No Fidelity Fall 2014 Issue 2

The Table of Contents:

2.........................................................Interpol’s “PDA” by Ian Mercer 3................................................”A Compilation” by Madeline Garcia 4....................................Cellphones at Concerts by A. Noah Harrison 5...................“Missed Connections” by David Demark & Josie Naron 6...........................................................................New Music Reviews 10......“What I Talk About When I Talk About Emo” by David Demark 13.........................................“Breaking the Glass” by Alex Adamczyk 14.........“Five Albums I’ve Been Enjoying This Term” by Alex Tippett 16......................”Sitting Down with Flux Duckling” by Dan Bollinger 18....“How I Won Twitter Without Anyone Noticing” by Ayana Lance 20...........................“Hummingbird: Parts 2 & 3” by Henry Southwick 22.............An AIM Exploration from Cisco Hayward & David Demark 25.............................. “Menomena: Continued” by A. Noah Harrison 26............”The Life, Times, and Demise of Indie Folk” by Lucas Rossi 29...............................”Head to Head: Round 5” by Mercer & Pickart 30.........................................“It’s Videogame Music!” by Bob Otsuka 32..............................................”In Defense of ICP” by Thomas Hiura 35...”Club Bangers 2003-2007” by Gisell Calderon & Jonathan Chow 36...”Female Musicians I Would Body Swap With” by Cisco Hayward 38.............................................................................Upcoming Shows 39..........”The Art Section” featuring Otsuka, Rossi, Ruffer, & Watson It’s been a crazy couple of weeks for the NO FIDELITY team. We’ve produced our longest issue yet (four extra pages!) with 26 features from our largest staff ever. NF is a real labor of love, and we hope that you enjoy reading our handiwork as much as we enjoyed making it!

Fuck Fadeouts, Ian Mercer Editor-In-Chief

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Presented Without Comment by David DeMark and Josie Naron

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Reviews Caribou: Our Love On Dan Snaith’s latest record as Caribou, he retains the punchy synths and ethereal vocals that made Swim such an incredible record while simultaneously intertwining feelings of love and loss.

Yet, these emotions emerge from the bass, deftly placed samples, and soft vocals that make this the best crafted Caribou album to date. While Swim offered the groovy 80s bass and cowbell on tracks like “Odessa” and “Leave House,” many of the songs were stretched and left bare. With Our Love, Snaith fills these previous voids with the minimal loops and growing synths that envelop the listener even more than his previous material. This further engagement with the listener is key for Snaith, since he uses this record to convey emotions and thoughts that are comparatively lacking in other Caribou records. This elevated level of communication makes Our Love a more accessible and revealing record all while retaining the craftsmanship that defined his previous records. In pursuing this accessibility, Our Love does lack the experimentation that his other records are known for, but it is a necessary sacrifice.

(Look on Pitchfork for a number score)

-- Alex Adamczyk

Zammuto: Anchor Nick Zammuto, one half of legendary glitch-hop meditation outfit The Books, returns with his sophomore release, Anchor. With The Books, Zammuto created a unique aesthetic of sample-based collage that framed their melodies in an almost spiritual aura. When Zammuto embarked on his solo career, he set out with a simple goal: to make music that could actually be played by humans.

His self-titled 2012 debut showcased his pop hooks, and while enjoyable, felt less cathartic than the musical and verbal dissociation of The Books. Last summer’s single “Great Equator” marked Zammuto’s retreat into a subtler, near-Booksian sonicsphere, with a pleasant though not particularly evocative melody. Anchor’s release proves that Zammuto intends to keep pushing the envelope, though in some unexpected ways, notably his forays into synth pop. Certain tracks, with their vocal distortion and Pac-Man synth lines, sound almost like Black Moth Super Rainbow songs. “Hegemony” is the standout here - kicking off with a short prog metal breakdown, it succumbs to a tangle of vocal harmonies eerily like those of Dirty Projectors. Zammuto seems to be taking a direction not unlike Son Lux, applying chamber composition techniques to an electronic pop ensemble. At times, we near chrome-plated power EDM, while at others, he delves meticulously into quantum soundscapes. Sadly, beginning with abomination that is “IO” - a Zammuto doing Jack White doing new wave type-thing—the album falls off and never recovers.

Ultimately, when Zammuto succeeds, he does so with a balance of gratifying hooks and groovy puzzle-piece beats. Especially apparent here is that lyrics were never the focus of his music. Anchor does exhibit increased musical maturity from his last release - I mean, “Zebra Butt…” - but his artistic aims are nowhere near as esoteric as on any of the four mystical Books records, and that’s something I cannot let go of. There are some fine moments on Anchor, but no real consistency. Zammuto is nothing short of a compositional genius, but a return to form could do him enormous good.

-- A. Noah Harrison 6

The Barr Brothers: Sleeping Operator Alright, so picture this: it was Labor Day Weekend in Seattle and I was sixteen years old, squashed between my best friend and some dude who had just stumbled over from the beer garden, watching a man play a bicycle wheel with a violin bow. These were The Barr Brothers (or, as NPR calls them, “a band of friends and neighbors”), a Canadian act I accidentally came across that weekend. I’m a sucker for layered shit, so it’s not surprising that I was instantly intrigued by the whole bicycle wheel situation. It was a sound unlike anything I had heard in concert before, scratchy like an old record but smooth like the sound guitarists’ fingers make between chord changes. To get the full effect, I suggest you put down this article right now and listen to ‘Beggar in the Morning.’ Just the intro will do it.

But anyway, yes, The Barr Brothers. This small act from Canada is comprised of Andrew and Brad (lead vocalist) Barr alongside “vibes-maker” Andres Vial and harpist Sarah Page. They’ve been together since 2011 and have produced two full albums: ‘The Barr Brothers’ and ‘Sleeping Operator.’

I find The Barr Brothers to be like the Chex Mix of bands: always a safe choice to bring out in your room when people-you-sort-of-know-butmostly-want-to impress / become-friends-with are there, as well as a go-to when it’s one in the morning and you’re wondering if you should start working. I will always cry when I hear ‘Beggar in the Morning,’ and ‘Give the Devil Back His Heart’ and ‘Lord I Can’t Keep from Crying’ are like their Canadian lovechildren with The Black Keys. Their first album is a gem to me, full of comfort-induced acoustic licks and odd mechanical whirring noises. Add golden harp sounds and I’m basically salivating. It’s comforting, hypnotic and the mellow-est of mellow. So imagine my insane joy when I learned a new album, Sleeping Operator, would be out October 7th.

I had pretty high expectations for this album after my experience with the first one, and

while it pains me to say that it isn’t nearly as good as the original, it’s still definitely worth a listen.

Some of the tracks really are standout quality. The first, ‘Static Orphans,’ sounds like it should be in an online fantasy game, which is weird but also really intriguing? In typical Barr Brothers style, it transitions seamlessly into track 2, ‘Love Ain’t Enough,’ aka the track WHERE MY DREAMS STARTED TO COME TRUE. The music soars and swells and I’m sure if I saw them perform this track live I could feel it in my very soul. ‘Even The Darkness Has Arms’ is my new ‘Beggar in the Morning,’ a return to their folk roots. ‘England’ is a really nice I-was-just-destroyed-by-my-calc-exam-last-period-I-need-to-curl-up-in-the-fetal-position-and-sob song, while ‘Valhallas’ is a refreshing rendition of your typical “I love acoustic! I love life! I love daisy chains!” track.

Other tracks are nice too, but… that’s just it. They’re nice. Sleeping Operator lacks the truly diverse range that was very apparent in ‘The Barr Brothers.’ I found too many tracks on here that reminded me more of other songs rather than being originally memorable, which is disappointing but maybe inevitable.

Overall, the album as a whole wasn’t as cohesive as the first (plus I mean I’m biased), but is still chock full of the Brother’s typical sweet notes and golden harps, still deeply rooted in folk with some of the chillest electric guitar and raspiest percussion.

My advice? Sleeping Operator has some gems, but if you’re new to the Barr Brothers and want the best introduction to their stuff then their self-titled LP is the one for you. If you’re even more inclined, check out the brother’s original band, The Slip.

Oh, and heads up! They’ll be in Minneapolis (Cedar Cultural Center) November 15th!

-- Katie Williams

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Julian Casablancas and The Voidz: Tyranny If you’re a Strokes fan, you’ve probably been pretty upset with the band lately. After touring to promote their fourth album Angles in 2011, they receded to the studio for a couple of years and released 2013’s Comedown Machine with zero promotion—no pictures, no TV appearances, no interviews, no shows, and no tours. ’Twas a dark time for Strokes lovers. Finally, they came back together and played a grand total of four shows in 2014. I know, I’m pissed too. Even worse, if you’ve been paying attention to music news, Julian Casablancas said in an interview with Rolling Stone magazine that he doesn’t “feel anything” when singing older Strokes material. Crushing. Thankfully, he took to Twitter to clear things up, saying that “I very much enjoy playing with [the Strokes]!” Phew!

Let’s be honest though, Julian must be sick of singing “Please don’t slow me down, if I’m going too fast!” night after night, all over the world. He’s probably been growing bored of the Strokes’ hits for some time now. The same thing happens to all band members after some time, and in response, they launch their solo career and start playing with other musicians. Hence, the birth of Julian Casablancas + the Voidz, consisting of Jeramy “Beardo” Gritter (guitar), Amir Yaghmai (guitar), Jake Bercovici (bass/synths), Alex Carapetis (percussion), and Jeff Kite (keys). I expect them to be the hottest boy band of 2015. After making their live debut at Governor’s Ball early this summer, they released their debut album Tyranny on September 23.

