It’s always fun to see a genre from a fresh perspective, and much more so if it’s coming from the eyes of a new generation. Bacchae started as a band in 2016, back when they didn’t know what they were getting into. Fast forward to 2020, they have released their debut Pleasure Vision, and the result is a dissection of punk in a spectrum of different styles and expressions. It’s clear that the band is currently in the middle of their exploration stage, but that doesn’t stop this from being an entertaining experience. Bacchae’s versatility is palpable, they are not afraid to bare their teeth and sink it in your skin with frenetic drums and discordant riffs, while still having their fair share of sensitive songs that dive deep into emotional and introspective subjects. 

There’s three categories in which I can loosely explain these differences in style, first of which is the rebellious hardcore group, starting with “Leave town”. Its vocals grab you by the throat with its sadistic delivery, stabbing in with villainous intent. The guitars are in full snarl and sneer, warning you to stay out. The bridge is by far the most entertaining part, with a theatrical breakdown of scornful lyrics — think Demon Barber meets punk. “Stop Looking” is a song about social anxiety and the pressure of everyone’s expectation. Brimming with a sassy attitude, each word is spitefully uttered like insults from the Mean Girls’ burn book. “Older I Get” reaches its boiling point immediately with its screeching guitars and urgent drums, lashing out at an authority figure. The hook “You’re disillusioned / guilty as proven” sinks in deeper every time it repeats.

The pop-punk side is sweet and charming, almost as if the band has shape-shifted back to human form. In “Hammer”, the vocals are soft and sincere, the instruments follow with a surf-rock calm that’s great for a Sunday afternoon. “Everything Ugly” is an episode of self-loathing where everything you seem to do just doesn’t turn out right and it feels like you’re wasting your time.

The third group is for the outliers, this is where the band stretch their chops and come up with something of their own — the choice cuts that stand out from their peers. “Turns Me” has an 80’s inspired groove with glittering synths and danceable rhythm. The result is evocative, with lyrics describing a dangerous see-saw between love and lust. The best is saved for last in “Losing War”. The hardcore inspired sound is combined with theatrical delivery, turning it into a rock opera masterpiece. An anthemic song with dynamic vocal work, you can hear the poison drip with every howl and wail. If rebel groups had a recruitment song like this, people would surely line up to sign in.

Pleasure Vision stays true to its punk roots while still offering a good variety. Whatever style you may favor, you are sure to find what you like in its 11-track runtime. Although this may be a good start on its own, I feel like Bacchae is still on track to develop their own style, and I can’t wait to hear what they come up with next.

Depressedelica is Mathew Lee Cothran’s second full-length album under the moniker Elvis Depressedly. It is simply put, is an artful collection that gravitates around that feeling of not-being-okay. Although each track can be characterized under labels such as electronic, psychedelic and lo-fi pop, there’s a distinct personality to this sound that can’t really be nailed into one umbrella. Unconventional structures and textures can be heard throughout, ranging from industrial noises to synthesized beastly howls, undoubtedly the result of deep experimentation. There’s liberal use of the vocoder to mask Cothran’s voice, which can be read as a character hiding behind a mask, suppressing emotion. Although most of the overall mood is gloomy and dispirited, there’s a romantic undertone that can be heard in small details, found in cheerful harmonies and instrument choices, evoking a feeling of bittersweet acceptance to not being quite okay.

The opener “Who Can Be Loved In This World” is a folky romp song that could have actually been the only happy cut in this album, except for a hint of hesitation in its melancholic arrangement, suggesting that love is still a doubtful outcome. “Jane Don’t You Know Me” is a few 808s short of being lo-fi hip hop, but it serves the same purpose. Something you could listen to when you’re longing for someone. “Primal Sigh” is built around a synthesized vocal effect that’s reminiscent of Kid A, albeit a lot creepier, like a newborn monster howling for affection. It depicts a moment of anxiety that hits a breaking point, tempting to resort to self-harm in “The hope that I’ll have the guts to silence my raging mind and shut it up.” 

A happy-sad dynamic is present in “Can You Hear My Guitar Rotting”, with it’s deceptively poppy intro and melody interspersed with the imagery of being drunk and bored with its aforementioned rotting guitar. Tribal drum rhythms are meshed with electronic sounds in “Holo World” creating a contrast between organic and robotic. It muses on about how fragile everything is: “Time gets lost / Dreams subside”. Intentional or not, the title alludes to living in a Hollow world. 

