re-enter our lives. For music lovers like me, perhaps the most celebrated change came with artists around the world announcing US tours—here are a few of my favorite artists that visited the Front Range.

Mdou Moctar

In September, Mdou Moctar stopped through Denver’s Globe Hall on the North American tour for their recent album Afrique Victim. The Nigerien singer and guitarist brings a modern twist to Tuareg music, backed by a full band, and the result was a night of non-stop dancing to dynamic riffs and soulful singing. To see Mdou Moctar perform is to witness virtuosity in its purest form—I can’t remember the last time I was so awestruck by a musician’s mastery of their craft. In Mdou’s case, it goes beyond his stunning dexterity on the guitar; the whole band flowed in perfect synergy. Mdou’s hands seemed to move effortlessly between chords and complex picking patterns, and his coy confidence—sneaking smiles and smirks at the audience—felt far from arrogant. On the contrary, he had a unique and captivating way of engaging the audience with his body language. My favorite moment from the evening was a ~8-minute rendition of title track “Afrique Victime,” full of lightning-fast fingerpicking and bouncy vocals.

New York-based experimental group Pure Adult opened the evening with a strident mixture of alt-rock instrumentals and harsh (but oddly endearing) lyricism. I’m used to seeing younger demographics at most shows, so it was a pleasant surprise to see a gaggle of folks my parents’ age moving toward the front—dancing with (and sometimes harder than) the early 20s mainstays of Denver’s music scene.

Check out Mdou Moctar’s recent short doc about the making of Afrique Victime: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pIbV2TvQqzs

Watchhouse

Recently re-branded indie-folk duo Watchhouse (fka Mandolin Orange) took the stage at Red Rocks on a blustery night in early October. After the scheduled support The Tallest Man on Earth was held up due to international visa issues, they were joined by The Milk Carton Kids—who, sharing one microphone, kicked off the show with a rich neo-folk set equal parts cheery and sorrowful.

After changing monikers earlier this year, Watchhouse released two singles and an eponymous album to critical acclaim. Nonetheless, I wondered if we’d get the Mandolin Orange classics, and thankfully we did. Crooning harmonies and lush melodies filled the venue, bringing fresh life to older tunes and proving that—despite a name change—the music is as good as ever. Hearing “Wildfire,” one of my favorite songs since high school, from the very top of Red Rocks was an experience I won’t forget any time soon.

Jungle

Just listening to UK production duo Jungle—in the shower, or on the way to work—is already a foolproof way to inject energy and good vibes into your day. So when they filled Denver’s Mission Ballroom, my hopes were already high. To my delight, they exceeded all expectations once live instruments, backup singers, and an expansive LED wall entered the picture. Shortly after they took the stage, there was a tangible shift in the room’s energy—as if the audience entered an ecstatic trance, eager to fall into the band’s infectious rhythms and driving vocals. The setlist found a balance between their 2021 album Loving In Stereo and the hit-packed 2018 For Ever—and, thank goodness, their 2014 “Busy Earnin'” made a much-anticipated appearance during the encore.

Caroline Polachek

New York-born Caroline Polachek has released music under a myriad of monikers, most formatively as part of eccentric electro-pop outfit Chairlift during her years at UC Boulder in the mid-2000s. She has since collaborated with Beyonce, Solange, Charli XCX, and many others. When she released her highly anticipated debut album Pang (under the name Caroline Polachek) in 2019, the influence of her diverse discography and wide range of collaborators shone throughout the project.

Headlining the Bluebird Theater, she told the crowd, was an emotional and exciting experience—it was shows like these in Denver and Boulder that inspired her while first producing and performing with Chairlift. Parisian producer and singer Oklou opened the event with ethereal beats, live keys, and luscious vocals as powerful as they were soft. Caroline took the energy up a notch, incorporating spectacular stage design and vibrant, dynamic lighting that pierced through heavy fog and bolstered an already spirited performance.

Perhaps the best moment of the show was a cover of Massive Attack’s “Teardrop,” the first of Caroline’s two encore songs. Oklou joined Caroline center-stage on a rotating circular plate—standing back-to-back, they moved in sync, bodies and voices in glowing harmony.

