Melisma Fall 2017 by Melisma Magazine

MELISMA EDITORS-IN-CHIEF Ross Bretherton Chelsea Wang

MANAGING EDITORS Charlie Billings Katie Fielding Ella Harvey Diana Hernandez Teddy Obrecht Katie Sanna

PRESS DIRECTOR Dana Brooks

FOREIGN CORRESPONDENT Kriska Desir

CONTRIBUTING WRITERS Jeff Blitt Jason Mejia Kaitlyn Meslin Eman Naseer Josh Schuback Sofia Wolfson Evan Zigmond

PHOTOGRAPHERS Varun Shah

FROM THE EDITORS

s we wrap up our last year at Tufts and our last issue as editors-in-chief, we’ve had a lot of time to reflect on how the music scene at Tufts has changed in the past four years. Some genres have waxed and others waned in popularity amongst student musicians here, but we have watched the amount of musical activity skyrocket. Where the Tufts music scene was once disconnected, and in a sense still is, this semester feels like the beginning of musicians seeking each other out across campus to collaborate. We are watching, hopefully, as newly made connections at open mic nights, acapella shows, and jam sessions begin to lay the foundations for a more inclusive and connected music community. In the Tufts sphere, we profile Sofia Wolfson who in her first year here has already released an album, titled Hunker Down, as well as performed at the Middle East. In accompaniment, you’ll find a personal essay from Sofia on the importance of women as musical role models in her artistic development, and a short interview with the founder of the L.A.-based community Play Like A Girl. Outside of Tufts, our writers bring a fresh set of perspectives on how totalitarian figureheads and musicians like Mac DeMarco and Clairo are strikingly similar, why Boston’s nightlife disappoints, and how bands like Vulfpeck can turn the oft-dreaded need to sell merch into a defining aspect of their brand. The issue wraps up with an op-ed we’ve been trying to publish for years but never nailed, covering the dichotomy within genres on how fans respond to allegations of sexual assault and other immoral behavior against their favorite artists. If you’re interested in exploring the music scene at Tufts, attending shows in Boston, or contributing in any way to the magazine, we hope you’ll join us next semester. Send an email to the address below for details on how to join! Cheers and enjoy, Ross Bretherton and Chelsea Wang Editors-in-Chief

ILLUSTRATORS Elizabeth Vogt Laura Wolfe

STAFF

Sara Blake Connor Goggins Owen Morrissey

Interested in writing, art or design? Questions, comments, adulation or hatemail? Email melismamagazine@gmail.com

MELISMA | FALL 2017 | 3

MELISMA TABLE OF CONTENTS SOFIA WOLFSON HUNKERS DOWN From LA to Boston, this first-year is making waves Katie Fielding

THE ALEWIVES

Tufts’ bounciest rockers will blow your ears out Ross Bretherton

FALL SEMESTER IN PHOTOS

The best shots from recent Boston shows

HOW BANDS ADVERTISE

When capitalist necessity becomes personal expression Evan Zigmond

THE MORALITY OF FANDOM

Where do fans draw the line when it comes to the actions of artists they love? Jason Mejia

ON THE COVER

Sofia Wolfson Design by Laura Wolfe Photo by Varun Shah

4 6 7 8 11 12 14 17 18 19

SEE HER SHRED

The importance of women as music industry role models Sofia Wolfson

THE CITY THAT ALWAYS SLEEPS Why does Boston nightlife suck? Charlie Billings and Eman Naseer

THE CULT OF PERSONALITY

On artist relatability and totalitarian regimes Kaitlyn Meslin

BROCKHAMPTON: PRODUCERS CORNER Why Romil Hemnani is Brockhampton’s most underrated asset Josh Schuback

SPRING PREVIEW

Our artist and concert picks for next semester

TOC Illustrations by Elizabeth Vogt

Melisma Magazine is a non-profit student publication of Tufts University. The opinions expressed in articles, features or photos are solely those of the individual author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views of the editors or the staff. Tufts University is not responsible for the content of Melisma Magazine. If you would like to submit a letter to Melisma Magazine, please send it to melismamagazine@gmail.com. Please limit your letter to four hundred words or less.

