No Fidelity Spring 2015 Issue 1 by nofidel

THIS IS STAFF Paco Alvarez Mary Dahlman Begley Lily Eisenthal Madeline Garcia Brian Gordon Sylvie Graubard Cisco Hayward Francine Hayward A Noah Harrison

Jamie Holiss Urmila Kutikkad Gracie McNeely Ian Mercer Josie Naron Julian Palmer Lucy Papachristou Sam Watson Ben Wedin

Dear lovely NoFiers, We’re back, motherf**kers. You probably thought we wouldn’t be poking our noses out for quite some time, but here it is: our 10th issue. It may not be our bulkiest, nor our sleekest, but goddammit, the music is still playing. (By the way, check out the great sweep of all previous No Fidelity covers on page ten in founder Mary Begley’s one year retrospective of the zine.) Our zine has changed a lot in the past year, and we feel lots of things about this. It ain’t always easy putting together issue upon issue, and frankly we’re not even sure how many people are reading. But we forge on. Some stupid guy once said, “Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.” Well, personally, I think dancing about architecture would be awesome and probably has been done before. Point being, we hope that our prose, art, and other musically-derived printed material will amuse, inspire, frustrate, and confuse our readers. If you’re still reading this, you’re actually in the top 1% of smart music people, you smartypants musicperson, you. We’re always looking for new teammates with a penchant for listening, writing, designing, or acting all administrative with no further purpose. After this issue, we’ve resolved to enact certain changes that will result in a more hands-on, cut-and-paste—let’s call it ziney approach to making to our zine. We beseech you to join our cult music-loving family. Hugs and kisses, A Noah Harrison, zine guy

THIS IS CONTENT Staff...................New Music Reviews............................................2 McNeely.............1D on the 1Decline............................................5 Kutikkad.............A Vindication of David Archuleta.......................6 Begley................One Year of No Fidelity......................................8 Begley................Post Grad Playlist...............................................9 Palmer................Top 14 Kanye Lyrics..........................................10 Harrison.............In Defense of Clarence Clarity..........................12 Eisenthal............Girl in a Band and Revisiting Sonic Youth.........13 Naron.................Playlists That Don’t Mean Anything.................14 Wedin/Mercer....To Pimp a Butterfly Commentary......................16 Graubard............Folk Punk Manifesto.........................................26 Harrison..............A Big Ears Wrap Up.........................................28 Hollis...................Living With a Roomate Who Likes Music..........31 Hayward..............Music and Ice Cream.......................................32 Hayward..............An Idiot’s Opinion...........................................35

Courtney Barnett – Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit by Paco “Cougar” Alvarez

There are only so many ways to say that Courtney Barnett is awesome. and there are only so many words I can include in this review so I’ll let this sentence suffice: She’s fucking awesome, and if you haven’t listened to Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit, please do yourself a favor, go online, and play it on repeat for about three weeks straight because that’s the only way you can have any real appreciation for this great, great album. Okay, now that I got that out of the way, onto the actual music part. If you haven’t heard A Sea of Split Peas (an EP released in 2013), Barnett’s style can be best described as mundane feel rock. That is, she can make the most boring things on the planet, like tending a garden or staring at a wall or moving to a dumb suburb, into huge fucking feel fests where you’re pretending to play left-handed guitar instead of doing homework (not based on a true story). She doesn’t just stick to one style to cut through your feelings either. She will have you crying, whether it’s through super catchy, loud, distortion filled guitars or relatively quiet, folksier ballads. Listen to “Pedestrian At Best” and “Depreston,” both singles off this album, and you’ll see how two very different songs can come from one very awesome lady. Also, can I talk about her lyrics for a second? They’re 100% the high point of this already high-point-filled album: “I stare at the lawn; it’s Wednesday morning / It needs a cut, but I leave it growing / All different sizes and all shades of green / Slashing it down just seems kind of mean.” Like, c’mon that’s fucking genius. In conclusion, listen to this album because it’s definitely one of the best of the year so far, and it will have you begging to see Courtney in concert before she gets too famous and tickets stop being weirdly cheap.

Modest Mouse – Strangers to Ourselves by Sam Watson You guys, I think Isaac Brock is getting old. Modest Mouse is a storied band. Since their debut in the ’90s, they’ve evolved from a too-weird-to-beknown indie band from Issaquah, WA to a chart topping alt rock act. One thing that’s always impressed me about Modest Mouse is that even their slickly produced pop hits (“Float On,” “Dashboard,” etc., etc.) seem to hold true in some small way to their early garage-style recordings. Maybe it’s Isaac’s manic vocals, maybe it’s his unique talent on the guitar. Maybe it’s his lisp. I don’t know. But man, this album… it’s just hard to hear that original spark that hooked me on Modest Mouse as a kid. Don’t get me wrong, there are some solid tracks. “Lampshades On Fire,” “The Ground Walks, with Time in a Box,” and “The Best Room” are thumpy, danceable numbers that characterize the poppiness of Modest Mouse’s more recent albums. Those are fun. “Sugar Boats” is frenetic and makes you want to jerk around in a pretty good way. In this reviewer’s opinion, “God is an Indian and You’re an Asshole” is by far the best track on the album, and sounds like it could be straight off of The Lonesome Crowded West (1997). Unfortunately, there are some real stinkers. “Pistol (A. Cunanan, Miami, FL. 1996)” is a bizarre aberration that I can only assume is some attempt to stay experimental and relevant. It involves a drum machine, some type of…rapping? and some cringe inducing faux gangster lyrics. Not only does it not sound like Modest Mouse, it is straight up bad. “Coyotes,” although more conventional, is nearly as lousy. The lyrics don’t even rhyme, which I could easily forgive if they weren’t also uninspired and overly sentimental. The real problem with Strangers to Ourselves though is that most tracks are simply forgettable. They’re not bad, but they lack the originality and timelessness that most fans have come to expect from Modest Mouse. The album is slow paced and tragically conventional. There’s no edge. It makes sense, I guess, this album. It’s that stage in the band’s career. Most of the original members are gone. Modest Mouse is no longer fashionable, their days of pop hits are done. Isaack Brock is slowing down. He is old and kinda fat. His music reflects that. What can you do? At least the album art is good. 2

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Godspeed You! Black Emperor – Asunder, Sweet and Other Distress by Ian Mercer

GY!BE released 3 albums and an EP between 1997 and 2002 before going silent for an entire decade. That’s why I was so happy to see that the gap between the two most recent albums is only 3 years! They seem to have gotten back into the groove of a regular release schedule, which is fantastic news for us: the disciples of Transcendental Post Rock. Asunder, Sweet and Other Distress is GY!BE’s most distinctive album to date, but that doesn’t mean it’s their best. What makes this LP stand out is that it is composed of a single forty minute piece that flows continuously between each of the fourtracks. The two exterior tracks are each ten+ minute monsters, while the interior section is a shifting and evolving twelve-minute drone. Yes, the continuity of the album is a satisfying detail, but it’s not done in an especially impressive way. It seems to me that GY!BE wrote two normal tracks, stuck a long, boring drone in between them (don’t get me wrong, I love drones, but this one isn’t expertly crafted), and then thought they’d end up with the next Dark Side of the Moon. I’m not trying to say it’s bad music at all; it’s just not as cohesive as I thought it would be when I first heard it was going to be one continuous piece of music. Lack of cohesion and shoddy droning aside, this is a great project, and certainly worth your time. The lineup of the band has evolved slightly, and now features three guitarists, two bassists, two drummers, and a violinist. When these elements all rip into high gear, it sounds like a factory during the industrial revolution (especially during the buildup on the banging closer “Piss Crowns Are Trebled.” The two outer tracks feature GY!BE at their best, but also in their usual mode. There’s no surprises here, except for the fact that the album starts all the way turnt up, instead of starting from nothing and crescendoing for twenty minutes. You won’t hear anything mind-blowing or inspirational on this record, but hey, not every record needs to transcend the boundaries of time and space, right? If you’ve never listened to GY!BE before, I recommend you check out Allelujah over this, simply because they’ve never ever written a track as phenomenal as “Mladic.” this album certainly tries, but falls just a little short of my (very high) expectations, meaning that it is simply a great album rather than a classic one.

waxahatchee – Ivy Tripp by Josie Naron Katie Crutchfield, otherwise known as alt-folk goddess Waxahatchee, rose to fame on the strength of her first two albums’ stripped-down vocals and the raw, sometimes dissonant, interplay of her distinctively nasal voice with simple guitar strumming. Her debut album, American Weekend, as well as her sophomore effort, Cerulean Blue, are poetry, filled with whispery tales of failed loves and lost memories. In her first two albums, Crutchfield invites the listener into her world as a companion to her sadness. Ivy Tripp, Waxahatchee’s latest album, doesn’t just change this dynamic; it completely throws out the image of a meek Crutchfield, waiting around for someone who should care literally way more than they do. Ivy Tripp’s opener, “Breathless,” begins with twelve seconds of a single, feedback-drenched note – a jolt for the listener accustomed to Crutchfield staying firmly within the boundaries of alt-folk. Ivy Tripp doesn’t stray too far away from Crutchfield’s lyrical comfort zone, but what makes the album such a killer change for her is the new cleanness and power in her vocals. Gone is the whispery, deliberately underproduced sound of Waxahatchee’s earlier albums – instead, more layered instrumentals and a new finesse to the way Katie Crutchfield uses her distinctive vocal pitch take center stage. Songs such as “La Loose,” “Under A Rock,” “The Dirt,” and “Poison” at times sound like a slightly-folked-up-but-mostly-just-alt-rock Sleater-Kinney or St. Vincent, a far cry from Crutchfield’s folk roots. Sure, Ivy Tripp is still fundamentally about love and heartbreak, memories and losses. But Waxahatchee’s new assertiveness on Ivy Tripp highlights the fact that at the end of the day, Katie Crutchfield is a self-sufficient badass who knows how to deal with heartbreak better than you ever could.

Laura Marling – Short Movie

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by Lucy Papachristou I am in love with Laura Marling. For real. My love is so real, in fact, that I cannot possibly express it in the few hundred words allotted to me. But I’ll sure as hell try!… Short Movie, released by Virgin Records on March 23rd, is Marling’s fifth studio album, a stupendous feat considering the British singer-songwriter is only twenty-five. She was only seventeen when she recorded her first album, 2008’s Alas, I Cannot Swim. (When I was seventeen, I was too busy wallowing in self-pity and self-loathing to worry about creating great art. Marling deserves all our kudos.) Each one of Marling’s albums—she’s churned one consistently every two years—are, in my humble opinion, fucking solid gold. Short Movie, although deviating from her previous efforts in its heavy use of electric guitar, is no different than its siblings in terms of quality. In “Easy”, Marling’s understated vocals are accompanied by beautifully simple acoustic picking, lending the song an otherworldly, ethereal quality that sharply contrasts the song’s lyrics. I hesitate to say this song is autobiographical (she flatly denies such claims in interviews), but Marling seems to be singing from memory here, from life. Over and over she sings, “When we were young, when we were young,” allowing the words to unconsciously leave her body, as if she were merely breathing. “How Can I” hits me on a whole different level. While “Easy” makes me all warm and fuzzy inside, this song brings me to my knees. When she sings, “I wrote you a letter / Posted out of central L.A.,” an electric guitar joins in to play a single lonesome, heartbreakingly melancholic note. And when Marling ends the song with, “But how will I live without you / How can I live,” my heart tears into a tiny million pieces. I listen to this song when I make the long walk from Goodhue to Sayles (fuck dat shit). It’s best when the sun is setting and there’s a light wind blowing and there are no other people on the paths. Sometimes I just give up and let the tears flow. Oh Laura Marling, woman of my heart!

on the

ecline

“When people say ‘You’re in a boyband,’ I’m like, ‘Yeah, I am, but I’m in a cool boyband.’ So I’m like, okay, whatevs.” Zayn uttered these words in the 2013 documentary about One Direction titled This Is Us. But he can say them no longer. Yes, it is true. The lean, talented, beautiful, and traitorous creature that is Zayn Malik announced his departure from the British boyband on March 25, 2015. After four years of bonding, recording, and touring with his four bandmates, Zayn has decided to call it quits before his five-year contract with One Direction is up. In an interview with Dan Wootton, he said, “I’m just going to chill man, I’m just going to be me for a while.” Aren’t those the eloquent words of Zayn Malik that we all cherish and love? A picture of Zayn with his hand wrapped around his not-fiancé’s waist went viral just a couple days before and left fans wondering if Malik was cheating on his future bride, Perrie Edwards. He later angrily tweeted to his fans, “I’m 22 years old…I love a girl named Perrie Edwards. And there’s a lot of jealous fucks in this world I’m sorry for what it looks like x.” In the same interview with Wootton, he said he wants to be “a normal 22-year-old out of the spotlight,” just days before Naughty Boy uploaded Zayn’s first solo track on SoundCloud titled, “I Won’t Mind”. Naughty Boy tweeted the link, writ-

By Gracie McNeely

ing, “Let the music do the talking…you’ll thank us later ;)”. After thousands of angry responses from fans—and 1D member Louis Tomlinson—Naughty Boy took down the tweet and the link hours later. Earlier this year, there was rumor that Zayn had been developing a drug problem, one which One Direction immediately shut down. Now, Zayn has said he needs more time to “really be me,” and even Simon Cowell, their producer and creator, said in an interview that Zayn “needs to get his head together.” Whether it actually is a drug problem or another own mental health problem, Zayn believes leaving One Direction is the best decision, and we can only hope that he is right.