Right off the bat, it doesn’t sound like the Strokes at all. Maybe, maybe, it contains echoes of Comedown Machine, but those echoes are heavier and more outlandish. It sounds a little like Julian’s 2009 solo album Phrazes for the Young, but honestly, it’s a stretch to make any comparison at all.

I like calling it Julian’s very own Yeezus, in light of the fact that he pretty much did what ever the fuck he wanted on it. Musically, there actually are similarities between Yeezy’s latest album and Tyranny— they both push the boundaries of music and con-

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tain complex and unorthodox beats and rhythms, and I would imagine it is not easy to sing/rap over them.

The album did not appeal to me at all the first listen through, but after the second and third, I came to appreciate it. As you can imagine, I’ve been listening to Tyranny quite a bit in order to write an educated review of it, and I’m still not bored of it—it gets better with every listen.

The first single released was “Human Sadness”, a near eleven minute song with the oddest structure. It starts off quiet and melancholy as you would expect, but around three minutes in, there’s this scary and maniacal laughter, and once you’re five minutes in, you’re pretty much listening to a different song. It was the perfect track to release as the band’s first single, foreshadowing what was to come with the full album. Soon after, the music video for “Where No Eagles Fly” was released, which is just something else. It gives a good visual representation of what the album is supposed to evoke, a kind of post-apocalyptic sense of doom and emptiness. Directed by one of the guitarists Beardo, it features the strange thing you would see in a found footage horror film and just overall dark images of the band: blood even drips down the lens as we get a nice close up of Julian’s uvula. The song also features a sick bass line.

The album flows seamlessly from one song to the next, but that’s not to say that each track doesn’t stand well on its own. I like the singles, but my personal favorites are “Business Dog” and “Crunch Punch”. When the drums come in on “Business Dog”, it’s just…whoa. There’s also a dope fill around halfway through the song that’s bound to cause a couple eargasms for those of you out there that love a nasty drum fill. The percussion in “Father Electricity” sounds like an entire population of indigenous islanders smacking away.

That’s probably one of the best features of Tyranny—Alex Carapetis’s percussion work (FUN FACT: he filled in for sickly Nine Inch Nails drummer Ilan Rubin on one of their tours). continued on next page...

“Crunch Punch” starts off with a woman giving a tragic news report that sounds like a zombie outbreak has just occurred. The song has barely established its melody when all of a sudden the band performs a truly surprising stop-start; they just cease playing and you’re like “What’s going on?!?”, which makes the resumption of playing so satisfying. There’s a video of the band performing the song at Governor’s Ball on YouTube—check it out!

Overall, Tyranny is an acquired taste. It definitely falls under the category of “Music that I listen to by myself”. I still haven’t showed any songs to my friends for fear that they will cower like a frightened rabbit, cornered by the weird wolf that is this album. If you fancy yourself as one who enjoys non-traditional music, this album is certainly for you. It’s definitely an indicator of the change Julian Casablancas is going through.

Sorry, Strokes fans, but you’ll have to look elsewhere for something that sounds like Is This It,

because you’re not going to get it from Julian— he’s moved on. It makes me sad too, but the Strokes are certainly winding down, with the other members of the band also pursuing solo projects.

But you have to respect a man who isn’t afraid to make his music as strange as he wants to in an age where popular music is literally engineered to sound all the same. Julian may have been one of the saviors of rock and roll and a trailblazer for indie rock, but thirteen years later, he is exploring the furthest realms of music. As he sings in “Where No Eagles Fly”, “the rhythm is for you but the song is for me”, meaning Julian doesn’t give a rat’s ass about making music that is catchy or even accessible to the casual listener. You go Julian! If you like the album, be sure to see JC + the Voidz at First Ave in Minneapolis November 17. I know I’ll be there.

-- Julian Palmer

Pearl Jam: 2014 Tour It has been my mission over the years to see as many amazing bands as I possibly can. I’ve done a pretty handsome job in only 21 years of living and on a limited salary. For about six years now, Pearl Jam has been on the list, so when the venerable Pat Gordon informed me of their upcoming tour, I marked the date to buy tickets. I was five minutes late to purchasing the tickets at 10am on a Friday morning, and Ticketmaster wasn’t working. I refreshed it for a solid 30 minutes before giving up and paying the higher price of scalped tickets. As such, it was even more important to me that Pearl Jam fulfill the expectations I set before them.

And they fuckin’ killed it. The concert was just over three hours long and they played 32 songs. My seats were shit and I was pretty far away, but the whole thing was beautiful. Instead of taking a more classic approach of starting fast and trying to maintain a high level of energy throughout the whole concert, the band started slow, built over the first sixteen songs to a ten-minute rendition of “Rearview Mirror,” and then slowed down again for the first encore. Finally, they blew the house down with the second encore, playing “Imagine” by John Lennon and “Alive” and “Betterman” back to back. They even brought a Minnesotan doctor out on stage to raise awareness for a special form of childhood bone marrow disorder. If I had one criticism, I would say that they shouldn’t have finished so slowly. They took a lot of high-energy songs and then dropped off with the long and slow “Indifference.” Maybe that was the more artful thing to do, but I wanted to keep jumping up and down.

Overall, the experience was absolutely fantastic, and Pearl Jam never disappoints.

-- Henry Southwick 9

What I Talk About When I Talk About Emo An Essay by

If you read my article on Fuck Your Emotional Bullshit last year, are aware of my internet presence, or have had a conversation about music (or really anything else) with me in the last twenty months or so, you’re probably all-too-aware of my affinity for emo. More often than not, the utterance of that word is an invitation for a confused or incredulous response, be it verbal or in facial expression.

Thanks in part to the associations attached to that word in the early years of the current millennium and in part to an American cultural disdain for emotional openness, emo has become somewhat of a dirty word. If this piece distances the music from the stigma, that would be a positive outcome, but it would be a mistake to view that objective as this piece’s singular mission. Rather, it should be thought of as a burden, a prerequisite to a real discussion of what makes emo what it is. Join me reader, as we ride the angst-train to sad-town and explore what makes emo as powerful as it is to those who connect to it.

There’s no way around it: this is inherently at least partially a conversation about genre. Genre is a nebulous fucking concept, with any attempt at discussion about it marred by shifting definitions, assertions of subjective observation as fact, and attempts to segment music into neat boxes of congruence. In essence, genre is a one-dimensional concept poorly fitted to analyze an infinite-dimensional space. However, considering that this piece is on the surface about a specific genre of music, it is a concept that is impossible to avoid. I’m not really interested in the question of whether My Chemical Romance or Mayday Parade or [insert popular poppunk or pop-metal band] is emo, but inevita10

David Demark

bly, that question will come up (to answer in brief: they aren’t emo as I define it but other people probably would call it that and I don’t fuckin own the word, shit). And of course, as long as the topic of genre is inescapable, my conception of emo is certainly shaped by musical trends that could be said to constitute a self-contained genre. For the most part, what I know as emo comes from the Midwestern emo movement of the mid-to-late 1990’s and the music that movement inspired. That said, my knowledge of the genre is very much incomplete, and this should not be seen as a survey but rather an exploration.

The album that kick-started both the movement as well as my love of emo, Sunny Day Real Estate’s Diary, serves as a fantastic example of the most basic, fundamental component that all music under the emo label shares: the bleeding heart. Through each song (with the exception of the momentously tedious “Pheurton Skeurto,” a song I generally try to pretend does not exist), the pain in singer Jeremy Enigk’s voice is almost tangible in its visceral spirit.

The lyrics are largely fragments of thought rather than coherent expressions of narrative or exposition, bits of sentiment left in a blender. Through all, Enigk makes no attempt to hide his feelings, he bares all.

Without that complete openness, that refusal to sugarcoat or ignore emotion, “emo” or “emotional music” would not be emo. The album title Diary works as a piece of foreshadowing of what would come from those associated with and inspired by Sunny Day Real Estate’s output. Emo is inherently extremely personal to those creating it, and more often than not the music and lyrics come off as written more for the artist than the audience.

“Diary” is also a descriptive term for the structure the music often takes. While ironically not the case on most songs from Diary itself, much of emo is near-structureless, abandoning the traditional verse-chorus-verse format in favor of long meandering song-manifestos. This meandering aspect is also often reflected in the instrumental component of the music: a large part of emo is often referred to as “twinklecore” for the winding, noodling paths the guitar takes. This lends an aesthetic of narrative: in the guitar parts there is a story, one that is often non-repetitive and follows the song down its road.

However, it would be a mistake to assume that the story has an end. Emo is questions without answers, stories with no endings. That’s because of the other fundamental, underlying component of the “spirit of emo”: a focus on the experience of feeling itself rather than the events that caused that feeling.

To illustrate this, let’s take a look at the lyrics to Penfold’s “Travelling Theory” off their beautiful debut EP Amateurs and Professionals:

I can still remember the picture on the postcard (that you sent me) of green fields and silos And I used to pretend that I could see you just like you were watching me and every move I made Every step I took Every train I rode Every time I looked for you but could never find you So I put you on my wall and spent the days waiting for you there Is it cold out where you live?

Is it so far where you live?