SOFIA WOLFSON HUNKERS DOWN LEAVING BEHIND HER LOS ANGELES BAND, THIS FIRST-YEAR IS TAKING BOSTON SOLO BY KATIE FIELDING

ufts first-year Sofia Wolfson may have begun her venture in the music world by playing a ukulele cover of a Haim song in the 9th grade, but the singer-songwriter has come a long way since. One album and an EP later, Wolfson has found her sound in lyrically-driven melodies with understated production, drawing inspiration from Joni Mitchell, The Band, and Margaret Glaspy. The result is music that is easy to listen to while still maintaining depth. Growing up in a music-loving family in Los Angeles fostered Wolfson’s love of music. “I never had baby music or baby movies,” she laughed, swinging her legs back and forth off the edge of my dorm room bed, “I had The Beatles and The Last Waltz.” By age 6, she was playing guitar; by third grade, she had already written a song. She attended an arts high school, and while she studied theater, not music, being a part of a closeknit, creative community contributed to Wolfson’s musical growth. It was easy to tell how passion-

Illustration by Elizabeth Vogt

ate she is about music—she grinned through the entire forty-five minute interview. Wolfson and her father co-produced and released her first album, Hunker Down, in 2016. Comprised of ten songs she wrote when she was 15, the album is a polished collection of intimate folkpop songs about love and growth. Between that album and her newly-released EP, Side Effects, there is clear development, especially in the production. Wolfson confessed of Hunker Down, “I was confident in the music, but once it got to the studio, I couldn’t fully express my ideas sometimes.” With the help of producer Marshall Vore, Wolfson was better able to articulate her ideas on Side Effects. Instead of leaving the songs as she and her band played them live, Wolfson and Vore worked together to further the songs in the studio. The three songs on the Side Effects EP arose out of Wolfson dealing with emotional turmoil and the side effects of her experiences, and are full of raw emotion in their lyrics. She says that she rarely sits and writes with the intention of composing a

MELISMA | FALL 2017 | 5 full song. Rather a line or a phrase will come to her, and she’ll write it down on her phone and build off of that. She recalled that while driving her car once, she was thinking about the prescriptions she had to pick up and the line “I’ve got a prescription to deal with your symptoms” just popped into her head. That line blossomed into “Capsule,” an entire song about grappling with the monotony of some of her relationships. Despite getting started young Wolfson’s career has not always been easy, in part due to the difficulties of being a woman in the music industry. Even though

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I’ve found that a lot of music is what the person looks like, and that’s just not music.

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she consistently played shows in high school, she constantly felt the need to prove herself to sound engineers, saying she had to demonstrate that she “knew how to plug in and… set levels and all that.” She also faced questions about her appearance at shows. Her guy friends could get on stage in a tee shirt with no problems, but there were always questions about her clothing choices. “I’ve found that a lot of music is what the person looks like, and that’s just not music,” she lamented. Wolfson is now going through a transitional period in her career; after leaving her band behind in California, Wolfson has been playing solo gigs in Boston, including a show at the Middle East. She admits, however, that the transition has been difficult. “I kind of didn’t realize how much music I was playing with other people… It still feels like a lot of me is in L.A. because of the musicians there,” she reflected. This has led her to write more music because even though she’s away from the musicians she plays with, she still has the urge to play. A change as big as moving across the country has given her plenty of new material to tap into. Wolfson continues to look to the future with her music. She

plans on playing an EP release show in LA and continuing to get involved in the music scene on campus and in Boston. The positive responses to her EP, from friends, family, and local publications alike, have only further fueled her desire to get back into the studio. Signing is also on her mind, but she noted, “it’s a weird era of getting signed and people are young and it’s very competitive. The fact that everybody can produce and put out music on their own, it seems like a different ball game than in a time where music and distributing music was getting signed to a label.” Editorial Note: Sofia Wolfson has joined Melisma as a writer and her article is published following this profile. The decision to profile her was made prior to her participation in Melisma, and she was not involved in editing this piece.