“I’m just going to chill man, I’m just going to be me for a while.” For the past couple of weeks, Zayn has laid low as Harry, Louis, Liam, and Niall continue their world tour. Zayn’s new contract with Syco Music is set for 2016, and we should be expecting some solo tracks next year. His track “I Won’t Mind” (which can be found on YouTube) is a very chill and stripped-down tune—a nice change of pace from his usual 1D solos. The four other band members are already writing their fifth album for next year. It will be interesting to watch how One Direction and Zayn will be without each other.

Idol was in the gripping throes of its seductive(?) showdown between David Cook and David Archuleta and this was Important Because They Were Both Named David And That Was Shocking In A Predominantly Christian Nation Where David Hasn’t Slipped Out Of The Top Twenty Boy Names For Almost A Century,..... but I digress.. The Gals were gravely discussing which David would win. Apparently liking David Archuleta was a pretty lame move because everyone was of the strong opinion that David Cook was the sure champ. After Computer Skills, a group of gals converged out- Then they turned to me: “What do you think, Urmila?” side the class to discuss hot gossip (American Idol). If I’m being honest with you, I was kind of a dweeb Oh god. What a d00zy. I didn’t watch this show!!? back then. The sexy cool girl you’re picturing from They honestly could have asked me if I thought Steve the paragraph above is an iLLusion wAKE UP. I still Buscemi was gonna win and I probably would’ve watched PBS and mostly just read all the time (so scratched my chin and said that his baritone could be much so that my parents tried to tell me that I was more robust but fuck it the crowd loved him and I was going to lose my vision if I kept reading?idk. Seems a sucker for his breathy falsetto. I wanted to be honest like a weird parenting call to me but what do I know but also I didn’t want to be a noob so I went for it: i’m just a successful working-class mother of three.) “David Cook for sure,” I said, widening my eyes and ANyway my point here is that I didn’t watch much TV nodding gravely so they really knew I watched this and definitely didn’t watch American Idol. fucking show. I remember the first time I heard about David Archuleta like it was yesterday. It was after Computer Skills class in the seventh grade. The Missouri public schooling system was treating me well. My hairdresser at Gr8 Clips had just cut my hair while it was parted the wrong way so my hair was boldly lopsided in what I liked to think of as ethnic chic. I was on the downwards trajectory after my peak in the 3rd grade but I felt good so it was fine.

It was a success I nailed it they totally bought it. But just to be safe, I went home that day and began to watch American Idol. And as I watched, slowly but surely, horror cracked over me like somebody had cracked an egg filled with horror over me. I realized I had misspoken earlier; I WOULDN’T HAVE VERBALLY ENDORSED DAVID COOK IF I HAD KNOWN THAT DAVID ARCHULETA WAS AN ACTUAL PRINCE. gOD. To “get real” here, David Archuleta is an honestly talented musician. This is actually undeniable. Even at the age of 16, when he was on American Idol, he had a tone reminiscent of Julianne Moore holding a corn husk filled with honey. If you’re unclear about what that is supposed to connotate, get a life it means his tone is sweet and beautiful and outta this world. He has a killer range and can riff beautifully, but also has a musician’s sense of restraint. Watch him sing “Apologize” alongside OneRepublic and tell me you don’t feel it too. I’m aware that some of his professionally produced content sucks but at least grant him that he’s a talented boy. And to top it all off, he is a soft-spoken

sweetheart prince from Utah with a baby face and a gold heart. (If you can’t tell I undoubtedly had a thing for David Archuleta back in the day? Quite the departure from my first celebrity crush: Antonio Banderas in his role as The Dad from Spy Kids, for which he was nominated for no less than 17 Oscars by The Academy (((((& two Sexxiest Mustache awards by me ;)) Looking at his post-Idol work, David arguably enjoyed some success when he released the best song of the century, “Crush.” This may lead some of you to argue that he was a one-hit wonder., We gotta rally as poets and lovers to lift David Archuleta’s name outta the mud. I don’t even get it; he’s a nice boy who can sing and had a smash single that unified a broken nation when nothing else could. What is not to like???????? I have no regrets in life except the one time outside Computer Skills class when I had a chance to vindicate this prince among men and I didn’t. Now I’m here to redeem myself, and I humbly invite you to do the same!!!!!

One Year of No Fidelity by Mary Dahlman Begley

This issue marks one year of No Fidelity. I’m pleasantly surprised that this little idea I had a year ago to start a music zine has made it a whole year. I only provided the initial spark; the NoFi staff has not only continued the zine but improved with every issue. Thank you for continuing the legacy of piquant music writing and elbowing your way into Carleton students’ brains. I’m not back in these pages to impart hard-earned wisdom (i have very little) or offer >`Û Vi w}ÕÀi Ì ÕÌ Þ ÕÀÃi v®° č ½Ûi } Ì Ì Ã >Ài Ã the genesis story of No Fidelity. čvÌiÀ > > Þâ }ÉÃÞ Ì iÃ â }É« Ã « â }ÉVÀ Ì V â } `iÀ č iÀ V> «Õ > ` 9 v À comps, I had an urge to create something real and unanalyzed. I had spent over a year traveling and interviewing bands, reading up on music history, and VÀi>Ì } Þ w > «À iVÌ > â i V> i` 7> i 1«] It’s Over. I was sick to death of worrying about the i> } v Ì i ÕÃ V Ì >Ì Ûi] > ` ÕÃÌ Ü> Ìi` Ì love punk rock, sans citations or historical context. I guessed that like-minded elevated heads would want to share their unfettered opinions about music. In school, we tread carefully and form opinions only based on fact. I was always careful not to make a point in class or discussion without evidence Ì L>V Õ« Þ V > Ã° 7 i ` ÃVÕÃÃ } ÕÃ V] Ì Ãi opinions are often less mitigated by self-doubt and can be expressed more purely. The elevated head would think: I know what I like, I don’t necessarily know why I like it, but I’m interested in sharing things I think are cool and learning about other cool things. The fact that No Fidelity is stronger than ever shows that other people in that bizarro land Carleton want to try to explain things they love too. 7 i Þ Õ Ì> >L ÕÌ Ì }Ã Þ Õ Ûi > ` connect with others who love those things, you can create something new and exciting. Having immediate and unlimited access to all the best music and art ever made, it can seem like everything cool has already been done. It’s easy to give up in the face of all that’s come before, when creating something new or interesting seems impossible. But if we >` Ài >ÀÌ > ` Ì >L ÕÌ Ü Þ Üi Ûi Ì] Üi ÕÃÌ might end up creating something new and beautiful in the process.

Post Grad Playlist

/ i v Ü } >Ài Ã }Ã ½Ûi ÃÌi i` Ì > ` i Þi` Ã Vi i>Û } ÀÌ wi `] À}> âi` Ì ÃÕ}}iÃÌi` ÃÌi } Ì iÃÉÃ ÌÕ>Ì Ã° Ì>VÌ v À «Î ` Ü >` v Ã«iV wV « >Þ ÃÌ À « ÃÌ }À>` « >Þ ÃÌ vÕ ° I. VI. - }Ã v À Ü i Þ Õ >Ài V w`i Ì Þ ÕÀÃi v Songs for not doubting who you love and but there’s a very quiet yet persistent nagging why +Õii v > Ã > ` >ÀÃ Õ ` Û Vi Þ ÕÀ i>` Ì >Ì Ã>ÞÃ Þ Õ >Ài ÕÃÌ Li } ed By Voices V V Þ > ` ÛiÀV w`i Ì

Hot 97 Summer Jam - Chumped I’m in the Fucking Band - Tomboy ii Ûi +Õii / i 7ÞÌV iÃ

II. Songs for when you’re riding your bike home from a new friend’s house but also you are lost and angry at yourself for getting lost in a small town

/ LiÌ> * « -Ì>ÀÃ « č } Top Pocket Man - Chavez 9 ÕÀ À>`Õ>Ì `iÀ >ÃiL>

III. Songs for when you are laying in bed at 1pm on a Sunday and trying to convince yourself that it’s okay you haven’t brushed your teeth all weekend

9 Õ ½Ì i - }Ã ° Àii Softly - Sibylle Baier ½ i /> >ÀÞ

IV. Songs for convincing yourself to go to a party with an obscure theme that you had to look up on the internet

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V. Songs for unabashedly despising someone LiV>ÕÃi >Ì wÀÃÌ Þ Õ }>Ûi Ì i > Ã Ì >Ì friendship and then they posted things on the internet about you

À Ü À i >Þ 7 ÌV čL ÀÌ Idiot the Chef - Pile 7 ii`Ã 9 Õ "L Ý

1 `iÀ > , V 7>Ý> >ÌV ii Àii >`Þ iÀV > ` Ãi

VII. Songs for missing college friends and treelined streets but also relishing new freedom and independence

Confetti - Stomach ` - Õ `â *>Ûi i Ì Theme from Krill - Krill

VIII. Songs for when you’re trying not to make eye contact with someone you encounter , Ì >Ì Þ Õ Þ Ü vÀ Ì i ÌiÀ iÌ

Insect Eyes - Nots It’s an Epidemic - Slaves / i `ÀÕ Ã iÀi Þ

IX. Songs for seeing the same kinds of people in every place that you go but being comforted by that

č Ì>LÕÃ > Ì >ÛiÀÃ > Townie - Mitski Creep - Black Planet

X. Songs for people who read this whole article and then realized that I don’t even } Ì >À iÌ > Þ Ài č č Ü Ã Ì Ã person) (here are the best songs I know)

Modern Kicks - Exploding Hearts / } - V 9 ÕÌ Black Candy - Beat Happening

Kanye West has firmly snuggled himself in as a permanent player of the rap game. Ever since he dropped his first album The College Dropout, Ye has been spitting some dope rhymes that inspire, provoke, offend, and entertain. Any Yeezy fan knows he says exactly what’s on his mind, and, as many casual listeners may be surprised to learn, he has a lot more on his mind than just “money, hoes, and rims”. Here are Yeezy’s Top 14 Lines: 1. “Stronger” (Graduation): “You should be honored by my lateness, that I would even show up to this fake shit.” This really captures the essence of Kanye’s “I’m-hot-shit-and-I-know-it” attitude. He’s the kind of guy who shows up late to your party, suggest you prostrate to him, and then tell you that your party blows.

