AUX Magazine Issue 2 by AUX Magazine

a washington university music publication iSSUE

NO.

FEBRUARY

2017

EDITOR IN CHIEF

MANAGING EDITORS

Reede Goldberg

Morgan Anker Jack Elliott-Higgins

ART DIRECTOR

Madeleine Underwood WRITING

Thomas Ellison Jack Elliot-Higgins Reede Goldberg Ethan Jaynes Anna Moros Taylor Morrison Madeleine Underwood Jordan Weinstock ART & DESIGN

Betsy Ellison Grace Kiralla Annabel Lassally Maddy Mueller Madeline Partner Jenna Schniztler 2

LEAD COPY EDITORS

Mikaela Adwar Helen Fox COPY EDITORS

Annika Andersson Jack Elliott-Higgins Thomas Ellison Peri Feldstein Grace Fellman Meghan Jette Natalia Oledzka Aidan Strassman Bonnie Simonoff MARKETING

Max Bucksbaum Thomas Ellison

AE L

IC H

W P.2 HO 2 IS

UG O TH 14 P.

IST

L ULD

E FIV P.17

T AR

G SON

SHO

X 3

letter from the editor REEDE

GOLDBERG

Hi, I’ve been staring at my computer screen for a solid 20 minutes. I cannot seem to get comfortable in this chair in Tisch Commons. I have listened to Barry White, Wu-Tang Clan, and now The Band all in the span of time I’ve been sitting here. Nice. We really, really went for it with this issue. We have a new look (thank you, Maddy), new pieces (thank you, amazing writers), new art (thank you, incredible artists) and a new set of organizational skills that made it possible for us to produce this issue from the ground up in a timely manner. We have had people from outside the Wash. U student body work on this issue; including history professor Douglas Flowe and Thom Ellison’s sister Betsy. We are so excited to see that our audience is expanding. We are just so excited.

NEW

NEW I N

The use of the word “we” when I write these letters is really important. This magazine would never ever work unless all hands were on deck. The creation of AUX is sometimes stressful but ultimately a lot of fun. We have a lot of fun at our meetings. People are bursting with ideas. We leave excited and energized with a clear idea of what we have to get done in order to get the best issue out that we can. I would love to say something profound but I feel like I should just end my letter here and let the issue speak for itself. I couldn’t be more thankful for everyone who worked on it. We have gotten so much positive feedback from our first issue and we are striving to do even better. Love, Reede Goldberg Founder & EIC

“

LOOK NEW R E V I E W S NTERVIEWS

NEW A U X

OUR COVER PHOTO (TAKEN BY MERRY SUN) IS MODELED BY JACK ELLIOT-HIGGINS AND JORDAN WEINSTOCK. THE PHOTOGRAPH WAS INSPIRED BY THE ALBUM COVER FOR WEDNESDAY MORNING, 3 A.M., AN ALBUM BY SIMON & GARFUNKEL. 5

THE

MADNESS

THE

METHOD:

m e n t a l i l l n e s s BY THOMAS ELLISON

MUSIC

THE

INDUSTRY

he issue of mental illness and celebrity stretches far back into the history of the music industry, from Brian Wilson to Ian Curtis to Amy Winehouse. Last year saw many musicians openly confront their mental illnesses, but the response from the general public reveals the shortcomings in how we as a society still view mental illness. In probably the most famous such case of last year, Kanye West suffered a very public breakdown at a concert in November before being checked into a hospital. Illness influences the artist’s music and their public life, so it makes sense that fans took an interest and many major news outlets reported on the incident. But some coverage took on sensationalistic or exploitative styles. Consequence of Sound jokingly referred to Kanye as a “2020 presidential candidate,” detailed his controversial remarks about politics, and speculated on the causes of his “erratic” behavior. Coverage of the hospitalization was similarly tabloid-y elsewhere, with various gossip magazines reporting on the pills he was taking, the effect the breakdown had on Kanye’s marriage to Kim Kardashian, and the 25-foot Christmas tree being delivered to their house. Simultaneously, people across the internet shared memes and posted comments about the incident that frequently made light of paranoia and depression, casually referencing Kim’s sex tape as a source of paranoia and insinuating that Kanye’s children were destined to grow up with a “psycho” dad. Of course, it is an exercise in futility to expect all news sources to be totally objective or all internet users to be respectful in their comments. But there are plenty of examples where the response was not so universally malicious. In October, Kid Cudi made a long Facebook post detailing his feelings of depression, suicidal thoughts, and shame before entering into rehab1. Consequence of Sound’s article simply summarized the post, leaving out gossipy details about recent Twitter feuds and the release of his album, while fans flooded the post with reassurance and love. The response to Kid Cudi’s post was widely supportive, indicating that we have the ability to respond to these issues in a mature way. So why isn’t mental illness always treated with the seriousness it deserves? First, it’s common to view the illness in the light of a musician’s message or persona. Cudi’s style tends to be more introspective, serious, and emotional, so perhaps fans were prepared to hear a message about depression from him. On the other hand, Kanye is more bombastic: comically arrogant, eclectic, and overall very fun. People don’t expect to hear about mental illness from someone whose music makes them laugh or dance to at the club to at the club, and it makes it difficult to react appropriately. The same is true for the reaction to popular DJs who have come forward about depression or substance abuse yet received relatively little attention: deadmau5, Avicii, and Erick Morillo, to name a few. People who don’t know as much about mental illness are less likely to understand or even believe that musicians who on the surface seem fun and happy could be struggling internally. As a result, it’s easy to trivialize their experiences for a quick laugh. This is especially important for people following musicians on the internet and various social media platforms, which

provide a disconnect between comment and consequence. Followers are encouraged to share opinions on anyone and everything, and frequently do so with a candor that wouldn’t be acceptable otherwise. Hence the memes about Kim’s sex tape; so many people make their voices heard that there seems to be no impact of adding one’s own voice to the tumult. People are willing to say more hurtful things, and being excessively hurtful tends to get more likes just for the shock appeal. Even though the owner of that social media account doesn’t read every comment, the general rush of negativity leaves an impact. In fact, many psychological studies have shown the existence of a negativity bias, where negative information tends to stick in the mind more than positive information (see further reading for specific studies). Many artists don’t speak up about how this affects them, but Lauren Mayberry of Chvrches has been active in calling out harassment on the band’s Instagram page. In 2015, she posted a screenshot of a sexually aggressive comment she had received along with a statement declaring her refusal to allow this abuse to be normalized. It doesn’t always end at harassment, though. Just this past year, widespread (and false) accusations of infidelity turned into a firestorm of hate around singer Kehlani, which eventually drove her to attempt suicide. Luckily, she survived, but even after this, Chris Brown picked up the aggression and tweeted, “There is no attempting suicide. Stop flexing for the gram.”1 This unmitigated persecution stems from the ability to voice opinions essentially without consequences. There is a real and dangerous impact of the disconnect created by the internet, and it leads to aggressive harassment. As long as we view prominent figures in such a detached sense, it will be difficult to have a mainstream conversation about the mental health of popular musicians.