By: Quinn Jones

I was eating Burger King in an empty Lowe’s parking lot as dusk fell. Earlier that day I had received an email from a close friend. The SoCC had a press pass to see The War On Drugs that very night at the Mission Ballroom. I responded to the email expressing my interest, but I didn’t think I had any chance at the tickets, given that I wasn’t a SoCC reporter. Because I felt that my chances of getting that press pass were slim, I decided I would spend the evening with my sister. Mid-burger, I get an email back from my SoCC liaison: I got the press pass! I wolfed the rest of the meal and set my course for the Mission Ballroom.

The energy in the ballroom was palpable. Hipsters young and old were forced to pack themselves into the cavernous hall. The hype was real, but the band came on stage with little fanfare. Front man Adam Granduciel, dressed in his usual button down and jeans, walked on stage balancing several beverages in his arms as the crowd erupted into applause. After Granduciel was armed with his Fender Stratocaster, the band launched right into “Old Skin” off of 2021’s I Don’t Live Here Anymore, their latest release and the subject of their current tour. As Granduciel strummed, he was joined by synthesizer player Robbie Bennett, playing a soft organ over Granduciel’s delicate chords. The crowd swayed and sang along to the melancholy, aching first verse. Granduciel and Bennett built a massive wall of texture, bringing the energy to its boiling point till drummer Charlie Hall brought in his thundering back beat, launching the song into its anthemic finale.

As they tuned and traded instruments after their first song, people around me talked to each other, predicting what would come next. Someone said “It’s gonna be ‘Pain.’” I hoped that this guy was right; 2017’s “Pain” was something of a pandemic anthem for me. As I waited with bated breath, Granduciel strapped on a beautiful Fender Jazzmaster and began to pick the somber arpeggio that begins “Pain.” The crowd positively burst into shouts of appreciation Apparently, I wasn’t the only fan of the song. The song reflects on how we experience loss and anxiety in conjunction with our own personal growth, or lack thereof. Saxophonist/keyboardist Jon Natchez played a haunting bass motif on his baritone saxophone, ensnaring the audience in the song’s innate gloom.

To use Granduciel’s lyrics, The War On Drugs exists “in the space between the beauty and the pain.” Though TWOD lyrics ponder the inherent pain and loneliness of the human condition and try to work through various traumas, the band crafts lush instrumentals that can move one to tears with both their tremendous beauty and their agonizing sadness. With their seven members, the band is up to this monumental task. Granduciel is flanked by some of the finest musicians on the scene. On his right, there is guitarist/keyboardist Anthony LaMarca, who adds a great deal of texture with his acoustic guitar. Then there’s bassist David Hartley, a no-frills rhythm player holding down the low end of the band’s infamous jams. Keyboardist/vocalist Eliza Hardy Jones stands on the risers above Granduciel, adding unique textures to the band’s vocal arrangements. In case you haven’t been counting, that’s three keyboardists on stage at the same time. This is how The War On Drugs achieve their infamous wall of sound.

The band fed off the crowd energy. Granduciel bantered with the crowd all night long. He praised the tenacity of the Denver audience, applauding their willingness to put up with the freezing temperatures to see the show. Halfway through the set, an audience member shouted “Play ‘Born in Time!’” Granduciel responded enthusiastically, and the band launched into the impromptu Bob Dylan cover. As the show drew to a close, Granduciel addressed the audience. He said “We’re only going to do three or four more songs. We’re not gonna do that bullshit where we walk off” to great applause. It’s this down-to-earth charm that cements both Granduciel and The War On Drugs as one of the great indie acts of our time. For anyone interested in seeing the band, they will be playing Red Rocks on September 19, 2022.

Watch their performance in Denver of their recent album’s title track song below!

Check out what some of our DJs and writers consider their favorite albums of 2021.