2. “Made in America” (Watch the Throne): “Ni**as hustle every day for a beat from Ye. What I do? Turn around and gave them beats to Jay. And I’m rapping on the beats they was supposed to buy. I guess I’m getting high off my own supply.” Before he became a famous rapper, Yeezy was a successful producer for Def Jam records and gained popularity for producing Jay-Z’s The Blueprint. Of course, he’s so good that he produces his own albums, too, breaking the number one drug dealer rule: don’t get high off your own supply! Guess it worked out for Kanye though.

3. “Two Words” (The College Dropout): “Most imitated, Grammy nominated, hotel accommodated, cheerleader prom-dated” It’s crazy because this song is off Ye’s first album, so when he says, “most imitated,” it’s like he’s predicting the future. As soon as he blew up, after winning a Grammy for best rap album of the year, every rapper wanted some soul beats to rap over. Ye is an incredible producer, and many of his songs feature beats sampled from soul music.

4. “Gorgeous” (My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy): “Inter century anthems based off inner city tantrums, based off the way we was branded. Face it, Jerome get more time than Brandon, and at the airport they go all through my bag and tell me that it’s random.” I wish I could’ve quoted this entire song… Kanye’s talking about how hip-hop tracks have become the anthems of black people in the hood. Many rap songs focus on the gangsta lifestyle of someone who lives in the ghetto. Jerome is a synecdoche for black men, and Brandon represents white men. 39.4% of imprisoned people are black, a huge majority. “Racism still alive.”

5. “Mercy” (Cruel Summer): “I do suicides on the private jet. You know that mean— I’m fly to death.” Kanye is so rich he works out by running back and forth on his private jet. He’s so fly (not just because he’s in his jet) that he might die (suicide).

6. “The New Workout Plan” (The College Dropout): “There’s a party tonight, and, ooh, she’s so excited. “Tell me who’s invited!” You, your friends, and my dick.” ;)

7. “Send it Up” (Yeezus): “This the greatest shit in the club since ‘In Da Club.’ It’s so packed I might ride around on my bodyguard’s back like Prince in the club.” 10

C’mon, this is hilarious! Ye claims this track is the best club song since 50 Cent’s hit. Let it be known that Graduation outsold Curtis back in 2007, so looks like Yeezy ain’t finished messing with 50. The Artist Formerly Known as Prince rides around on his bodyguard, Big Chick.

8. “Gone” (Late Registration): “They claim you never know what you got ’til it’s gone. I know I got it, I don’t know what y’all on.” Mr. West’s got girls, fame, Grammys, dope beats, and stacks on stacks on stacks. Are you high or something telling Yeezy he doesn’t know he got it?

9. “Murder to Excellence” (Watch the Throne): “Heard about at least three killings this afternoon. Looking at the news like, “Damn! I was just with him after school!” No shop class but half the school got a tool.” Gang violence is a serious issue, especially in Chi-raq where Kanye’s from. He’s criticizing the government for cutting educational spending, forcing public schools to cancel after-school programs like wood shop. Many students have guns (tools) and are part of gangs, and maybe they wouldn’t if they had something to do after school.

10. “Amazing” (808s and Heartbreaks): I’m a problem that’ll never be solved.” Yeezy knows many people in the media and society view him as a threat— he’s a loose cannon. Or maybe he’s talking about his inability to be satisfied; he always wants to achieve more, according to an interview on BBC Radio 1.

11. “Jesus Walks” (The College Dropout): “So here go my single, dawg, radio needs this. They say you can rap about anything except for Jesus. That means guns, sex, lies, videotape, but if I talk about God my record won’t get played, HAH?!” Many may be surprised to know that Yeezus is a Christian, though his notion of Christianity may be a tad bit twisted. He’s tired of gangsta rap promoting killing and debauchery; the people need Jesus! This is also the first time we hear the famous “HAH!”

12. “POWER” (My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy): “I embody every characteristic of the egotistic. He knows he’s so fucking gifted.” All the lyrics in this song are pure genius. Kanye admits he’s arrogant and self-centered but claims he’s justified because, well, “he’s so fucking gifted!”

13. “Good Morning” (Graduation): “Good morning, look at the valedictorian scared of the future, while I hope in a DeLorean.” Again, lyrically this whole song is on fleek. He’s dissing the valedictorian who fears the future because school’s the only thing he’s good at. Kanye, on the other hand, knows he’s a legend and isn’t afraid to race forward because he only has more success waiting for him.

14. “Breathe In Breathe Out” (The College Dropout): “Now even though I went to college and dropped outta school quick, I always had a PHD— a pretty huge dick!” Oh, Yeezy.

In Defense of Clarence Clarity by A Noah Harrison

Early this March, London-based musician Clarence Clarity released his debut, No Now, to a world of clear confusion. What distinguishes Clarence’s music from that of his peers in the experimental R&B circuit is his no holds barred approach to sound-seeking. Like the danceable beats of contemporaries Jai Paul and Autre Ne Veut, Clarence waxes sleek and sexy, but glazes his works with something far more sinister. In fact, his tunes seem ideologically aligned with the likes of vaporwave, projecting a complex stance on the Information Age and the hyper-globalization of the present day. Likewise, the visual style of his music videos—the gouged out eyes of Justin Timberlake on a magazine cover in “Bloodbarf”—speaks to his love-hate relationship with mass-produced excess in the digital era. In an implosion of gigabytes and latex, he foists upon us the oppressive weight of information immediately available to us with a wireless connection. The music oscillates between the unabashedly pop melodies of *NSYNC and the progressive compositions of Oneohtrix Point Never, generally without warning. Clarence effortlessly combines influences to the point where all real genre labels fly out the window: electropop, hip-hop, and metal all blend uncannily into one. The product makes us feel like pigs sloshing around in our slop, but enjoying it. His repeated “Oops!” in “Those Who Can’t, Cheat” strongly evokes a pig-tailed Britney Spears, circa 2000, while getting at something far murkier, and its South Asian-tinged breakdown affirms the possibility of cultural appropriation with the click of a mouse. The man takes squeaky-clean hooks and enshrouds them in soul-crunching, bit-crushing production, all pointing to his great propensity to glitch out. In doing so, he forms a more honest depiction of the technology that can either tamed into corporate pop submission or given free reign to spit and sputter to its heart’s content. He reminds us that the same sound systems

that spill chrome-plated R&B into the urban malls of America also amplify the tradition of Western art music. In a recent interview with the BBC, Clarence spoke of a few musicians on his musical plate. The first was whacko blues performer Captain Beefheart; the second, he said almost sheepishly, was Miley Cyrus. Indeed, he effectively bridges the worlds of the avant-garde and manufactured pop in a strange resurrection of cultural detritus. He may really be onto something in “Off My Grid” when he tells us, “I fell off my grid,” as he truly has set himself outside any existing pop framework. With even a cursory listen, it becomes readily apparent that Clarence doesn’t intend his music to grace the same food courts that inspired it. No Now may however serve as a nice realm of exploration for anyone curious about the alternate realities of art pop troubadours like Animal Collective or Yeasayer, or perhaps those liberated from a decade cryogenic capture with nothing but late-’90s pop to keep them sane. If you do give in, prepare to hear all that’s right and wrong with global capitalism stewing together in beautifully disgusting harmony.

art by Madeline Garcia

Back when Facebook was still kind of new and exciting, before grandparents were using it to leave comments with their names signed at the bottom, there used to be a spot on your “About” section that was for “inspirational figures” like Mother Teresa or Marilyn Monroe. I only ever had one on there – Kim Gordon. Ever since I fell down that rabbit-hole called YouTube on a string of Sonic Youth videos, I’ve admired Gordon. I felt drawn to her right away, to her dark voice and the way she’d stand on stage, playing bass in a baggy dress. She was this older woman in an otherwise male rock band. She oozed power and maturity. I jumped to pre-order her memoir, Girl in a Band, this past winter, and against my better judgment, started to read it during finals. The music sites that I like to read made a big deal out of the fact that she discusses Thurston Moore’s affair and their divorce, or that she puts down Lana Del Rey, but they missed the point in all that click-bait. It’s a damn good book about the life of a damn good musician.

Girl in a Band is intimate and fascinating, and in the same way you read messages from a friend in their voice, you can read this book in Kim’s distinct sound. She describes an ’80s New York City, its clubs, its music and art scenes – how Sonic Youth came together, how different albums were recorded, the ideas behind certain songs. Her experiences first as a “girl in a band” and then as a “mom in rock.” There’s something crazy and somehow so rock ‘n’ roll about being on tour with a baby and leaky breasts. She does say that, “dripping breast milk during a video shoot is not very rock!” But there’s something about women dealing with that in the first place that’s pretty hardcore. It’s hard (if not impossible) not to need to listen to music you’ve been reading about for a couple hundred pages. I had stopped listening to Sonic Youth for a long time after that first year of YouTube-fueled discovery, but for a few weeks following Girl in a Band, I went back through Sonic Youth’s (extensive) discography, and it was so worth it. Their thirty years of music is sexy, noisy, dissonant, experimental, creepy, moody, intense, angry, aggressive, playful, all at once. It feels like pure energy, like thought, like art. Of course, this memoir is about so much more than Sonic Youth. Girl in a Band pulls you into an artist’s world. It’s an education in the music and culture of the 1980s and ’90s, and a personal look at how relationships and motherhood fit within it. Gordon takes you on a journey, spending time with Lydia Lunch, Kurt Cobain, Yoko Ono, Philip K. Dick, Miles Davis, and more along the way. I loved taking that trip with her, and spending time with the pure awesome noisiness of Sonic Youth after such a long time away.

playlists that don’t really by josie naron

?? drunk dance ??

?? spring step ??

blister in the sun / violent femmes

won’t you come over / devendra banhart

queen bitch / david bowie

vii babies / tops

hunger / rhye

she smokes in bed / tv girl

write about love / belle & sebastian

la loose / waxahatchee

forget it / blood orange

hard to love / the drums

?? break something ??

?? cover up ??

someday soon / harlem

halo / trace mountains

xr2 / m.i.a.

micky yr a fuck up / pill friends

basketball / speedy ortiz

the killing moon / pavement

goth bomb / ariel pink

i’m on fire / chromatics

i wanna be forgotten / bass drum of death

it’s the end of the world as we know it / free cake for every creature

mean anything at all but that’s subjective

?? thrash trash ?? far out / what tyrants lemonade grrl / joanna gruesome blue eyes / franky flowers sun hot / slutever wet dream / nancy acid

?? like you ??

?? everything else ??

be with you / casino hearts

slowing down / alex calder

thee oh so protective one / girls

one / nice legs

te amo / atlas sound

jaunte / boys age

ok / whatever, dad

wondering / coma cinema

there is a light that never goes out / dream suicides

i wanna be a witch / teen suicide

?? subtle sad ?? littoral lullaby / eskimeaux bye / starry cat everyone i know / grizzly bear alone / camera eyes john my beloved / sufjan stevens

KENDRICK LAMAR TO PIMP A BUTTERFLY

Ben Wedin Ian Mercer

8000 Words of Track-by-Track Commentary

This 80-minute album is packed with more symbols, twists, turns, and drope-ass ryhmes than one could find humanly possible. Accordingly, it needs to be analyzed to the point of removing all charm and mystery. We don’t expect anyone to actually read this all the way through –rather, we think that you should refer to it when you find yourself confused about the macro-level structure of the album or a certain symbol. Enjoy! And don’t hesitate to approach us if you want to talk further. You can probably tell that we really, really like talking about this album.

