By Ashley Onnembo

Beside a row of urinals in the Lion’s Den multi-stall bathroom, Kayla Hardy meticulously adjusts the tuners of her electric guitar. Belle Fortebuono leans up against the sink’s granite countertop and puts the final touches on her appearance; the variously angled mirrors ensure no detail above her torso goes unnoticed. David Staats’s voice echoes throughout the small space, drawing the five bandmates together in a tight huddle.

The group rocks back and forth, the volume of their voices growing with each positive affirmation from Taryn Noonan. Kaveh Hodjat jokes about burning a green banana in light of their unhinged ritual. Their set starts in seconds, but for a moment nothing except their raw, youthful vitality matters. It’s as close as you can get at Emerson to the stereotypical, animalistic pep talk before a rivaling high school football game.

My Green Bananas (MGB) is composed of lead singer-songwriters Belle Fortebuono and Kayla Hardy, drummer Kaveh Hodjat, bassist Taryn Noonan and rhythm guitarist David Staats. The name grew out of a visit to the dining hall, where Noonan plucked two unripened bananas before heading back to the Little Building.

“Who’s green bananas are thooosee?” Staats asked jokingly upon her arrival. “They’re mine! My green bananas!,” she shouted defensively. Noonan’s amusement quickly turned into obvious realization, her attachment to the name developing as soon as the words tumbled out of her mouth.

MGB’s moniker emerged as easily as the friendships forging the band’s foundation. Their passion for music united the freshmen in the beginning of their first semester; channeling it into one shared entity only increased the amount of trust present in their

collective relationship. Their chemistry manifests itself during live performances, the intoxicating atmosphere being a comfort in an otherwise nerve-wracking situation.

“Kav told me before our first performance, ‘To calm your nerves, just look at everyone and think that you’re just jamming in a practice room,” Staats recalls when reflecting on the group’s gigs.

Not one out of the five predicted their lives would be so full of music here at Emerson. Fortebuono and Hodjat both established solo careers as BEP and Dejima before the fall 2021 term began, but had no expectations outside of those identities. Fortebuono met Staats within the first week of school and the two immediately bonded over casual jam sessions. Staats initiated a similar routine with Hardy shortly after — at the time, he viewed them as two separate entities rather than a cohesive group.

It’s hard to tell if their decision developed out of sheer curiosity or as a ploy to prove Staats wrong, but Fortebuono and Hardy ended up in a rehearsal room the first time they hung out. The song may “never see the light of day” according to Hardy, but it did signify the beginning of their synergized writing partnership. By the end of this past September, their desire to create a band felt undeniable.

Staats quips about being the glue holding MGB together, but his argument ironically applies to “Superglue.” It is the first track Hardy intentionally wrote for the band, but it wasn’t complete until she ran to Fortebuono’s room for feedback and enlisted her help in writing the song’s bridge. Staats’s achilles heel is his inability to write lyrics, yet his strength for constructing chord progressions makes up for it — like each other band member, he represents an

essential piece to their well-executed puzzle.

The first fifteen seconds of “Superglue” are defined solely by Staat’s rhythm guitar technique, the riffed composition hitting peaks and valleys stimulating the song’s foundation. He ends on an elongated, shimmery electric chord before retreating back to the initial instrumental structure of the song, this time accompanied by Hardy’s husky vocals and Noonan on supporting bass. The strings facilitate smooth transitions between each verse, inviting the opportunity for Hardy’s voice to rise with the intensity.

Fortebuono’s light harmonies layered throughout the chorus affirm not only Hardy’s tender attitude, but also the song’s yearning cadence. Hodjat enters almost halfway through the song, his steady strikes on the snare and bass drum building anticipation for the bridge to come. Staats speeds up his strumming for Hardy’s prolonged vocalization on the refrain’s closing phrase, only for the last of her composure to come crashing down with smothering rage.

“When we start the build, the drums come in, the bass comes in, you’re starting to raise the pitch of your voice — that’s the feeling I get when there’s a scream in “Kilby Girl” or “Sinking Ship” by the Backseat Lovers,” Noonan exclaims passionately.

Hardy has a way of making the mundane seem breathtakingly beautiful. Her explicit yet unique descriptions expose her fixations, and a large explanation of her emotions comes through her more metaphorical expressions. For a long time, Hardy’s writing was rooted in escapism. Fortebuono, being a very intimate and internal writer, prompts Hardy to pull from her personal experience when fabricating her lyrics. Although a lot of Hardy’s style remains subconscious, the realization of her true feelings slowly reveals itself with each listen back to a song.