Whole Lotta Red, Playboi Carti

(Although it came out in 2020, it’s been considered a 2021 album since it came out at the very end of 2020). This album made me respect Playboi Carti as an artist. The experimentation on this album, both vocally and production-wise, is like no other hip-hop project of the past year. On Whole Lotta Red, Carti does everything outside of the box. While maintaining his simple, often repetitive lyrics that have made him such a polarizing artist, he pushes the boundaries of hip-hop even further by introducing distorted production and chaotic, punk-inspired vocals. This album is unpredictable in a good way. At one moment he could be screaming over a WAKEUPFILTHY beat while in the next song we see Carti hinting at his Die Lit/Self-Titled era with much mellower vocals over Pi’erre Bourne’s iconic production. The influence of this work of art is already being seen, with WAKEUPFILTHY producing more and more songs and similar vocal experimentation emerging in the underground Hip-Hop world (see Turban by Yeat). This album was very divisive when it came out (understandably), a common trend in albums that subvert expectations and break barriers. This album may not appeal to you on the first, or even second listen, but give it some time and you’ll understand why this album is going to be so important for hip-hop in the years to come. -Oliviero Zanalda

Home Video, Lucy Dacus

In Home Video, Lucy Dacus artfully talks about the parts of youth that only make sense in retrospection. An intimate and honest look at young and naive love, coming to terms with her sexuality and grappling with religious beliefs weave the songs together. A combination of the usual ballads that Dacus writes and a new look at some poppier songs with background vocals from her boygenius bandmates Phoebe Bridgers and Julien Baker creates the perfect album. – Margalit Goldberg

It Won’t Always Be Like This, Inhaler

Talk about a smashing debut! Inhaler, a four-piece indie rock group based in Dublin, came out with their first record in July, 2021 after a series of singles and EPs scattered over the course of the last couple years (some oldies and goodies of which are on their new album). Inhaler succeeds in proving their emotional and technical range on this album, drifting back and forth between grittier, higher-energy alt. rock tracks and slower, melodic, passionate ballads, all with strong guitars and punchy hooks. The titular song, “It Won’t Always Be Like This,” as trite as it may sound, provides a lot of hope for those stuck in old routines and patterns as of late, wishing to move onto something fresh and new, making this the perfect album to ring in 2022 with! – Jane Harris

Inside Every Fig is a Dead Wasp, Lunar Vacation

Lunar Vacation fully delivered after their 4-year hiatus, with some of their most layered and beautiful production. They’ve stayed true to the indie rock genre but just mastered their sound. Each song keeps you on your toes and it’s a lovely 30 minute listen. -Sadie Fleig

Sometimes I Might Be Introvert, Little Simz

This album felt like listening to a coming of age story, with every song sounding like an epic outro that made me savor the album from beginning to end. Sometimes I Might Be Introvert was a big departure from minimalist rap common in her 2019 album GREY area, now sprinkling musical motifs and whimsical interludes throughout- creating a fairytale-land of Simz making. The instrumentals drew from the African diaspora, with Afro-Caribbean heavy beats and West African inspired chorus’ behind her grimey bars, which speaks to Simz’ British-Nigerian background and tied into the album’s theme of contemplating her current identity. The lyrics were introspective and poignant and made the album an emotional and spiritual experience to listen to. I have been listening to it on repeat! Honorable Mention: Call Me If You Get Lost- Tyler the Creator – Emily Faulks

Any Shape You Take, Indigo De Souza

I haven’t stopped listening to this album. De Souza’s sophomore album experiments with synth pop while still having just as much crunch as her 2018 album I Love my Mom. New sounds, new energies, and a really good listen -Tim Smith

Ok Orchestra, AJR

OKO is a pandemic anthem! It conveys so many raw emotions with alternative sounds. I would highly recommend it- everyone can relate to some of these lyrics! – Tess Rittenberg

Sidetrack My Engine, Nora Brown

Short listen – Appalachian folk songs as haunting as the hills they come from that have never been mixed this well. -Connor Rogers

By Tamar Crump

A blue-haired fairy girl grazed the stage with her guitar on a cool Saturday night in Denver, Colorado at the Marquis Theater to tell a few stories about herself. Neon purple light eliminated the stage, which was covered in colorful drawings and various stuffed animals, signaling both the growth from child to adult but also the stories and experiences that shaped the girl and the music. Madeline is a 19-year old sing-songwriter from Bellaire, Texas embarking on an exciting journey telling her stories of growth and pain to the world. The melodic singer gained fame after sharing videos of her singing song covers on Tiktok gaining thousands of followers and even getting recognition from singers such as Lizzo and Billie Eilish. 