Wesley’s Theory

0:00 IAN: I think the crackling introduction, aside from the lyrical message (and getting me hyped as fuck at 1:30 in the morning), implies a sense of timelessness right off the bat; this record doesn’t use many samples, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t draw heavily upon the past. BEN: “Every nigga is a star” is far away from “Fuck Your Ethnicity” that opened Section.80. He brings it back to “color doesn’t matter” thinking on “Complexion,” but starting off with that sample is a strong statement about how this album is, as Pharrell put it, “unapologetically black.” 0:48 BEN: George Clinton, Flying Lotus, Kendrick, and Thundercat… killer combination. IAN: What a jarring start to an album. “When I get signed homie Imma act a fool” really threw me off upon first listen, especially in combination with such a mutated, shifting beat. I had no idea what was going on. I think this is an example of Kendrick giving us what we need, not what we want, and knowing that we’ll eventually realize that those are the same thing.

1:24 BEN: The “first girlfriend” is a nice parallel to the first track of good kid, m.A.A.d city, when he’s talking about meeting Sherane. This isn’t Sherane, this is the embodiment of wealth, temptation, and evil, which manifests as Uncle Sam and Lucy.

1:43 IAN: That high, dissonant bass tone (starting here and coming back a few times later on) is such a strange choice. Definitely adds to the unease of the track. It’s like painting a thick oil streak across a perfectly composed portrait. 2:12 BEN: Thundercat holding it down with the vocals. Thundercat, Anna Wise, Bilal, and Terrace Martin are all heroes on this album, and certainly helped shape its sound. IAN: I’ve never listened to Anna Wise’s solo stuff, but she was rad as hell on The Colbert Report. Her voice meshes with Bilal’s really well. Great texture. 3:00 IAN: I’m glad this is the extent of Dre’s involvement on the album; he signs in for a second on the first track, challenges Kendrick to prove himself, and then gets outta there. I suppose it’s Kendrick’s way of saying, right up front, that this isn’t gkmc II. There aren’t any Dre verses about being the shit or smoking a lot of weed in California. 3:49: “Your horoscope is a gemini, two sides / So you better cop everything two times” BEN: Kendrick is a Gemini, is this why he always doubles his vocals in cool ways? IAN: OOF wow Ben that’s killer. You should put that on Rap Genius. Also, I love how Kendrick could easily use his unbelievably creative and impressive flow and production team to create hit after hit after hit, but instead he uses it to

For Free? (Interlude) a car? / Forty acres and mule, a piano, a guitar? / Anything,

0:18 BEN: So yeah, Robert Glasper is on this album too, I guess. That’s pretty fucking awesome. IAN: (For those of you who don’t know, Robert Glasper is an A+ keyboard player. You should listen to Black Radio and Taylor McFerrin’s “Already There” ASAP.) 0:43 IAN: The (well-cast) voice actor saying, “My other nigga is on / you off” is a good example of what Kendrick is talking about in the last stanza of the whole album: “One thing [the caterpillar] noticed is how much the world shuns him, but praises the butterfly.” 1:14 BEN: Why do people keep calling this “spoken word”? There’s plenty of rhythm in it. The free rhythm “this dick ain’t free” reminds me of the opening jazz vamp on John Coltrane’s A Love Supreme. Apparently they were listening to a lot of Miles Davis when making this album. Parliament too, which explains we-want-the-funk “King Kunta.” IAN: I suppose people hear the “free” style of the drumming and equate that to free verse lyrics. Maybe if somebody put the vocals over a 4/4 beat people would change their minds. 1:17 BEN: “I need forty acres and a mule / Not a forty ounce and a pitbull” I love the way Kendrick puts threads of previous songs into following songs. He talks about “forty acres and a mule” in verse two of “Wesley’s Theory,” and there are several other examples of this. I think my favorite example of this is the repetition of “If these ____ could talk” between “These Walls” and “u.” IAN: My favorite example of this is a repetition from “Wesley’s Theory” to “Alright.” On the former, Kendrick raps, “What you want, a house or

see, my name is Uncle Sam, I’m your dog / Motherfucker you can live at the mall!” On the latter, he raps the exact same thing (except it’s Lucy instead of Uncle Sam this time) but with a new inflection that completely changes the meaning of the verse. The first time, it’s like, “Hey man, you’re famous so now you can have whatever you want! You could even live at the mall!” The second time, it’s like, “Really? These are the things you want!? Psh, you can live at the mall if that’s really what you want.” 1:50 BEN: The assonance here is incredible. In 10 seconds, here’s the pattern:

2:06 IAN: “Imma get my Uncle Sam to fuck you up” is crucial to understanding this track. With this last-minute revelation, we know it’s not just some random angry person yelling at Kendrick; it’s the embodiment of various institutions (race, class, gender, geography, etc.) trying to get him down.

King Kunta 1:34 BEN: Is there a reason he uses ‘90s figures as referenc-

0:43 “The yam is the power that be / You can smell it when you’re walking down the street” BEN: Kendrick is intertextual as hell. He references Jay-Z verses and other songs throughout this album, but this particular reference is both a reference to the African Ibo society in Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart and the unnamed narrator in Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man, where the narrator walks around and smells yams. 1:14 BEN: I’m not sure what instrument comes in with that quarter note walk (guitar?), but it’s a perfect way to marry the West Coast feel and the funk feel in this track. IAN: This is just a straight up strange track. My brain hasn’t come any closer to understanding that bassline no matter how many times I hear it. The stretches of silence, the wacky percussion, the eccentric harmonies… they all combine together to give it some sort of intangible, ineffable quality. This track is my weakness on this album. I know I love it, but I can’t comprehend it musically!

es? Clinton and Pryor seem somewhat out of time... IAN: I agree. The instrumentation reflects that retro vibe too. The brag raps are also delivered in an old style. But I couldn’t tell you the reason that Kendrick is doing the track in this throwback style. 2:45 IAN: I read a hilarious theory about this line on Rap Genius. The annotator said that the very last syllable of the album (“Pac”) is supposedly what Kendrick means by “the next pop” here. So, by this logic, the voice is saying “By the time this album is over, the funk will be within you.” Rap Genius over-analysis? I think so. 3:50 IAN: I love how the beginning of this recurring poem was included in the leaked copy of this track. I spent a week asking myself “WHO IS CONFLICTED?! WHO IS MISUSING HIS INFLUENCE?!” which made the eventual reveal so much more satisfying. 17

Institutionalized heard a good answer yet. That’s still under investigation.

0:39 BEN: Institutional eyes institutionalize institutional lies IAN: That’s some National Treasure shit right there.

0:44 IAN: I love the vocals here. It must be from the perspective of the caterpillars who don’t realize they’re caterpillars. Their ambitions aren’t quite at the level of the philosophy of “The Blacker the Berry” just yet. For example, he says that if he was the president, he’d pay his momma’s rent, free his homies, and get high in the white house… not exactly the most effective uses of presidential powers. 1:03 BEN: The first time I heard this drop, my face scrunched up like I ate a bunch of sour Warheads. Any doubts I had about this album being less than phenomenal were gone after the beat and the zoomzoomzooms. IAN: It sounds dope as fuck! That beat change is some D’Angelo shit… but what do the zooms mean? I haven’t

1:17 IAN: The way that he stays JUST off the beat throughout this stretch is seriously impressive. Also, I see this verse as a three-track suite along with “These Walls” and “u” where all three depict institutional obstacles in different realms: the first deals with wealth, the second with lust, and the third with self-confidence/self-hatred. After all that, “Alright” offers a solution to the problems that Kendrick has identified. Anyways, I’m digressing. 1:45 BEN: YOU HEAR THAT KICK STUTTER?! Uuuunnnfffff. IAN: It’s fucking beautiful. Especially the way he syncs his flow to it (or maybe vice versa). 2:15 BEN: I’m really happy about the cello in this song. Strings are too often employed to make a beat “theatrical”

or dramatic. Laid back cello, chill. IAN: True! And that clarinet is straight up Klezmer music! Inspired move. 2:39 BEN: This is exactly where Snoop Dogg belongs. His voice sounds like driving with the windows down with immeasurable coolness. IAN: He’s perfect, and I love how he plays a similar role to the one he played in Flying Lotus’s You’re Dead. It’s like he’s this extraterrestrial narrator that’s telling a story from

some outside perspective on both of these projects. And it’s not even like Kendrick is trying to name drop by using Snoop, as I think that using a grand-old veteran of the west coast made the narration much more powerful. BEN: Yeah, this album doesn’t have any full verses from anyone but Kendrick and Rapsody, whereas GKMC had many full features. Funny that you say name-dropping Snoop though, cause he does name drop him on “Hood Politics,” but as an equal instead of a co-sign.

These best Walls verses on the album. It doesn’t shift the metaphors

0:35 IAN: This is one of the few places where I think the album misses a little tiny bit. Anna Wise whispering “sex” is just a little too on the nose. We all know the song is about sex! We don’t need you to tell us so explicitly! We are definitely going to get it by the time Bilal sings: “Gold lives inside of you / I love it when I’m in it.” That said, this is currently my favorite track on the album. The verses are a bit raunchy/corny, but the Wise/Bilal vocals, that fucking Fender Rhodes, and that third verse are freaking fantastic. BEN: I don’t know, I kind of like it. The moaning at the beginning sounds more like agony than sex, so it’s a nice way to split up the weird beginning from the rest of the song if you hadn’t already heard the song before. IAN: Ah, that’s a great point. I stand convinced! And here’s a fun fact: The moaning is sampled from the music video for “Smooth Criminal.”

1:30 BEN: Big ups to Kendrick for describing the vagina in a classier way than most singers. Substantially better than “make the pussy just gush” from Pharrell. IAN: Yeah man, not only is it classy, but it’s multi-faceted. Take the line “I’ve been on these streets too long / Looking at you from the outside in” and you wouldn’t even know the song is about sex. This could be interpreted in the same vein as the lyrics evaluating the value of community on “Momma” later on. 2:23 BEN: I’m glad the tenor of the “walls” metaphor changes in subsequent verses to emotional walls. Three minutes of wet vagina metaphors would be excessive. 3:34 IAN: As I said before, I think this third verse one of the

from vaginas to minds, it shifts it from vaginas to prison walls. The grim subject change even comes with a shift to a minor key. Kendrick lays out a rather complicated story here, and somehow makes it rhyme (really well): He’s seeking revenge (misusing his influence) by making love to the baby momma of the man who killed his best friend (as described in gkmc’s “Sing About Me”). Yeah, the verses in this track describe Kendrick not being a very nice guy, but he makes it clear to us that it isn’t that simple. He’s seeking petty revenge for his friend’s death on the battleground of a woman’s body in the third verse, but in the first two verses, he’s rapping about that very abuse. He recognizes the ways that the women in Compton have been oppressed by people just like him. (He even manages to squeeze in a shot at the prison industrial complex at 3:58. Seriously, this verse is full to the brim.) In this way, these verses are able to contribute to the larger-scale butterfly story while shedding light on a much more distinct and specific theme; the power dynamics that exist when sex, money, fame, and prison are all thrown together. Even if you ignore all of that, it’s a wonderful verse just in how searing it is. I feel disgusted when I hear him rap in such a dispassionate/monotonal way to the dude in jail about how he’s fucking his ex every single day. BEN: True. In the third verse, the walls are definitely prison walls, and it’s dope. I do still think the second verse is talking more about emotional walls though, although there is some playing with “going deep.” IAN: Ah yeah, that definitely works. Maybe the walls in the second verse could be the walls of the cocoon too? I’ll have to ponder this.

uI love this line. The rhythm implies the lyric “feel like you

0:00 IAN: This has to be one of the most aggressively anti-radio rap tracks I ever heard, but in context of the album, it’s cripplingly effective. It’s the perfect counterpoint to “i,” and it’s the lowest point of the album emotionally. This is Kendrick (or really anybody) at his worst, and if he can make it through this, he can make it through anything.

