No Fidelity Winter 2023

No Fidelity is...

Bryn Battani ◆ Billy Bratton

Jimmy Carlson

Ruby Dirks ◆ Soren Eversoll ◆ Hannah Frankel

◆ Stewie Goon ◆ Henry Holcomb (ed.) ◆ Elise

Hudson ◆ Colin James ◆ Cameron Kelley ◆ Alberto León ◆ Will Prim ◆ Owen Roth (ed.)

Aviva Sachs ◆ Nelson Serrano ◆ Dashiell Tidrick

◆ Ethan Whiteaker

NoFi is open to all students interested in or passionate about music, art, and pop culture and welcomes all varieties of submissions. Email nofi@krlx.org or dm us on Instagram @no.fidel with inquiries, questions, etc.

Covers: Henry Holcomb

From the Eds.....

Looking back at our full archive to find inspiration for this note, I couldn’t help but notice a common theme that has stuck with me. Present in many of these odes lies a sort of anxious wonder about the longevity of this project. It’s hard not to feel this way, after all, the magazine did disappear in the blink of an eye before having new life breathed into it in 2020. Like generations of editors before me, the future of this has always been a source of worry; it is hard to sustain a zine at a school of this size. This publication is truly something special though, and its legacy is something that I know will keep me connected in spirit to Carleton after I graduate.

What struck me however when preparing this note was realizing that I haven’t felt that anxiety recently. Having reached the moment where I pass my responsibilities on, I have never felt more sure of No Fidelity’s future. Years of tireless student work and effort have built No Fidelity up, and I have faith that its foundation is sound. I leave this zine in the hands of a dedicated and imaginative bunch of writers, artists, and musicians whose talents are well-established. NoFi will be steered by fantastic editors who are ever-expanding the vision of what this project can be.

For those who have yet to hop aboard, join us, I can promise the ride will be worth it.

NoFi has oriented me in my time at this school, I am ever-grateful for it.

Cheers All, Henry Holcomb ‘23

What Your Favorite Radiohead Song Says About You

Aviva Sachs

High and Dry

In high school, you made a list in your notes app of all the people who’ve ever made you cry. You also made a list of all the people you ever thought about fucking. The overlap between the two lists is concerning. You quit competitive sports after tenth grade. You say you like camping, but that’s a lie. You say you’re proud of the person you’re becoming; this is also a lie.

Jigsaw Falling Into Place

For a while, you thought you wanted to major in Environmental Studies in college. You ended up majoring in Economic, because you realize you don’t actually have morals. You didn’t cry when your childhood dog died. You have unspecified intimacy problems.

Everything in Its Right Place

You think you are the SHIT. I mean, everything you do is in its right place. It doesn’t matter that your dad never told you he was proud of you. That college-level math class you’re taking totally compensates for the fact that you’ve never felt good enough. You really like camping. Academia is overrated.

Morning Bell

You probably majored in philosophy in college. You had a questionable upbringing, but nothing traumatic enough occurred to excuse the fact that deep down, you’re not sure if women are equal to men. Oh, and you are a woman.

Creep

Please, go fuck yourself.

Fake Plastic Trees

Your situation is bad. I mean, really bad. You also listen to A Tribe Called Quest. You like Kurt Vonnegut a little too much.

Sulk

Sorry about your dad. At least your emotionally suffocating mom was always there!

Exit Music (For A Film)

Your parents separated, but never got a legal divorce. Sometimes you still had family dinners, which

was confusing. You grew up hating your body. Stand-up paddle boarding. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her” is something you live by. You seriously thought about majoring in physics. Come to think of it, you’re not sure if they were ever legally married at all.

Nude

A lot of unspoken family tensions. Your parents have always annoyed the living shit out of you, and at this point, you’re not sure how many siblings you really have. You tell people you’re two inches taller than you actually are. How many times have you seen your parents fight? Sure you “play” the guitar. You’ve thought about painting your nails just to hide the fact that you don’t necessarily respect all women.

Weird Fishes/ Arpeggi

How high are you? When was the last time you sat down and actually had a single cohesive thought? You’re addicted to energy drinks and probably have debilitating ADHD. You grew up in like… Wyoming? No one really knows where you grew up because you don’t talk about yourself, like, at all. You’re really into extreme sports.

Karma Police

You’re a Republican. You didn’t vote in the last election because you hate Donald Trump, but you thought twice before vaccinating your kids. You like to think you’re special because you were raised a democrat and became a republican later in life (usually it goes the other way).

True Love Waits

You’re actually completely fine, you’re just being dramatic.

How To Disappear Completely

You, on the other hand, are really, really, really not fine.

Why I Love Wilco’s AM

Ethan Whiteaker

The debut album from Wilco, the Chicago born offspring of Uncle Tupelo after their three album run, might well be one of my favorite albums of all time. There’s something about Jeff Tweedy’s washed, shyly twangy voice that can pierce my ears every time I listen. The alternative country stylings of this album would become indicative of what was ahead of the band: a mix of alternative rock, experimental music generation, country, and folk influences that would ebb and flow throughout their discography over the past almost 30 years. While the change from Uncle Tupelo to Wilco’s debut may not have coalesced into what most people love Wilco for nowadays, the effortless country rock influence makes this album stand out so beautifully among their more adorned albums, including Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and Summerteeth. I will be mentioning some of my favorite moments and lyrics from all tracks on AM, and I hope to bring more love to this debut album.

I Must Be High - Tweedy’s conversational twang is highlighted on this song as he talks about letting a relationship go and thinking about the other person. The simple bridge guitar solo perfectly mends the verses of the song into a complete story of this relationship, but the hook of the song, a sort of pre-chorus into an instrumental chorus, is sung with such a controlled reality of what has happened, with tints of both regret and humor highlighted in Tweedy’s voice, that makes the hook the highlight of the song in my opinion.

Casino Queen - God damn, do I love gambling. This song always reminds me that I am about to hit it big. You can only lose 100% of your money, but you can get so much more return when you win! This song makes me want to become a

high-profile poker player, and, frankly, I’m awful at poker. I’ve lost $80 this term already because I’ve been listening to this album. Shoutout to the overdrive sound on the guitars and the added hooted and hollerin’.