My friend and I attended the show, excited especially since both of us were concert deprived since the pandemic. The crowd was small and intimate and were really able to feel as though Madeline was just a friend speaking to us about her experiences growing up. She opened the night singing songs from her EP CHAPTER 1: Longing, such as” As a Child” an ode to her late father, and “Gladly” a song that delves into the aching pains and the grieving process of losing someone you love. The EP has a more stripped-back instrumental and soft vocals, emphasizing the stories being told. Madeline did sing a cover of “Bohemian Rhapsody” a Queen classic with a melodic twist. Madeline’s soothing voice singing the chorus really highlighted her ability to express herself through tone. The crowd proudly sang along to the words, waving phone lights as she sang “nothing really matters”, the song really showcased how powerful her voice range is as well as her versatility. She introduced a few new songs from her latest EP Chapter 2: The Shedding, which takes on the idea of growing up moving forward, playing songs “Unrecognizable” and “Growing Pains” which were my favorite from the set. This show being the last of her tour seemed extra special,  Madeleine was often overwhelmed with the excited and interactive crowd as we sang along with her songs. My other favorite song showcases at the concert were “August” a song about a person this blue-haired fairy had a crush on that unfortunate moved across the country. The song detailed the lovesick feeling and completely losing oneself when missing someone, the dreamy piano really stands out in this song. She has a unique knack for building worlds within her songs and creating a sense of nostalgia and longing. Madeline’s soft bubbly demeanor is so sweet and magnetic you’ll instantly feel as though you’re just chatting with a friend. If you ever see that Madeline the Person is playing at a show near you, I encourage you to take the chance to listen to a fairy’s story.

Lo-fi pop powerhouse Japanese Breakfast embraced joy at Denver’s Ogden Theatre in October in support of her new album Jubilee. Korean-American multi-instrumentalist Michelle Zauner is the musician and songwriter behind Japanese Breakfast. She dazzled the sold-out venue as she brought us into her world.

Zauner opened the show with my favorite track from the album, “Paprika,” a triumphant song about “reveling in the beauty of music,” she said in the album’s digital liner notes on Apple Music. Moody synths undulated as she sang about waking from a dream, then the audience joined in as horns and snare drums crescendoed into a celebratory chorus: “How’s it feel to be at the center of magic / To linger in tones and words?” the audience sang rhetorically along with Zauner. “How’s it feel to stand at the height of your powers / To captivate every heart? / Projecting your visions to strangers / Who feel it, who listen to linger on every word?” An apt way to start the concert, we spent the next two hours lingering on her every word.

Japanese Breakfast’s first two albums, Psychopomp and Soft Sounds from Another Planet, revolve around the grief and trauma of her mother’s death in 2014. With Jubilee, Zauner channels hard-earned joy.

Although this album’s material has a happier tone than her previous work, her distinct sound remains. She continues to pull from a wide range of styles; this album incorporates disco, sax-heavy jazz riffs, guitar-shredding, and sincere odes backed by orchestral strings. Jubilee’s impressive production is difficult to re-create in a live setting, some of its songs have dozens of layers of instrumentation, but her pared-down band didn’t sacrifice any of the album’s sound. Four musicians supported Zauner’s guitar and vocals by rotating through violin, keyboard, synth, drums, saxophone, and bass.

One of the highlights of seeing Zauner’s live shows is getting to see her chemistry with her husband, Peter Bradley, on stage. He has played guitar and bass in support of her music since her debut album in 2016. Their chemistry is enchanting and brings an extra level of candor and passion to her stage presence. Zauner locked eyes with Bradley as she began a cover of Dolly Parton’s “Here You Come Again,” a sweet song about being helplessly in love. Bradley was blushing as he played twangy licks on slide guitar.

Other standout songs were “Savage Good Boy,” featuring an epic final guitar solo; the quiet and twangy small-town ode “Kokomo, IN;” and dark, sensual, and trancey hit “Posing in Bondage.” Although fans were eager to hear her new content, she sprinkled in some of her earlier hits: “Road Head,” full of guitar and voice loops; the dreamy and orchestral “Boyish;” and ended with Soft Sounds’ opener “Diving Woman,” a spiraling, pulsating, and epic grunge tune that lent itself to a few raucous solos from Zauner.