0:48 BEN: “Feel like you don’t feel, confidence in yourself / Breakin’ on marble floors”

don’t feel,” adding another layer. And “breaking on marble floors” is such a vivid image of Kendrick transported from Compton into some cold hotel suite, feeling as empty as he ever did. 0:58 “Situation had stopped with your little sister bakin’ / A baby inside, just a teenager, where’s your patience? / Where’s your antennas, where is the influence you speak

of? / You preached in front of 100,000 but never reached her.” IAN: This is a great followup to the end of “Keisha’s Song (Her Pain)” from Section.80. Kendrick tells the story of a prostitute who had been abused and murdered in the street before rapping, “My little sister eleven, I looked her right in the face / The day I wrote this song, set her down and pressed play.” In this way, “u” serves as a follow up, illustrating why Kendrick might feel so atrociously depressed; if he can’t get to his little sister (just one person), what role does he hope to play as a rapper?

maid knocking on the door makes the image of Kendrick drowning his sorrows in the hotel room all the more potent and tangible (especially when you add in the sounds of the bottle clinking later on in the second half).

1:57 BEN: Shivers down my spine. The sparse glitching perfectly brings you out of Kendrick’s inner turmoil and out into the cold and indifferent world. And the record from the beginning of the album is still crackling faintly in the background. IAN: Everything about this transition section is brilliant. The

3:30 “You just can’t get right, I think your heart made bullet proof / Shoulda killed yo ass a long time ago / You shoulda feeled that black revolver blast a long time ago” IAN: The third verse is even lower. This part portrays Kendrick’s conscience telling him to commit suicide. That’s gotta be the rawest, most vulnerable verse I’ve ever heard.

2:25 IAN: These next two verses are absolutely heart breaking. The self-hatred and guilt here are almost too real, maybe because they ARE real (“You even Facetimed instead of a hospital visit / Bitch, you thought he would recover well” describes a true story about Kendrick not being able to support his ill friend because he was away on tour).

Alright BEN: Yeah, the “AH!” is super fun. I hope this becomes

0:00 IAN: The “Fuckin’ Problems”-style flow, the lack of intros or skits, the singalong chorus, and the Pharrell beat make this track the closest thing that TPaB has to a radio single. I’ve tested it in the car, and it does indeed bang. The thing is, it’s certainly not as positive as everybody has been making out to be. Kendrick raps “Nazareth, I’m fucked up / Homie you fucked up / But if God got us / Then we gon’ be alright.” This psychology has certainly saved Kendrick’s life when he was considering suicide in the hotel room, but it’s not a stable solution. That is, Kendrick is ignoring his problems and reasoning that he’ll make it through because he’ll be okay in the end. BEN: Pharrell production is always great. Pharrell tags a ton his songs with four beats at the beginning, and the four dahs here may be one of my favorites. (Don’t believe me? Look it up!) IAN: (soundcloud.com/mrdiscopop/pharrell-williams-howto-write-song-intros) 0:18 IAN: A banger is a banger, even if the lyrics say otherwise, and Pharrell’s chorus here is UNNFF. I love his voice here, especially the way it breaks a little bit the sixth time he says, “We gone be alright” each chorus. I think this is the same thing as the Snoop feature in that Kendrick isn’t trying to name drop by getting Pharrell on the chorus, it just works way better than using Bilal or Thundercat because of the authority of Pharrell’s voice. 1:54 IAN: The lyrics here are, as usual, are flawless (especially the repetition of the “What you want…” stanza from “Wesley’s Theory” that I mentioned earlier), but the flow here has got to be in Kendrick’s top three. The first time I heard the “In the presence of your chico AH!” part I literally stood up out of my chair. That’s an ooo-WEE! moment right there.

part of party playlists, not only because the song is great and fills me up inside, but I would love to shout out “AH!” with a bunch of other people. 2:12 BEN: I really love the rhythm on “pet dog, pet dog, pet dog” here. This may be Rap Genius over-analysis, but because Lucy is Kendrick’s dog, saying pet dog three times means Lucy is the three-headed dog Cerberus. I don’t know if that’s true, but that’d be pretty cool if that’s the case. 2:54 “I keep my head up high / I cross my heart and hope to die / Lovin’ me is complicated / Too afraid, a lot of changes / I’m alright and you’re a favorite / Dark nights in my prayers” IAN: This brings us back to the chorus (“loving you is complicated”) of “u.” We’re still in the trough of the album and the light at the end of the tunnel is far away, but the fact that it’s sung by Thundercat (I think?) means that Kendrick is no longer truly alone. He recognizes his struggle and realizes that the beauty of the struggle itself is a validation of his existence. 3:14 BEN: This is probably the closest thing to a single on the album besides “King Kunta,” but Kendrick seems to have doubled down on the conceptual effort with this twenty-five second outro. Is he trying to fuck with us? If I put this song on at a party playlist, I’d think about trying to change it at the end so there isn’t a random talking part. IAN: I’m curious, do you think the album would’ve worked better if he’d broken the poems and intros up into their own transition tracks, leaving the songs themselves intact? The jury is out for me on this subject. BEN: It’s tough to say. I think having half a dozen half-min-

ute tracks would probably turn off a lot of listeners. This is really the only one on the album that bothers me, also because “Bitch Don’t Kill My Vibe” had an outro, but it was only about five seconds long (“Get your freestyles

ready!”). That being said, I like it here more than if it were at the beginning of “For Sale?”, so my reasons are purely playlist-oriented.

For Sale? (Interlude) 2:05 IAN: If you didn’t know that Lucy was the devil, it’d be

0:00 IAN: This one is a great palate cleanser. That isn’t to say it’s not lyrically poignant or anything. It’s just that we needed a switch-up at this point or we were going to go crazy! Flying Lotus says that he produced another version of this track which I NEED to hear. Fingers crossed he releases it somewhere. 0:48 “But remember, he knows the bible too” IAN: I think this line is the key to the meaning of the song. Kendrick is noting that Lucifer knows the bible just as well as God does, and that remaining sanctified isn’t just a matter of praying once or twice a day. Sin and vice can arrive in positive-looking packages, and there are many that speak the word of God without understanding its meanings. Kendrick knows that the vindication he seeks through religion can only be accomplished via disciplined self-awareness and control.

easy to think that this verse is elated! I see this track (lyrics AND beat) as Kendrick’s subconscious trying to seduce him and put him up For Sale. The second verse goes through all the things that Lucy can bring him before ending with “And now you all grown up then sign this contract if that’s possible.” The flashy beat and the “Want youuuu’s” are all a mirage! Don’t fall for it! BEN: Yeah, and I love how the flow falls off the beat when Lucy starts talking. It makes the voice a lot more… temptation devil-like. 2:43 “Lucy don’t slack a minute” BEN: I like how even when the beat stops, Lucy is still in your ear whispering to you. There’s a lot of attention to detail in small changes like that in this album. It’s so satisfying. I never knew the word Lucy could sound so playfully evil.

Momma 2:35 IAN: This third verse could be about a boy from

0:00 IAN: I see the musical identity of TPaB, on the whole, as an homage to the diversity of black music. You’ve got George Clinton and Ronald Isley on the funky side, Snoop and Dre representing the west coast, Terrace Martin and Robert Glasper doing their best Coltrane impressions, and then these J Dilla-style beats on “Momma” and “Complexion,” (which was actually produced by Pete Rock himself). People have called the album’s sound disjointed, but I say it perfectly reflects the diversity of sounds across the spectrum of black music. BEN: Another sour Warhead moment of awesome on this beat for me, the chops are definitely Dilla-esque. The bells on “Backseat Freestyle” were pretty dope, but these bells make me feel good in a whole different way. 0:24 BEN: I like the little flips of meter here. Throughout each line in the first verse, Kendrick freely uses a lot of dactyls with short i’s (“synonym,” “innocence,” “tentative”) and ends each line with short a’s in various creative ways that almost mimic the choppiness of the bells (“fall back,” “cracked,” “plastic”). The only time he breaks this is to say “Winnin’ in every decision / Kendrick is master that mastered it.” Kendrick is master, indeed. 1:30 IAN: My mom heard this verse and was hating on it because she thought it was Kendrick partaking in some good old brag rap. WRONG: Kendrick is showing that he knows everything about Compton, but that doesn’t mean shit in the scheme of things. The picture is so much bigger than he ever fathomed when he was growing up.

Compton or a boy in South Africa; the point is that it doesn’t matter. Both deal with crappy shoes, stolen TVs, etc. The youthful perspective is able to pull us back a little bit though and let us look at Kendrick’s problems from a more innocent angle. Kendrick’s fame and all of its baggage aren’t worth anything compared to the value of home, even if that home isn’t always the healthiest place. BEN: There’s definitely some willful ambiguity. “Tossin’ footballs with his ashy black ankles” sounds like a soccer football, which is South Africa. Mentions of “Channel 5” is Compton. And then “your family’s ancestor” takes us back to Africa. So like you said, the location doesn’t matter if the message ends up being the same. 3:43 “This is a world premiere” BEN: The use of the intro from “i” seems weird until you learn that this verse is the bonus verse from “i” that Kendrick did on SNL. That version is awesome too, and how different it is from this version is a testament to Kendrick’s versatility. IAN: Oh shit! Good call, I had totally forgotten to go back and look at that SNL bonus verse. It’s a search for a higher meaning in life, which I suppose makes equal sense here and after the beat change in “i” because that’s all about Kendrick having contemplated suicide. All that said, it still doesn’t explain the words, “this is a world premiere” themselves. What’s up with that? And why does the verse fade out? Is he trying to show that the search is futile? BEN: Yeah man, fuck this fadeout. Actually though, I don’t have an answer on the sample, but I do think the fade-out

is a way to transition to the next song. The previous verse is a revelation of sorts, but Kendrick is still feeling incom-

plete, and is carrying his past self with him.

Hood Politics 0:00 IAN: I think I speak for everybody when I say that we thoughts. need an entire Kendrick to this beat. It is cruel that it only lasts twenty-six seconds. 0:34 BEN: The “doodoodoo” from gkmc are noticeably missing on this album. We have been given “boo boo” instead. Equally ridiculous and contagious. IAN: This track confuses me. It’s the only departure from the butterfly arc that I can find. Kendrick starts as a pompous hotshot, gets super depressed, finds God, finds the value of home, and then… raps about jerking off into a sock and bragging about his flow? Is it an illustration of how you can’t, as Snoop would say, “take the hood out the homie?” Help me out here Ben, I need you. BEN: First of all, “flip flop with the white tube sock” doesn’t have to be only about jerking off, because of the “skinny jeans with no socks” comment in the intro. I think the Snoop thing is close. In the arc of TPaB, Kendrick is still looking for answers. In the poem, the next lines we hear are: “But that didn’t stop survivors guilt / Going back and forth / Trying to convince my self the stripes I earned / Or maybe how A-1 my foundation was.” “A-1” is used on the hook here, so Kendrick is still trying to come to terms with leaving behind loved ones in Compton. Saying he’s earned his place in rap or that those are the things he cares about is a way of distancing himself from other

2:44 IAN: This “Obama say what it do” breakdown reminds me of the “Fuck with the lights on” breakdown from Kanye’s “Hell of a Life.” A+. BEN: It’s even better than that. Fuck, the vocals from Bilal turn the melodrama into funked-out bliss for a moment, and then we crash back into braggadocio. 3:20 “Critics want to mention what they miss when hip hop was rappin’ / Motherfucker if you did, then Killer Mike’d be Platinum” IAN: We can’t have a play-by-play of TPaB without mentioning this line. I would be flattered as fuck if I was Killer Mike right now. Kendrick Lamar, the most skilled emcee in the game, just called ME a true example of real hip hop? That’s a huge compliment. 4:47 “While my loved ones was fighting a continuous war back in the city / I was entering a new one” IAN: Just to make it clear, that “new one” is the racial situation in South Africa (as demonstrated by the gas station attendant in the next track who only speaks Zulu and the use of “Rand” as a currency).