“When I’m sitting in my room and writing for myself, it’s a very acoustic sound. It’s very internal, it feels smaller. When I’m writing for the band, I feel

like I get to envision something so much bigger. It takes the song to another level,” Hardy confesses with admiration.

My Green Bananas, pictured left to right: David Staats, Kaveh Hodjat, Belle Fortebuono, Kayla Hardy and Taryn Noonan.

The most impressive aspect of Staats influence on the band is his mentorship of Noonan. Over the past couple of years, Noonan dabbled with the fundamentals of playing the electric and acoustic guitar, but her musicianship didn’t extend beyond that. The two loosely spoke about being in a band together, poking fun at the possibility of her playing bass. At nine the next morning, Staats showed Noonan the exact finger placements on the instrument and strings necessary to pluck in order to emulate the sound she was looking for. Within five days of their initial conversation, Noonan mastered the basics of the bass.

“What we’re doing right now is very much a language,”

Photos by Kyra Badger Styled by Gianna Scarpa Direction by Ashley Onnembo

Hodjat offers a thumbs up to the camera, a cutout of Luke Huston’s doodle plastered on the side of his cheek.

Fortebuono and Hardy pose closely against each other and a bathroom sink.

Hardy scrawls the beginning of a lyric from “Superglue” on the bathroom mirror in red lipstick.

Noonan shares. “You look at someone and you mess up on a note and then they catch you.”

Another side of MGB’s encouragement is their ability to push each other and advocate for the musical details they feel would best serve their material. Fear doesn’t factor into their decisions to respectfully decline an idea or highlight when someone isn’t reaching their full potential. The dissonance always generates something newer, if not better, than their original intentions. A level of comfort is equally as important to the band. Their genuine acceptance of one another makes it easier to cope with musical mishaps and the embarrassment it inevitably provokes, inspiring each member to apply that same confidence to other aspects of their lives.

“I’m not scared to let these people see me at my worst,” Fortebuono says reassuringly. “If we’re there when we need each other through music, I feel like I can depend on these people to be there for me if something’s wrong.”

This vulnerability is extremely vital to the specificity characterizing Fortebuono’s lyrical expression. “Bloodstains,” written by Fortebuono before MGB’s formation, exacerbates the fresh wound of a relationship recently ending on a tense note. She perfectly portrays its lingering permanence and how unpacking those remains arouses frustration even more intense than the original friction of the relationship. Staats switches to acoustic, completing the robust sound of the angry rock anthem; Hardy jumps on electric, shaking up the playfulness of her usual stage presence. For a moment their designated roles become obsolete: their slips of laughter melt into the music as they steal giddy glances at one another and softly sing along to their favorite lines of the track.

Fortebuono’s vigorous vocals often ascend multiple octaves with the song’s progression, illustrating the

amount of disdain she associates with their partnership. Her seething, pointed annunciation of specific words amplifies the defensive resentment informing her opinion on the situation. The lines, “God I handed you the match / You burned everything we had, it’s gone,” encapsulates their toxic tendencies tempting the worst out of each other.

Fortebuono’s framing of the failed relationship reveals some sense of insecurity, but also solidifies her in a role where she lacks the upper hand. Implying that she’s only able to react explains why so many emotions are bubbling to the surface, which isn’t isolated to the analysis of “Bloodstains.” Music serves as an extremely sentimental outlet for Fortebuono, causing her to enhance her mood and remember things differently for the sole purpose of songwriting. If the feeling is strong enough she’ll warrant it to transpire into an elaborate narrative, but what started as a creative spin on her imagination can often bleed into her actual state of mind.

Fortebuono and Hardy finally found a way to pair their voices together while still ensuring there is enough room for their respective sound when working on MGB’s main duet “Dead on the Dash.” In their lyrical partnership, Fortebuono generally writes from the perspective of observing Hardy’s stance on a topic; their proximity to each other and the song’s subject provides insight that deepens the narrative. Sometimes Fortebuono and Hardy contradict each other, demonstrating how the meaning of a situation changes between their different perspectives.

“[Hardy will] write a song and then I’ll be like, ‘I’ll add this lyric or this harmony and then we can make it a duet,’ says Fortebuono. “Or I’ll come to her with a song like that, and we’ll play around with what works best… You write what happened,

The song, inspired by angry boys behind the wheel, begins with a fixed yet fierce beat. Hodjat’s strong, low-pitched drumming alludes to the song’s impending doom. Staats electrically emulates the pace of an accelerating speedometer, the fervorous concentration apparent on his face as he performs. Each line alternates almost evenly between Fortebuono and Hardy, their distinct vocal timbres accentuating their range and adaptability. It’s as if a magnet is drawing the pair together, their mindful mannerisms naturally syncing to a level where the two literally finish each other’s sentences.