ILLUSTRATIONS: MADELEINE UNDERWOOD

THE

CHERRY

WAVE

shimaru (2017) BY

THOMAS

ELLISON

Since 2012, The Cherry Wave have been blasting out shoegaze from Glasgow, over the Atlantic, and into our eardrums. Their newest release, Shimaru, is a hazily anthemic explosion of noise rock which never fails to overwhelm. At its heaviest, the album sounds like a violent Scottish snowstorm, where swirling guitars howl wildly and threaten to choke out the vocals. The sheer volume of feedback and distortion makes it seem like each song must be on the verge of collapse, but unlike the 2014 release Avalancher, they never do. The pounding drums in “Hitch a Glide” and “Get Wide” anchor the sound and keep you from getting lost in the storm, giving a solid rock foundation to what otherwise might have spiralled away into a dreamy psychedelic haze. Yet, there’s a strange claustrophobia: songs like “Placid Blue” and “Softwater” are mixed to sound uncomfortably close. Along with some grim lyrics about storms, flowing water, and black holes, the album can be surprisingly unsettling; which lends some edginess and anxiety to the haze. Shimaru is not an album to be listened to lightly: it demands attention even as you drift into its fuzzy embrace BEST

ART BY CHERRY WAVE

SONG:

PLACID

BLUE

DEFENSE

music

CRITICISM BY

ETHAN

JAYNES

Ask anyone what the most consistently maligned online music publication is, and they’ll undoubtedly answer, “Pitchfork.” And what happens to be the most popular and most referenced online music publication? You guessed it: Pitchfork. Few publications that critique music are seen in a positive light-- the AV Club even has a listicle detailing the 25 best anti-music journalism songs. That’s the 25 best, which suggests loads more floating around in the digital ether. On the internet music community, it’s hard to go a day without seeing any number of criticism outlets put on blast for questionable journalistic ethics or revisionism. So why do we, as consumers of music, read music criticism if we hate it so much? Is it the schadenfreude of watching Ian Cohen orchestrate a brutal takedown of the newest indie pop starlet? Maybe we crave the satisfaction of seeing a personal favorite clock in the sought-after ‘Best New Music’ or ‘Eureka!’, if you’re more of a Tiny Mixtapes person. While there is some good to music criticism, there is very clearly a good deal of bad. Firstly, bad reviews are bad for artists—plain and simple. Travis Morrison, the leader of indie darlings The Dismemberment Plan, practically had his solo career obliterated when Travistan got a 0.0/10.0 from Pitchfork. No one deserves such a hyperbolically low score, and with that, a decision very likely motivated by page clicks effectively wiped a young artist off the earth. On a more philosophical level, many object the entire idea of assigning quantitative worth to any album. This idea certainly holds some weight—if art is subjective, who are we to judge an album to such painful, numerical precision? To many, this seems antithetical to the very concept of music. These are viable viewpoints, but there are ways to mitigate harm done and, at the same time, bring out the value that so many see in critiquing music.

One common suggestion is to avoid giving bad album reviews Album reviews used to primarily be used to see if the album was worth buying, and although this is less the case in the streaming age, a good review is often still a great indication that an album is worth listening to. A bad review, on the other hand, is almost exclusively written for the purpose of shock value and garnering coveted page clicks. A well-written, constructive, negative review can be an interesting read, but that’s where the benefits end. Another generally positive review format is the best-of list, which ranks albums, often within a certain year or genre. The widespread use of websites like Rate Your Music has made custom, crowd-sourced best-of lists available to the masses on-demand. You can see what tens of thousands of peers think are the best Tibetan Throat Singing albums of 1998 as easily as finding the Billboard Top 40. Although most of these lists are still comparative and therefore competitive in nature, many, especially those automatically generated, still stress discovery over quantification and competition. In fact, most lists outside of those published by the music journalism titans seem to embrace this positive spirit. Exclusively positive reviews and best-of lists are far from a perfect solution to our qualms with the current state of music criticism, but it’s a start. Much of music criticism will continue to border on tabloid-ism for the foreseeable future, but it’s important and beneficial to understand the ways that we can create a more positive environment within the field and foster a culture that emphasizes discovery, which is really the root of music reviews. After all, we’re just talking about opinions here.

ART BY MADDY MUELLER

REEDE

GOLDBERG

Kevin Abstract is the hero we need but not the hero we deserve. His album, American Boyfriend: A Suburban Love Story, is one of my favorite albums of the year and it is gearing up to be one of my favorites of all time. I listened to it all of winter break and still cannot get enough. In this piece I will be discussing my personal highlights from the album so here it goes. In the world Abstract creates, there is a lot to be lost. Racist friends and homophobic parents create a dynamic in Abstract’s life that becomes overwhelming, especially when paired with his search for self-discovery. Self-loathing, confusion, unrequited love, and identity are all themes in American Boyfriend. As a queer black man, Abstract speaks from personal experience about the search for love and comfort. “Empty”, the opening song, as well as the single released from the album shows this influence of personal experience. The song details Abstract’s commitment to his boyfriend and how his family’s homophobia creates a reluctance to be with them. The title “Empty” is a reference to the empty home Abstract wishes he had, an answer for the yearning he feels to be without his family’s judgement. The idea of an empty home is a common theme in American Boyfriend. One of my personal favorites, “Tattoo”, is about having feelings for someone– feelings that just don’t quit. “Got your name across my chest,”

Abstract laments, “Still sleeping with the window open/ Why can’t I getcha outta my head, my head”. This song is awfully relatable and makes me want to rip my heart clean out of my chest, but that’s good music for ya! Another favorite of mine is “Yellow” and it is about the good times with someone. Yellow is associated with how Abstract used to feel with his old lover and he yearns for those times. “If the trees were yellow / That would cure my heartbreak”; only being with his lover once more could cure him of the heartbreak he feels. It’s pretty goddamn sad. One of those moments someone would try to say, “Don’t cry because it’s over; smile because it happened!” Nobody appreciates hearing that statement when they’re sad. Lastly, an instant classic: “Miserable America”. To me, “Miserable America” could be the crown jewel of the entire album (which says a lot). The phrase “I don’t care (no more)”, which is repeated upwards of 20 times sticks to the sides of my brain whenever I feel any sort of nagging negative emotion or anxiety. Abstract is accompanied by a chorus singing these words and the sentiment of not caring feels somewhat less depressing and very much less pathetic. “My boyfriend saved me”, is the first phrase that Abstract spits out at you. “My mother’s homophobic / I’m stuck in the closet / I’m so claustrophobic,” are the following lines. None of them are comforting or pleasant. They are raw and cutting. CONTINUED ON PAGE 14

a lovely voice in a M I S E R A B L E A M E R I C A 10

THESE

FEMME RAPPERS

ARE TAKING OVER THE GAME BY

MADELEINE UNDERWOOD

NOKIA “GREEN LINE” If you’ve never been to New York City, put on this song and you’ll immediately be transported there; the rhythm, the chaos, and the beauty of the city is all immediately apparent in “Green Line,” off of Nokia’s album 1992. While the album jumps around from party bangers to more mellowed out tunes, “Green Line” is the perfect blend of a catchy hook and lyrics you won’t be able to get out of your head. PRINCESS

CHYNNA ROGERS - “THE CONVERSATION” As the former mentee of A$AP Yams and a practicing Buddhist, you could say model-slash-rapper Chynna Rogers has already lived a pretty fascinating life. Her lofty bars and atmospheric beats feel almost trance-like, yet stay grounded by her raspy voice.