How Much a Dollar Cost 0:00 BEN: Is anyone going to say this isn’t very similar to the question of how much a dollar actually costs: “The “Pyramid Song”? I don’t think Radiohead is out to stifle creativity and music, but thinking about the “Blurred Lines” legal battle, I wonder if the legal precedent means Radiohead would have a case against Kendrick? IAN: Yeah, I’ve been hearing that a lot too. This is definitely closer to “Pyramid Song” than “Got to Give it Up” is to “Blurred Lines.” I think Kendrick’s saving grace is that his beat is completely recognizable, while rhymthic ambiguity is the core feature of “Pyramid Song.” In other news, I think this song, as a whole, is an fantastic example of storytelling but not necessarily great lyricism. I think that this is way closer to spoken word than “For Free? (Interlude)” is. 1:39 IAN: Kendrick says “staring” seven whole times in this verse. I think it’s a bit excessive and kinda detracts from the drama of the scene. He should’ve expended those valuable syllables on further narrative commentary instead of just saying, again and again, that they were staring at eachother. 2:44 IAN: This last verse is fantastic. I love how God answers

price of having a spot in Heaven, embrace your loss.” The only problem is that this part suffers from the same issue that Anna Wise perpetrated earlier on in “These Walls.” Kendrick just rapped, “You’re lookin’ at the Messiaeh, the son of Jehova, the higher power / The choir that spoke the word, the holy spirit, the nerve of Nazareth”... he does NOT need to end his verse with “I am God.” Seriously!? How are we not going to know that the homeless man is God by this point! BEN: I don’t know, maybe Kendrick really likes his third verse twist reveals? Also, it’s a nice little slant rhyme with “loss.” 3:50 IAN: What a great feature by Ronald Isley. His voice suits the symphonic nature of this track perfectly. It’s a great summary of the moral of the song. Kendrick is certainly conscious of his religion. He prays, he goes to church (“I wash my hands / I said my grace”), but if he doesn’t actually practice the words of the bible, then he’s never going to better himself (“Shades of grey will never change if I condone”). Isley is saying Kendrick has to walk the walk!

Complexion (A Zulu Love) time. The verse here is great too. Rapsody’s more recent

0:00 BEN: If this album is trying to capture different aspects of black music, this song is a perfect way to capture the Pete Rock and Tribe Called Quest golden age of afrocentric hip hop. Maybe because Pete Rock’s on the track scratching and saying “two-step,” but it really does it well. 0:25 IAN: I don’t know what the “Sneak (dissing)” part is about. It doesn’t seem to match up with a track that is otherwise completely about skin color and ethnicity. BEN: Not sure either. I kind of hear it as “Sneak (this in!)”, which makes a bit more sense but still doesn’t add much. 1:22 BEN: Thundercat’s vocals and bassline, Kendrick’s direct and intimate flow...I love how tender this track is. 1:48 “Let the Willie Lynch theory reverse a million times” BEN: Kendrick giving us history lessons. Not only with knowing “what the Germans done,” but this old theory of a 18th century slavemaster claiming that pitting people against each other based on skin color or age was a good way to stop slaves from coming together. Just some serious shit. Reminds me of Andre 3000’s jumpsuit: “Across cultures, darker people suffer most. Why?” 2:10 IAN: I’ve really been digging this “You like it, I love it” part. Probably because it leads into one of the dopest beat changes in the K.Dot discography. 2:42 BEN: Rapsody! It’s very cool that a female MC is featured on the most anticipated album of the year, and both She Got Game and Beauty and the Beast are worth your

references serves as a nice foil to Kendrick’s older references, which helps to make the subject of racial discrimination seem timeless and also urgently present. IAN: Not only is she featured… she’s THE feature. This is the ONLY full guest verse on the album, and I really, really dig that. “It ain’t complex to put it in context / Find the air beneath the kite, that’s the context / Yeah, baby, I’m conscious, ain’t no contest / If you like it, I love it, all your earth tones been blessed” I love that line. It’s got a simple rhyme scheme and a simple message, that’s for sure. But it’s really what we needed at this point in the album. Rapsody presents her philosophy like its actually attainable after so many tracks of pretty cynical rapping. Also, I hope she’s right on another front: Idris Elba would make an amazing James Bond. Fingers crossed. 4:02 BEN: This outro is all we get before jumping into “The Blacker the Berry.” “Complexion” is the future ideal, but first Kendrick is going to speak on the present. IAN: Well said. I like how “The Blacker the Berry” is framed within the album. It’s near the end, and I think that’s meant to show that the platform it espouses is higher level. It’s a subtle, difficult argument that he presents, one that is only possible when we’ve gone through the process of self-discovery in the previous 12 tracks. I almost see everything before “The Blacker the Berry” as a prelude that sets you up for its message.

The Blacker the Berry

0:10 BEN: I’m going to make multiple references to Kanye on your behalf with this track, Ian. The drums used here were also used on “Crack Music,” and they sound equally raw and militant here. The drums are almost too hard-hitting, but the other parts of the track are soulful enough to stop it from being too much. IAN: Oh shit! I didn’t know about that drum sample! That means it’s also the same sample as “Power,” which is pretty rad.

1:20 “You’re fuckin’ evil I want you to recognize that I’m a proud monkey” BEN: This line always sticks out to me because I’ve heard people my age use “monkey” as an insult. The use of “you” definitely makes the song more interesting than other conscious rap songs outlining systemic racism. “You” implicates the listener such that you can’t just nod along and say “Oh yeah, fuck those racist guys, we love you Kendrick!” IAN: You’re right, these verses are impossible to ignore. I’ve heard confrontational and critical tracks by Kendrick at parties before (“Swimming Pools,” “m.A.A.d City,” etc.),

but nobody would ever make that mistake here. The clarity of his words (both in message and enunciation) are just too striking. Also, I heard that these were the first verses to be written for the album, way back in 2012 after the death of Trayvon Martin. 1:45 BEN: Assassin delivers another killer hook that simply sounds awesome, except instead of whatever he says on Yeezus’s “I’m In It,” this time the lyrics have a bit more substance. I still had to look up the lyrics though. IAN: I agree. Assassin’s verse here, aside from the beautiful delivery, is certainly more substantive than his “I’m In It” feature (which is definitely a rhythmic and melodic device, 0not a lyrical one). The last line of each verse serves as a good distillation of what he’s getting at. In the Kanye, it’s “We gon smile on court day / Cuz we beat murder charge like O.J.” while in the Kendrick, it’s “All them say we doomed from the start cuz we black / Remember this, every race start from the black, remember that.” 4:26 “So why did I weep when Trayvon Martn was in the

street? / When gang banging make me kill a nigga blacker than me? / Hypocrite!” IAN: This is one of the most important and most famous lines of the album. I think that an entire NoFi essay should eventually be devoted to Kendrick’s message here. To be brief, Kendrick uses this track to recognize the multifaceted nature of violence towards, and amongst, blacks in america. The institutionalization and abuse are absolutely undeniable, but in the words of Kendrick Lamar himself, “When we don’t have respect for ourselves, how do we expect them to respect us? It starts from within.” Agree with Kendrick or not (and there are certainly many who disagree

with him), you have to at least admit that he has come closer to encapsulating the difficulty and complexity of the issue in less than six minutes than anybody else. BEN: Yeah, that line is definitely meaty. This probably isn’t the place to go into it all, but I personally think the “respect for ourselves” quote is a bit more alarming than this lyric in the context of the rest of the song. But the message is clear: there’s a lot to be angry and fed up with. IAN: Agreed. A track-by-track discussion isn’t the place. Either way, all the press surrounding this line is only healthy in that it will inspire discussion and dialogue.

You Ain’t Gotta Lie (Momma Said) talking shit just to talk shit.

0:40 BEN: Kendrick is the new Tupac. Not only does Tupac have a song called “Lie To Kick It,” but this song has the vocoders, the learnable hook, and a positive message of just being yourself and not trying to impress others. IAN: Ben has been the rap historian all throughout this conversation. I’m going to have to yield to you on this one! What I DO know is that the line “You sound like the feds, homie” is heavier than one might think. Kendrick has gone on this journey to fame, traveling through valleys of alienation, low self-esteem, and institutionalized self-hatred, only to find that the questions that his friends ask him when he returns are the same questions that the feds asked him while he was away. Although the butterfly and caterpillar are completely different, they are one and the same.

2:24 BEN: Does this verse kinda sound like Chance (the Rapper) to you? IAN: Oh for sure, I can easily hear “Been allergic to talking, been a virgin to bullshit IGH!” 2:40 IAN: I think this is the weakest track on the album. That sounds like a huge insult, but when you live in a neighborhood with giants, any deficiency is easily noticeable. I just think it lacks a bit of substance (again, compared to its neighbors), and its place within the album isn’t as clear to me as other tracks. That said, the chopped up beat and verses here are fantastic. A+ A+ A+. BEN: Dawg, nah. The past three songs are all ambitious descriptions of spirituality and politics. I’m happy to have something with a crystallized message that’s not attempting to be as lofty and profound. Just quit stunting, homie. Know thyself.

1:30 “The loudest one in the room, nigga, that’s a complex” BEN: Kendrick really wants you to hear this lyric. He’s said “complex” four times already and changes his delivery for this line. Kendrick is a quiet dude and is tough on people

0:00 BEN: So where are we chronologically now? Kendrick has done the emotional journey of the previous tracks, and now he’s back putting on a show in Compton? IAN: I think that this is the very first time that present day Kendrick Lamar raps to us without any characters or exterior motives or tricks. He’s no longer acting in vignettes, but preaching what he’s learned from those chapters back out to his audience. 1:25 BEN: I like dis. I think the live mix is cool, the guitars sound really nice, and the new chorus from the single is more interesting with things like “POLIII!” I almost want a single of this version with a little more bass; I don’t need the higher-pitched delivery verses from the single. IAN: I think they serve totally different purposes. If I’m driving home from work, I’ll definitely play the single, but in context of the album the changes were absolutely nec-

essary. It wouldn’t make sense to have the same track in the album, as it would end on a high note and make the transition to “Mortal Man” incongruent. 2:32 IAN: I don’t know how I missed it for a full five months, but Kendrick is rapping about considering suicide in this verse. And it was so obvious: “I’ve been dealing with depression ever since adolescence.” Anyways, that’s why the fight occurring is so poignant and depressing; it happens right when Kendrick is rapping about overcoming his demons and everything getting better, and then a fight breaks out, and we realize our hardships are deeply, deeply ingrained within us. 4:00 BEN: I love the word “mando” for mandatory. I want to start trying to say mando.

4:27 IAN: I’m a little confused here. Does Kendrick agree with Oprah on the subject of the n-word, or is he in the Jay-Z camp? Does he think we should use “Negus” instead? He doesn’t make it clear, and I’ve been reading the lyrics for ten minutes now: “Black stars can come and get me / Take it from Oprah Winfrey / Tell her she right on time / Kendrick Lamar, by far, realest Negus alive.” BEN: I think he’s in a somewhat different camp. Oprah is claiming the word is most connected to lynch mobs, Jay-Z

says that switching the “-er” to an “-a” changed it to endearment, but Kendrick questions both by saying that “negus” was used in Ethiopia before. So maybe he thinks we should convert the etymology of the “-a” version? But also he may just agree with Oprah and thinks that we should start saying “negus” because he does say, “Say it with me or say no more.” We may just have to wait to hear some new Kendrick verses and see what choice he made.

MortalIAN:Man Agreed. I like the way you worded that: he isn’t so

0:00 IAN: Alright Ben, we’ve finally made it. BEN: I remembered when I first saw the untitled tracklist and saw the final song was 12 minutes long. Was thinking of something like “Sing About Me” with two songs; I did not expect the ending. IAN: I don’t think anybody expected an interview with Tupac closing the whole thing out. I think it works really well thematically, but I don’t think I’ll be listening to it as often as I listen to all thirteen glorious minutes of “Last Call.” I think I’ve parsed the message of it after five listens or so, and I don’t feel a strong attraction to hearing Tupac’s words again and again. 1:49 “But a prophet ain’t a prophet ‘til they ask you this question” BEN: Kendrick desires to be a prophet. I think part of what makes the message so powerful is that he’s willing to show himself as weak or evil in order to get his message across. He is a prophet, but he is also one of us and carries the same guilt.