Box Full of Letters - The guitar lead is infectious while Tweedy sings of all the things he wanted to say. In many ways, this song is so good because it is relatable. To a person who can’t articulate their thoughts, “Box Full of Letters” is an ode to a common struggle that remains lightheart ed and optimistic. Tweedy’s youthful optimism stands out amongst other themes in this song, even though the premise is centered around miscommunication.

Shouldn’t Be Ashamed - Again, the lead guitar takes all focus for me. The shift between held notes into a bendy guitar solo interlude, along with the dirty southern-style distortion, parallels the longing felt by the narrator in reminiscing on a current relationship that is falling apart. In many ways, this song exemplifies why early Wilco is so visceral. A combination of country-isms and personal lyrics, while maybe simple to follow, is indefinitely nostalgic, especially for people like me who grew up listening to older rock/country music where the two were indistinguishable.

Pick up the Change - “We used to have a lot of things in common / but you know now we’re just the same” Jesus christ Tweedy. You can’t do that to someone in this rock ballad right after “Shouldn’t Be Ashamed.” Mellowing out a little after the first four tracks, this song takes it out of me every time. The ode to a partner dynamic is a very popular lyrical theme, but Tweedy does so with a grace that emphasizes the difference

Collage: Aviva Sachs

between intellectualization and emoting.

I Thought I Held You - I love two-part vocal harmonization, so the chorus doubling is the cherry on top of this banjo-filled meander. Also, this will be the first time I shout out the pedal steel guitar, but the pedal steel on this album makes me want to buy one and start a country/punk outfit every time. The subtleties of the pedal steel go very underrated as a whole in my opinion, so if you want more pedal steel in your life please listen to more AM.

That’s Not the Issue - I love banjo and electric guitar pairings as well, so combining the pair with a rockabilly-esque drum backbeat brings us out of a mellow space and back into a rockin’ groove. The manner in which Jeff Tweedy writes and sings about instability is showcased on this track; I feel Tweedy approaches these subjects with a class and understanding of the self that is very admirable.

It’s Just That SimpleThis show features the bassist of Wilco, John Stirratt, singing a waltz ballad, so as a bassist I love it. I think more bassists should sing on tracks in their bands. Stirratt’s higher vocal range than Tweedy also gives this song a different kind of longing twang that helps propel the track even though it is in the middle of the album. This song highlights how instrumentation changes can be with people, and I find that really interesting to consider as a songwriter.

Should’ve Been in Love - Wilco’s ability to combine layers of single-line instrumentation has always been something that I loved about them, but this song feels like a deja-vu fishing trip to me. When I hear this song, I feel like I am with my Grandpa fishing as a child over a bridge in the middle of nowhere, hoping that I can show him what I caught. Climbing down to the under-

side of the bridge, he’d show me how to walk on the rocks and up a makeshift dirt path. This song feels like a memory to me, and that may well be the biggest compliment I can give a song.

Passenger Side - “I’ve got a court date coming this June / I’ll be driving soon” Tweedy’s optimism is again at the front of my mind. While a little corny, the underlying stories of drunk drivers and passenger side experiences are baked into my life in really funny ways, so all I can think of is my other grandfather and his side business at the bar. Dash 7 - I’ll say it one more time: the pedal steel on this album is so lovely; it is atmospheric, and melodic, and compliments the downtrodden singing and acoustic guitar of Tweedy. The instrumentation change is again appreciated, and it makes me think a lot about the line between natural voice and singing and how it can be shifted for different effects.

Blue Eyed Soul - The pop of the snare drum on this track is rather apart from the previous drum sounds on this album, at least in terms of dynamic contrast with other instruments, but it works so well in the line “can you let the snare crack?” and in giving the guitar parts something to counter in this ballad. The guitar solo in this track is also memorable in how it utilizes multiple styles of bending and uses the range of the guitar to easily help in the tension and release of different solo ideas.

Too Far Apart

awaits us, but this is how I want this album to end. It feels like a complete statement ending with something so rock oriented in this amalga mation of country, rock, and folk structures. It leaves my mind in a wonderfully painted sonic palette complete with palm muting and lightly overdriven goodness.

Collage: Aviva Sachs

THE FUTILITY OF TOURING Will Prim

Touring as an independent artist is hard. There’s no getting around it. Traveling in a van for ungodly amounts of time, sleeping in strangers’ houses or sketchy motels, eating sparsely, and managing an incredibly tight budget is quite a task for oneself. Despite all these blockades, artists have been able to make it work, but it’s becoming a tougher task. In a post-pandemic world (if that even exists), being a young independent band is harder than ever. Economic forces such as inflation, currency devaluation, bloated shipping costs, and increasing gas prices are making an already expensive endeavor increasingly costly, in a fraction of the entertainment world where there’s never really been much money going around it in the first place. Increasing amounts of venues and promoters have made things worse by collecting cuts from artist merchandise sales, an important source of revenue, and underpaying artists under the guise of “exposure”. Political enforcements, like increasing the price for artists’ visas, pile onto the growing mound of factors that affect touring. For example, on February 3rd, the US Department of Homeland Security proposed a raise in price for foreign artists touring Visas by 250%, which dramatically affects Canadian and Central American artists who travel a lot to the U.S.

The SXSW Music Festival is an incredibly important event for up-and-coming artists and bands. Held in Austin, Texas, the event serves as a place for young artists, with lots of buzz in the music world, to showcase their material, while also networking with agents, labels, and other artists. The event occurs every March and hosts artists from all over the world. For an event so centered on helping new artists “breakthrough” to more commercial success, the festival exemplifies a lot of the problems facing the world of independent music today. To start, the festival ridiculously underpays artists. According to music journalist Zach Schonfield, who covers this event, solo artists are paid 100$ to perform, with bands being paid a mere 250$. It’s a laughably small amount of money, especially for bands who travel an extraordinary distance to be there. For many bands, who have to budget for travel, housing, and food, and then on top of that pay an agent or booking manager, 250$ is nothing. For such an admirable event that highlights some of the coolest young artists on the scene, SXSW heavily contributes to the rather archaic principle that exposure makes up for underpaying artists.