Cothran displays his best songwriting chops in the tail end of the album. “Let’s Break Up The Band” is an introspective yet pragmatic take on the fall out between collaborators: “Let’s break up the band / Cause i don’t know who the fuck i am / And everything you say digs into my soul / And the music we play is out of our control”. The closer “New Love In The Summertime” pulls the rug from under you as it sounds like an upbeat love song, but the words suggest that our destructive tendencies is what makes us want new love every summer.

Although Depressedelica delves into dark themes and subjects, it remains realistic and doesn’t fall into melodrama. There’s a tinge of acceptance with every positive note — scarce as they may be — that suggests that things are not okay sometimes, and that’s just how life is.

On their debut album, the Colombia, Ohio based quartet, Snarls shows us a snapshot in the life of a modern day twenty-something. Filled with honest reflections on love, mental health and the pressures and expectations they have for the future. The charming, heart-on-your sleeve approach to songwriting has once again proven to be effective. Burst is flavored with alt rock, indie-pop and emo, topped with lots of glitter as Chlo White (vocals/guitar), Riley Hall(bass/vocals) and siblings Mick and Max Martinez (guitar and drums, respectively) show us their technical skill and dazzling presence in this 10 track collection.

The opener “Walk in the Woods” introduces us to their style of bright and glamorous riffs, like rays of sunshine seeping through a canopy of trees. The guitars paint a calm and somber scenery. White’s vocals carry a heavy burden as she sings the hook “I can’t quit you baby / No matter how hard I try”.

“Marbles” features distorted riffs and an air of frustration with every uttered word. White’s overdubbed vocals slowly builds in a crescendo of desperation, ending the chorus with a gut-wrenching howl. “Twenty” stands out in its simplicity while effectively conveying its theme of disappointment. The slow tempo and dangling guitars support the vocals in confusion and regret with the line “Chase my tail and dreams like a fucking freak”.

“Hair” is surprisingly, the only time that Snarls bare their teeth. The vocals are delivered in a more scornful approach, every line strikes like a bitter accusation. Minor arpeggios drip down and bleed through like poison on every word. The band channels their inner punk with: “You can’t tell me to do” while maintaining their signature glitter with: “Hey boy, stop messing with my hair”. “Better Off” is by far the track with the heaviest subject. It goes through the struggle wanting something that’s beyond reach, looking for love but finding nothing and not knowing where to start: “If I’m a goner, if I’m a loner / I can’t be the first one, first lover to wonder”.

“Falling” starts with a light and airy intro, embellished by a soothing chorus of angelic voices. A stark contrast to the rest of the track, full of erratic starts and stops with a background of shoe-gaze noise. It evokes the feeling of hesitation and instability, suggesting a struggle with mental health.

The closing song “Burst” erupts with a bang in its opening line: “When I die may I burst with a crack of thunder and a lot of glitter”, depicting the imagery in the album cover. Much as I would like to see someone explode into glitter, I would not wish for this to be the fate of the band. In the end, it asks if anyone would care if they fade away to inexistence (the answer is yes – they count me in). 

Snarls’ debut album is surprisingly well-mixed and refined for a band that’s starting out fresh. Burst is a promising start and each hook is a piece of stardust that’s sure to get stuck in your head for days. 

Remember that scrapbook you or your friends may have had when growing up? Filled with faded photographs, random memorabilia, maybe an original poem or two. Each page feels like a time capsule wrapped in a dreamy haze. I Was Trying to Describe You To Someone, the sophomore album from Wednesday captures this feeling very well. Elements of grunge, indie-pop and shoegaze are used in place of Polaroids, post-it notes and cheesy quotes. And to great effect, the heavily distorted noise and lo-fi ambiance help sell the image of faded memories. Each subject delves deep into love, sadness, nostalgia, dreams and regret, with Karly Hartzman’s tender vocals gliding wistfully through a swirl of guitar noise. 