2:13 IAN: First, as a sidenote, I imagine the interview as a sort of bonus track and not necessarily connected to “Mortal Man.” Second, these sentiments are a nice way to end the album in that it’s Kendrick finally realizing the value of his gift as a rapper. He’s left the self-doubt of “u” and the self-hatred of “The Blacker the Berry” long behind, and is now secure in himself enough to say, “I freed you from being a slave in your mind, you’re very welcome / You tell me my song is more than a song, it’s surely a blessing.” Now that he recognizes his value, his true value, he can FINALLY return to Dr. Dre’s message from the very beginning of the album: “Anybody can get it, the hard part is keeping it.” Kendrick can finally ask the questions that will allow him to stay at the endpoint of this journey instead of reverting back to the hood politics and institutionalization that he’d just escaped from. 4:15 “That nigga gave us Billie Jean, you say he touched those kids? / When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?” BEN: Kendrick doesn’t even try to dress that up in rhythm or alliteration. His concern with legacy is real, and he wonders if he’ll end up among the list of influential people. So he decides to talk to Tupac.

much concerned with his legacy, he’s concerned with people remaining steadfast and loyal to the ones that they love. That said, I think Kendrick could’ve worded this part better. I can imagine a negative critic quoting it out of context in order to accuse Kendrick of being a pedophile sympathizer. If we didn’t know the chorus of the track or the sentiment of what Kendrick is saying here, it looks like he’s rapping, “It doesn’t matter if you touched kids if you’ve made amazing music in the past.” 10:20: “We ain’t even really rapping, we just letting our dead homies tell stories for us.” IAN: This line is essential. It justifies the whole interview. Kendrick is literally letting Tupac speak through him! My guess is that this line gave Kendrick the idea to end the album with this interview. 10:30 IAN: Who do you think is the “good friend” that wrote the final poem that Kendrick reads? That’s crucial to the album! We need to know! (Again, be sure to see our accompanying guide on [PAGE NUMBER]. It goes through this poem in detail.) BEN: I don’t know if it’s crucial. I’m fine with some mystery in the album. 11:58 IAN: The suddenly-interrupted crescendo in the keys and saxophones that closes the album is beautiful. It’s such a haunting finish. Anyways, we made it Ben! All seventy-nine minutes! Any final thoughts? I got one for you: if you listen to Kendrick’s discography on Spotify, TPaB’s “Pac...Pac!” immediately transitions to gkmc’s crackling “Lord God, I come to you a sinner…” It was a beautiful moment for me when I first heard it, because the start of gkmc works as a pavlov’s bell for me. I hear that opening prayer and I swoon. Kendrick has given us two immortal albums. I can guarantee that we’ll still be fans when shit hits the fan. BEN: Yeah but the crackle on gkmc is from a film, this is a record crackle! It’s a very nice ending to the album, it wakes you up from Kendrick’s world with the rest of the world in front of you. Kendrick was doing dope shit before gkmc, but the two albums are back-to-back masterpieces.

SONGS ABOUT DOING THINGS VS. ACTUALLY DOING THINGS

Sylvie Graubard

Folk punk was the first music I found on my own. I was fourteen and painfully embarrassed by and/or terrified of basically everything. I am a very self-conscious person (also a compulsive over-sharer, but duh), so it took me years before I showed it to anyone. Early adolescence was strange, and really shitty, and I spent most of my energy feeling lame and hypocritical and perplexed. I had just switched from my public school to this pseudo-Socialist progressive school, and I felt weird about the fact that I had framed this as urgent enough for a family friend to agree to pay literally one hundred million dollars for me to learn about Marxist theory in the mountains. My beloved sister was away at Very Alternative Liberal Arts College and my new friends were cool, but I wanted to talk about CAPITALISM, and I wanted to learn how to BE BETTER, and they just wanted to smoke weed and play lawn games. Not that those aren’t totally valid activities, I was just kind of freaking out, and all my painfully earnest feelings were coupled with this crippling self-doubt and literal terror that made it impossible for me to have actual conversations about any of it. I wanted to run away—I almost did. But at least I had folk punk! My older sister had always been our pioneer—she was the reason I introduced myself as “passionate about emo and screamo” at day camp when I was eight, and she taught me that it was Cool And Important To Hate Your Peers Be26

cause They Don’t Like Bright Eyes in middle school. With her away doing whatever college kids do I was alone, and forced to fend for myself. Wikipedia is really fun, and from the page for the band Gogol Bordello (whose drummer went to my high school!) I got to ‘gypsy punk’ and then to ‘folk punk’. Through that and then various internet forums, I found all of my favorites: Defiance, Ohio, Ramshackle Glory, Andrew Jackson Jihad, Ghost Mice, ONSIND, Spoonboy, Rosa, Mischief Brew. They’re all pretty different but have generally similar radical politics. The genre is called “folk punk” because of the use of traditional folk instruments (like banjoes, upright basses, etc.) and styles to play punk music. It feels like music for farm punks, for people who value building things and self-sufficiency. Some people think that the marriage of the two is kind of strange, but it actually makes a lot of sense: DIY is really central to both genres, and I think the homemade and accessible qualities of folk punk help to bring the two genres together. Both can also rely heavily on lyrics and the message behind the music, which is a particularly important part of folk punk. I had just found my first zine on the internet (it’s called Politics is Not a Banana, and it’s really weird) and was kind of toying with the idea of radicalism and personal politics and wanting things to mean something bigger. This was music that told me how to

live my life, kind of, which was both comforting and terrifying! It was very much a part of a wider lifestyle, specifically a lifestyle that I lusted after but had absolutely no part in. I was not an anarchist. I went to boarding school! No matter how many of my teachers expressed contempt for representative democracy, private education is inherently hierarchical and capitalistic, duh. But I was obsessed with, or at least entranced by, this movement that not only encompassed everything I was feeling (confusion, anger, isolation) but also validated it. Basically all of my knowledge about anarchy was coming from products created by people who were hopping freight and getting face tats while I read Virginia Woolf and played ultimate Frisbee. So I listened to this music obsessively, learning all the words to the songs and starting to identify with things that had nothing to do with any of my lived experiences. After I graduated from high school I had a mini-crisis and decided I didn’t want to go to college. I was going to use my actions to back up my beliefs! Being better was going to make me feel better! My parents made me defer from school, telling me that I might change my mind and decide that I actually did want to go to Carleton (thanks Dad…), which seemed laughable to me at the time. I moved right outside Portland and worked on a farm, going into the city on the weekends. There were punk kids everywhere, in patched-up overalls, singing Ramshackle Glory lyrics as they biked by (“So I’ll dig up the dirt and I’ll throw down some seeds, cause the world needs more spinach, not more motherfuckers like me!”) or sprawled out on the street corners. I met a boy with an Andrew Jackson Jihad patch who wanted me to hop freight with him, who had a nihilism tattoo and whose house had a list of rules that included TRY HARDER and GET FUCKING CONSENT

hanging on the wall. He seemed perfect! I met his friends, and they knew the people in the bands I idolized! They told me that this one had sold out, that this one had ratted on his friend, that this one wore a tie now. They told me that I was a bad feminist because I was wearing a dress. I met his other friends, and they were junkies. I wanted to talk about politics, but they wanted to talk about getting drunk and breaking shit. What the fuck was going on? These people weren’t purer or better than me. It made me feel like everything I had wanted was dumb, and dirty, and empty, and most importantly that the music that had shaped my entire adolescence was not what I had thought it had been. Things got better! I left Portland and did more stuff, met other, cooler anarchists, found healthier and more intellectual scenes. I’m sure that exists in Portland, too, I just fell in with the wrong people. Also, not everything was disappointing: I met Spoonboy and he was so nice and cool and smart and totally hates the patriarchy! Regardless, that experience changed everything for me. I still think that the personal is political, and that the music you choose to support and listen to is an important statement, but I have learned, I guess, to be wary of over-aestheticizing and idealizing politics and lifestyles. Folk punk is still important to me, in some ways. I don’t listen to it that often, and I think a lot of it is kind of silly and trite, but I am so happy that I found it when I was a confused lil floundering teen. I’m not radical enough to not go here, but it taught me about politics and the existence of alternative values and lifestyles, which has shaped me irrevocably.

A Big Ears Wrap Up by A Noah Harrison

With a look of soft determination, guitarist Bryce Dessner of The National sat surrounded by the world renowned Kronos Quartet, the festival’s artist-in-residence, to perform a piece he wrote for the string quartet’s 40th anniversary. You could tell the quartet’s founder, David Harrington, used to selling out massive concert halls, took bemused pleasure in playing mere feet away from his audience members—many of whom had stuck around after a performance of mathrocker Tyondai Braxton’s new composition, HIVE Nunavut, CA native Tanya Tagaq belting her heart out to claim seats (later stands) at front and center of Knoxville’s clean-cut event space, The Standard. After a short transition with shrieks and wails and deep rhythmic croaks, period, Dessner left the stage to be replaced by making use of every corner of the Bijou Theatre. Tanya Tagaq, throat-singer superstar from NunWith her hand, she summoned ever-shifting landavut, northernmost territory of Canada. Over the scapes and all the good and evil within them; fear, billowing tension and release of the strings, Tagaq hatred, and ecstasy all unfolded from one another. yelped and whelped to a recorded folkloric narra- She evolved through a series of bodily positions, tive of a girl who spawns a litter of dog children. at one point crouching at the edge of the stage Two days earlier, Tagaq’s trio took the stage of the Bijou Theatre, equipped with violin, percussion, and electronics. After a gentle and charming introduction and a disclaimer that, “I’m always okay! Don’t be concerned,” Tagaq proceeded with most extreme display of human emotion I have ever seen on the musical stage. In this rawer and more improvised setting, Tagaq filled the hall 28

and extending her arm blindly out into her captivated audience. While the performance was highly self-expressive in nature, you got the feeling she was channeling something greater than herself. People, places, and periods far beyond physical reach wound into Tagaq’s story with a passion that transcended her mere body and spirit. It may be tempting to label the festival, brainchild

of Ashley Capps (of Bonnaroo fame), as a festival of the avant-garde, and it is, but the term does not paint the scope of the musical portrait. Big Ears can be described a festival for Serious musicians, and likewise, for Serious listeners. You won’t find the dayglo-fitted raver types or bad-trip-inducing crowds of Bonnaroo. But that’s not to say the performers aren’t out to put on a spectacle, to induce a frenzy of toetapping or headbanging—merely that the organizers relied on a sophisticated musical palate. As freakpop troubadour tUnE yArDs said about the lineup, “It feels like it came from my brain. But it didn’t.” Big Ears is the kind of place where Jamie XX can ooze funky eclecticism in a DJ set in anticipation his forthcoming album. The kind of place where Wu Man, the world’s premiere pipa player (a sort of Chinese lute) can shred alongside an adorably sinister orchestra of noisemaking children’s toys, courtesy of the Kronos Quartet. The kind of place where Perfume Genius can run through a series of balladic pop fragments with proud vulnerability. The kind of place where you can mentally position minimalist mastermind Terry Riley (a former artist-in-residence) alongside his contemporary progeny like Holly Herndon— fifty years of musical progress in forty-eight hours. You can always count on Big Ears to facilitate the kind of joyous and unexpected collaborations that keep cropping up over its four-year run. The festival constructs an ideal forum for artists to reinvent themselves, explore long-form composition, or experiment in multimedia. Between the vast and diverse Big Ears roster and its younger brother, the Hello City Fes-