LITTLE SIMZ CONVERSATIONS”

FEAT.

“OUR

BADBADNOTGOOD

Little Simz is singlehandedly making a name for British rap with her breakout album “A Curious Tale of Trials + Persons,” released in 2015. She seamlessly blends her rapping and singing skills on this track, which features neo-jazz group BadBadNotGood. Her powerful lyrics and strong voice stand out among a wavy background of guitar and saxophone.

IMAGE

CREDIT:

GOOGLE

IMAGES

THE P O W E R OF THE ART BY MADDY MUELLER 12

playlist

I love Spotify. It gives me musical freedom like I have never experienced before. If I want to listen to a song, I just open up the app on my phone or computer and find it (well, except for Taylor Swift, but we’ll get there). As long as I have the internet, the possibilities are endless. No need to buy CDs, MP3s, or even illegally download music onto my iTunes. With over 100 million users, Spotify is the top streaming service in existence. Any artists, no matter if they are signed to a label or not, can put their music on Spotify for a small fee. To date, it boasts over 30 million songs. This is amazing for consumers of music like me. No longer do I have to rely on iTunes gift cards to download music. But is Spotify good for musicians? There are several ways to answer this question. Let’s start with a monetary approach. Spotify has received a lot of flack for not fairly compensating their artists. A per-stream play in Spotify pays between $0.00121 and $0.00653, depending on whether the song is streamed in the ad-supported version or premium. So for 1 million streams, a band would receive around $4,000. Pretty good money, but the vast majority of bands don’t even reach that mark. And for signed bands, over half of the streaming revenue will often go back to their label and music publishers. The lack of revenue in streaming is what led Taylor Swift to say no to Spotify, claiming that it undervalues music. This has some merit, but then again Taylor made $170,000,000 last year, mostly on hugely over-

priced tickets to her concerts. Admittedly, from a purely gross revenue point of view, Spotify isn’t great for musicians. However, it’s not like artists were receiving much before. Not many people buy albums anymore, nor do they purchase many songs on iTunes. So yes, Spotify doesn’t give much, but are people still willing to buy songs? No, not really. The money is now in live performances, which relies on building an audience. In terms of exposure, Spotify is the place to be for musicians. With its large user base and seamless integration with social media, it’s easy to share music on Spotify with one’s audience. This is especially important for unsigned and indie label artists. A useful means of exposure on Spotify are playlists, which are central to the app. Many prominent playlists feature new releases from independent artists. I’ve often discovered bands through playlists like New Music Friday and Undercurrents. When I hear a song I like, I add it to my library and later explore the artist’s other music. A few days later, Spotify allows me to find similar artists on Discover Weekly. Beyond discovery, the connection between musicians and their listeners has also increased. Artists can now customize their Spotify pages, including announcements and pinned playlists. They also have access to Fan Insights, which provides data on listener habits, preferences, location and other helpful stats. While there is a limit to the usefulness of this information, Spotify has shown that it cares about helping its artists succeed.

JESSE

BOGDAN

On this note, the streaming service now sends emails to its users informing them of upcoming local concerts for bands that they listen to. A recently created playlist, Release Radar, compiles new music from artists that users have listened to, along with similar artists. Considering all of these features, I don’t see how someone could argue that Spotify isn’t good for music discovery. Therefore, I think it’s hard to argue that Spotify isn’t good for musicians. Besides revenue, Spotify has only helped artists get their name more known. What worries me are the long-term effects Spotify may have on music listening habits. Spotify is a jampacked platform. Playlists are constantly updating, new singles are advertised on the front page everyday, personal playlists can get lost in the sidebar. This influx of music seen across streaming services may lead to less interest in bands and more interest in types of sounds. Already, I’m finding it hard to name artists I’ve been listening to recently. I’ll say I’ve been into “chill electronic” or “female alternative” music. I usually just put on a playlist and let it go, not paying attention to the artists’ names. So, while artists may be getting more exposure, are people engaging more with their music? I’m not sure. What I know is that music is more accessible than it has ever been thanks to Spotify. It’s on us to recognize this privilege and to support the bands we enjoy. Whether this means following them on Spotify, CONT. ON PAGE 27

BY KEVIN

ABSTRACT

CONT.

THUS, THE IDEAL WILD HEADLINER OUGHT TO STRIKE THE PERFECT BALANCE BETWEEN STAGE PRESENCE AND MUSICAL RELEVANCY

“ 14

MILD

“

WILD

I challenge you to find an album that is as open as American Boyfriend (partially because I think they are rare, but also because I want to know of some more albums like this). Abstract successfully brings his listener into his world with his lyrics. But, most importantly, he uses his lyrics to invoke emotions within his listeners so they can relate to his story. I’ve experienced my versions of self-loathing and confusion. After listening to this album a couple of times, I feel like I have experienced Abstract’s, too. When I listen to this album now it consumes me. I feel love and I feel sadness. I feel a hand rubbing my back as I sob into my own lap. I feel the sun and the New York City cement slapping the soles of my boots. I feel a genuine appreciation for Kevin Abstract and how he, someone who has never met me, can make me feel a whole lot less alone.