If silence breaks and I let go, I’ll put my ear up to hear if you’ve finally come to save me If I’ve been wrong to care so much then what am I to do now What am I to do now I hung it on my wall and looked for you there every night to see if you were waiting to wave

Rarely is an emo song directly about a break-up; instead they usually talk around them, describing the experience of the artist since then. In the example above, note the questions the song centers around: “Is it cold out where you live? Is it so far where you live?” He doesn’t ask these questions in hopes of finding out if it really is cold where the “you” in question is, but rather to express the emotion behind that. This is a story not grounded in fantasy or anger, but rather in reality and self-reflection. That self-reflection is necessary; it isn’t enough just to tell the world that you feel sad. For it to be an effective piece

of emo, there must be subtlety and depth to that sadness. Otherwise, how can the listener be expected to experience it for you? When I say communicating the emotion itself, I don’t just mean stating its presence, I mean drawing up the empathy necessary in the listener for them to feel it with you. It is that direct transfer of sentimental energy that makes emo so appealing to me in the first place, that desperate reaching out to be understood. In listening, not only is the audience benefitting from the music, they are playing a vital role in the process of expression and healing for the artist.

It makes a lot of sense that quite a bit of emo has romantic relationships and their ends as its lyrical bread and butter. As turbulent, traumatic, and abrupt as they often are, they are a natural beacon for charged or aimless emotion. However, emo’s scope is not limited to the romantic. Take Merchant Ships’ EP For Cameron. Rather than romantic relationships, For Cameron is an album about family, friendship and the eventuality of death. The album drifts through metaphor and memory, expressing raw regret and sorrow over a family falling apart and the friends the narrator will never see again. On its spoken-word centerpiece “Sleep Patterns”, the narrator describes being forced to confront death and turbulence alongside a younger relative (little brother?) named Gary at levels both isolated and intimate (seeing a corpse carried out of an ambulance) and immense (the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Center towers),

before recounting a dream in which the next and last few years of his life are laid out in front of him, terminating with his death in a violent car crash. It ends with his trembling voice uttering “I have no idea... I am afraid.”

It’s a moment of brutal rawness and honesty, to the point of being uncomfortable for the listener. It’s that discomfort that makes emo inherently unpopular music. To achieve popularity in this music landscape, one must appeal to some sort of common denominator, and considering the aforementioned fear of emotion in today’s America, nothing that revealing could possibly rise to the top of the charts. Emo is music for those with emotion to spare, those who need direction to tie their angst to, and while that is a small subset of the American population, there’s a damned good reason it resonates so hard with those it resonates with.

Crystal Castles, an electronic-punk duo from Toronto, broke up the other week just as one would expect them to. Alice Glass, the band’s overtly aggressive front-woman left a simple message on Facebook noting that her art and self-expression was “[no longer] possible within CC.” For many, this confused. While long-time fans have witnessed the evolution of the band throughout their three albums (called I, II, and III), anyone who witnessed Glass’ crazed antics live could tell that Crystal Castles is still the evolution of punk.

In 2003, Glass lived in Toronto with her punk band Fetus Fatale while Ethan Kath, the band’s second member, played with Kill Cheerleader, another Toronto punk group. The two met accidentally and started recording soon after, but by adding electronic elements, circuit bending, and repetitive drum loops, their music evolved. One of the band’s first singles, “Alice Practice”, at first sounds like typical abrasive video-game electronica, but Glass’ screaming and Kath’s key work make the listener wonder: what genre have these two created? Rather than following the traditional punk routes that their previous bands followed, Crystal Castles actually experimented and moved beyond their anarchist squatting communities and small rock shows. Their early shows contained all the elements that one would expect from a small Toronto punk band, but as the duo garnered more and more fame, they retained the same “values” that defined them from the beginning.

Transitioning into their second album II, Crystal Castles had travelled the world, disrupted the 2008 Glastonbury Festival, and beaten numerous fans at various shows. Yet, throughout this

entire process, Crystal Castles remained almost entirely secret. The duo resisted interviews and no one knew their true names. This intentional reclusiveness enabled the band to naturally evolve their sound, another element that is lacking in the “traditional punk” scene. While some may argue that today’s punk is modern and evolving, it is all essentially the same. I am a punk fan, but Crystal Castles’ ability to innovate while retaining their defining elements enabled them to transcend the Toronto punk circles they were previously associated with. II incorporated shoegaze and refined electronic synths while still retaining the punch and raw energy that the band introduced on I. For fans around the world, the Crystal Castles live show will be missed the most. Like the band’s music, Crystal Castle’s live show evolved with their music, even as venue size and publicity increased. When I saw Crystal Castles in May of 2013, it was clear that the band had moved beyond the Canadian basement shows they used to play.

As Ethan Kath triggered the drones on III’s opening track “Plague”, Alice Glass stumbled across the stage, bathed in red light. As she rose to the microphone, the crowd followed suit. Glass was the ringleader, commanding the audience every step of the way. As she climbed over the crowd, screamed into her microphone, and sprayed the equally aggressive crowd with her whiskey she made it clear that Crystal Castles was something more than “punk.” The band is no more, and yes, my prediction was wrong. Crystal Castles were the evolution of punk for the past few years, but now it is time to move on.

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Five Albums I’ve Been Enjoying This Term That You Might Like Too

By Alex Tippett

Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti - Before Today (2010) Ariel Pink takes every pop music trope your mom, dad, and favorite advertising executive love and skewers them mercilessly. On each of the songs on this album bits and pieces of coherent bubble gum pop songs come in, only to be interrupted by different pop cliches or drowned out by static and nonsensical lyrics. The lead single “Round and Round” is interrupted by a ringing phone, while “L’etat (Acc. to the Widow’s maid)” is punctuated by the occasional childlike scream. Yet these interruptions are never abrasive - instead they add character to these already colorful songs. By manipulating and pasting together such a variety of sounds, Ariel Pink creates a fascinating pastiche that remains constantly engaging due to its schizophrenic nature.

Favorite Songs – Beverly Kills, Fright Night (Nevermore)

Talking Heads – Remain in Light (1980) Their fourth studio album, Remain in Light is widely seen as the Talking Heads’ best work. A revolutionary album that fused African poly-rhythms with pop music for the first time, Remain in Light is incredibly catchy and emotional album. Most of the album is composed of pulsating and driving jams that are overlaid with David Byrne’s typical cryptic lyrics, heavily resembling James Murphy’s performances with LCD Soundsystem. Byrne’s tortured performance combined with these driving grooves lends Remain in Light a terrible sense of urgency that is only slightly assuaged by slower tracks like “Once in a Lifetime.” Thanks to Brain Eno’s production there is real clarity in this album. Even as the jams grow increasingly complex and intricate, each instrument is given a large amount of space within the mix allowing you to hear and appreciate various subtleties. Remain in Light is a classic album for a reason and you should probably take sometime to listen to it.

Favorite Tracks – Born Under Punches (The Heat Goes On), Houses in Motion

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Alex G – DSU (2014) Alex G is a 21 year old singer-songwriter from Philadelphia and DSU is his breakout album.

A lo-fi guitar based bedroom rock album in the vein of The Microphones/Mount Erie, or The Antlers’ In the Attic of the Universe, DSU is incredibly simple yet evocative. Most of the songs on this album fall short of the two minute mark, yet their simplicity and understatement allows them to pack an emotional punch. Alex G’s production, while muddy at times, incorporates interesting flourishes that keep the album from sounding like any other college kid with a microphone and a guitar. The songs “Axesteel” and “Rejoyce” in particular stand out, the first due to its use of a looped scream as a motif throughout the song, and the second thanks to to the wonked out guitar effects during the first few seconds. The album as a whole is extremely well written and worth a listen.

Favorite Tracks – Boy, Harvey

Fela Kuti - Afrodisiac (1973) When Brian Eno and David Byrne were writing Remain In Light, one of the albums they listened constantly to, and sought to emulate, was Fela Kuti’s Afrodisiac. Fela Kuti was the creator of the genre of Afro-beat, a fusion of Jazz, Funk, psychedelic rock, and traditional West African chants and rhythms. A 4-song album that comes in at 40 minutes, Afrodisiac is Afro-beat at its finest. Fela’s vocals are secondary to the tight jams that make up the album.

Horns, drums, piano, guitars and various traditional instruments are all work in this album, ebbing and flowing over one another underneath Fela and his backup vocalists’ voices. There is no moment on this album where the energy ebbs, and it has kept me coming back for more.

Favorite Tracks – Je’nwi Temi (Don’t Gag Me)

Fuck Buttons – Tarot Sport (2009) In 2009, Fuck Buttons played at The Cave and that was, based one grainy youtube video, the coolest show at the Cave ever. Based around screaming synths and driving drum beats Fuck Buttons are an electronic duo that creates epic songs that rival the grandiosity of Explosions in the Sky or Sigur Ros. While those bands rely on guitar based compositions, Fuck Buttons draw much of their inspiration from Techno and House music, relying on four on the floor beats to drive their songs forward. Most of the songs on this album build slowly, while morphing and adding and removing layers until they explode at a climax. Thanks to carefully constructed melodies, these climaxes pack significant emotional punches.

Favorite Tracks – The Lisbon Maru, Surf Solar 15

Sitting Down with Flux Duckling A Conversation by Dan Bollinger

In the second installment of my quest to share the stories of musicians on campus, I caught up with Ben Wedin, a rapper who goes by the name of Flux Duckling. Ben has been a staple of Carleton’s underground rap scene for a couple years now. I sat down to talk with him about his recent mixtape, Steady Waxing.

What was the process for this mixtape like?