tival, comprised of local acts, Knoxville had performances practically coming out of its ears. Even when I ventured to the Knoxville Museum of Art Saturday morning for a visual reprieve from my sonic surroundings (free of charge, by the way), I stumbled onto yet another Big Ears performance. There, ambient programmer Loscil was happily lulling his audience into a hypnagogic state in the atrium. Even for the unsuspecting museumgoer, his performance proved a fine soundtrack to the art browsing. Within a few hours of arriving in Knoxville, you’ll notice the city can more or less tell what’s going on, making the festival experience all the more accommodating; Big Ears banners line the streets, and restaurants start serving “Big Ears specials,” whatever those are. Amidst the larger than expected groups of people dotting the squares and storefronts, you start to notice folk who look they have music running in their veins: robust, Viking-like granddads and bearded ramblers who drove three-hundred miles to sleep in their pickups truck hotels on the top levels of parking decks. With a keen eye, you’ll even spot a performers or three strolling about or

tUnE yArDs hero Merrill Garbus at the drums 29

stopping off for pint. The event staff was nice val could make such comprehensive use of as can be, and the same goes for the various the Knoxville’s resources is sort of miracle in venue staffs: the smiling snow-haired door itself. women of absurdly ornate Tennessee Theatre, the accident-response team (aka secuCompared with last year’s festival, Big Ears rity) at the sleek and practical Standard. And 2015 housed fewer rock-centric acts—take moving from 2014’s lateone venue night jam to venue is a by Televibreeze. The sion’s or the midsized city whacked-out of Knoxville quartet of presents a John Cale. positively This time walkable arearound, Big na for a festiEars took val of this size on a more and caliber; classical you’ll never bend, given find yourself the bevy of traveling Kronos colmore than fiflaborations teen minutes or Max between Richter and Minneapolis trio The Bad Plus shows. For the Knoxthe wheel-prone commuters, Big Ears offers ville Symphony Orchestra’s Vivaldi renditions. bike rentals and even provides your first That said, the overall breadth of the lineup Uber ride on the house. diminished not a bit, and every seminal exploration of 2014 had a counterpart in 2015 If I had one complaint about the festival, (or as close as one would dare to get in the it would be that the venue choice did not realm of experimental music). For instance, always suit the performance. At the Tenneslast year’s skull-detonating maxi-minimal see Theatre, tUnE-yArDs, aka Merrill Garbus performance by Tim Hecker was met by and crew, proved with every ounce their this year’s brutally meditative onslaught by being that are the real thing, crafting some programmer and guitarist Ben Frost, sandof the most infectious hooks of the festival. wiched by two drumming accomplices. Last Still, she had to beckon her audience out of year’s paper-thin layers of jazz, provided their comfy seating, and while we graciously by Dawn of MIDI were met by Minneapolis complied, we might have more comfortably trio The Bad Plus’ thrilling re-imagination of boogied down in the likes of The Standard. Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring. Truly, the unMeanwhile, Kronos Quartet’s performances abashed variation that Big Ears brings to the with Tanya Tagaq and Bryce Dessner at The table means that all fans, regardless of their Standard might have fit better in the Tennes- background, can find sounds both familiar see Theatre. Still, given the high density of and radically different to fill their ears. I can shows and difficulty of accommodating the guarantee that even the most well informed schedules of the parties involved, all may attendees will walk away from the festival be forgiven. Indeed, the fact that the festiwith newfound curiosities about musical fac30

Living with a roommate who likes music (aka this ucking kid) by Jamie Holiss Hello. Do you know about bands such as Sunn 0))), Merzbow, and 3oh3? If you are reading this magazine, then you probably do, you miserable ingrate. My name is Jamie Holis – I’m repeating myself because I know you have short term memory from all the drugs – and I am a roommate of a writer for this publication. (Hint: his first name rhymes with “DICKsco,” and his last name rhymes with “DICKward”). Before I had this person as my roommate, my life was okay. I was able to listen to Taylor Swift and Maroon 5 without worrying about whether or not my audio quality was at least 320kbps mp3. Before I had this roommate, I wanted to listen to music that made me feel good about myself, rather than music which sounded like sad vacuum cleaners. Because of my shitty roommate, my ability to relate to a significant portion of the population was lost. The first thing my roommate showed me was “shewgais.” What a terrible name. Why are the performers staring at the ground looking sad? I want to see their smiling faces. You can tell from the recordings that they must have been looking down and not at their music equipment because if they were looking at their music equipment, they’d be able to see that it SOUNDS LIKE GARBAGE. Bullet For My Valentine is such a terrible band. Kevin Shields is such a sad man. He just whines all the time with a really high pitched voice. He sounds nothing like Dwayne the Rock Johnson, Macho Man Randy Savage, or any other WWE Wrestler. Lordy, lordy, lord. Next, my roommate showed me Sunn 0))). Jesus Christ. I thought Bullet for my Valentine was bad, but WOWEE. This is literally

so sad. If Bullet for My Valentine was a Sad Vacuum Cleaner, then oh boy, THIS BAND WAS THE SADDEST VACUUM CLEANER I’ve ever seen. I was worried that this Vacuum was going through divorce. Maybe lost out on the stocks. Oh geez. The kids these days. First, there is shoegaze, then Noise, then Vaporwave, where does it end? One time I was walking to the LDC, and I was whistling “Shake It Off” by Taylor Swift (aka one of the HAPPIEST songs that I know), and my roommate stops me and says “YOU’RE INTO WHISTLECORE? DUDE I’M INTO WHISTLECORE TOO!” and this he showed me this one song about shooting up a school, and it made me feel not good. Not to mention, this “guy” makes music as well. But he doesn’t make nice sounding music like the good musicians that I like. What a character. One time, I was returning from an exam, and I had had a rough day, and I open my room, and do you know what I see? This motherfucker was playing a text-to-speech of Mien Kampf! When I asked him what it was, he replied “Nazicore.” I Responded “Dear Roommate, that is anti-Semitic and a very offensive thing to say.” Do you know how he responded? He just stared me in the eyes and said, “You’re gonna call me offensive while your scarfing down that big Mac in your fucking Toyota with you god damn SheepPhone? Have you even heard of Monsanto?” It just seems like there is no end in sight. First he’s listening to sad vacuums and then he’s talking about FLAC, and I just don’t know what to say. You quote unquote music lovers are really something else. Why can’t you listen to nicer music? You know? Maybe you’d cheer up a bit and not be so sad at parties. 31

Music and Ice Cream by FRANCINE HAYWARD

Throughout my childhood, my dad had a fantastic career in what was then known simply as “the record business.“ One of the best perks of the job was that Dad was able to acquire, through his business contacts, tickets to any concert. One night Dad was particularly excited about tickets for a fabulous act. Dad just knew that the concert was going to be a watershed event. He wanted me and my sister, Marlene, to see this show because the group was so incredible, and well, we’d want to tell our children about it someday. Marlene and I were easily convinced, not merely because we were obedient, but because we were really young. At single digit ages, we were rather incapable of putting up much of an argument. And why would we? The concert meant staying up well past our bedtime. I can’t remember why my parents couldn’t take us. In my memory, my mom was about to give birth to one of my younger siblings. Or maybe she was recovering from childbirth? Whatever! Aunt Nancy, my mom’s twin, was called. There were four tickets. Would Nancy and her beau, a man we called Uncle John, take Marlene and me? At the time, Uncle John was not officially our uncle because he had not yet married, nor even proposed, to my Aunt Nancy. It would be a few more years before all would be official. John was a civil engineer. He worked on construction sites and helped build real things. Though he and my dad would be friends, John thought so very differently than my dad, the record executive. Nancy asked John three times before he agreed to take us. I suspect that on some level, our future Uncle John just didn’t think the concert would be his scene. The concert was a warm summer night. The anguished screams of teenage girls filled Shea Stadium. It was nearly impossible to hear the music. Marlene and I did our best to take in the scene. Then things got really interesting: Marlene spied, far in the distance, a man selling ice cream. Could we get some? Aunt Nancy said yes. We waved and signaled our desire to buy. But the vendor could not get through the crowds. Uncle John then valiantly volunteered to get us ice cream, even though this meant wading through a tidal wave of screaming humanity. Knowing ice cream was on the way, the concert became so much more enjoyable. Though we waited patiently, it seemed like days, and probably was 35 or more minutes, before Uncle John returned. He was a hero to us! The ice cream man had only one Dixie cup left, not the two we were expecting. I, being the eldest sister decided that Marlene, the younger, should have the ice cream. I’m sure she offered me a taste but really it was fine that she have it. It was pretty melted anyway. I’ll always be indebted to Uncle John, who died last week, for taking us to see The Beatles. Though early in the phenomena that decades later would be called the Culture Wars, the demarcation would soon be visible. There would be the hippie protesters on one side. On the other, hard working, regular folks, like John. John’s willingness to put himself among the “other,” in this case a whole bunch of people with whom he didn’t think he’d have much in common, is inspiring to me, and according to new research, increasingly rare in American life. May music always provide an opportunity for people to come together, get acquainted and enjoy. But if for some reason the music doesn’t do it for you, I suggest you try the ice cream.

I call myself an idiot because I know very little about black metal. Thus it’s a little bit unfair for me to suggest that I am capable of having a really useful discussion on whether or not Liturgy is a “real” black metal band or not, but since my exposure to them, I have found them to be an interesting topic of conversation.

But, HHH’s flagrant, philosophical masturbation aside, Liturgy makes interesting music. It definitely has some elements of Metal, and it is certainly brutal in many ways, but it feels different from a lot of other Black Metal I’ve heard. In some senses, it sounds literally very different (as is the case with their new album The Ark Work), but a lot of the time the real difference is Perhaps that has more to do with Hunter stylistic. Liturgy doesn’t sound like this negHunt Hendrix’s somewhat cavalier opinions ative-medieval-Satan nonsense; its sounds on Black Metal rather than the actual sound a lot more positive and triumphant, a litof the music. Last issue (way back in winter tle bit like “Also Sprach Zarathustra.” Not term) NoFi ran a copy of HHH’s controliterally of course, but it has this similar kind versial manifesto entitled “Transcendental of existential vibe. When you throw in LitBlack Metal.” Like any good piece of phiurgy’s general postmodern weirdness and losophy, a large portion of the document use of digital instrumentation (especially is mostly unreadable, yet intriguing to a on The Ark Work), it is actually a sound that fault. Underneath his vague constructions Black Metal hasn’t been serving up before. and somewhat obtuse generalizations (for In fact, not a lot of ROCK bands in general instance, he implies that Black Metal from have that kind of aesthetic. Liturgy are makSweden sounds lame because the country ing some actually interesting music, and doesn’t have enough variation in climate even if it’s not good (like quite a bit of The throughout the year), there are some legit- Ark Work), it’s certainly experimental. imately interesting ideas buried in there. In the paper, he sort of problematizes the So for that reason, I give Liturgy a thumbs whole question of “brutality” and whether up. I don’t give HHH a thumbs up because the pursuit of “brutality” as an end in itself it’s pretty obvious that when left to his own can ever be fully realized. Admittedly, this devices, he mostly sucks shit (see “Vitriol” whole discourse comes off as hilarious, on The Ark Work), but Aesthetica is a great because it’s literally a discussion about how album, and whether or not its Black Metal, you tried so hard, and got so far, but in the it’s still awesome as shit. end, you still weren’t brutal enough. 33

No Fidelity Spring 2015 Issue 1

Articles inside

Hayward..............Music and Ice Cream

Hollis...................Living With a Roomate Who Likes Music

Harrison..............A Big Ears Wrap Up

Eisenthal............Girl in a Band and Revisiting Sonic Youth

McNeely.............1D on the 1Decline

Begley................Post Grad Playlist

Harrison.............In Defense of Clarence Clarity

Staff...................New Music Reviews

Kutikkad.............A Vindication of David Archuleta

Begley................One Year of No Fidelity

Palmer................Top 14 Kanye Lyrics