Being an up-and-coming artist is hard and has always been viewed as a blue-collar job. Most rising artists work jobs outside of just making music and touring and making ends meet is never simple. On top of touring becoming more and more financially troublesome for bands, streaming platforms do not help much either. 90 percent of streams on Spotify go to the top 1% of artists, ultimately leaving breadcrumbs for independent artists to gain in that realm. Music will never die, but unless lots of major changes are made to the current model, independent touring will. It is now more important than ever to buy merchandise and physical music directly from artists. Bandcamp Fridays, where all music purchases go directly to the artists without the platform taking any cut, is another great way to support artists in these troubled times.

Image: Billy Bratton

DJ PLaylist

How To:

How to fall, run, crash a car, and/or copulate rambunctiously

Colin James

* This Could Build Us a Home by The Garden * LMAO by Hook *

4:47am by Hook * Crashed My Car by Hook, Nedarb, Zack Fox * Cal- vin K by CLIP * Throw It by Babyxsosa * IDK WHAT TO TELL YOU by Bktherula * Trix by Slater, Enjoy *

6 by YAYAYI * Clay by The Garden * Gimmie Head by DJ Clent * Lotto by TiaCorine * Sad B!tch by CLIP *

* LETHAL by YUNGCYBERPRINCESS * THROUGH 2 U by Bktherula * no longer human by meat computer * Post Tropical Cyclone by Yuuki Matthews * Bullet Chained by Arca * abusive by MIMIDEATH * Slayin’ by Bootychaaain * TOPIC by YUNGCYBERPRINCESS, Threat333 * LAT- ENIGHT by 454 * Shrooms And Tv by LazyGod * what lsd actually feels like by KirbLaGoop, meat computer *

* GET OFF MY SWAG by Babyxsosa * If I Could Hold Your Soul by Cities Aviv * Took a Turn by Louke Man * Expensive Taste by gum.

mp3.benchday *

DRAMA BABY / MALIBU by Babyxsosa * FACETIME by 454 * PROS- THETIC LEGS by City Morgue, ZillaKami, SosMula *

Midwestern Nostalgia About Nowhere

Henry Holcomb

If you have spent more than 10 minutes with me you know that I love the Midwest. I’ve grown up my whole life with one foot in Minneapolis and the other in a remote family camp on the edge of country’s largest lake-land wilderness. At a college with peers from every corner of the country, I have heard my fair-share of jokes about Minnesota and other midwestern states. It’s true, we don’t have many of the thrills of cities along the coasts or the towering grandeur of the West, but it’s also undeniable that Minnesota –and elsewhere in the Midwest– has a certain sort of humble charm. As I finish my final terms at Carleton and on the cusp of a new chapter in my life, I have found myself daydreaming about campfires, the quiet beauty of Northern outdoors, and the friendships I have made in this place over my life. Lately, this has all but consumed my music choices during all hours of the day. There are countless artists and genres that I enjoy, but I continue to find myself returning to the music and artists that reflect my relationship with Minnesota, its pines, trails, and long winters.

A nostalgia of place seems to be a focal point of a significant body of music emnating from the mouths and guitars of folk and folk-pop artists from the Midwest. If a band is from the Midwest, chances are they’ll let you know, and they’ll let you know where from with a sort of chest-thumping pride that’s bound to confuse anyone from anywhere else. The longing that iconic bands such as the poster midwestern folk-pop band Bon Iver channels at locations small enough to barely even have a Wikipedia page (listen to “Brackett, WI”) can feel ill-directed; after all, what could this tiny unincorporated town in rural nowhere possibly offer the world? Largely absent are places to gather, dramatic views, or even much to do at all. The Midwestern obession with trees, isolated cabins, and slowness is rampant; other successful artists such as Minnesota’s Dave Simondet of Trampled By Turtles have branched off from popular acclaim to form solo projects that open space for more-emotional and reflective sounds. Simondet’s Dead Man Winter project responds to place in instrumental poignant works like Lake Superior, which features almost 20 uninterrupted minutes of slow and often sad sound about the North Shore’s Lutsen and Tettegouche. Works like these are well-placed within the Midwest ethos, evoking memories of loon calls and silent snow falling. This sound encourages us to reach inwards, to find comfort in everyday beauty, and to move slower, with more intention.

This music also celebrates our relationships in a way that I find special, teasing out memories of laughing in the summer and friendships sown together in unique ways. There is a certain joy in growing up with others in lasting ways that is captured in many of these tracks. Energetic artists like the Minnesota band Lucy Michelle & the Velvet Lappelles were worth buying a cd for just so I could play albums through and blare “Just a Kid” to myself on roadtrips. A sort of humble and quiet love is dwelled on and explored with beauty in tracks like “Books” from Boys Side-B of Ohio band Caamp: “Then she gigles like a bubble bath, Oh, I love it when you laugh, Rain like pennies in a tin can… Say that you love me all the way, Say that you love me too.” It is those little unassuming moments with others that I am most grateful for and that feeling is somehow captured so perfectly for me in this vein.

I don’t know where I will be after I graduate but I am thankful that this sound is something I can carry with me, never failing to remind me to notice the ground we stand on and the people we have shared a trail with.

Work: Elise Hudson

Get Got by Death Grips

A Healthy Amount of Emotional Whiplash (via my spotify current top songs)

By Ruby Dirks

Dried Roses by Big Thief

MSMSMSM by SOPHIE

Helplessly Hoping by Crosby

Stills and Nash

Rat Fight by Alexandre Desplat

(on the Fantastic Mr. Fox soundtrack)

So Long, Marianne by Courtney Barnett

212 by Azealia Banks

Souvenir by Boygenius

Tití Me Preguntó by Bad Bunny

Crow Song by Haley Heynderickx

Plan B by Megan Thee Stallion

I Want You by Mitski

Fireball by Pitbull

Service Road by Better Oblivion Community Center

Collard Greens by ScHoolboy Q and Kendrick Lamar

Flume by Bon Iver

Doses and Mimosas by Cherub

Leaves That Are Green by Simon & Garfunkel

How to Disappear Completely by Radiohead

Valerie (Glee Cast Version)

Note: This playlist has the best effect when listened to in order! Also I take absolutely no responsibility for any tears that may be shed as a result of said listening :)

Writing on the Wallz Cameron

Kelley

Az with many storiez, the significance of “seeing writing on the wallz” originatez in the Bible. It comez in the story of King Belshazzar, son of Nebuchadnezzar, the Babylonian despot who enslaved the Jews. While Belshezzar iz trying to enjoy a feast, wordz appear in Hebrew upon the wall spelling out the destruction of Babylon. And sure enough, the kingdom fallz.