TAYLOR

MORRISON

As the first WILD since the All-American Rejects’ controversial appearance in April of 2016 rapidly approaches, school-wide anticipation is building for the announcement of the spring 2017 WILD headliner. Every semester before a new headliner is revealed, students hope to improve upon the experience provided by past performers; it is significant, as WILD has historically been one of the biggest days of the semester for students’ social lives, both at various parties and pregames as well as the concert itself. Nevertheless, there is not much of a consensus among students as to what particular performer, or type of performers, would most effectively facilitate these experiences. The 2015-2016 academic year featured two relatively prolific artists, both of which had pros and cons. For the fall semester, Kygo provided a trendier sound akin to the music tastes of more Wash U students. However, as many students would confess, Kygo failed to provide any sort of exciting stage presence to rally the crowd. In a sense, the school basically paid a guy to look pretty and press some buttons, and I think most students would prefer someone with more liveliness. In the spring, that liveliness arrived, in a form slightly more dated than most of the student body would consider ideal. While the All-American Rejects are a live band that put on an actual show with a stage presence, their style of music has come and gone from the mainstream. They released their breakthrough single, “Dirty Little Secret”, over a decade ago,

and surged in popularity around the time most Wash U students were in middle school. Understandably, their announcement was met with mixed opinions, and those who were excited felt that way due to nostalgia for their middle school hits. Thus, the ideal WILD headliner ought to strike the perfect balance between stage presence and musical relevancy; the most recent survey offers a few options that seem promising. Most notably, A$AP Rocky has received quite a lot of well-deserved attention. While his sound may not be as trendy as the Chainsmokers/Flume/ whatever is blasting in Wash U frat basements, A$AP Rocky is only about three years removed from his most popular material. Additionally, he would much likely have a more interesting and exciting persona on stage, as opposed to another survey option DJ Snake, who, while being hugely popular and topping US charts, would more than likely suffer the Kygo problem. Another interesting possibility is Flo Rida, but in some regard he suffers the All-American Rejects problem, as fun as it would be to relive awkward middle school dances with “Low”. Unfortunately, as easy as it would be to treat the music culture as one monolithic entity with a unified desire for a WILD experience, the truth is that there is no one artist that will satisfy everyone.

ART BY JENNA SCHNITZLER

A BY

NEW ETHAN

COLUMN JAYNES

sweet trip To say that Velocity: Design: Comfort by Sweet Trip is a shoegaze album would be a stretch. To call it IDM (Intelligent Dance Music) wouldn’t do the album nor the genre justice. While it borrows from these genres and more, Sweet Trip’s magnum opus is in a league of its own. The environment created by Velocity : Design : Comfort is a lush, disorienting, and startlingly beautiful modern surrealist landscape. Scrapes, pops and hisses lifted from the banality of everyday life are suspended in

a wash of gauzy, visceral synths and given new, preternatural life . The arrangement of sounds and melodies on Velocity comes off as both freewheeling and incredibly deliberate – a sort of controlled chaos that’s as fascinating as it is magnificent. Sweet Trip’s attention to detail and pure sonic prowess is astounding, and makes for a record that is as rewarding on its 100th listen as it is on its first. The band’s dedication to adventure in songwriting and production is palpable – you’ll likely hear something new on ev-

ery spin. Velocity is an incredibly abstract and boundary-pushing record, but it is not without catchy choruses and danceable jams. “Dsco” and “Chocolate Matter”, for example, are fundamentally solid pop songs blessed by Sweet Trip with dense narcotic synths and guitar leads. Even “Fruitcake and Cookies”, a collage of muted strings and chopped up power electronics, is anchored by a traditional female vocal lead. Sweet Trips synthesizes these two disparate genres into a wholly new sound that is uncanny as it is beautiful.

“WAVEFORM” BY PINEGROVE

The first step in getting off the floor is to indulge. One of Pinegrove’s best slow and lush songs, “Waveform” swells and acknowledges all your reasons for convalescence. It touches on insecurity and rejection tenderly and provides open spaces to come up for air. Perhaps Cardinal’s most overlooked track, but sure to facilitate your ascent in its own way.

2 “CEASE THE B

JACK ELLIOTT-HIGGINS

five s o ns

FOR WHEN YOU JUST C

TO E L

BE” L O

BY S

After indulgence, there is a need for affirmation. Oliver Kalb’s soothing voice spins a gorgeous pop lullaby out of bells, synths, and distorted guitars. Message is important; the message here is survival and perseverance, and sometimes that is what you need to start your climb from the floor. It is a simple song with an oft-repeated message, but that does not diminish its impact in any way.

“ORANGE, BLUE WITH STRIPES”

The closing moments of The Brave Little discomfort – we’re alright tie the albu loathing, and frustration with an unforgivi berates with tentative hope. It lives in the r for it to be. This one is hard to find, as the should be on YouTube and is worth taking

“OUT IN THE DEEP”

nsongs gs

JACK ELLIOTT-HIGGINS

KAL MARKS

This song is special. The build alone will drag you back into cold reality, gritting your teeth against the oncoming night. The gut-wrenching wail of, “You’re too busy getting high” will have you screaming and rejuvenated, your hours on the floor a distant memory of a past self. This one is a shrieking death gasp with a low simmer erupting into a full-fledged boil in the space of four minutes and fifty-five seconds. The thing about getting off the floor is that the reasons for your descent don’t go away – they will still be there when you peel yourself off the cold tile or rip your sweater from the dingy carpet – but when you rise again, you need to be ready to fight back and viciously. This one will get you there.

CAN’T GET OFF THE FLOOR

” BY

“DENDRON” BY

THE HOTELIER

Most Hotelier songs are perfect for time on the floor, but this is the one that starts the process of extricating yourself from your carpeted grave. Its shuddering drive is relentless, its lyrics poignantly painful, but the glimpses of distorted hope in the closing moments are enough. Christian Holden yelps and bellows his way into your heart.

THE BRAVE LITTLE ABACUS

Abacus’s lauded 2010 release just got back from the um’s central themes of haunting pasts, dual selves, self-doubt and ing world into a short conclusion statement, but one that reverrealm between happy or sad; it just exists, and that is a fine place e BLA essentially scrubbed their existence from the internet, but g the time to find.

on The Hotelier

& MUSIC TO BE GOOD WHAT IS MEANS FOR

BY JACK ELLIOTT-HIGGINS

After four months apart, my friend Kade asked me what I had been listening to, as he always does after long periods of separation. I responded, “The Hotelier, but I’m still not sure if they’re good or not,” which surprisingly elicited the same response from him. Kade and I saw The Hotelier on their Montreal tour stop with Told Slant and Loone at the back room of Casa del Popolo, a small, dark bar. We were not there for The Hotelier, but everyone else seemed to be. The Hotelier is at its roots an emo band and, like any well-regarded emo band, has rabidly devoted fans. Our larger friend Amo took a punch in the face from a moshing girl about half his size. I thought those in the pit might break my ankles, or at the very least spill my drink, so I retreated to the back. Yet halfway through the show, I was fully invested in the momentum of their thundering set and saved an album to my Spotify account. The Hotelier comes from Worcester, MA, a city I have seen from the highway driving cross-state countless times but, as far I can recollect, have never set foot in. Their sound is rem18

iniscent of so many industrial northeastern cities; the swells of passion powered by a pounding snare, a thudding kick, and ringing guitars is not foreign in any way to me. Their ideology, however, is what sticks out. They identify as anarcho-punk and their politics are intrinsically tied to their music. Front Christian Holden’s lyrics have gone from blunt in their message to subtler over the years, but the politics are always present and always grab me. We saw them one more time last summer, on the same tour but back home in Cambridge, MA. The venue, far too polished for the show’s lineup, was advertising $10 boutique cocktails and featuring a full gastro pub. With a crowd of primarily young white men dancing only to songs from their brash sophomore release, Home, Like NoPlace is There, and standing sullenly for anything new and warmer, it was a crowd I felt uncomfortable being a part of - it was not my scene in any way. I never had an emo phase. I did not grow up listening to Brand New or American Football or Braid – I was aware but it never struck me, I always tended towards punk or indie.