This was actually the second mixtape I’ve ever done. I wrote the first one when I was in Sweden two years ago. And that one was literally me just rapping into my laptop…I only gave it to a few close friends. I started this one last summer, but the writing for it started winter break two years ago. That winter break was me just writing a couple songs, the next summer was a second period of writing, and then this past winter was me finishing it up. Jon [ver Steegh] ‘14 and I recorded it, we mixed it when I got back this spring and then we put it out this summer and have gotten good responses, which is fun.

You cover a lot of different genres of rap in Steady Waxing. You’ve got the chill flow kind of thing, but also more aggressive stuff like in “Grand Thought Auto.” Did you know that method going in or did you hear the beat and think, “this is what I want to say?”

Well I think when I was planning it I was writing down all these various “chunks” of lyrics that weren’t really for any specific song, but then when I decided what actual beats I was going to use, I was going through the beats of some of my favorite producers and I was like “I wanna have a BadBadNotGood track” or “I wanna have a Nujabes track.” I definitely picked beats that were from different artists and and looked for some variation, but once I picked the song, I would listen to it and think “these are the kind of lyrics I want to put on it” or whatever.

Do you have a beat in mind when you’re writing or do you try to match it later on?

I think it’s really just a combination because a lot of times I’ll just catch - wait let me see if I have it… no I don’t have my word book but I have my journal (pulls out a small black notebook). But you can imagine like this many pages of just lyrics.

It’s like Eminem from the movie “8 Mile.”

Yeah, definitely; and so sometimes I’ll listen to a beat and I’ll freestyle over it first and some of those words will come in and I’ll be like “Oh Shit I remember writing that before!” and I’ll go back to it a little bit. But to get a starting point, it’s usually just a couple words or whatever. Once I get the first kind of rhythm, then I’ll just put the beat on and have it on repeat for like an hour and I’ll just keep on trying things and see what comes out. Then once there’s maybe a bit more, then I’ll start going back—spit the first 8 bars and see what sound should come after. Like “all right I’ve done this flow, how should I change the delivery after that?”

Which track from the mixtape are you most proud of?

I really like “Ataraxia” because as far as where my head was at, it was definitely the most indicative of enjoying change.

And also I went through and that was one of the few where I did more than one take of it. I was able to double a few of the more sing-y parts, so I was happy to get a bit more production on that song. But I don’t know: with a lot of the songs I was really happy with individual chunks. I’m really happy with this one lyric or this one rhythm, but I feel like “Ataraxia” is actually a whole song.

16

How did you set on Steady Waxing as a name?

Well I feel that ever since I left high school, things have always been getting better (laughs). Like, high school was rough but I think that I’m always learning how to be a better person. I’m learning how to be a better rapper, I’m getting better friends. Cooler friends.

Cooler friends? (laughing) No, no, no! Nothing against my old friends (laughs). But I think that’s kind of the idea: I’m always improving, so it’s kind of like moon phases - going from the crescent, starting to wax.

What’s your mindset going into a live show?

It’s usually very intense concentration. I don’t really like to drink or smoke before a show. Almost like I’m there to do business. It is a performance, but hopefully my lyrics are at the point where I don’t really have to think about remembering my lyrics, so I’m more focusing on dynamics and delivery. At that point I just want it to sound as good as possible while trying to interact with the crowd. It’s great just kind of moving your body around and feeling when the song or lyrics shift, and to try to get the audience to understand because I feel like a lot of times there’ll be shifts within the song but making sure you’re communicating that to the audience is a big part.

I’m hearing a lot of similar themes with your article in the last issue of NO FIDELITY about Kendrick Lamar [See “Mainstream Beats are Cool Now (AND i LOVE MYSELF)” from Volume 2, Issue 1] Yeah, like Pete Rock and CL Smooth are obviously some of the top rappers of the 90s, but if you listen to the beat, you’d be like three minutes into the song it’s pretty much the same you know, and “you’re still kickin’ it really..cool. and you’re still gonna be the coolest guy in..school” you know? But I kind of want the songs to be progressive and that’s what I’m working on for this next album.

So you’re planning on a full album this time?

Yeah, with the last mixtape it was beats that I was grabbing from other producers, but for this one I want it to be me or my friends producing the beats, and I want to have a bit more thought into something more conceptual.

It seemed to me that Steady Waxing was already pretty conceptual. Where are you going to take it from here?

So, Steady Waxing was me kind of just writing it, just writing what I felt from the songs, and then at the end it was me just looking at it being like “Oh, these pieces all go together, this kind of makes sense” in explaining my emotional transformation over time. But this time I think I want it to be a bit more of a narrative. So, when you’re hearing a song, sometimes it’ll be in the head of the protagonist or a secondary character talking about what’s happening. In my head I want a more clear narrative fashion, and that’s kind of where the shifts come in.

So, I have to ask. You released the mixtape under the name Flux Duckling, but for as long as I’ve known you it’s been Villosophy. What’s the reason for the name change?

Villosophy was the name I used when I was hanging out in my basement in high school, kind of like freestyling to some of my friends. So once I got the point where I realized I’m being a bit more intentional, I just wanted to reevaluate or make a more emphatic stepping point. Yeah so Flux Duckling - the idea of change. Things are always in flux, the ugly duckling becomes the big impressive swan, and I knew the sounds I wanted in the name going in. I knew the “lux” sound or the “kuh” sound has a lot of stickiness to it, or like crunchiness to it.

Steady Waxing can be downloaded on Flux Duckling’s SoundCloud or on DatPiff

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How I Won Twitter Without Anyone Noticing Or: “Using a Free Publication to Increase Your Non-Existent Social Media Presence”

BY AYANA LANCE 2014 was a big year for Twitter. Researchers have been able to trace the beginning of Twitter’s upswing in cleverness, personality, and talent to a single date: January 4, 2014. In fact they have even been able to pinpoint the exact tweet that prompted this sudden upward trend in awesomeness. The first tweet from the handle @pantypunkparty. Which just so happens to be mine:

And I know it might sound like I’m being a grade-A pompous ass. But my dopeness isn’t a product of self illusion on an inflated ego but is in fact based on absolute science. Like Bill Nye level shit, yo. Trust me. My twitter game runs too deep. Like the rivers of Hades deep, which I assume is hella deep (Get it Hades, Hell-a) . I deal with the afterlife.

I offer solutions to some of the greatest problems in American society:

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I ask the tough questions:

My intellectual prowess and my humanitarian efforts might seem extraordinary. But I ensure you that I’m still down to earth. I’m just like most of you. I have embarrassing parents.

But most importantly, I know how it’s like to feel underappreciated and unnoticed. I know what’s it like to be a star surrounded by streetlamps and neon signs.

So the real question that everyone needs to ask ourselves: If someone gave you the keys to the castle, why the fuck are you sleeping outside? Come inside. The bass is blasting.

The beats are tight. Cinderella getting crunk tonight. The best party is a @pantypunkparty.

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AOL USERS SpicyDaveTulsa AND Cali18F LISTEN TO JAMES FERRARO far side virtual

Do me, I’mma do me I’mma make her mine, I’mma make her mine i said fuck the shine i said fuck the shine Bitch, I grind, bitch, I grind Yung Lean swervin in see me fucked up See me swervin’ through, they want me locked up Been locked up, in my own mind My thoughts will never be shut out I got an empire of emotional Squad see me crusin’, crusin’ in my go kart I’m War hoe, I’m War, hol I’m Wario when I’m in Mario Kart Topping the charts ace in my cards choppa my locka when im writing these bars Koka Kola Veins, I’m insane Trip through memory lane Out in Narashi, no and I see my own white shad, ow a tad too close rad with a

bad diagnose Coke-filled nose Too weird for them other fuck boys Catch Lean and sad boys Out in Europe, sippin’ cristal I’m smoking loud with my lost boys All this money don’t make me sad though Rubber bands in my bands bur Don’t close your eyes and lean back though Ya’ll ain’t ready for the lean attack though Lean, lean, lean yunging with my Team pumpin rza eat, ing pizza man I’m living my dreams my life comprehended its not a lie I’m depended on my team When I send it, I spit fire I’m an element I’m ev, erything you’re Not irrelevant Take it easy Yeah we getting it BBC pants yeah I’m getting rich All this love I’m melting it ) Don’t let me down I’m not meant for it If you ask me, I might come

for it I’ll take back you to the rain forest My heart and soul, yeah you tore it I don’t want to be here,but my lives more of it There’s more of it S-A-D B-O-Y-S See me in the club with it tatted on my chest S-A-D B-O-Y-S See me in the cut with it tatted on my chest See me on the bus, blowing sesh Nothing less, we the best Fuck the rest Water in my lungs finna quest I won’t hit the earth Fire, water, dirt Too turnt, too burnt Make mistakes, I guess I’ll never learn See, see that’s my firmm Nike, Nike on my shirt Bubbles bubbles, blow, ing bubbles But I guess they’ll never burst Empire of my state of mind I’mma do me, I’mma make it mine I say fuck the shine I say fuck the shine Bitch I grind, bitch I grind I’m hard to find 24

Menomena as a Metaphor for Love ...Continued

The final chapter you’ve all been waiting for! We here at NO FIDELITY thought it rash and uncivilized to print the entire article all at once, so here are the last 400 words of our main feature from the last issue.

After the show, I waited around a good while for the band to emerge so I could say hello. I was in unusually high spirits, given multiple recent disappointments. I think inside, I sought some kind of closure. I had a feeling Menomena and I would not likely cross paths again, and I wanted to get a few words in. I ended up chatting with Danny for a couple minutes, delivering my standard incoherent babble about what the band meant to me. He appreciated it. I had him sign my shirt, and he opted to scrawl his name over Brent’s elephant while making a joke at Brent’s expense. The way he told it, I could tell they were still friends. I had Justin sign the shirt, as well as both touring members for good measure, but I can’t remember any words we exchanged. I left the concert alone; my ex had left partway through the show after a single goodbye kiss. This time, I was one to ask. And she was the one to begrudgingly oblige.