I, personally, love writing on the wallz. I like taping big paper to my wallz and leaving pencilz and penz and crayonz out so I can scribble something if I feel so pozzessed. But there’z something in the paint on the wallz in the dormz at Carleton that rezistz tape. In addition to the looming possibility that if I scribbled all over my bedroom wallz I would get fined or otherwize have to deal with other people’z criticizm of my work. On the majority of wallz, my writing iz a disruption and would be scrubbed out by a begrudging custodian––to whom all respect and praize iz due.

Undergrad university iz a four year cycle, and the better part of my yearz have been disrupted by a dizeaze that castratez the brain so that itz chugging at full capacity just watching the

airplanez go by (beats sniffing glue I spoze). Not only am I living with the constant reminder that I am about to leave (or living in the constant dezire to leave), but being insistently reminded that this iz not my space.

Rez life doezn’t want your shit in their spacez. They tell us, If you uze the kitchen, make it seem like you were never there. Keep everything clean so that everyone else can live efficiently. Kipple iz no good––at all costs keep it from piling up. And when you’ve left your dorm, leave the bed wiped clean, turn out the lights, and lock the door.

There’z a crack in my door. Itz been there at least a month now. They say they’re gonna tear my building down anywayz, so I been wondering when I’ll feel the urge to punch through it. Itz just paint and wood, rotting and destined for the burn pile.

Writing on the wallz iz an unproductive and egoistic activity. Thoze kidz tagging train carz iz a nuisance whoze only claim to selfsignificance iz vandalizm. It iz selfishly absurd to think that you have some right over otherz to fill the emp ty space.

The name “vandalizm” comez from the hordez of vandalz who can be credited with bringing down the Roman Empire. Sure, it took a few hundred yearz, but eventually the pillaging and the razing meant that kingdom did fall.

Carleton College preferz itz studentz not to vandalize itz property. But––and this iz speaking from observation and experience––Carlz like to vandalize from time to time, to steal signz and scratch up the wallz. It killz the monotony, for a moment at least

So hold fast to the spacez that iz ourz. The placez we can, without fear of being named, scribble a manifesto on the wallz. The spotz far enough off the trail to not be bothered build-

ing a humble shelter out of the wood scattered about.

All praize to KRLX––where not only can the writing on the wallz can be seen, but you can be the one to carve it in.

** a note in review: this piece waz written in January 2023. A couple weeks after writing it, I saw an article in The Carletonian talking about much the same subject matter. It waz moreso whining that the wallz iz blank, whereaz––I can’t be more blunt than this––I am telling you to graffiti the place up. For posterity, I wrote this piece before I read The Carletonian article, though I encourage you to read that piece too. Diagnosis iz the same, but we’ll probably disagree over the color of paint; splatter the wallz “maize and blue” if you want, I won’t be happy till they’z red and black.

Explorations in Black N’ Roll

Jimmy Carlson

If you’ve spent any significant amount of time looking into heavy music, there’s a fair chance you’ve heard of black metal. Perhaps you’ve heard tell of its obsession with the occult, or through some random YouTube video essay learned about its history fraught with violence and ties to extreme ideologies. If you’ve had any experience engaging with the music itself, you may have had a hard time finding any semblance of pleasure beyond the walls of repetitive, abrasive, and laughably produced noise that it forced into your ears from all angles. If that is the case, I can’t blame you. Even ignoring the heinous history and politics found all over the genre, few are those who can take in more than an album at a time of the punishing mash of shrieked vocals, buzzy guitars, and blast beats that come with the pure black metal sound without later discovering a tired numbness between their ears.

There must be a solution, I hear you say. There must be another way, a style of music that takes on the rich, dark atmosphere and brutal power of extreme black metal while calming it down and binding it to simple, easy-to-enjoy rhythms and song structures. Well, dear reader, I have good news for you. That subgenre has existed for more than two decades now, and its name is black ‘n roll. Quick history lesson (feel free to skip if you don’t care).

Our story begins in the late 70s with none other than the punk/traditional metal greats Motörhead. Motörhead inspired Venom, Venom led to Celtic Frost, Celtic Frost led to Bathory, and the first music to resemble what we now call black metal was born. Then the 90s came, and Norway exploded with a slew of bands and classic albums that collectively pushed the original concept of black metal into territory that was heavier, faster, darker, kvlter, and legitimately far more evil than anyone expected. Then came the 2000s, when Carpathian Forest took the diabolical atmosphere that had engulfed their native Norway and imbued it with the marching grooviness of Motörhead which allowed black metal to exist in the first place. Inspired by their sound, former pure black metal group

Satyricon dove right in and created some of the most iconic black ‘n roll ever. From that template, the concept of black ‘n roll has spread its tendrils across ever more musical styles and continues to achieve new rockin heights on a steady basis.

I myself am somewhat of a newcomer to the broader scheme of black ‘n roll. I’ve enjoyed Satyricon for a long time, but over the last month I’ve listened to more and more of the newer side of the scene. It’s been so so fun for me and I’d love to share some of my favorite finds so far with you all. First, however, I must make some kind of a disclaimer. Because black metal is a subgenre that is obsessed with Satanism and violence at its very core, and because black ‘n roll is a sub-sub genre of black metal origin, these themes have naturally transferred over into the daughter genre. Even the tamest of black ‘n roll bands have a strong focus on themes of hell and darkness. Thankfully, however, there are no metal genres with the word “black” in them that are less deserving of your concern than black ‘n roll (“Blackgaze,” says my fellow NoFi contributor Alberto. Fine.). In every case that I’ve seen so far, black ‘n roll bands just want to have fun, and their obsession with the devil and devilish deeds, while very strong, is just part of the act. Furthermore, it seems that the problematic political viewpoints which have festered in the main body of black metal since its inception are absent in the black ‘n roll camp. So, my point is that if you’re not concerned with whether or not the music you listen to is compatible with traditional religious and/or pacifist viewpoints, you can imbibe some black ‘n roll guilt-free. Now, without further ado, here are some of my favorite black ‘n roll albums lately, all from within the last decade:

TL;DR of intro segment: I’ve been listening to some black ‘n roll these past few weeks. black ‘n roll is black metal and rock n’ roll together. Here are some albums I like:

Devil Master - Satan Spits on Children of Light (2019)

This. Is. My. Shit. Press play on this bad boy and after a 1:40 of piano and synth vibing that sounds fresh out of an 80s D-movie about a big-ass papier-mâché snake that eats people really slowly you’re thrown right in to one of the hardest hitting, wildest albums in the black ‘n roll subsubgenre that I’ve heard. From the first crack of the snare drum on “Nightmares in the Human Collapse” to the last “OW!” on “Webs of Sorrow,” you the listener are rolling around in this hot revolver barrel of straight. BANGERS. The sound of this album is something like a crossover between 2000s Darkthrone, hardcore punk, and surf rock (De Mysteriis Dom Bahamas, anyone? [look it up]), but really there’s nothing like it. The way those shimmering wah leads come in over the intense drums is so intoxicating and oddly humorous, and the vocals are so primitive and so well suited to the sound of the rest of the music, it creates this full package of insanity and anger which is somehow still pretty accessible. The best part, though, is how this album doesn’t chill out, ever, but is dynamic enough to keep things interesting over the whole 37 minutes. Devil Master know exactly when whatever they’re doing might start to get repetitive, and they waste no time changing things up. The more I learn about this Philadelphian band, the more excited I get about them (did you know their drummer is Chris Ulsh from Power Trip???). They’ve got wonderfully crappy-looking music videos, they’ve got the sp00piest stage names I’ve ever seen in my life, and their 2022 album is also very worth a listen, but I wouldn’t start anywhere but this one. At the

same time, this is probably the most potentially off-putting album on this list, so anyone who isn’t already familiar with some heavy music might want to put this one off for just a liiittle while

Tribulation - The Children of the Night (2015)

It would be a mistake to make any compilation of recent black ‘n roll without including Tribulation, the far and away most celebrated band in the style from the last decade. Tribulation started off as a regular old Swedish death metal band, but transitioned to something much more interesting with Children of the Night in 2015, bringing in traditional metal and gothic rock into their sound as well as a constant black metal presence through their vocals. People like them best for their 2018 album Down Below, which continued the black ‘n roll trend while adding a little more zhuzh in the instruments and song structures, but I think The Children of the Night is their bangiest, gloomiest, and most consistently gripping album from front to back. It’s got the melancholy in spades (probably the most moody album on this list) and the gothy spooOOokiness to go with it, but it also has that sweet metal touch spread all over and through. It’s like if Satyricon got a little smacked and started reminiscing on sad childhood memories and romantic failures. Anyone already into gothy rocky stuff looking to get a bit more into metal (I’m talking to you all you Ghost fans popping up from everywhere lately) needs to give this album a shot, particularly its hit track “Melancholia.”

Kvelertak - Nattesferd (2016)

Do you like to ROCK? Do you ever rock so hard that you let out a blood-curdling scream and summon a demon? Then you will probably like Nattesferd (“night ride”) by Norwegian ragers Kvelertak. Kvelertak crashed onto the scene in 2011 with their self-titled, where they mixed some eccentric sort of blackened punk thing with bursts of groovy 70s rock to make a revolutionary experience. They brought a little more of that rocky sound into their second album in 2013, and three years later came out with this endlessly listenable retro joyride. Nattesferd exists in a balance between three sounds: hardcore punk, folk-laden black metal, and what sounds like a mix of Journey and Black Sabbath. Songs like “Dendrofil for Yggdrasil” (literally about making love to the World-Tree) and “Berserkr” bring the blast beats and tremolo picking but maintain a hard rock/punk atmosphere, while “1985” and “Heksebrann’’ thrive in the opposite, 80s-worship end of the spectrum, and pugilistic bangers like the title track and “Bronsegud” bring the punk hard. Excuse my genre jargon. What’s important is that this album is heavy, this album is accessible, this album is interesting, and this album is really fun. Nattesferd might be the most unique album on this list. And unlike a lot of these albums you can HEAR THE BASS. Hallelujah. I only started listening to this thing about a week before submitting this article, but I already recommend it for anyone who wants to rock out for 47 minutes and doesn’t mind some screaming to go with it.

Hellripper - Complete and Total F*****g Mayhem (2016)

And finally, we have Hellripper, the vitriolic solo project of Scottish madman James McBain. The title really says it all on this one; it’s about as zero-chill as music like this can be. This isn’t so much black ‘n roll as it is pure and simple Venom-worship, but any album that has a song called “Hell’s Rock ‘N’ Roll” on it belongs in this article. I don’t have much to say about this album other than that it slots right into that same fast, demonic, heavy musical zone that Venom occupied in the early eighties, except with better production, faster, thrashier riffs, and lyrics that focus even harder on Satanism and violence. Is this a very artistic album? No. Is this a very dynamic album? I can’t think of anything more one-note than this. Complete and Total F*****ing Mayhem is instead for anyone who wants to hear nothing but high-energy blackened thrash/speed metal for half an hour. Anyone who’s listened through all of Reign in Blood will understand. This is the first of four albums by Hellripper, and I’m excited to hear the rest they have to offer.

And there you have it. Those were four recent and noteworthy albums in the black ‘n roll sub-subgenre, all suitable listening, in my humble opinion, for anyone who has enjoyed any amount of heavy music. I hope that you find some time in your busy lives to blacken your auditory receptors with these rippers.

Cartoon: Cameron Kelley

The Perfect Dose of Irreverence | Insignificance (2001)

Alberto León

Jim O’Rourke is an artist whose position in music culture is difficult to describe. For many music lovers, his name means nothing. He could be any mid-successful musician that only a group of people came across or even, in internet culture, a martyr for a group of pretentious people to wall themselves further into their underground music with. On the other hand, those of us who had a different musical introduction, especially from the internet, link this name to one of the best and most influential artists of recent times. He is a stranger as well as a legend.