The opening “Fate is” starts off with heavy grunge guitars that’s surprisingly easy to listen to. Hartzman’s voice cuts through in her soft almost-conversational delivery but heaves out in regret as she sings “Only reason that I did it was to find out what it’s like”. “Billboard” follows in a slow and serene pace. Vocals are overdubbed to get that nostalgic vibe. The guitars ring out like a siren of conflicting emotions. Overall it feels like going on a bus ride home and passing through places that hold painful memories.

“Love Has No Pride” has a heavy mood, one of those songs that can make you sigh without meaning to. The vocals waltzes in a slow tempo, detailing a day that just gets worse with lyrics like “It’s too much, “Sky looks like a bruise” and the chorus “Condemned, I am condemned”. “November” is a minimalist song, revolving around its poetry. Just like the ones you may have written on your notes, afraid to show anyone for fear of embarrassment. The line “There’s nothing like the way you loiter in my heart” is lifted up by wailing guitars.

“Coyote” is where the shoegaze ramps up, with knobs restlessly oscillating throughout the whole song, like an eerie howl of a creature from a Hitchcock film that’s lurking in the shadows. The lyrics tell a mundane story of a couple seemingly unaware of what’s happening, but then she asks “What’s making the noise outside / When it’s quiet on a Sunday night?”.

“Revenge of the Lawn” is deeply nostalgic, like that song you first wrote and recorded in an old cassette, hidden in old boxes only to be found years later. The acoustic guitars are sparse and the melodies are sweet. Vocal lines are overdubbed and out of sync, almost like it was an outtake. It’s charming and dreamy, the clattering tape noise mimics the patter of rain.

There is no title track in this album, but I Was Trying To Describe You To Someone fits the bill perfectly. We can never be too accurate in describing someone, the best we can do is lay down little details to the best of our ability. This album is much the same, and Wednesday has shared their life in bits and pieces that we can all experience and enjoy.  

Four of Arrows is an album filled with deeply emotional themes. Great Grandpa has stepped it up in their sophomore album, hitting their stride and then some, evolving into a more sophisticated sound. Heavy-hitting emotions are tackled with profound maturity and sincerity. Carried by the versatile vocals of Alexe Menne and her keen ability to move from soft quavers to full howls, each track carries with it a heartfelt layer of depth on top of the poetic lyricism. Instrumentation is grandiose and the song structures don’t hold back, going as full as possible without being overbearing. You can hear influences ranging from 90’s alt pop to math rock and emo, but combined in a concoction that’s uniquely theirs. A mark of a band that’s truly confident with their sound. 

In the opening “Dark Green Water”, pain is inspected in a refreshingly mature lens with the line “No perfection can ever bring joy”. Looking into the instances of joy and suffering and reflecting on how these moments are crucial. “Digger” is full of dramatic tension. With a somber minor riff cradling Menne’s vulnerable voice. This 90’s-inspired rock track mixes Alanis Morisette’s attitude with Sarah McLachlan’s angelic tone. The song goes through several movements with its conflicting choruses: “That’s why I hate you / That’s why I love you” and ends in an epic outro of sweeping guitar riffs.

You might do a double take with “Mono no Aware” but it’s actually a Japanese phrase about the pathos of things, and in this tune the feeling is perfectly reflected. It’s about the sad remembrance of how things used to be, and how they’ll never be the same again – “It reminds me of my failing grasp of the present, memory, self and past”. “Bloom” is the brightest track in this whole collection. The 90’s influence creeps in again and this time it’s a blend of The Corrs and Third Eye Blind. Encouraging you to stop feeling anxious about how your life is going and “Step into whatever you want to / Let your spirit bloom”. 

The hardest-hitting tracks are at the tail end of the record. “Human Condition” is an inspection of what it is to be. A track that could just save you from your teenage woes. The kind of thing a big sister or brother would say to take you out of a bind: “Don’t let life take your hard work / I know you feel done but you’re still so young.” It’s encouraging enough to lift you out of it but the melodies remain sympathetic, letting you know you’re not alone. “Split up the kids” is a same-day delivery straight to the feels. It depicts the arrangement that broken families are forced to go through, where the kids split up along with the parents. The somber acoustic guitar and ghostly harmonies ring with each line. 

Great Grandpa delvers a straight gut punch. Their openness to look at heavy themes and ability to illustrate this through their music makes Four of Arrows a must listen. 