My second girlfriend and I never had an official song, but if we did, it might have been “Plumage”, a simple song within the Menomena canon. Correspondingly, things

happened more easily with us than with my first. Every new encounter didn’t contain a riddle, and that was nice. The beauty of our collaboration came from compromise instead of contradiction - we never forced things. A few lines that stand out to me go: “Instead I’m just like everybody else who’s tried / I’ve got to say so long to my ideals / They served me once and served me well / Now they only serve to spin my wheels / I guess I ought to face my fears.” These lines always bothered me. They reminded me that I hadn’t tried, like everyone else had apparently done—that I wasn’t able let go of my obsolete values about love, that I wasn’t able to move on and do something new, at least for a time. Even Menomena was still trying, even if they were no longer navigating the existentialist landscapes of their early days. Maybe Menomena never had much to do with my love life, but I can’t resist drawing parallels between two sources of such great emotion. When I listen to Menomena these days, the sounds swell in my head so massively, there’s little room for reminders of love lost. But with the right song and the right state of mind, a bit of nostalgia is inevitable.

By A. Noah Harrison 25

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INDIE FOLK

Standing at the S. Carey (indie folk project of former Bon Iver drummer [this fact is always mentioned] Sean Carey) show here at Carleton a week or so ago, I started to feel a strange, nameless anxiety.

There was a decent crowd. The band, in a departure from their new record’s sound (albeit a very enjoyable departure) weren’t really playing folk music at all. A few people who had listened to the record before the show hadn’t dug that folk sound. I began to wonder about the state of one of my favorite genres (maybe even my favorite genre). Why the mild lack of interest? Four years ago this show could have been huge. Why the alteration in reception, and in sound?

For my own part, why had I heard only a handful of truly great indie folk records during the past two or three years? To understand my present anxiety, however, I have to turn back and show you some things from the past.

Indie folk, as part of the entire legacy of folk music in general, draws inspiration from many sources, but in terms of recent history it traces its most direct roots back to several lo-fi folk and folk-inspired projects from the 1990s and early 2000s, including artists like Neutral Milk Hotel, The Microphones, and The Mountain Goats. Such music caught the ears of a large number of eager listeners in the underground, listeners enamored with the use of some traditional folk elements amidst a dazzling display of heavy sounds and sonic experimentation, and drawn to the unabashedly emotional earnestness of the vocal delivery that was unconcerned with hitting every note perfectly, brazenly pulling at the heart strings even while its lyrics were clouded with confusing, vaguely pretentious symbolic imagery. These bands are a subject for another day, but it should be noted that the sound was, to say the least, refreshing. More than that it was a vision, and a foundation that could be built upon.

Throughout the early-to-mid 2000s artists like Bright Eyes, The Decemberists, and Iron & Wine 26

Written by Lucas Rossi

The LIFE, TIMES, and DEMISE

began to put out independent, alternative folk music clearly operating with those 90s predecessors in mind, but also slowly transforming that sound’s rough edges and into something more immediately palatable, more concerned with clarity of sound, and more clearly identifiable as full-fledged, authentic folk music. They engaged in a re-embracing the tradition American folk music and Americana aesthetic that for decades had simmered underneath mainstream rock and pop culture, while also taking cues from elements of rock music, especially the complex pop construction of later Beatles albums and the exquisitely layered harmonies and arrangements of Pet Sounds-era Beach Boys. This was indie folk: Neo-Americana (even if it wasn’t coming from the USA), fine-tuned with an ear for the subtle, the delicate, and the careful, crystalline dynamics of pleasing yet complex new folk for the Internet age. Still, the process had just begun. It was unclear whether this form would be something ultimately worth writing home about.

2007 and 2008, respectively, marked the entrances of the two projects that would come to almost single-highhandedly represent the style in the popular imagination: Bon Iver and Fleet Foxes.

For Emma, Forever Ago and Fleet Foxes, both debut full-lengths, put indie folk on the map. For Emma was almost a revelation, cloaked in the half-true folklore of its origin story revolving around Justin Vernon’s hermitage in a cabin, recording heartbroken hymns with an acoustic guitar and some homemade percussion. The music, however, is the holiest part of that revelation. Vernon’s soulful voice croons and soars over the folksy, backwoods strummed guitars, with heart-wrenching harmonies entering at just the right moment to deliver the needed emotional punch. In its defined solitude there was something truly great. Fleet Foxes offered a much different experience, one more collective and communal given that they were in fact a full band, indulging in exquisite melodies and especially harmonies adorning rhythmic folk rock, with moments of energetic engagement (“Ragged Wood”) and tender softness (“Oliver James”). Far from perfect, yet nonetheless somehow still essential. The press, generally, raved about both. The albums had their detractors, sure, who saw what was going on there as illustrative of some of what was wrong with indie music as a whole.

Even to fans, it was clear that there was still so much untapped potential. But these records remain worthy of their place in the pantheon of indie folk his-

tory. For Emma, especially, remains one of the most emotionally crushing and sonically tender albums in released in recent memory, and contains some of the best music ever achieved in this style.

Bon Iver and Fleet Foxes’ debuts captured the attention of the alt/indie world, but there remained yet more room for growth in the above-ground world of mainstream success. It would be negligent to ignore Mumford & Sons, who to a certain audience also embodied fully what it meant to be “indie folk”, regardless of your personal opinion on the quality of their music. On their 2009 debut Sigh No More, they took that re-finding of Americana and the use of an emotional folk aesthetic and re-purposed it as a mechanism for writing hopelessly catchy pop songs in the form of stompy, heavily bluegrass-inspired folk-pop tunes. Other related artists, like Noah and the Whale, also worked in this mold. Even with the success of these acts, the underground sound continued to progress and expand, introducing new elements like the psychadelia of Grizzly Bear’s Veckatimest, also in 2009. In 2010, the already-established act The Tallest Man on Earth released The Wild Hunt, another genre milestone: a young Swedish guy’s transformation into a modern-age Dylan, plucking heartland guitar lines with a throaty voice that even outdoes Dylan at times in its powerful delivery. Indie folk had come into its own not just as a legitimate and diverse genre, but also a scene whose exemplars were beginning to demand comparison to the greats of American folk music in a grand sense.

This now near-explosive trajectory seemed to be quickly approaching its apex. It was, and that peak arrived swiftly. The following year, 2011, is in my biased estimation the high watermark of indie folk, the moment when it all came together and effectively be-all end-all for the scene. The aforementioned genre giants, Bon Iver and Fleet Foxes, cemented their status with two massively anticipated sophomore LPs: Bon Iver, Bon Iver and Helplessness Blues.

Bon Iver was a bit of a shock. Completely stepping away from the sparse desperation of the debut, Bon Iver ushered in the sound of a full band, employing a lot of electric instrumentation washed in reverb while maintaining fundamentally that sorrowful folk aesthetic. I can’t personally say that it was an improvement over For Emma, but there is no denying its impact. Fleet Foxes was another story entirely: as far as I’m concerned, Helplessness Blues is the best thing to ever come out of mainline indie folk. They 27

tightened their production, letting their improved harmonies breathe fully for the first time and the guitars to bloom in their lushness. The band really focused on their instrumentation, and never shied away from experimentation when needed, as in the strained vocals and improvised bass clarinet solo of the monumental “The Shrine/An Argument.” They cast off some of their predictable nature-imagery lyrics and partook in serious commentary about the insecurity of the modern human personality. Overall, it was an astounding project that in my opinion deserves to take its place not simply in the canon of indie folk, but in the canon of American folk music as a whole. The year was also filled with a multitude of other excellent releases. Laura Marling, known for her associations with the Mumfords and the Noahs, released perhaps the most confident and inspired album of her career with A Creature I Don’t Know, a gorgeously rendered and conceptually tight exercise in nostalgic Americana, easily surpassing her other British peers trying their hands at the same game.

Beirut, for years operating on the fringe of what you could call indie folk, cast off their Eastern European influences and put out The Rip Tide, a charming blend of infectious horn melodies and poignant individual and group vocals. City and Colour’s Little Hell, Saintseneca’s Last; the list goes on and on. It seemed all the potential had been realized. We were at last entering the golden age of indie folk.

That golden age, it turned out, was more of a golden moment, and it came to an end in right about 2012. Perhaps, in the ecstatic haze of the post-explosion aftermath, the art began to stagnate.

But it wasn’t merely an issue of forces within; things outside were changing too. As the “indie kids” of the 2000s mutated in the popular vernacular into the “hipsters” of the new decade, the perceptions about the people who constituted indie folk’s core demographic also changed, turning towards the negative.

Heightening this issue was the fact that Bon Iver won a Grammy in 2012, something that would have seemed unfathomable back in 2007, and much to the chagrin of a mainstream audience many of whom had never heard of the artist before. Vernon’s newfound name recognition even earned Bon Iver an SNL sketch where Justin Timberlake puts himself to sleep with a rendition of “Holocene.” The tone of the sketch was playful, but underneath it there was hanging the sentiment that seemed to be taking over popular opinion: That this music was, in the eyes of many, kind of lame, and even boring. It was music for white, middle class 20-somethings drawn in

by pretentious, inauthentic bullshit. The actual music being released didn’t help, either. Both Fleet Foxes and Bon Iver sunk into extended hiatuses. Mumford & Sons released their frankly middling sophomore effort Babel in 2012, where it suddenly became clear to everyone that only being able to write one song (albeit a pretty good song) doesn’t lend itself to making good records. Throughout 2012 and 2013, a number of nominally indie folk artists received massive amounts of attention for their hit singles, most notably Of Monsters and Men with “Little Talks” and The Lumineers with “Ho Hey”. These songs sounded like sorta-typical indie folk on the surface, yet lacked the emotional resonance and dedicated textural construction of the genre’s best work. The problems inherent in them had nothing to do with being “mainstream.” They’re not even strictly “bad” songs.