Hodjat breaches the bubbling energy of “Dead on the Dash” right before its bridge. The passion driving the incessant bangs on all parts of his drums compels every member to rubberneck like they would if a wreck had actually occurred. His ability to harness controlled chaos not only breathes life into the song, but also stems from years of experience. He started playing drums when he was four, his model being the pots and pans available in his cupboard. In lighthearted preparation for the commotion to come, his dad always sliced an orange and placed the halves over his ears.

Hodjat’s musical experience is extremely impressive but never boastful. Once Fortebuono and Hardy get the basics of a MGB song down, Hodjat suggests different techniques for essentially every single instrument the band could utilize. Hodjat previously belonged to his hometown group Coral 9, an East Bay band fusing bossa nova, soul, rock, and pop with vague oceanic vibes. His involvement and knowledge helps MGB greatly, especially in the early stages of navigating this new dynamic.

From Phoebe Bridgers and Lucy Dacus to beabadoobee and the Beatles, each band member brings different musical influences to the table, birthing a uniquely personal sound. The group doesn’t limit their musical collaboration to just MGB: Hardy enlisted Hodjat for

help when she struggled to write the lead guitar part for music she was working on in her free time. Staats aids Fortebuono in the production process for her solo music. Fortebuono cherishes the collective power behind BEP, incorporating her friends’ faces for cover art and voices as pieces of her songs.

The five members also find themselves in similar social circles. The energy their other friends bring to MGB performances and related projects fuels the group’s authentic spirit.

“When we’re performing, we would look out in the crowd and our friends would be right at the front singing the lyrics to us. I was never scared to mess up because I could just look over to one of them,” Fortebuono gushes.

“From the jump, it would be a bunch of kids in one room, cheek-to-cheek smiling because they were watching us play what we wanted to play,” Noonan adds to Fortebuono. “It was just such an honest, welcoming environment from the get-go. People have been showcasing their talents at Emerson and why they’re here, and that’s been bleeding into the band.”

A few of their friends even helped the band pick up rental drums at Guitar Center for the final stretch of last semester. MGB could only practice with drums at Emerson for one week before having to give up the taste of practicing fully equipped on campus. The accessibility of drums, ranging from costs to the strict prerequisites for soundproof spaces housing the multifaceted instrument, perpetuates continual dilemmas for the band.

“Our official recommendation by a person who knows how the system works and who to talk to to get into the Ansin building drums was, ‘Get a friend who’s at that level and maybe they can get you in there,’ Staats says in an exasperated tone. “To make it such an exclusive thing is a thorn in the side for Emerson.”

MGB now utilizes a Berklee practice space provided

by Eli Mihaly-Baker. MGB plans to record demos from their setlists and upload them to Soundcloud; the group wants to wait until their music is more polished before releasing it on other streaming services. Whether it’s playing in campus spaces or furthering their infiltration of Boston’s underground music circuit, their main priority is sustaining the sound and stamina fans hear during live performances.

“Being in a band and being with these people has opened a door to so many talented artists around the Boston area that I simply would not have been aware of had it not been for going to house shows, getting booked for a gig, being on the same page as an artist with a couple of a thousand followers,” Noonan states with reverence.

I can’t help but think back to the first time I witnessed MGB perform. Celebrating the launch of my first issue as Editor-in-Chief of this magazine elicited a muddle of surreal emotions. My memory of that night comes and goes in intense snippets, but the energy shifting the instant MGB took command of the Lion’s Den is unforgettable. The crowd was antsy but so were the Bananas, the former itching with commotion and the latter still reeling from the aforementioned ritual. The dreamy introduction to “Spare Change” reverberated through the expansive space, its drawn-out deliverance sending chills down my spine. The music invited me into a conversation I could easily identify with, but it was their pure devotion and response to each other that made me feel like I was a part of something bigger than the present moment.

We held the photoshoot for this spread the morning after the band’s show at the Tourist Trap. MGB showed up with the infectious enthusiasm making me take note of them in the first place, despite it being less than 24 hours after experiencing the adrenaline rush of their career. They recounted the highlights of the night to each other between poses, raving about the connections and potential partnerships expanding the band’s success. That same, awe-striking feeling weighed heavily on my chest; my heart swelled more in the seconds I spent eavesdropping on their excitement than it did actually seeing my concept evolve into its full fruition.

Just like the small brown spots mottling the peel of a fresh banana, it’s in these exact moments I can hear their innocence, delight in their sweetness, and instinctively know they’re ready to ripen.