This man, a native of Chicago, is considered one of the greatest exponents of contemporary experimental music and has played significant roles in the musical evolution of the 1990s and 2000s. He has been involved in the production of albums by well-known bands such as Stereolab and Wilco and artists such as Joanna Newsom and John Fahey. He has collaborated with other heavy names such as Nurse with Wound, Flying Saucer Attack, Fennesz, Merzbow, Faust, and others. But his most recognized contributions involve the legendary band Sonic Youth, where he was more of a collaborator than a member. It was a symbiotic relationship, where he and the band gave each other creative support, rather than Jim only playing bass in live performances. By the way, do you know the movie School of Rock? He was the one who taught the actors how to play.

Many people find it strange that despite his impact on music over the past two decades, Jim O’Rourke is not such a recognized name. However, I think the answer to this can be found in his music. Jim’s discography is extensive, but much of it is attempts at experimentation found in electro-acoustic improvisations and ambient or drone projects. Nevertheless, like weathered glass on the shore of a beach, at least six projects stand out: Bad Timing, Halfway to a Threeway, Eureka, Insignificance, The Visitor, and Sim-

ple Songs. All of these, except for Bad Timing (a love letter to American primitive guitar), are known for working with popular music genres such as jazz, pop, and rock in a very elaborate way and with exquisite attention to detail. At the same time, their lyrical content contrasts very strongly with the sweet and charismatic melodies that make up the album. With lyrics that border on the depressive, misanthropic, and even bizarre with the idea of generating shock, we can get to know the reserved personality of O’Rourke, who has barely given a couple of interviews and prefers to spend most of his life in private.

We can notice this, especially in the fourth project of this saga, Insignificance, released in 2001 through the independent label Drag City. The cover can give you an idea of the album’s content. Drawn by Japanese artist Mimiyo Tomozawa, who also drew the even more graphic cover of Eureka, it produces the unpleasant feeling that O’Rourke conveys while reciting his songs.

Don’t believe a word I say

Not that you would anyway

I may be insincere

But it’s all downhill from here

These are the first verses of the album, in the first track, “All Downhill From Here,” accompanied by a catchy and acidic melody, very reminiscent of the rock from the sixties and seventies. Along with that cool instrumentation, O’Rourke begins to show his rejection of someone. For me, it will stay with us throughout the album and is what makes it great. We never know whom he speaks to, but this ambiguity makes us put ourselves in his shoes. As soon as we hear and understand the lyrics, we can position anyone who has caused havoc in our lives as the recipient of these hints. A nagging partner, an interested party, or anyone who shows up in our lives uninvited will become Jim’s and our

punching bag as we listen. For 38 minutes and 26 seconds, this project will become our only friend who will understand us and the only one who knows the reason for our fatigue towards people.

This new friendship between you and a musical album not only falls on the desire to get away from everything and everyone but creates comfort with its tracks. The second track, Insignificance, which shares the album’s title, reminds us more of the sweet pop melodies of the last century, prevalent in adult-contemporary radio, musicals, or children’s movies. Despite the shift in focus, O’Rourke maintains the album’s message, this time being more subtle.

Everything that you felt Was someone else

Everything that you felt Was someone else giving you something

He refers to the dependence on others for many of those who share our common environments. I believe the socalled “College Experience” reflects this best. The need to be in constant stimulation with strangers who must become acquaintances and friends is not something I share. I love how, in this song, O’Rourke puts the relationships we create in check, seemingly because social or personal pressure doesn’t allow us to rely on ourselves. Is it mandatory for everyone to like you? What’s the point if they won’t do anything for you in the future? The position of this song is the opposite of high school friendships, which fall apart a couple of days after the graduation ceremony.

Rejection of this idea of “socializing” makes us antagonists wherever we find ourselves. Although we “look bad,” O’Rourke assures us otherwise in his third track - Therefore I Am.

Me, I’m getting better everyday

That’s what I said, don’t believe what you’ve heard

Knowing yourself means knowing what makes you feel good. Maybe not necessarily comfort-

able, but comfortable enough to go on with your life. The idea is not to idealize the relationships we hope to have but rather to have a standard about the kind of person we can accept into our life. It fits the type of goals we have, but the quality of people will depend a lot on them. Why study or work with a bunch of selfish, party animals? It’s a question I once asked myself.

Sorry, but I found someone new to spend time

Instead on you, I spend it with me

You see, I’ve travelled round the world, oh yeah I’ve seen so many things, why am I talking to you?

Understanding the behavior and functionality of any relationship will help us conclude them. If someone who is part of our day does nothing but generate discomfort and annoyance, why have them? But, even with this clear, there will always be a struggle. The other half or external agents will assure us how necessary it is to remain “in companionship,” which means “accepting the other as they are,” condescending garbage that allows acting without any consideration, and without a single significant consequence.

Despite our best efforts to lead a quiet life, fate will have its way on more than one occa-

Back-side cover of Insignificance: Mimiyo Tomozawa

sion. Between coincidences and the ghosts of unpleasant experiences in our minds, we can go from a quiet day to facing those we try so hard to avoid.

In the fourth song of the album (and my favorite), Memory Lame, through a piece reminiscent of Indie Rock, with great use of acoustic guitar and pleasant melodies, O’Rourke delivers perhaps several of the most brutal lyrics of the album, already bordering on something completely irreverent.

This song is more direct than the others. Here the nasty subject present throughout the album fully materializes. O’Rourke unloads against the one who has caused so much evil in our lives. It’s our perfect opportunity to let off some steam.

It’s quite a gamble to speak out of place

Those things could kill you but so could your face

What occupies me pays a low rent

Because fondness makes the heart grow absent

Now, the dependence on getting into a relationship with someone is dead. This song reaffirms our position. It is, for now, the last goodbye we give to the horde of people who keep insisting on meddling in our lives.

These things I say might seem kinda cruel

So here’s something from my heart to you

Looking at you reminds me of looking at the sun

And how the blind are so damn lucky

The first time I heard this, I was stunned. It resonated inside me and bounced around in my head and chest for days. Despite being a song, I felt O’Rourke’s courage in my heart. An extremely strong but elegant way to tell some one to fuck off. It takes me back to when I was younger and needed a push like that.

However, there will always be motives to blackmail us into guilt for breaking communication with someone, for abandoning a set of values and any social or emotional structure. Nostalgia, memory, and tools are used to sell us a beautiful past that never existed. How do they remind us

of us? In no real way, we are a canvas on which they can try to paint us with anything.