They just simply do not do the genre’s core values any justice. In the summer of 2013, catering a wedding, I remember walking over to the couple’s elaborate photo display. They had a board with the lyrics of the chorus of “Ho Hey” (“I belong with you / You belong with me / You’re my sweetheart”) written out, surrounded by photos of just about the most typical suburban upper-middle class couple you could possibly imagine. One of the lines was transcribed incorrectly. I remember thinking, “Well, there goes just about all the poignancy in this whole thing.”

Obviously an overreaction, but it felt like everyone had been right. This kind of music was doomed to degenerate into trite, unengaged nonsense.

Obviously, indie folk isn’t truly dead. Excellent music is still being created by a number of artists dedicated to the style. Saintseneca’s Dark Arc, released earlier this year, might even be one of my top ten favorite indie folk records. And the indie folk influence has lived on in related genres like indie rock, heavily visible in pieces like 2013’s “Wheel” by Laura Stevenson, which would absolutely be a genre standout if you could fully label it as indie folk. Still, it’s not quite the same. Where’s the growth? Why can’t we have another 2011? Why won’t people stop talking and listen to S. Carey? Maybe Fleet Foxes and Bon Iver will arise from their resting places to deliver us unto a new golden age of indie folk, out of the evil of banality and inauthenticity. What is more likely is that I’ll have to recognize that the last decade was a special time for this kind of music that needs to be recognized for its importance, even canonized in the folk tradition. And it’s not likely to ever repeat itself in quite the same way.

L.R.

HEAD TO HEAD: ROUND 5

The Counterfactuals : Minimally Decent People

Ian Mercer

It’s easy to imagine the Counterfactuals as an imaginary band that the Carleton administration invented in order to get some filler for an alumni magazine. The story is almost too good to be true: four professors (from different sides of the river no less) came together to write an “indie-folk-rock” album of soaring positivity and sing-along choruses. The students love them. They are all charming, handsome young men with impressive résumé’s and bright futures.

With a history like this, I admit that I am impressed that the Counterfactuals don’t sink into a twee-soaked pit of corniness. Yes, it’s true that most of their lyrical content is concerned with stars, saddles, twisted rivers, and the great state of Indiana, but the musical means with which they express this rather boring subject matter certainly avoids any sense of generic-ness.

Lead singer/philosophy professor/songwriter Dan Groll has a robust and, most importantly to me, in-tune voice. His melodic lines are the highlight of the album, deftly weaving in dissonances, impressive jumps, and satisfying cadences. The other elements mainly stick to their guns, with a few keys and flugelhorns appearing every once in awhile. It’s not standard instrumentation by any means, but a little spice wouldn’t have hurt.

Instrumentation aside, one must note the strongest element of the whole work: the production value. MDA was mostly recorded in the basement of the concert hall (yes, that concert hall over by Hulings). It’s a terribly dry, echoing room, but the Counterfactuals somehow got their tech, instruments, and acoustics to all align, making this album sound as if it’s on a major label. It’s impressive work, and if the album credits aren’t stretching the truth, it was all apparently done by the band themselves.

My Verdict: They’re a bit corny and a bit boring, but in the end they have made a seriously impressive debut album that I listen to on my own time (the highest commendation of all).

David Pickart

If you’re a Carleton or St. Olaf student, chances are you’ve heard at least a passing mention of the Counterfactuals, Northfield’s resident professorial folk-rock outfit. With their debut album, Minimally Decent People, this quartet has let loose their brand of indie Americana from the confines of The Cow and into the ears of the world at large.

In their many moons of playing together, The Counterfactuals have gotten their pleasant, homegrown sound pinned down to a T. Steadily strummed rhythms, understated just-fuzzy-enough guitar leads, and a healthy dose of tambourine all contribute to a warm musical atmosphere that plays nicely with vocalist Dan Groll’s conversational vocal style. They don’t run the formula into the ground on the album, either; the band does a good job of incorporating some foreign elements (synth, horns, and Wurlitzer keys) as needed to liven up a few tracks.

Many Counterfactuals songs are built on a sort of jamming structure, without a distinct verse or chorus, that builds up momentum as more parts are added. When this works, it really works—tracks like “Hindsight” and “Hold On For The Sign” roll along with a carefree energy that evokes a top-down drive through the Midwestern countryside. But when it doesn’t work, the repetition could leave listeners’ fingers itching for the skip button.

Furthermore, some otherwise-stellar tracks are marred by awkward moments, when Groll overextends a lyrical phrase or an unconventional chord choice falls flat. Once these songwriting missteps are figured out, and the Counterfactuals find a better balance between the energy of a jam and the comfort of traditional structure, the resulting product will be far beyond minimally decent.

My verdict: Minimally Decent People is a strong first album that establishes the Counterfactuals as a musical force to be reckoned with, perhaps beyond their previously local scale. I’m excited to see what comes next for this burgeoning group.

29

Video games have always gotten kind of a bad rap in the art world, constantly struggling for a place next to other widely accepted “legitimate” art forms, and this includes the music in them. Thankfully, in recent years, this attitude seems to have shifted a little, with a not insignificant rise of games that absolutely prove the “video games can’t be art” camp wrong, and I’d like to think that we’re all open-minded enough here that I don’t need to argue the legitimacy of video games as an art form. This is not an article meant to prove to you that there is good music from video games out there. Rather, it sets out to combat something that I often struggle with with soundtracks in general - they’re often too “soundtracky,” too dependent on the material they were meant to accompany that they just can’t stand on their own. Oftentimes the enjoyment of the music on its own is derived from memories of the full work. Not every soundtrack is like that, however, and here I’ve compiled a list of grade-A video game soundtracks that hold their own as independent works. The following albums (for they are albums), I believe, can be thoroughly enjoyed outside of their accompanying video game, and are absolutely worth your time as discerning music listeners, regardless of whether or not you’ve played them.

Hideki Naganuma - Jet Set Radio (2012 re-release) When talking about video games with A+ soundtracks, inevitably the Dreamcast cult classic Jet Set Radio comes up, and with good reason - it’s fucking great. Jet Set Radio takes its name from a pirate radio station in the game, providing the soundtrack for each level as you, a hip youth of futuristic, fictional Tokyo, tear up the streets and tag your turf on magnetic, jet powered rollerblades.

The soundtrack subsequently sounds exactly what I’d expect a game with such a premise to sound like—a playlist of underground hip hop and dance tracks, with the occasional grungy garage rock to break it up.

Coinciding with the 2012 HD re-release of the original on Steam and PS3, SEGA put out a compilation of sound director Hideki Naganuma’s contributions to both games - which is great, since let’s be real: aside from a few exceptions, all the best songs in either game came from him. The result is the grooviest collection of sample-based hip hop, big beat, and plunderphonics, not unlike Fatboy Slim and Mr. Scruff. This makes the first half of the album what some people have described as

some of the 90s-est music they’ve ever heard, and while that seems like a bit of a cop-out that doesn’t really mean anything, it is perplexingly an incredibly accurate descriptor - all you need to do is hear the effected beatboxing loops, funky slap bass, and wonderfully campy “better watch that beat cominatcha!” and “blast that shit, homie!” samples on songs like “That’s Enough” and “Rock It On” to know exactly what they’re talking about. The second half, corresponding with the game’s slightly more sci-fi-y sequel, appropriately features songs more synthesizer-heavy like “Fly Like a Butterfly,” straying more into dance music territory but still maintaining that goofy Naganuma charm and hip-hop influences, evident in the likes of “Funky Dealer” and “Oldies But Happies.” Sure, I miss the removal of some fan favorite artists from the soundtrack, like Guitar Vader and Reps, but I think the album becomes a much more cohesive experience because of it. Blast it when you’re driving, throw it on as the soundtrack to a high school snowboarding video. It won’t disappoint you.

MilkCan - Make it Sweet! (UmJammer Lammy) UmJammer Lammy is the slightly less well-known spiritual successor to the revolutionary music game PaRappa The Rapper. If you’re familiar with PaRappa, it’s pretty much exactly like that except you play as a guitar-playing lamb instead of a rapping dog, and also for some reason the scoring system is completely fucking broken. The titular Lammy plays guitar in a three-piece, all-girl rock band by the name of MilkCan, and this album is presented not as a soundtrack CD but instead as an actual album made by the fictional band—which is probably why it works by itself as well as it does.

With that in mind, MilkCan’s diverse blend of punk, rock, hip hop, and even country is hilariously awesome. It’s fun guitar rock at its core, reminiscent of a broadway show tune one

moment and vaguely thrash metal influenced the next, broken up in the middle by a De La Soul mixtape-style skit, but always somehow managing to stay musically coherent. Lyrically, the album admittedly might fall short depending on your tastes - most of the songs are sung in-character, out of context of the game’s already completely surreal and absurd story, so the words are at worst completely stupid and childish, and charmingly hokey and silly at best. What the album may lack in poetry, however, can absolutely be made up for with the music. Regardless of the nonsense she’s spouting, Katy Cat has a killer set of pipes in addition to tearin’ it up on the bass - seriously, pay attention to it, there’s always something interesting happening in the low end, quick flourishes and chords thrown in with just the right amount of discretion, always

interesting, never distracting with Flea-like proficiency.