Not only is she an incredible guitarist, but a truly gifted writer. She garnered impressive acclaim this year for her memoir, Crying in H Mart, which reached #2 on the New York Times nonfiction best-seller list upon its release this past April. Long-time fans of her lyrics shouldn’t be surprised that more mainstream audiences were quick to embrace her prose. She has a unique ability to articulate poignant romantic arcs, the emptiness of loneliness and self-doubt, and how it feels to depend on someone else too much without slipping into clichés.

If you ever have the opportunity to see Japanese Breakfast, seize it. Her energy and enthusiasm will keep you smiling for an hour straight. Her talent, confidence, and exuberance create a palpable kind of magic, and I count myself lucky to have been spellbound for two blissful hours.

By Oliviero Zanalda

Jonah Mutono is a multi-talented recording artist who released one of the best, and one of the  most underrated, albums of 2020: GERG. This album is a story of accepting identity – it tells Jonah’s story. Born into a religious Ugandan family, Jonah struggled to accept his identity and come out as a queer man. This album describes just that. GERG, as he explained to me, was the secret name he saved his now ex-boyfriend as on his phone. This was done in an effort to cover up the fact that he was dating a man. If he ever got a heart emoji text from someone named GERG, his religious friends and family wouldn’t suspect him of dating a man, it could be anyone. This story is just the tip of the GERG iceberg. As you listen to this album, you’ll begin to learn more about Jonah as a person, whether it’s over intricate, catchy production on songs like “If You Mean It” and “Circulation” or on songs like “Spare” and “Smith Johnson Williams Brown”, where his voice dominates the simpler, but no less captivating production. I sat down with Jonah for an interview about his previous work, but also his future projects and next steps. He’s currently on tour with Kacy Hill and is working on a new project set to release sometime next year.

It’s been over a year since you released GERG. What are your thoughts on the album now? Do you think it’s aged well?

Yeah. I haven’t actually listened to a lot of it since I put it out since it’s a pretty accurate time capsule of my life for the four years it took to make. That’s not to say I was working on it every day, I was traveling a lot. I was in between continents and so in between I would sort of work on these songs. Lyrically speaking, I think it has. I think that people still feel the same way. People still feel isolated or out of place and so that’s why people are still discovering and realizing the album over time. I think to myself “we’ll see if people keep listening to it”. I don’t know if it’s my place to say if it’s aged well sonically. It sounds like the time it was put out and that’s for the best.

Who were your biggest inspirations and influences when you were working on the album (both musically and personally)?

I would always say Sufjan Stevens. I don’t think anyone can hear any Sufjan Stevens in my music but I really fucking love him. Everything he does he seems to have a great process. He puts out so much music. I think a lot of artists hold music back but he’s 12 albums in and I’m very very jealous. I love the brushes that he paints with.

On a personal level, I’d say my brother. My brother worked on 3-4 of the songs on the album and he’s an amazing producer. Anything he produces blows my mind. I’ve stolen and been inspired a lot from him as well.

Being emotionally vulnerable on songs like “Spare” and “Smith Johnson Williams Brown” must not be easy due to the fact that strangers are going to be listening to them. What did you do to get into a space where you can be emotionally vulnerable on a song? What advice would you give other artists that want to do this but are hesitant?

That’s interesting you say that. I try not to write with people in mind like that – that people are gonna be listening to it – I try to write for myself. I’ll probably be writing songs till the day I die, and maybe they won’t be released, but I do so to process information and process emotions. As long as you’re telling the truth, whether that sounds emotionally vulnerable to people or not, I think that’s all you can do. My advice would be to tell the truth and don’t skimp on the messy parts.

The transitions between each song on GERG feel natural despite stark differences musically. How did you choose the order of the songs? What did you do to make sure the transition between each song made sense despite the moods of the songs being different (e.g. Circulation -> Spare). Well, I actually did that mathematically. There’s a thing you can look up that’s really fascinating about how some of the biggest albums’ tempos do the same thing. They start at a certain point, they come down and then they peak again but at a place lower than the first peak. You’ll find it in albums like Random Access Memories, Innervisions, Channel Orange. Because I could hear the style discrepancies between songs, I just broke it down by tempo and mood. It’s almost like a film – you have acts 1, 2, and 3 – and it climaxes at a certain point and you always know when it’s gonna happen. When you start listening to a lot of the great albums, they all do exactly the same thing. It was a mathematical equation really and it worked out for the best. There was a point where I wasn’t sure if “Spare” was gonna go after “Circulation

Has this album found success in the LGBTQ community? Has it inspired certain members living in hostile environments to embrace their identity?