And too many people can remember your name

Always walking you down memory lame

All this personal purge will make us reflect. It will fill us with doubts, like if it was worth doing everything if we created some unnecessary enemy, if we became what we hate so much or if loneliness is our final destiny. In a pretty acoustic ballad, the fifth track, “Good Times,” shows conclusions of this series of thoughts.

I may be dressed as a doctor, dear But I’m not, I’m just acting up Got high hopes A passing thought

I may act like a bombardier But don’t be fooled, cause my aim is off No need for alarm

I’ll catch you next time

These are a couple of metaphors for hubris. O’Rourke tells us through them that, despite his arrogant and rude behavior, he is far from being what he tried to appear to be. Perhaps this is what he had to do to turn everyone away at

I’d like to raise the Titanic here Take a walk down its molding streets

It’d be so nice, if you weren’t here Empty air, where you used to stand

These verses mark a shift in perspective on the album. We take the attitude of the first four songs to bring out all those inept people in our lives, but O’Rourke shows what makes him feel

I enjoy being alone a lot which allows me to read and write. I love having my own space whenever I can. The bitter moments I have gone through in my life I have handled precisely by being on my own. That doesn’t mean that I like to be isolated, but silence and talking to myself are what have made me who I am. I identify

with the album because it presents in a beautiful way how I like to act towards society and myself.

The sixth track, “Get a Room,” takes on an Indie Pop beat with a pretty swinging swing. It departs a bit from the album’s theme because this time, O’Rourke, as in Halfway to a Threeway returns to present us with an unpleasant and gloomy story.

It’s always me in the only seat

That has a canopy

There to screw up the best laid plans

Of those with company

Don’t mind me, I’ve got all night

I’d like nothing more to do

Than to watch the desperation on your face

I may choose to send you straight to Hell

Like it’s worse to end up in this place

The singer is presented here as a supernatural being who is there and can ruin anyone’s night. Is it a form of revenge on that guy in the album? What I find funny is the approach given to the victim:

If I gave you, one night to live

Would you know who to choose to take home

And if she falls asleep before the night is through

Because she has to go to work and you don’t

I’m fascinated by this. It is as accidental an act as it is cruel. This little story reaffirms O’Rourke’s talent for conveying such sour emotions in a few words - you only have one night left to live, and the girl of your dreams falls asleep! The result of this disaster can be none other than despair, described by the rest of the song, which is so much that it ends up hoarding and having to fade out at the end of the track. And then, we come to the seventh and final piece of this piece, “Life Goes Off.” It’s a bit more challenging to interpret, but it’s the perfect closing to this personal adventure, which

begins with an acoustic swing reminiscent of sixties surf rock. The lyrics seem to speak of a dysfunctional relationship that quickly takes a sinister twist.

You used to be quite content

With your shower cap

But now I know you feel much more at home

With a case of Handi-Wrap

You’d hol your own

If you tho ught it was clean

At least give me some gloves to wear

Or a picture of St. Augustine

The main character in the story describes his partner’s intentions to murder him. He alludes to objects such as plastic wrap or gloves, which are common in domestic and crime of passion stories. We could confirm the couple’s intentions with the chorus:

If I were to die with these things on Can’t say I

didn’t try

These sudden twists and turns bring the song to life, as typical of Jim O’Rourke as his perfectionism and his ability to compose. With this song, he closes this emotional journey where he expresses what he thinks about people and how it can so easily resonate with us. It is an outlet, as well as a lesson, with a subtle, poetic, and fantastic touch that keeps it from becoming an asocial discourse that any teenager could write. It’s the perfect dose of irreverence that we all need in our lives to remind us that the best thing for us is to keep our dignity and patience, even if that means cutting people out of our day-to-day lives.

This album demonstrates what makes him one of the greatest songwriters of all time and one of my favorite artists. His influence on contemporary music is still rampant today, but even his idiosyncratic work, which embraces the right ears, builds its pedestal.

The Legend of Jai Paul Soren Eversoll

When the lineup for Coachella 2023 was released, the shadow of a returning Frank Ocean loomed so large that many fans overlooked the return of another reclusive, hugely influential singer-songwriter of the 2010s. The name sat just below Ocean’s, sharing an exclusive second row with acclaimed artists Björk, Kali Uchis, and Dominic Fike. Jai Paul. Paul has never performed live before, likely becoming the only musician in history to boast a second-rung Coachella performance as their world debut. Music publications worldwide were quick to trumpet the news—Pitchfork exclaimed “Jai Paul to Perform First Live Show Ever at Coachella 2023”, NME heralded “Jai Paul Makes Return”, and renowned DJ and beatmaker Kaytranada tweeted: “forget about me performing, i’m going to see Jai Paul”.

Like a rare Amazonian bird or colossal squid, Paul has rarely surfaced since introducing himself to the world with his single “BTSTU” in 2010. The English musician’s most recent appearance was surprisingly in the third season of Donald Glover’s critically-lauded Atlanta, in which a tracksuited, ochre-bespectacled Paul discusses racism with Darius (Lakeith Stanfield) at a London party. “Racism and capitalism,” Paul says, “hard to separate, innit?…I feel like anywhere you can buy a can of Coke, some type of racism goin’ down there”. The Jai Paul subreddit blew up accordingly: “…surreal to see Jai appear on pop culture television so nonchalantly lol”; “Guys what the fuck is going on”; “Holy fucking shit include me in the screenshot boys; what a fucking night I literally choked on my food and am crying”. Paul commands a shockingly devoted fanbase for someone whose last (and only) album was released in 2013, followed by a six year gap before the arrival of two singles “Do You Love Her Now” and “He” in 2019. In the age of streaming, where voracious appetites and quick attention spans require artists to rapidly release new music or risk disappearing into the void of irrelevancy, in which musicians even as massive as Tyler, the Creator are locked to strict, two-year contracts, Paul has remarkable staying power.

In 2010, a seemingly innocuous message appeared on the MySpace page of northwest Londoner Jai Paul. It read: “whats goin on my names jai im a artist/producer jst startin out in the game let me kno if u feel it…thanks 2every1 whos been backin me I rly appreciate it peace jai”. The song was “BTSTU”, largely unchanged from a demo Paul had crafted back in 2007. The song opens with a slow fade into cooing, angelic falsettos, followed by the lyrics: “Dont fuck with me/Don’t fuck with me”. This is followed by a laid-back, Dilla or D’Angelo beat (on his MySpace page Paul listed both as major influences), and a grisly, thundering synth bass. “I know I’ve been gone a long time”, Paul chants on the chorus, “I’m back in the morning sun”.