This goes for the whole rhythm section for that matter just listen to the hi-hats in the chorus of “Fire Fire!!” and the fills in “Got To Move! (Millennium Girl).” Slick as hell.

And of course, Lammy shreds all over the album, playing call-and-response with Katy Cat in a way that works far better than it would on a potential PaRappa album, even lending her own voice to the two aforementioned songs. And if you really must have that rush of nostalgia, PaRappa and friends make a few appearances as well. If you think you can handle the outlandishly absurd subject matter, Make it Sweet! is a blast - silly, upbeat music that’s arguably more enjoyable than the game itself (seriously though this game actually doesn’t fucking work. What happened between PaRappa and this one??)

Katamari Fortissimo Damacy (Katamari Damacy, PS2) I admit I almost didn’t put this one on the list, even though it was the main inspiration for it in the first place.

Overtures? “Main themes? This soundtrack is certainly more of a soundtrack than the others on this list, but then I remembered that I ran into it and started listening to it as an album before I had even known what Katamari was.

And what is Katamari? I’ve played four out of nine (yes, nine) Katamari games and honestly even I’m not sure. You know dung beetles? That’s the basic premise except instead of poop you’re rolling up everything and anything, from thumbtacks and paperclips to literally entire planets by the end of the game. Nothing is safe in Katamari. It’s cute, it’s colorful, it’s nonsensical and it’s probably the most Japanese thing I can think of. It’s magical.

Just like the hodgepodge of things your Katamari rolls up, the Katamari Damacy soundtrack spans across a wide variety of styles and genres, yet still, somehow, manages to remain a tight, sensical listening experience.

The album opens with introductory track “Sasasasan Katamari,” introducing you to the game’s iconic “nanana” theme, before throwing you straight into the deep end of its wonderful absurdity with D&B influenced drums, horn sections, timpani, synthesizers, female choirs, and nonsensical Japanese lyrics (with hearty servings of obligatory English phrases thrown in, of course) in “Katamari on the Rock.” After a brief interlude reprising the main theme on piano, we’re treated to “The Moon and the Prince,” a solid hip-hop jam with one of the grooviest bass parts I’ve heard in any song, played straight and seriously, completely contrary to the song’s fairly wacky lyrics (though you might not ever know it, given that they’re all, again, in Japanese). Songs like “Lonely Rolling Star” are more typical, cutesy synth-pop tracks, but certainly not undeserving of attention with wonderfully thick synth basses and catchy keyboard riffs, and songs like “A Crimson Rose and a Gin Tonic” are legitimate cool jazz pieces. Where the album really shines, however, are on its electronic tracks

- Dan Deacon-esque groove based electropop on “You Are Smart,” and songs in the vein of artists like Cornelius on “Angel Flavor’s Present” with its glitchy percussion, bubbly synth lines, and dreamy pads and choir samples.

The album leaves just as zany as it arrived, with “Katamari Love,” a wonderfully over-the-top-dramatic rock ballad, complete with heart wrenching vocals over lonely piano chords before swelling into the cheesiest chorus you’ve ever heard. If this all sounds like too much, I assure you, it is. But time and time again, the Katamari series is lauded for its music, and the praise is certainly deserved. Perhaps it’s Katamari Fortissimo Damacy’s unabashed outrageousness that makes it such a truly wonderful and unique experience, one that simply needs to be heard to be believed.

IN DEFENSE OF ICP: The Wicked Clowns as Self-Made Positivity Evangelists

“You know, I’m actually glad they reduced the chicken strip portions.”

“My whole month has been awful, but this Cowling dance is gonna turn everything around.”

“Have you heard the new ICP song? It’s dope!”

These are phrases you won’t often hear at Carleton.

If you’ve ever heard anything about the Insane Clown Posse or their Juggalo fanbase – either from the media or just from friends in passing – it probably wasn’t anything positive. Whether you know ICP from their cringe-inducing Gathering of the Juggalos infomercials, their scientist-indicting, magnet-deifying “Miracles” music video of 2010, the SNL parodies of those aforementioned videos, their longtime feud with childhood ICP fan and fellow Detroit native Eminem, their well-publicized attempt to sue the FBI, news coverage of the occasional brutal murder committed by a self-proclaimed Juggalo, or maybe even from the clowns’ actual music, it just isn’t likely that you’ve heard anything that convinced you that Violent J and Shaggy 2 Dope are incredibly thoughtful, altruistic, purposeful entertainers. In other words, you probably don’t know the Insane Clown Posse that I know. The fact is that a lot of time is spent hating ICP, overwhelmingly by people who know very little about what ICP has done in their 25 years of releasing music. In this set of ramblings I will not seek to convince you that ICP are talented rappers (though I’m honestly willing to take on that challenge if you email me), but instead I’ll non-ironically posit a few points that don’t often get heard about ICP’s credibility and positive impact.

In case you haven’t heard any of ICP’s music, their most iconic tracks are usually identifiable by Violent J’s simplistic Dr. Seuss-style couplets about murdering people with chainsaws, while a bouncy carnival-style beat plays. With lines like, “I’m twisted, I’ll cut your finger off and stick it in your butt / Aaaaaaaaaah! And glue it shut,” or “I met this kid named Louie Lou / He thought he could fuck with this voodoo / So I turned his head into a lima bean

and then flicked it off his shoulders,” or “I’ve got your fuckin’ present hangin’ next to my nuts / Now when I’m swingin’ on my hatchet if it hits you it cuts / Don’t make me chop your head in half and smack the side with the cheek,” it’s perfectly reasonable that the average listener might think ICP’s violence is just juvenile, shock-driven senselessness. The only problem with that analysis is that it doesn’t examine the broader context that all of ICP’s songs exist within: an overarching mythology they’ve created called the “Dark Carnival.” Bear with me here as I explain, because this is pretty essential Juggalo stuff.

All of ICP’s main album releases are known as the Joker’s Cards. Each Joker’s Card album presents a deity-like “face of the Dark Carnival,” such as The Great Milenko, The Riddle Box, The Amazing Jeckel Brothers, etc. These characters are designed to teach Juggalos to live more righteous, fulfilling, altruistic lives, and ICP’s hyper-violent tracks are actually stories that explain what will metaphorically happen to you if you don’t repent from your evil ways. If this all sounds borderline religious, that’s because it is.

In 2002 on the song “Thy Unveiling,” ICP explained that “the truth is, we follow God! We’ve always been behind Him. The Carnival is God and may all Juggalos find Him!” In this song, Violent J explains that the purpose of ICP’s violent themes was to draw in those who would otherwise not hear their positive messages, which they snuck in “subliminally with that wicked shit around ‘em.” Furthermore, a dominant theme of ICP’s music is that they’re quite picky about who they mutilate with hatchets; they almost exclusively kill people who have committed great evil in the world, and when they kill random civilians, they’re almost always punished for it in the end.

By Thomas Hiura

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The reason that maybe 99% of non-Juggalos don’t know this about ICP is that one would have to listen to several of their albums in full to really identify these recurring themes, and anyone who would spend their time doing that is probably already a Juggalo. I’ll admit, it’s not a great marketing strategy, but that’s not really the point.

In case anyone is thinking that ICP just slyly throws in a few anti-evil messages here and there on deeper album cuts in order to excuse the rest of their

Song

gruesome and offensive music, it’s important to mention that their most iconic songs often tackle these themes head-on. For example, on October 25th I went to my 4th ever ICP concert, and out of their set list (which is essentially a greatest hits compilation from the 500+ songs they’ve released), most of them explicitly articulated ICP’s vigilante-like violence against evildoers. Here’s a short list from just that one show:

Themes Explicity Addressed

Terrible

Homelessness, wealth inequality, sensationalization in the media

Hellalujah

Religious corruption and greed, specifically among televangelists

Tilt-A-Whirl

Child abuse, wealth inequality

Piggy Pie (Old School) Police corruption, wealth inequality, bigotry Burning Up

Violence against women, child abuse, cheating, wealth inequality, corruption

Under the Moon

Rape, bullying

Halls of Illusions

Domestic violence, alcoholism

Bang! Pow! Boom!

Racism, rape, pedophilic abuse, domestic violence

Night of the Chainsaw Abuse of hard drugs (especially evident in music video) Bazooka Joey Let’s Go All the Way Amy’s in the Attic Chicken Huntin’

Fox News Aspiring for a utopian world free of hatred, disease, and prisons Murder cover-ups Racism, bigotry, incest, sexual violence

So why is it noteworthy that ICP is addressing these themes that most of us (especially in the ultra-privileged Carleton world) already know to be wrong? Because they do so in a way that specifically appeals to the demographic they come from: underprivileged, bullied, poor youth from inner city neighborhoods and unstable families plagued with drug abuse and domestic violence. The members of ICP were high school drop-outs who ended up working at fast food restaurants and gas stations for years while they tried to make it as musicians. They were bullied severely as children, were sexually abused, left behind by their fathers, undereducated, and altogether raised in extremely dire circumstances. So is it really any surprise that their music is angry, politically incorrect, and syntactically simplistic?