So if I am going to have an emo phase I guess now is as good a time as any and anarcho-punk is as good a theme as any. Yet the question remains: are The Hotelier good? And does it even matter? I can and often do get into the theory behind the song structures, their development as musicians from their Hotel Year teenage years to now, their endearingly verbose lyrics (“An Introduction to the Album” has a fascinating lyrical structure, gasping through five breathless minutes of radiant misery, “End of Reel” blends the syllables with the beat in a way so deliberately beautiful that the craftful lyricism is almost hidden), but what is the use? I guess it serves to justify that they are indeed good, that being far too into The Hotelier is not a blemish on my musical taste, but I think the follow-up question is more universal. To me, it does not matter. Supposedly near-objective matters of good and bad music cannot matter. Pitchfork number ratings and album sales cannot matter. The Hotelier makes me think, feel, and process – that is enough for me.

HAVE YOU EVER LISTENED TO AN ALBUM SO OFTEN DURING A SPECIFIC TIME THAT WHEN YOU LISTEN TO IT YOU FEEL LIKE YOU’RE TRANSPORTED BACK IN TIME? YEAH, US TOO.

Is AN

EXPERIMENT

This

BY ANNA MOROS

I’m sitting in my dark room so covered in posters that I’m not sure what color my walls are, running to the beach when I think my parents are unbearable, spending weekends in the water till my fingers turn into raisins. This all seems so far away as I’m sitting in the library twelve hundred miles from home, but when I hear Is This It by the Strokes I’m back to my old high school self. All I want to do when I hear this album is reminisce about my high school days and speed around the suburbs with my windows down. “Take It or Leave It” is the drive to school every day. “Hard to Explain” is slowly riding down the beach with my best friend, feeling our teenage angst. I listened to “Trying Your Luck” during what I thought was my first heartbreak. “Is This It” was the soundtrack to my one of my first nights of depression. Listening to this album, I feel all at once elated and overwhelmed by sad nostalgia, undeniably one of the best mixes of emotions in such a challenging way. Being a completely different person now, it is so hard for me to associate my current self with this album. So during winter break I decided to rechristen it; to make it feel relevant to my present life. I tried turning this

RECHRISTENING

It?

ALBUM

coming of age album into a new tale. Now it has to translate to walking to class, stressing about internships, and drinking tea while hiding from the snow. But somehow I still feel like my younger self when I listen to these songs. Is that bad? Does this make this album less legitimate, less important? Is great music supposed to change with you? Maybe, but that hasn’t made me like Is This It any less, it actually made me like it more. This music brings me back to a different part of my life like no pictures or stories ever can. I feel like I have a tiny part of my adolescence back and that sentimentality is priceless. I have an unlimited supply of songs to relate to my present college life, but nothing brings me back to the simpler times of high school life quite like the Strokes. So no, my current self does not relate to this album, I don’t understand the feelings the songs are conveying, but I used to. I used to cry and laugh and feel so comfortable with this music and just to get a sliver of that back is enough. I hope that every stage of my life has an album, or even just a song, that will transport me to all those feelings and memories that came with that time in my life. This way I’ll never be too far from the person I used to be.

ART BY BETSY ELLISON

springsteen

bruce

S P R I N G S T E E N ART BY MADELINE PARTNER 20

BY REEDE GOLDBERG

My tumble into Springsteen fandom is unique. It started with a brief passion for everything Jimi Hendrix. I had just finished Charles R. Cross’s A Room Full of Mirrors: A Biography of Jimi Hendrix. I was explaining the historical relevance of his guitar style to a friend when he stopped me, saying, “If you want to see some good guitar, search ‘Springsteen Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.’” Rage Against the Machine guitarist and singer Tom Morello faced Bruce Springsteen as the music started. Morello’s guitar was blue and white and read “ARM THE HOMELESS”. I didn’t know what to think. I was three minutes in and nothing crazy had happened. The song was great and I loved it but I was yet to see the guitar action I was promised. First solo was Springsteen’s; three minutes and 25 seconds in and it was good. At three minutes and 40 seconds, Tom Morello ripped the guitar in a way I had never seen. Springsteen and Morello exchanged solos, their guitars in communication, with Morello sliding his fingers up the neck of his guitar. The song reached the bridge, Morello and Springsteen taking turns harmonizing and soloing. Six minutes and 20 seconds in, I witnessed what my friend was talking about. Tapping dangerously close to the pickups, Morello played guitar like I had never seen. He flipped his hand

over and under the neck, picking one string at a time. His fingers moved faster than I could watch them until he took his palm and started rubbing it against the strings. It sounded surprisingly good. Again, a movement and sound I had never seen performed before.

In the Flood,” and “Growin’ Up”) and my not-so-favorites (basically just “Mary Queen of Arkansas”– it’s unnecessary).

I told my friend about how much I loved the video.

From Greetings from Asbury Park, N.J. I started to venture out into the rest of Springsteen’s discography. I searched for the original version of “The Ghost of Tom Joad,” (on the album The Ghost of Tom Joad) which took some getting used to. The album version is stripped of all the live version’s fanfare. From The Ghost of Tom Joad, I found one of my favorite Springsteen songs to date, “Youngstown”. I checked out what my family already had on iTunes and I was set.

“Now”, he said, “You’ve gotta listen to his old stuff.” The “old stuff” my friend was referring to was Springsteen’s first album Greetings from Asbury Park, N.J. “He’s trying to be Dylan,” my friend told me. He read me some lyrics, “ ’Nuns run bald through Vatican hall / Pregnant / Pleading immaculate conception’; now how wild is that?”

My first semester at Wash U I took a class called “Youth in Revolt!” It was about protest music, taught by one of my now role models Dr. Vandagriff. As I skimmed through the syllabus I noticed there was a Bruce Springsteen day. I quickly claimed it, asking to make my presentation about “The Ghost of Tom Joad.”

I left and immediately downloaded the album. At first glance, it didn’t seem extraordinary. It was released in 1973 and the cover looked like a greeting card. Also, the title mentioned New Jersey – take that as you will. There were nine songs on the album though, so it was easy to swallow.

Our final assignment for the year was to write a ten-page research paper on a protest album of our choice. I knew I wanted to write about Springsteen, but Born in the U.S.A., arguably the album with the highest potential for a fascinating analysis, had already been frequently discussed in class. Dr. Vandagriff suggested

The music crescendoed, the song ended, and Springsteen and Morello hugged. I was sitting cross-legged on my bed wondering what the fuck I had just seen. So I watched it again. And again. And again. Until I could hum all the guitar solos on my own.