SEE HER SHRED

THE IMPORTANCE OF WOMEN AS MUSIC INDUSTRY ROLE MODELS

ist some well-known rock bands. The Beatles, The Who, The Band, The Beach Boys are a few that come to mind. It seems like our musical history is written from the male perspective. I was raised on these bands; thus, it’s easy to grow up playing guitar feeling like women don’t get much of a say in the music industry. As a young musician, it is vital to have influences in mainstream music who are women, as it gives me examples of people doing what I do and idols that aren’t all men. The first time I heard Joni Mitchell’s Blue, I wasn’t just amazed by the music, I felt driven to write and create something with that much musicality and emotion. Though rock n’ roll can seem extremely malecentered at times, I have witnessed a great rise in the number of all-girl or woman-led bands, giving me a wider variety of musicians to draw inspiration from. As a result, publications like She Shreds Magazine have risen to help encourage and highlight girl guitarists and bassists, further supporting women in the industry. The summer before I came to Tufts, I interned for Play Like A Girl, a community in LA that puts on shows of all-female and woman-fronted bands at venues like The Echo, The Hi Hat, Harvard & Stone, and the music festival Echo Park Rising. This opened my eyes to the great diversity of women in the LA music scene and beyond. PLAG’s platform not only showcases these bands and artists, but gives female musicians power and more of a voice in the world of music. I asked Kimi Recor, the founder of PLAG, a few questions regarding her views on women in the music industry, some of her favorite bands, and how PLAG came to be. What made you want to start PLAG? How did it come together? PLAG started because I wanted to create a monthly showcase for women and non-binary artists to express themselves. I asked a couple of my friends if they wanted to help me, and we went from there! What do you think is important about encouraging women to play music? I think it’s important for women to know that they CAN play music and that there’s a place for them in the musical community. Things have changed so much over the last few years, but when I first started playing music, there were barely any women in indie rock / rock.

BY SOFIA WOLFSON

I think representation is so important – not only so that women can have female role models but so that men can as well. I think it’s vital for men (especially younger ones) to be able to look up to a badass female musician – ideally that will help shape them into better allies and feminists. Who are your favorite acts recently that have rolled through the PLAG showcases? This question is always so hard, because I love all the bands. Some of my favorites this year have been Sudan Archives, Bedroom Witch, Slugs, Iress, Spare Parts for Broken Hearts and Let’s Eat Grandma. Could you talk a little about the panel series you have started? I get asked so many question about music business stuff all the time- so my partner Katrina and I thought it would be cool to create a monthly, free workshop/ panel that educates musicians about different parts of the music industry. We usually have 5-6 panelists who are experts in their field come and talk about their field of expertise. The panels are open to everyone, but our panelists consist of women. Do you have any advice for aspiring female musicians? Keep doing it. Don’t let bad experiences get you down. Learn your craft to the best of your ability. Play like a girl! There are so many incredible women in the music industry and it continues to expand rapidly. Women are upholding rock n’ roll and setting strong examples for more female musicians to get their voices heard. I strongly believe women, and especially young girls, should be encouraged to learn music, as both an art form and a sense of confidence. As someone in this competitive industry, I’m always looking for diverse influences and I’m thankful I have so many incomparably talented women to look up to. So if I could bestow any advice on aspiring musicians, it’s to always keep searching for new role models: that’s what keeps the music alive.

THE ALEWIVES

MELISMA | FALL 2017 | 7

BY ROSS BRETHERTON If you get the opportunity to see The Alewives live, the first thing you’ll notice is their undeniable energy. While many other student bands at Tufts are performing a mellow and soulful brand of R&B, The Alewives play straight rock, and their music is anything but mellow. Comprised of vocalist and guitarist Tony Nguyen, drummer Pranav Menon, vocalist and bassist Matthew Park, and guitarist Nihal Pai, the band’s high-energy jams have hit the ears of a wide array of fans and fans-to-be across the Boston area. They’ve performed everywhere from fraternity fundraisers to local jam sessions to the Vietnamese Student Club annual talent show, and brought down the house at many stops along the way. Much of this energy comes from Tony’s ability to lose himself to the music regardless of where he is. Even in the band’s practice sessions he looks ready to slide onto his knees and belt his heart out. “Tony is a star, and we all just sort of fell into his orbit,” said Matthew, chuckling. Indeed, the band’s conception was not just another reshuffling of already-existing friendships in the Tufts musical community. Instead, Pranav and Tony sought out bandmates they did not already know; by doing so, they tapped into a deep vein of musical talent at Tufts that doesn’t necessarily feel like they have an ‘in’ to join the band scene here. The band’s chemistry belies the fact that only a year ago, with the exception of Tony and Pranav, none of the bandmates knew each other. Over the course of a practice session, everyone provides creative input on others’ parts, and songs that were written individually take on the flavor of the group. Sometimes this means that an idea for an R&B track that Tony brings to rehearsal morphs into a power ballad, and it’s a positive

The Alewives. Illustration by Elizabeth Vogt.