In that rare way that could only happen to artists in the internet’s early music ages, “BTSTU” blew up. The demo rocketed through music blogs (then true tastemakers), was dubbed Hottest Record in the World on Zane Lowe’s BBC Radio 1 show, and in the coming years was sampled by Drake in his song “Dreams Money Can Buy” and Beyoncé in “End of Time”. A bidding war followed and Paul was signed to XL Recordings that same year. In their end of the year round-up the BBC announced that Paul was a “startlingly fresh vision of 21st century pop music”. The next song came in 2012—“Jas-

mine (demo)”, more lovesick than “BTSTU”, Prince-like, yet rippling with Paul’s trademark synths. In the eyes of all, he was poised to become one of his generation’s great artists. “Unquestionably”, said the BBC in 2011, “Paul…is one to watch”.

Then it all fell apart. In 2013, an unidentified user uploaded an album titled Jai Paul for purchase on Bandcamp, quickly identified by music publications as being a number of unreleased songs made by the musician. Bandcamp was slow to take down the release, which quickly spread. Many sites even declared that this was Paul’s upcoming album, some going so far as to provide links to the leak and posit that the release was a tactical move on the part of Paul or XL to generate hype. Some reviewed the album. Paul’s voice soon surfaced from a rarely-used Twitter page: “To confirm: demos on bandcamp were not uploaded by me, this is not my debut album. Please don’t buy. Statement to follow later. Thanks, Jai”. But the damage had already been done. In the eyes of many, Paul’s debut had occurred.

If Paul’s release was intentional, the songs themselves seem remarkably unfinished—many of the vocals are muddy and unclear, sounding more like temporary placeholders than finished takes. Yet they are unmistakably Paul’s—playful, heartbroken, side-chained to oblivion, full of samples from bizarre corners like Harry Potter, Gossip Girl, and Tomb Raider, and rounded out with majestic sawtooth synths and heavy, danceable beats. Paul is at turns confident, insecure, boyish, and elated. “In the company of thieves”, he sings on “Zion Wolf Theme”, sounding eerily prophetic of the Bandcamp leak, “Will they steal away my life? Will I go down without my fight?” Influences of Paul’s upbringing in London’s Rayners Lane, home to one of the largest Tamil communities outside of India, emerge in the leak’s standout, “Str8 Outta Mumbai”. Paul samples legendary Bollywood singer Vani Jairam’s vocals in the song’s euphoric outro—the end result is a synthesis of traditional Indian music and pop that sounds completely fresh, a collision of old and new that could only belong to an artist born into the borderless 21st century. “But you know I’d do anything for you”, Paul sings just before the sample kicks in, somehow even more impactful in his raw, untreated vocals, “Oh but girl I’d do anything for you”.

The leak was soon followed by an official investigation by the City of London Police, to no avail. Just as quickly as he had emerged into the public eye, Paul disappeared. Years went by. In 2016, Paul and his brother A.K. announced the Paul Institute, a new creative venture. Music blogs began referring to him in hushed, reverent tones, as the new pop star that never was, a legend now more renowned for the music he hadn’t released than that he had. Every so often a rare sign of life would emerge and pinball through the Paul subreddit—a photo of Jai and A.K. standing at a construction site in West London, production credits on a scattering of songs with artists linked to the Institute. And then, in 2019, the unthinkable happened—through XL, Paul released a new album.

Well, not entirely new. Titled Leak 04-13 (Bait Ones), Paul’s album was sequenced exactly as it had been in the 2013 leak, almost identical to the release on Bandcamp six years ago save for a few minor edits and omissions. The music publications were correct—many of the demos had been intended for an official release in what would have been Paul’s debut, Bait Ones, long since scrapped. The album was accompanied by a lengthy note from the musician, who speculated that the leak had come from a misplaced CD.

“…the hardest thing to grasp”, Paul wrote, “was that I’d been denied the opportunity to finish my work and share it in its best possible form…I suppose the music was special to me in a way, stuff that I began writing as a teenager in my room just for fun, eventually signing my record deal with it at 21, and hoping that I could put it towards a debut album with XL. I guess having that dream torn up in front of me hit me pretty hard…There were some long-term effects for me following the leak. There was a significant loss of trust…Everyone was convinced that the story they had read online—that I’d leaked the music myself—was true, so I had to repeatedly explain the reality of the situation over and over again. It was frustrating and disorientating to find that I had no ownership over the story (or the music) and that people were choosing to believe a different truth. I guess this all made it feel like I had thousands of people not believing me, not trusting me, and also that in some strange way I was responsible for all of it. On a personal level, things gradually went south and I had a breakdown of sorts. I was in quite a bad place for some time. I was unable to work and withdrew from life in general…It will always be a little painful for me to listen to myself, but I don’t want to deny people a chance to hear it, especially as it’s already knocking about…As always, you can find me down the pub (shout out to all the safe people who’ve come up to me to say hello over the years) so I’ll see you down there for a pint later. Peace, Jai”.

In now-typical Paul fashion, not much has been heard from the artist in the years following 2019. He surfaced briefly as a producer on Childish Gambino’s “Time” from his album 3.14.20, preceding his appearance on Glover’s show. Paul’s mystique has now become myth, his privacy a fundamental part of his image. Much like Frank Ocean, this has only made the musician’s legend stronger, and future music is as readily anticipated in 2023 as it was in 2012. Nonetheless, in April of 2021, Paul posted to his Instagram for the second time after two years. The photo showed a younger man with blue makeup smeared beneath his eyes, the same one used on Leak 04-13’s psychedelic cover, staring cryptically at the camera. Amy Winehouse and Alicia Keys posters are tacked up on the bedroom wall behind him. The caption was brief, reminiscent of the MySpace post-Paul had made for “BTSTU”: “Yo just a quick one for tha real heads - it’s 10 years today since I put out my first single… it’s been a bit of a mad one still…so just wanted 2 do something fun n say thank u to everyone whos been down from the start…bless Jai”. For a second, Paul was there. And then he was gone.

Image: Billy Bratton