I listened and listened. I found my favorite songs (“For You,” “It’s Hard to Be a Saint In the City,” “Spirit In the Night,” “Lost

CONTINUED ON PAGE 24 21

WHO THE F*CK IS

MICHAEL C

INTRODUCTION BY JORDAN WEINSTOCK ART BY GRACE KIRALLA Around a year ago I had an idea for a column that I wanted to write for KWUR’s zine. I was gonna call it “The Get Involved, Stay Involved” and the plan was to interview as many industry “professionals” as I could on why they do what they do and what exactly it means to do whatever it is they do. The point was to show people, around campus and beyond, that it isn’t difficult to be involved in music, the only requirement is a desire to do it. Whether you want to play in a band, write a blog, book shows, or whatever, you totally can do it! I started the column out with Lauren Rearick, blog queen of The Grey Estates, and someone I consider a mentor and very close friend. Other things got in the way after that interview and the column faded out, but nevertheless, here is part two! An interview with Michael Caridi, best known as resident nice guy at bands like LVL UP, The Glow, and once upon a time SIRS (he plays guitar and sings a bunch of songs). For me though, he’s always been most notable for his role in creating, and running, modern legend Double Double Whammy, one of the most consistently great record labels out there today. Jordan: So my first question for you is, why? What was the reasoning behind putting together Double Double Whammy back in the day? Mike: So the label started really just as a means to put out the first LVL UP cassette. We had been making cassettes on our own before this but LVL UP was the first one we did together for the label. Me and Dave [Benton], who used to be involved with the label, were just like, no one’s gonna put this out, so we should just put it out ourselves and put a name on it. It really just boiled down to the simple fact that we thought of a name and decided to duplicate one hundred or so tapes in our bedroom and go print out some J-cards at the art buildings on campus [they went to Purchase]. I think we both invested $100 just so it could work. I’m not really sure why we did that? I guess a lot of bands make their own tapes and don’t put a name on it but the weird thing with LVL UP was we weren’t really a band yet. We hadn’t played any shows at the time, we had 22

just recorded a couple of songs in our bedrooms and then called it a band. It was kind of like, the band doesn’t have any money to do this thing and we would like to have them just as little keepsakes and doing one hundred is really a pretty small endeavor, so we went out and bought a cassette duplicator and went for it. That went pretty well, we made our money back, and we saw other bands, whether around campus or in our hometowns, that wanted to put out records on a small scale and didn’t have the means to do it so we thought, we just did it and it was pretty easy, we could totally do it for you guys! It went like that for a while, doing small runs of cassettes, making our money back, and then doing another one, until we decided to do vinyl. That was more of a big investment, which I think is the hardest part of getting a label going, that initial investment, because it is pretty expensive to put out vinyl. Me and Dave weren’t really ready to do it until we had this release that we thought really needed to be a big release [he’s talking about Zentropy by Frankie Cosmos, the album that definitely brought DDW into a whole different world]. I put it on my credit card, and paid myself back over time. J: In a day and age where the internet rules and a band very much doesn’t need a record label to thrive or even survive, what makes a record label important or relevant? M: The business aspect of putting out a record and marketing it and booking a tour and going through that whole process is pretty specific to people, and a lot of people I think struggle with that sort of thing for some reason. I always felt like I was more business minded as opposed to artistic and I think as a band, having people behind you with that mindset but also align with your ethics and taste, helps. This is a hard question to answer because to be honest you don’t need a label. I see a lot of bands that I really love and believe in and my mentality is “how can I help this get heard by more people?” Maybe they don’t need me and they’ll get heard by millions, but at the same time, maybe they do. A lot of newer labels I think are just trying to help out the bands that they believe in and that never hurts.

C A R I D I? J: Did I hear correctly from an interview you guys did with FORGE Magazine that DDW was also a school project at some point in time? M: Kind of ! Dave was an Arts Management major and he was using it as a way to fulfill a requirement for graduation. He wrote a big paper on it and used it as his senior project. He took it on and did two bigger releases by himself during that time (the Spook Houses/Fat History Month Split and the Bad Cello 7”) and then after that was when I become more involved. J: Were you nervous when you started out, or was this just something that had to happen? M: It was fairly low stress when we started out. We weren’t worried at all, just kinda did it. That was our junior year of college. We just kept putting the DDW name on the back of any projects we helped put out. I think that was really how it started, just cause we had a little logo and then it stuck. It wasn’t stressful though because we never intended on starting a business, it was just a fun little art project for us. J: So how did you figure out what it meant to be a record label or how to make a tape and all of that nonsense?

M: It was a lot of trial and error. We both read a couple of books, specifically Love Rock Revolution about K Records, and there was one about Merge Records as well. We really looked up to those people when we started out. Merge was huge because they really mirrored the way we were doing things. It started out as Superchunk just trying to put out their first release and as the band grew the label grew. We looked to those labels for a bit of structure, but a lot of it was figuring out ways that we knew had to happen without spending any money. So like, for PR, Dave would put together a list of really tiny music blogs, tumblrs, and so on and email them, “Hey we just put out this cassette on this label we’re making called Double Double Whammy, let us know if you’d be into writing about it.” Slowly we started developing a community of writers who would write tiny reviews for us but it was something at least. We got lucky a lot of times. We went from doing really small releases to Zentropy really fast. It wasn’t meant to be that way, we didn’t expect for Zentropy to be what it was and we totally got thrown into this thing very hard and made a ton of mistakes. Every time we made a mistake there was someone there who believed in us and would help to pick up the pieces. We’d try again and the next one would be a bit better but we’d still make mistakes. Trial

and error one-hundred percent got us to where we are now. I definitely still make mistakes but we keep moving on. J: On a similar note, why do you think it matters to surround yourself with a community? M: It is kind of scarier now being by myself. When Dave and I did this together there was a lot of back and forth, we’d both bring bands to each other, maybe we’d agree or disagree or compromise, but now I feel like, I don’t even really know, just crossing my fingers that it all works out. One thing that we both strongly believe in, for both the label and LVL UP, is growing with people. We have a smaller community of people we really trust. We tried out a lot of different people for radio campaigns and pressing plants and whatever and we now have a group of people who I really trust and who works every release with us, and who will work with us for as long as they are willing to. Working with people who you trust over someone who might be more reputable is important I think, at least to me. I don’t like the idea of stepping stones. Surrounding yourself with those you trust is important in any business. J: Is running a label an everyday thing? What do you find yourself doing on a daily basis? CONTINUED ON PAGE 27 23

inside the mind of

ALYSSA K A I INTRODUCTION

I first met Alyssa Kai briefly after a Loone show in Montreal. Her drumming was astoundingly warm and I felt compelled to quickly let her know as Loone packed up. I ended up seeing Loone a second time in Boston a few months later and was once again moved by Alyssa’s drumming. Between those two shows, she had released a split EP with Foster Carrots and it had been providing the soundtrack for the drive to my Dunkin Donuts job at 5:30 AM. I reached out to Alyssa and Foster Carrots and they decided to stop in St. Louis on their autumn tour of the Midwest. Over the past six months, Alyssa has released four split EPs with friends from around the country: Foster Carrots from the D.C. area, R.U.U.N.E. from western Massachusetts, Lady Queen Paradise from Connecticut, and Achter Kol from Chicago. Each split is cohesive and introspective, inviting yet astoundingly tragic. Alyssa writes openly about her struggles with depression and self-harm, the pain she has been subject to as a trans woman, and the chaos of life. She stopped by the KWUR 90.3 FM station with Foster Carrots on a warm, early November day to play a few songs and answer a few questions. Instead of picking apart her responses for the seemingly essential bits and pieces, I am presenting them in their entirety, as her eloquence and story structure deserve to be left intact.