When a young Violent J was 7 years-old (and going by Joseph Bruce), he and his brother Rob were

playing in their small backyard. On this particular evening, Rob managed to catch a butterfly out of the air with his bare hands. Joseph and Rob put the butterfly in a jar, poked a ton of air holes into the jar, and excitedly brought it into their room. They decided to spend just one night admiring the beauty of their new friend before releasing it back into the wild. This was a particularly hot Michigan summer night, and since they wanted their guest to sleep comfortably at the expense of their own comfort, they pointed the fan right into the holes of the butterfly’s jar. The following morning, the boys were heartbroken to find that the butterfly was dead. They had a funeral for the butterfly that day, where they made a vow: “One day, we’ll both make it to Heaven and apologize to the Butterfly, face to face.” Since 1992, the liner notes of every ICP album has included the text “Dedicated to the Butterfly.”

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In every album that ICP has made, they have explicitly made it their goal to use their platform to reach out to their fans and help them cultivate righteousness in their lives, in hopes that every Juggalo will get to meet up with them in heaven. Having had the chance to spend time with ICP for the first time recently, it was incredibly evident to me how much they still care about their fans, 25 years into their careers. But you know what? A lot of bands care about their fans, and a lot of bands write music that inspires individuals to better themselves. Beyond these feats, has ICP had any real accomplishments? Do I use rhetorical questions when I don’t know how to make my arguments seem more interesting? Absolutely. Not only have the wicked clowns accomplished things that nobody else has before them (and that many musicians have only dreamt of), but they’ve done so with almost no outside help.

Artwork by Josie Naron

ICP has sold 7 million units and 2 platinum albums in the U.S. and Canada without video airplay or anything close to a radio hit. They’ve built one of the most successful independent record labels of all time, Psychopathic Records, completely from the ground up. They’ve founded their own professional wrestling league, Juggalo Championshit Wrestling, put together 15 massive music festivals (which have actually attracted a ridiculous amount of big name artists), and hosted multiple seasons of their own TV show on Fuse. They’ve created two feature-length films and an entire subculture of perhaps the most loyal fans that any band has had in the last 30 years.

So while it’s easy and popular to hate on ICP and the Juggalos, tons of hip-hop legends have given ICP props for the robustness and staying power of the empire they’ve created. Rappers like Ol’ Dirty Bastard, Ice-T, Snoop Dogg, Bone Thugs-n-Harmony, Busta Rhymes, The Geto Boys, Coolio, Naughty

By Nature, Raekwon, Tech N9ne, Danny Brown, and countless others have expressed love and admiration for ICP, and I think that counts for something.

When I was in 7th grade, the first ICP song I ever heard was “Bring It On.” At the time I was about as into rap music as a Japanese-American middle-schooler from Eugene, Oregon could be. I loved Eminem’s complicated rhyme patterns and emotional sincerity. I loved the grandiosity of Kanye’s beats and his poignantly political lyrical themes. Then there was ICP, with “voodoo chickens and magical wands / dead bigots, lying face down in a pond.” The sheer simplicity, the angst, and the dark humor of their music and lyrics drew me in, as ICP might have been the first to show me that even if you’re not actually a good rapper at first, you can have success as long as you’re passionate and authentic. They made me think that maybe I could be a rapper too. So I guess what I’m saying is that if you hate Gradient, you can hate ICP even more for inspiring me. Nah, but really, ICP changed my life for the better, and I’ve met Juggalos from much worse circumstances than I’ll ever know, whose lives, whose drug addictions, whose emotional circumstances have completely turned around because of the community they’ve found through the Juggalos. Whether you like the music or not, it really doesn’t matter. What matters is that while we’re taught to sympathize with the underprivileged, hating on Juggalos is normalized. What matters is that there are powerful identity narratives out there that are not only going untold, but that are simply being laughed at because they’re Juggalo narratives. And that is certainly not dope.

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By Gisell Calderon and Jonathan “Not Jon” Chow

Artwork by Victoria Dan

Club Bangers 2003-2007 Get Low - Lil Jon Before Lil Jon cemented his career as one the forefathers of hip hop, he was creating infectious party jingles. Who doesn’t like songs with the word “skeet” in it?

Yeah - Usher With a catchy chorus and two rap megastars (Lil Jon and Ludacris) to back him up, Usher ushered in a new era of game changing R&B, rife with Lil’ Jon’s cries of joy and Luda’s excellent verse about milking cows.

Drop It Like It’s Hot - Snoop Dogg featuring Pharrell Williams Here we get a glance of the true Pharrell Williams before he sold out to vitamin water and started making songs about how happy and content with life he was. The mouth clicks throughout the song have elevated Snoop to supreme kingpin of rap. Undisputed.

Tipsy - J-Kwon We felt compelled to include this song solely for the fact that J-Kwon is quite polite during the chorus. After realizing he is too loud with his cries of “Everybody in the club gettin tipsy!” He realizes the need to use his inside voice, and reiterates the line in a whisper.

Rhinestone Cowboy - Madvillain Excellent production by none other than THE Mike Will Made It, truly banging bass lines, and vocal styling reminiscent of Lil Jon on bath salts, MF DOOM and Madlib brought this premier club banger to the table, eternally changing the landscape of club hip hop.

Wait (The Whisper Song) - Ying Yang Twins What J-Kwon pioneered in the spectrum of polite hip-hop, the Ying Yang Twins furthered in a narrative involving blatant exhibitionism. At least they’re using their inside voices, right?

Gold Digger - Kanye It’s aight.

Promiscuous - Nelly Furtado 2006 marked a year in which Nelly Furtado was at the top of the charts. Unfortunately, her career has been on a steady decline in popularity. Timbaland is to blame.

Low - Flo Rida This dude actually came to my middle school (Lincoln Middle School, Gainesville FL, 2008) along with Hurricane Chris (of “Ay Bay Bay” fame). People bumrushed the stage. I even got an autograph from both artists (on my forever lost jansport backpack).

Lean Like A Cholo - Down AKA Kilo Down AKA Kilo ushered in a new era of helping awkward white people figure out their dance moves. Just remember: “Elbows up, side to side!”

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Female Musicians I Would Body Swap With / Cisco Hayward Because, I mean, come on. Like, who wouldn’t, ya know?

5. Alice Glass

Do I even have to explain? Like, I mean, she’s so cool! Have you listened to Crystal Castles? Have you even heard that shit?

That wasn’t even her “full artistic vision” for crying out loud, and it was still FUCKING SWEET. Come on, you know what I’m talking about. Who wouldn’t want to be this blue-haired industrial noise-pop badass? Who the fuck wouldn’t want to become this person?

4. Grace Slick

I mean come on!!!!!! Have you heard “Somebody to Love”? Grace Slick is what Janis Joplin would’ve been if she was talented. Grace Slick is one of the quintessential female vocalists, and yeah I know, “girls singing,” whatever, but like Grace Slick made that shit COOL. Grace Slick is the queen of psychedelic rock, no butts about it.

3. Yasuko Onoki

Okay, I bet none of y’all even know who she is, so what I want you to do is go listen to “Fetch” by Melt Banana right now, and then when you come back you will see why I want to become this woman. She is so freaking cool, Melt Banana is like this weird blend of metal, shoegaze, and punk thrown into a blender and pitch-shifted up five octaves. Do you hear the noises this woman makes on that album? She is a punk matriarch! And not like a shitty no-fi punk matriarch, like this girl knows what a decibel is.

She’s like super smart and hella talented.

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2. Amber Coffman

Alright, y’all gotta know about Dirty Projectors. Let me tell you something right now: Amber Coffman is the most beautiful vocalist I have ever heard of all genders, period. I am actually mad at David Longstreth because he got to marry this exceptional human being. If I were body swapped with Amber Coffman, the first thing I would do is break up with David Longtreth, and then go marry me and body swap back into myself so I could be married to this angel. I would be perfectly content to ruin David Longstreth’s life in order to marry this woman. She literally sounds like God. Its fucking crazy.

1. Kyary Pamyu Pamyu

Okay, now I know what you’re thinking, “Cisco you only wanna be Kiyari Pamiyu Pamiyu [I’m spelling it wrong because that’s how your ignorant brain talks probably] because of your Asian fetish!” Stop that shit right now.

Do you know why I have an Asian fetish? It’s because of this woman! Like seriously, fuck Avril Lavigne, Kyary Pamyu Pamyu is kawaii personified. This woman is a pop-art princess whose music and visual aesthetic IS Japan. Every time I see a picture of Kyary Pamyu Pamyu I kind of faint because I get swept up in the wonderful aura of love that she provides to me and millions of other people around the globe. She is the spirit of Pop idealized into material form, and to be her would be an honor.

0. Annie Clark: Because like, ya know, Duh.

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NOVEMBER SHOWS:

First Ave. Mainroom

Har Mar Superstar with The Pizza Underground, Toby Goodshank, and Ripper - 11/1 St. Lucia with Vacationer - 11/8 Interpol with Hundred Waters - 11/14 Julian Casablancas & The Voids - 11/17 First Aid Kit with Samantha Crain - 11/20 Fitz & The Tantrums with Big Data - 11/21 Atmosphere - 11/23

Triple Rock

Hot Water Music with The Flatliners and Dave Hause - 11/16 Frankie Teardrop with Mean Jeans, Kepi Ghoulie, and Teenage Moods - 11/25

Myth

Hoodie Allen with Chiddy Bang and Max - 11/7

7th Street Entry

Avi Buffalo with Har-Di-Har and Grand Courriers

Fine Line

FKA twigs - 11/14 Peter Hook & The Light - 11/15

Run the Jewels with Ratking, Despot, and David Ruffin Theory - 11/20

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“The Art Section”