transformation that gives the band a collective sense of ownership over the track. Their upcoming single “is just a straight up rock song with an anthemic chorus,” says Tony. “I like to call it the “banger” of our set but it’s really fun to play live… since it’s so poppy, people start singing along.” The Alewives’ commitment to making the Tufts music scene a more inclusive and broader space is as inspiring as their sonic energy. “I came to Tufts with a lot of enthusiasm for music but very little knowledge of how to get involved in the student scene, and if I’d have any advice for those looking to play: just put yourself out there,” advises Pranav “When you meet a musician, commit to jamming with them in the Granoff practice rooms. Don’t worry about your skill level, don’t worry about theirs; don’t worry about your tastes, don’t worry about theirs; just get out there and find as many people to play with as you can.” Tony echoes this sentiment, adding that the student band scene “feels exclusive at times. It’s hard to get gigs unless you know the right people since it’s mainly a house show centered-scene.” The Alewives started outside of the house show circuit, and encourage new musicians to find new connections in every way possible. Pranav puts it best: “I met Tony, my music mate of 4 years, in a practice room packed with nine freshmen, beating my hands bloody on an upright piano because there wasn’t a single percussion instrument in sight. The only requisite is the courage to play with anyone, for anyone, with anything, for anything.” It was this spirit of willingness to work together that brought the Alewives together to play for the first time, and it is this spirit that makes them so fun to watch.

THE CITY THAT ALWAYS SLEEPS BY CHARLIE BILLINGS AND EMAN NASEER

nickname says a lot about a city’s atmosphere, often drawing upon the most exciting aspect of a place’s personality and bringing it to the forefront of its cultural prominence. Amongst famous and recognizable aliases such as “The City that Never Sleeps” and “The Big Easy”, Boston’s “Beantown” sticks out. This odd nickname, inspired by baked beans, a favorite dish of the American colonists, points out a certain zeal that Boston lacks— embodied by the city’s unexciting nightlife. The sentiment that “Boston nightlife sucks” is pretty ubiquitous among the large number of college students in the area, but few begin to ask why. While it is easy to shrug off the problem as inconsequential, its implications for a school like Tufts should not be ignored. Tufts students often complain about the notorious “Tufts bubble,” but it is easy to see how this lackluster nightlife scene could be reflected in the campus culture of colleges in the greater Boston area.

“

The sentiment that “Boston nightlife sucks” is pretty ubiquitous among the large number of college students in the area, but few begin to ask why.

”

While cities like New York are perpetually chasing the newest trends and phenomena, Boston’s focus has always been on preserving and honoring its storied history. The early settlers of the Boston area in the 17th century were fervently religious Puritans from England. The Puritans were very socially conservative: their staid traditional values centered on the church and living a simple life focused on work and family. According to Tufts Associate Professor of Urban and Environmental Policy and Planning, Justin Hollander, the moral views of the Puritans can still be seen in Boston today. For ex-

ample, New England famously retains restrictive “blue laws” that prohibit the sale of certain goods like alcohol on Sundays, the Christian day of worship. Hollander explains that the laws “stem from the Puritan view of the role that government should play in regulating social life...and those same blue laws have restricted how late bars, restaurants and nightclubs can stay open at night” in Boston. Due to these laws, bars, music venues, and clubs in Boston must close by 2 AM. Hollander explains, “there’s a lot of resistance” even to the relatively early last call in the Boston area, which “speaks to the historically social conservative population in Boston.” In contrast, some bars in New York and Chicago routinely stay open until 4 or even 5 AM. Although the Boston nightlife is pales in comparison to other so-called “party cities,” the culture of music within the city is a unique range of environments that inspires close relationships between fans and artists, artists and venues. Boston’s musical nightlife revolves around a few major venues like the massive TD Garden arena or House of Blues, some midsize venues like the Sinclair in Cambridge and then smaller venues such as Great Scott in Allston. Kristina Mensik, a Tufts student working at the Sinclair, describes the culture within these small or midsize shows stating that “these venues attract some bigger names, but also a lot of smaller acts, many of which have impassioned followers.” She adds that smaller venues “tend to attract recurrent acts, so the band forms a relationship of sorts with the venue and the local fans.” This local connection that Mensik views as a crucial aspect of the Boston music scene is, in many ways, fueled by the large number of college students in the greater Boston area. This culture of connection, that can be seen in even the largest venues in Boston, is echoed by the huge underground basement show music scene. Many college kids who make their own music can’t necessarily get a real gig at even small venues, so they use their own parties as a platform to perform. According to Mensik, “there are a lot of small, lesser known spots that host local artists, and you pay anything from $10 to a suggested donation. A lot of this is collaborative work between the hosts and the band, from what I know,