ON THE SPLIT SERIES: When I first thought to do splits, it was because I wanted to put some songs together that I’d written with my friend Andromeda who lives in Chicago and who I’ll see in a few days, and we weren’t able to get that split together in a short period of time but in that meantime, I kept writing songs, and I sort of obsessively think about, when I’m writing

ALBUM ART BY NICK BERGER

JACK

ELLIOTT-HIGGINS

songs, “OK, where am I going to put this? Where is this going to live?” (to my detriment perhaps, because it’s very easy to think your way out of a creative process). But that impulse to have a split with her, with these songs that I wrote two years ago, ended up turning into a whole split series that I have been doing, first with Foster Carrots, who is here with me, then with my friend R.U.U.N.E back in Massachusetts, and then Lady Queen Paradise in Connecticut. ON GREAT FALLS ART COLLECTIVE: Sometime in 2013 I accidentally joined a nationally touring punk band and left the house I was living in in Portland Maine with just a denim dress, which is a very bad decision for the summer, and a bag full of medications and my toothbrush. I accidentally ended up at the end of those two weeks in Bloomington, Indiana playing to a crowd of really excited people. A couple months later I was driving back from a second fest in Bloomington, where we were just yesterday, and this song is coming on this folk punk mixtape that somebody is playing all along our drive back from Punktoberfest, because that’s what you do, you play the same songs over and over, and there was this one song that I kept on coming back to that stuck with me. It was by this person Noel’le Longhaul and I tried to get together to have a tattoo with her because I was really stricken with her art and it didn’t work out. Later that January, Noel’le had posted on behalf of her band Mallory that this band was looking for a drummer. I applied, whatever applied means in this context, and I got the job and that led me to in the winter, the December of 2014, living in this attic of a broken-down but beautiful house, practicing with Mallory and meeting the people who live in this small town in western Massachusetts called Great Falls. After that tour, it was some of the hardest times I’ve had in my life, but one

the fundamentally - even when and especially when - when I’m playing songs about this death drive, this depression in me that I’ve dealt with, by performing what I am doing is fundamentally loving the fact that I’m alive, which is very hard and I try not to think about it because it doesn’t make any sense to me. [laughs]

CARIDI CONTIUED

of the things that happened was I was able to go back and start to stay in that attic and more people started gathering around to this place, I learned more about the people who already lived there and over the course of time, we all started being in each other’s bands and we all started trying to look after each other in ways material, emotional, and spiritual, that has led to a group of us becoming this collective out there. A part of that work has become this thing we call Great Falls Art Collective, which includes my work, includes the splits that I’m making, includes the bands Mallory, Loone, Paper Bee, River Rot, I guess. It was amazing to move to a place to try to really run away from my life, and run away from touring constantly, and to happen into what feels like a fated encounter with some of the most beautiful people I’ve ever known. ON DEALING WITH TRAUMA IN MUSIC: I try not to think that the thing that allows me to make art is my sense of horror and depression, but sometimes those are the only days where I’m able to write. That being said, for me, totally axiomatically and utterly, performance is an act of love and of care and that love is a word that is far too big and not one that I would use lightly. But even though I could come up with words and come up with ideas and song structures in sort of the depths of my depression, they were unperformable in my current state because all these sort of beams of love that I would try to send off to myself could not escape the gravity of how horrible I was feeling. For me, when I perform, the fact that I’m performing is the fact that I am in love with myself and I am in love with my feelings, which is not something that I could claim or achieve almost ever. I’m doing a lot better than I used to be but I’m still doing pretty bad, but

M: I certainly find myself working a lot more lately, both because I’m now by myself and because the label has been growing fairly quickly. I’ve been doing accounting all day. I usually do it once a month, takes me pretty much the whole day to get through it all. I send out a lot of emails. It’s a lot of organization and planning, making sure I have enough time to do what I want to do. You know, if this record is coming out in four or five months than I need to order them on this day and get the merch on this day and make sure the artwork is ready by this day and so on. That’s pretty much it [laughs]. I sit at a desk all day. I don’t have an office, I just do it from my apartment, look out the window from time to time, nice view of a brick wall. But it’s really pretty boring honestly. A lot of time was spent packing and shipping records. That used to take up a few hours a day but now a bigger label takes care of that for us. Opened up a lot of time for us to do more managerial things. I keep saying us but it’s just me, I’m not used to that yet [laughs]. J: What do you think is the best piece of advice you have ever received about running a label M: I have a good answer to this, hold on, let me find it. Someone said something to me the other day and I was like, “Woah that’s the best thing ever.” He said, “I think the best approach is to invest your time in artists you believe in, who have flashes of brilliance, but maybe need a few tours and another record or two to get there. Bands who are plugged in and surrounded by talented people have have a good chance given the right circumstances. Support bands and be good to them enough and the bigger bands will come looking for you.” So I guess it boils down to that. Support bands and be good to them. We were having a conversation about how I felt like I needed to do something really big this year but didn’t know what to do. How can we take the label to this bigger level and he told me that if you support the bands that you actually like it will happen for you.

That’s the advice, don’t go out looking for something that’s going to establish you or make a lot of money, keep doing the thing you care about and it will pay off if you keep at it.