I don’t really know. I’m not sure what the metric of success is. I’ve received some really beautiful letters from people in places all over the world who are queer and who have really been suffering. They thanked me for telling the truth about my situation. I had a fan even tattoo some of my lyrics on his shoulder which was crazy. The fact that it touched anyone is a success in my eyes. I saw it as successful because it came out in the first place. The fact that anyone listening to it at all has been fantastic and the fact that, for a few people, it’s gone that extra step and helped them through a time in their life in any way is really important and cool. I’m so glad that I was able to be a part of that. It’s important that I get to tell my story as it is and exactly as I want to tell it instead of having to be an activist at all times or to feel like someone who has to be up on a pedestal. There are so many important voices along with mine. I think that as long as we stay together and we stay visible, we’re doing our jobs.

What are your plans for your next project? How is it going to differ from your previous album?

It sounds a lot different. I moved to LA recently. I feel like it’s a very Los Angeles record. There are a lot of guitars and a lot more natural sounds. We’re actually recording string sections. Sonically probably a lot more cohesive. I really like the songs so far. I feel like I’m seeking natural instruments to offset the artificiality of my new environment. I still feel very new here because most of my time here has been during the pandemic. We’re maybe 75% of the way through it. I want something to come out next year – whether that be a whole album, an EP, or a short film with some songs in it. Something to sort of show what my life looks like now. It will happen, next year maybe, spring/summer there will be something new

In the process of making an album, how many times do you need to re-record a song?

At worst I’ll record something three times and at best I’ll record something in 30 minutes. I “Smith Johnson Williams Brown” recorded in 30 minutes and never did anything to it. I re-recorded shoulders for a year because there’s 10 harmonies in every chorus and the bridge part has 20 different vocals at once and I kept having to re-record those vocals. It took a long time. When you listen to the finished thing it doesn’t sound like the case but I feel like maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe everything should sound easy but be difficult to make.

Who are your favorite artists currently? Who do you hope to collaborate with in the future?

Definitely Sufjan Stevens. I keep meeting people who know him and I’m like “hook me up”. I would totally work with him if we was down. I’ve been listening to Little Dragon a lot. I’ve been going over their album The Puma Rubber Band. It has this song “Clap Clap” on it which is incredible and the album as a whole is fantastic. Little Dragon is really cool and I’d love to work with them. I’ve been listening to this artist Yullola. She only has a couple of songs out and they’re very “vibey”, for lack of a better word. I’d love to work with her. I’d love to do something with Wet, I really like the music they put out. The music they put out recently is so good. I’m liking Lil Nas X for what it’s worth. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to work with him – we live in completely different universes. I did a lot of my first EP with Take a Day Trip who’s now doing all of Lil Nas X’s music. Now they’re out in the big time and I’m very proud. I love what they’re doing with Lil Nas X.

How did you get to know Kacy Hill? Are you planning on working with her in the future? What do you hope to gain from this tour?

I actually met her for the first time 6 years ago. We have very similar collaborators. We’re in the same little community of musicians. Many times I’ve seen her with our mutual friend Max, maybe Max is the one who introduced me in the first place. She’s fantastic. I love her and I love her new album. During the pandemic, we sent some things back and forth but nothing came to fruition or materialized. At some point it will though, mark my words. It’s been such a hellish two years and just being able to perform is great. The last show I did was at the end of February [2020] and I want to do a lot more shows next year headlined by myself. I need to get my sea legs backs in terms of performing because I wouldn’t call myself a big performer. I think I’m really exposed and vulnerable singing in front of a crowd. There are those people at the party with the guitar but that’s not me. My dad used to have to force me to play piano for people and I had a lot of stage fright. It’ll be nice to have a friend around and Kacy’s fans are so chill that I think It’ll be a good experience. Getting out there and performing in front of people is what this tour will be good for.