Change is Bad is the first album of Chicago based post-punk band Stuck. Despite this being their first offering as a newly formed group, they’ve managed to create a unique and sophisticated vision. The visceral instruments and the artistic use of atonality is linked tightly with sincere lyricism. The vocals take up a lot of the spotlight here and definitely carries the whole character of the album, it ranges from short scornful stabs to full-on primal howls that reach into your psyche. Each track is rife with anguish, existential dread and raw energy that is presented to us in a harsh yet cathartic way.

“Ceiling” starts as a call to action, with guitar riffs that interweave in polyrhythm. The harmonies are claustrophobic, and the bass line suggests something lurking in the background. “Invisible Wall” is a standout track that starts with jittery starts and stops that turns into a disorienting swirl of noise. It evokes a feeling that you’re being trapped and the walls are constantly shifting, like being stuck in M.C. Escher’s Relativity. There’s a riff that’s eerily similar to The Twilight Zone theme which adds another layer to its creepiness.

“Bug Song” makes me excited, because I can finally use the word Kafkaesque. Indeed this song goes through a metamorphosis of its own, starting out as a subdued droning of melancholic guitars, it slowly intensifies into a cacophony of roars and moans. The lyrics fall into a pit of self-loathing, comparing himself to different insects as he muses about feelings of inadequacy and laziness. “I wanna be everything that I hate”, he declares in anguish.

Foreboding dissonance is the theme of “Plank II”, with vocals that seem to be taken straight out of a public demonstration. There’s no megaphone needed here as the heaviest line in the album “We’re living in a death cult” reverberates loud and clear in our daily lives.

“Anniversary” is the most personal track and also the longest at 4 minutes. It’s given the most emotional depth, and parts of the vocals are finally sung. There’s an intertwining of dissonant guitar riffs that induces a vertigo effect. Nostalgia and regret bleed through the lung-busting outro, implying a trauma that’s being re-lived over and over.

The closing track “Bells” starts with a hopeful line : “Like a potted plant too big for its home / I’ll take what I’m given”, signaling a hopeful for the better. The track is full of conviction, spoken by someone with a chip on their shoulder, who’s up against the odds. “I can’t see the future / We’ll know how it ends.” 

Change is Bad is something you shouldn’t miss. It should be prescribed to listeners who need a dose of therapeutic anger, just make sure you’re on solid ground or you might get rocked off by the sheer amount of dissonance.

The Chicago based trio FACS has released their third album via Trouble in Mind Records. The band was founded in 2017 from the ashes of The Disappears. Alianna Kalaba joined in as bassist with Brian Case and Noah Leger on guitars and drums. There’s something unique about Void Moments that sets it apart from the rest of its peers. While characterizing the bleakness and raw energy of post-punk, FACS has transcended their sound, deliberately arranging this 6 track collection with the precision and finesse that you can only find from masters of their craft. From the mixing to production, everything is flawless, clearly inspired by a coherent vision and made with the expertise that comes with time. 

Void Moments has a soundscape that grips you in and takes you to an unsettling atmosphere. There’s an array of electronic, mechanical, industrial and digital sounds used here that’s placed in tight detail, like how you would arrange an orchestra. 

“Boy” starts it off with a claustrophobic vibe, as the panning of the sounds feel like someone breathing down your neck (especially with headphones). It evokes an authority figure letting you know your place. The drums are militaristic and urgent like the marching of a SWAT team that’s pacing towards your door. The wailing guitars repeat in sequence, an alarm warning you to obey.

“Teenage Hive” is a tight artpiece, with Case’s lo-fi vocals and angular guitars that stay straight before careening into wild edges and intersections. Leaving you disoriented as the line “No direction” repeats throughout the song. We go into a more subdued and meditative direction with “Casual Indifference”. The rhythm is steady and the guitars are sparse, with ghostly vocals that move in and out of focus. The line “Playing around with… different sexes”, is a reflection of love’s indifference to orientation.

The next two tracks are the centerpieces, given the largest space in the gallery at 6 minutes each. “Version” is dark and foreboding. It drones with buzzing guitars and industrial drums. There is a slight hint of organic rainmaker sounds that overlap the artificial beats, but it stays only for a moment as the drums descend into chaos, defying time signature and taking along all the instruments with it into a spiraling void of noise. Which then takes us to “Void Walker”, the drums are now more dynamic, leading an aural atmosphere that’s hollow. The vocals sit on top of the mix and the words are vaguely incoherent as we go deeper and deeper to a dark abyss.