SPRINGSGTEEN CONTINUED working with the 2007 album Magic instead. For the next month or two, I lived and breathed this album. I listened to it while I walked, while I ate, and while I worked. I read the lyrics while listening to the songs and took notes. I annotated and analyzed this 11-song album like nobody’s business. Magic is not really considered an iconic album. It is not Born in the U.S.A., the album that rocketed Springsteen to stardom, it is not The River, an eclectic mix of songs that dominated the 80’s , and it is not The Rising either, an album meant to heal America after 9/11. Magic is about the aftermath of war and the experience of a veteran, specifically one living with PTSD. There is only one “happy” song (“Girls In Their Summer Clothes,” which is a classic upbeat Springsteen tune). Looking at a cultural icon through an academic lens only pulled me farther into my infatuation with Springsteen. I read his interviews for my assignment. He seemed nice. I couldn’t find anything problematic that he had done. There were no scandals of any sort. He had not been quoted being mean or bigoted. He really seemed to radiate what he sang for, giving a voice to the common man. By a stroke of luck I snagged tickets to see him at Chaifetz Arena in March 2016. It was amazing. Surprisingly, I did not cry. I listened to him perform The River in its entirety. I watched him strut around the periphery of the general admission section mere feet away from me. I heard him close with “Shout!” It was CONTINUED PAGE 27

WHAT DOES A history professor LISTEN TO? Introduction by Joe Noonan | Illustrations by Grace Kiralla

DOUGLAS GIVES US

For our second issue, AUX Magazine decided to ask a professor at Washington University about their personal experience with music. It could be a story, a quip from an artist they’d heard, or a detail about their relationship with music growing up. For this issue, I chose Professor Douglas Flowe in the History Department. I took a class with Professor Flowe in my first semester at Washington University titled “Topics in Urban America,” which explored the history of cities in the U.S from colonial America to present-day. Professor Flowe’s research is primarily concerned with themes of criminality, vice, leisure, and masculinity, and understanding how they converge with issues of race, class, and space in American cities. During our class, we discussed articles that detailed what kinds of music occupied public spaces in early American cities, from Cabaret shows to jazz clubs, and how these environments related to class and race. In the article below, Professor Flowe discusses how his father influenced his music taste growing up and the purpose music serves in his life as a historian.

DJ at different places around the city, particularly Blank Space on Cherokee Street. When I do, I mostly foreground dance music from Brazil (samba, batucada, tropicalia) and other music from South America like cumbia and bachata. While I still listen to much of this music and add to my international music collection from time to time, recently I’ve been listening to a lot of ambient and classical music which goes well with the writing, reading, and research that I do daily. While I’m working, I often listen to Pandora. While I don’t like that audio streaming services like Pandora take the focus away from coherent albums and give you randomized playlists, I find that they serve the function of introducing you to new artists all the time. Some of the musicians I’ve discovered in the past couple of years are: Gidon Kremer, Loscil, William Basinski, Steve Roach, Markus Reuter, Liquid Mind, Fennesz, and Marsen Jules. Most currently, I have been repeatedly playing a few folk/ambient albums including Creek Drank the Cradle by Iron & Wine; I Speak Because I Can by Laura Marling; and various albums from Benoit Pioulard (prominently Hymnal, Precis and Temper). Music has been a very important part of my life. Unfortunately I’ve never learned to play an instrument well (although I am learning to play piano now) but I have learned to use music as a mnemonic device. When I was a child I noticed that at different points certain songs and albums served as containers for memories— that music often carried images, smells, sights, sounds and emotions in a unique way. At different points in life I’ve purposely bought new music in order to use it as a repository for memories, knowing that when I heard that music in the future it would bring them back vividly. As a historian, this has been important for me because it allows me to treat albums as personal historical documents.

I grew up listening to a lot of hip hop, but also jazz and soul music— both of my parents played that music a lot. My father heavily influenced my musical tastes with musicians like the legendary jazz pianist Keith Jarrett, Michael Franks, and Jose Felicano. In my early twenties, I worked at Tower Records in New York City where I specialized in the international music section. Specifically, I was into music from the Middle East and North Africa, Sub-Saharan Africa, Eastern and Southern Europe, India, and Brazil and South America. I listened to very traditional and classical folk music as well as popular music from all of these places, so for a number of years my interests were focused on musicians and groups from many different countries. Some of these musicians are; Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan (Pakistan); Sharam Nazeri and Mohammed Reza Shajarian (Iran); Um Koulthoum and Farid Al Atrache (Egypt); Rabih Abou Khalil (Lebanon); Omar Faruk Tekbilek (Turkey); Fela Kuti (Nigeria); and in Brazil and South America; Milton Nascimento, Chico Buarque, Jose Mauro, Jorge Ben, Susana Baca, and Caetano Veloso. I sometimes 26

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sharing their music on social media, buying merch, etc., it’s important we support the musicians we like. I’ve often discovered bands through playlists like New Music Friday and Undercurrents. When I hear a song I like, I add it to my library and later explore the artist’s other music. A few days later, Spotify allows me to find similar artists on Discover Weekly. Beyond discovery, the connection between musicians and their listeners has also increased. Artists can now customize their Spotify pages, including announcements and pinned playlists. They also have access to Fan Insights, which provides data on listener habits, preferences, location and other helpful stats. While there is a limit to the usefulness of this information, Spotify has shown that it cares about helping its artists succeed. On this note, the streaming service now sends emails to its users informing them of upcoming local concerts for bands that they listen to. A recently created playlist, Release Radar, compiles new music from artists that users have listened to, along with similar artists. Considering all of these features, I don’t see how someone could argue that Spotify isn’t good for music discovery. Therefore, I think it’s hard to argue that Spotify isn’t good for musicians. Besides revenue, Spotify has only helped artists get their name more known. What worries me are the long-term effects Spotify may have on music listening habits. Spotify is a jampacked platform. Playlists are constantly updating, new singles are advertised on the front page everyday, personal playlists can get lost in the sidebar. This influx of music seen across streaming services may lead to less interest in bands and more interest in types of sounds. Already, I’m finding it hard to name artists I’ve been listening to recently. I’ll say I’ve been into “chill electronic” or “female alternative” music. I usually just put on a playlist and let it go, not paying attention to the artists’ names. So, while artists may be getting more exposure, are people engaging more with their music? I’m not sure. What I know is that music is more accessible than it has ever been thanks to Spotify. It’s on us to recognize

this privilege and to support the bands we enjoy. Whether this means following them on Spotify, sharing their music on social media, buying merch, etc., it’s important we support the musicians we like.

S P R I N G S T E E N C O N T I N U E D a night I will never forget. Over the months more songs were added to my repertoire and more songs accumulated on my “Most Played” and various other playlists. I got the opportunity to see Springsteen again over the summer, the day before I left for college. This time the show took place on an unseasonably cool summer night at MetLife stadium. Thousands upon thousands of people filed into the arena. Images of Springsteen and Van Zandt were blown up onto screens several stories tall. This whole night was difficult to process. I was going back for my second year of college after having a summer of severe ups and downs. I was seeing my friends again. I was living with new people. I had declared my major. I looked down at the flood of people at Springsteen’s feet and could not help but feel immense joy. If you have not yet had the opportunity to see Springsteen live, one of the cool things he does is take audience requests. He pointed to a boy on his father’s shoulders holding a sign that said, “It’s my birthday, but I’m still growing!” Springsteen smiled and launched into a riff that I knew too well and lyrics that had stuck to me like glue. “I stood stone-like at midnight/ suspended in my masquerade/ I combed my hair till it was just right/ and commanded the night brigade” And I can’t exactly explain why, but tears started streaming down my face.

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