The last two tracks are mostly instrumentals. “Lifelike” is a hypnotic arrangement of buzz saws and frenetic percussion, while the closer “Dub Over” is more atmospheric with swirling electronics that evoke the feeling of being suspended in zero gravity. Add in the sparse robotic vocals and you’re on a trip to the Tannhauser Gates.

FACS has stretched the boundaries of rock with Void Moments and letting us know there is more to discover. Listeners and creators alike should pay attention.

Peach Pit has just released their sophomore album You and Your Friends. An album that’s  perfect for  your evening chill sessions, with upbeat and lively bubblegum pop tunes (with quirky flavors like shoegaze and dream pop) that you can leave on and enjoy in the background. Lean a little bit closer however, and this collection cuts deep. Like the title, it serves as a tribute to you and your friends. Filled with vignettes and scenes of growing up, we relive moments of heartache, angst and loneliness topped with lighthearted melodies and catchy tunes.

Where other bands from similar indie genres favor a dark and dreary atmosphere, Peach Pit flavors their mix with melodic guitar riffs, danceable grooves and easy to follow song structures. Its subject matter dives into the more nuanced aspects of relationships. Each song resembles a personalized snapshot of a character’s life, with break-ups standing out as the prevailing subject.

“Black Licorice” is filled with catchy guitar riffs that are sweet and simple, contrasted by a metaphor of being an unwanted piece of candy. “All the people that I know / Would rather leave me in the bowl”. Somehow managing to spin self-depreciation into a fun and engaging song.

“Figure 8” revolves around its clever use of metaphor, stuck inside a relationship tug-of-war where the other party is ready to move on while you’re stuck in a standstill of addiction. She comes in and out of view, until you hopelessly “Watch her skate away”. Reminiscent of 90’s alt pop, it hits deeper the more you listen to it.

“Brian’s movie” feels like it came straight out of a romantic comedy soundtrack. But instead of being the main character, you’re the best friend watching as the leads hit it off – leaving you alone to awkwardly enjoy your beer. The melody is light and somber as it mourns the loss of your best bud, while the novelty of the situation gives it a great touch of humor.

The combination of synths and reverb give “Camilla, I’m at Home” an atmosphere of loneliness. It tells a story of a rough breakup, and you’re stuck in a rut and can’t take care of yourself properly. The line “I’m leaning into chocolate / But a vision of it holds me very still / I don’t even think it’s real” suggests that reality has yet to sink in.

“Shampoo bottles” is the tightest written song in the album. Filled with little details that conjure up an image of a house after a break up. Where their stuff is still littered around your house, and you can’t help but miss them as you see the shampoo bottles, chargers, and deodorant left untouched for weeks. The use of imagery can get you sucked in to its world with “Waited long enough that I could never call you / Baby, how fucked is that?” being the most relatable line of the collection. 

Peach Pit’s sophomore album is filled with charm and depth that you could listen to while going through a rough breakup or just relaxing on a quarantined night, waiting for your friends to call.

No other musical genre pairs well with works of dystopian fiction other than punk. Its rebellious nature and ability to tell the truth at its raw form makes it a perfect avenue to shed light on modern issues. Auto-pain, the second album from Chicago’s trio Deeper has managed just that. Inspired by Adous Huxley’s ‘Brave New World’, where people take medication to numb their feelings. Auto-pain looks looks the opposite way, exploring how to cope in a constant state of pain. And in 12 tracks, we take a plunge into its catharsis. Each song explores themes of apathy, loneliness and anxiety with the gut-punching energy of post punk. Deeper has expanded their arsenal with this latest offering, clearing out space for more ambient and atmospheric synth sounds. 

“Esoteric” starts with bright riffs and stabby vocals under a backdrop of neon lights and grey weather. The track struts along with its search for meaning as singer Nick Gohl contemplates “Is it any wonder I feel so grey”, sharing insights on a spiraling depression. “This Heat” is one of my favorites, with its blistering progression that courses in like a fever dream. The song builds up in intensity with every section, like an illness about to worsen. Gohl sharply drops the line: “You feel so sick that you broke the alarm / Cause you bottled it in”, suggesting that suppressed emotions are the source of the disease. This theme re-emerges in “Willing” with its somber melodies and soundscapes, carried by the echoing hook: “It’s the willingness to ignore”. “Lake Song” paints a more sinister, foreboding tone. With an elaborate arrangement of strings and synths that would fit well in an art-house horror film. The line: “What’s the point in living this life / ‘cause you’re sheltered / and the walls are caving in” resonates under a thick heavy reverb that will get stuck in your mind for days.

Despite the bleak lyrics and atmosphere, there’s a lot of litheness and versatility that’s in Auto-Pain’s 33 minute runtime. The riff work on “Spray Paint” has a spring in its step that should rile up a crowd on live performances, along with a vocal delivery reminiscent of Bowie’s Under Pressure. “4U” features a piercing staccato riff that eventually explodes in a violent avalanche of drums and spat out vocals. “It’s hard to listen / It’s hard to ignore”, repeats in a tone of frustration. Drummer Shiraz Bhatti and bassist Drew McBride shine their brightest in “Helena’s Flowers”, fueling its plodding yet urgent rhythm. The line “It’s funny how we play these games, don’t trust yourself on Auto-pain” summarizes the whole album. Shedding light on how our emotions cannot be trusted, not with pain overwhelming us.

Deeper’s sophomore album is a step in the right direction. Concept albums like these are always a treat to dive into, as it showcases an artists’ ambition to stretch themselves further towards a unified vision. And with Auto-Pain, Deeper has managed to live up to its name.

Melkbelly’s second album PITH is a freight train of lo-fi noise rock. The Chicago-based quartet’s latest offering is more sophisticated yet still as heavy. Laying down the tracks is drummer James Wetzel with his relentless pace, amplified by the thick grunge guitars of Bart Winters and bassist Liam Winters. At its emotional core however, is Miranda Winters’ delicate voice, which sharply moves between calmness and scorn, cutting through all the overdrive. Her lyrics are filled with astute yet graphic poetry, a stark contrast to the raucous nature of the instruments that accompany her.

The opener “THC” is an anxiety-inducing romp that ramps up in intensity as the song goes on. Miranda’s subdued vocal parts are interlaced with the paranoia of roaring drums. The bridge ends in a full blown panic attack. If reggae music’s calmness comes from weed, then this song is at the other end of that spectrum. “Sickeningly Teeth” plays around with tempo, evoking a feeling of unease. The speed rises and falls almost haphazardly, like treading through unstable ground, walking through thin ice or the nuisance having something lodged in your teeth.

Miranda’s pop sensibilities shine through with “Little Bug” and “Humid Heart”. In the former she sings about being alone with nothing but a moth for companionship. The irony is palpable as she reflects on her loneliness while at the same time being annoyed by the bug that won’t leave her alone. 

The album’s centerpiece “Kissing Under Some Bats” is the standout track clocking in at seven-and-a-half minutes. It starts as a surf-rock rumble with Miranda’s voice sliding in and stabbing through the cracks of heavy fuzz. It ends with a five minute breakdown that starts as a one-chord pounding, and eventually develops into the noisiest guided meditation you’ll ever come across. Make sure to watch your breath as you’ll be phasing through a concrete wall of sound.

“Season of the Goose” despite its thick layer of sounds, has a catchy interplay of riffs between guitar and vocals. Carried by a snappy snare vibe that drives it to full gallop. “Mr. Coda” is the thesis of PITH compacted into three minutes. The rhythm changes and slabs of thick noise are joined by synth elements. The gritty bass takes the stage as the central core of the track that every other sound gravitates around. The closing song “Flatness” is a coda that brings it all down to earth, showcasing Miranda’s voice at her finest. She sings about discomforting themes in her struggle to find ‘the shape of flatness’.  

Melkbelly’s experimental approach is at its core an exploration of what they are capable of. Their sound can be summed up into three elements: extremely loud, extremely fast and extremely versatile. It’s fun to see how they stretch these muscles with each track. Some experiments might come out with a bang or a bust, but with so many ideas packed in at 40 minutes, that’s not necessarily a bad thing.