MELISMA | FALL 2017 | 9 but it involves rock, hardcore, singer/songwriters, and plenty of rap too. There’s a lot going on in… house and basement shows that definitely contributes to the musical pulse of this area, even if it’s not out in plain sight.” While the hidden nightlife may be a direct result of the high concentration of college kids who are not of legal drinking age in the area, these students also shift Boston’s focus uniquely onto the colleges themselves. Students often opt to stay on campus and entertain themselves in ways their meager budgets and connections to enabling upperclassmen and lax liquor stores will allow. Hollander also adds that the culture of Boston’s many colleges are notoriously far from that of the “Big Ten party schools,” so the applicants that are attracted to the Boston colleges are generally not the students looking for a top ten party school experience. Instead, they “are a lot more serious...about their studies,” there is a “broader culture that’s not so late night [focused].” He argues that the huge population of college students in the Boston area along with the “broader cultural preference for reigning in late night activity” are reasons “why you might expect [nightlife] to be a little more heavily regulated.” Hollander gives the example of the prohibition against happy hour alcohol specials in Massachusetts, which specifically stems from the 1984 death of a collegeaged girl involved in a drunk driving accident. According to Hollander, the ban and similar restrictive attitudes in Boston are “totally in response to reckless behavior mainly by college students in the past, so it’s all just kind of inertia: some bad things happen, then some rules are put in place and that continues for some time.” The heavily regulated environment of Boston is in direct contrast to other cities. For Tufts students who grew up in countries with more relaxed rules regarding drinking and nightlife, the Boston scene can seem suffocating. Tashwita Pruthi, an international student from Hong Kong, offered some insights as to how bars and clubs in Boston compared to those in other parts of the U.S. as well as the rest of the world. Pruthi explained that the Hong Kong social scene “revolved around going to clubs” and bars. She said the proximity of nightlife venues had an impact on a night’s longevity as well as excitement: in Hong Kong “everything was clumped together,” so you had “the option of going to two or three different clubs in one night.” However, in contrast, Boston’s clubs, music

venues and bars are spread throughout many different streets including Boylston, Tremont, Stuart, and others

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The nightlife environment in New York is much more conducive to a larger, younger crowd mainly because of its reputation as the ‘city that never sleeps’

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rather than one central area. This effect is coupled with the expensive cover fees of Boston’s clubs. Pruthi explained that if you go to an exclusive club in Boston “you pay a lot” for a cover fee, “so you want to stay at that club until closing time, and you don’t have the option really of going bar hopping or going to another club.” Another major factor contributing to the comparatively dead nightlife scene in Boston is of course the early 2 AM call time for bars and clubs. Pruthi stated that most clubs in Hong Kong, close around 5 AM, meaning that she usually arrives at a club at around 1 AM while in Boston she is forced to arrive at around 10:30 PM. When asked about her experience going out in comparable U.S. cities, Pruthi replied, “in New York, clubs close at four so people are more hype for a longer amount of time and when I go out in New York I always bump into people I know,” while in Boston I just stay with “the people I go out with.” The nightlife environment in New York is much more conducive to attracting a larger, younger crowd mainly because of its reputation as the “city that never sleeps”, as well as the comparatively relaxed environment of clubs and bars in general.

Illustrations by Laura Wolfe

It is also important to note that the culture of Boston’s music scene is unique. Mensik explains, “there’s a huge history of punk and hardcore in Boston that I think undergirds

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There’s a huge history of punk and hardcore in Boston that I think undergrids things, even if just faintly.

”

things, even if just faintly.” Due to this history, the music scene is a more rock-focused community, while the local electronic and rap scenes seem tiny in comparison to those in huge cities like New York. Beyond its different demographic in terms of the huge percentage of university students and concert-heavy, barfocused late night culture, Boston faces another major obstacle to nightlife with its the lack of late night public transportation. Mensik says “it definitely changes the “nightlife” culture to a degree.” She adds that the Boston area “would be more attractive for young people” if venues had “more lenient closing times” and “way more late night public transportation.” The MBTA buses and trains operate only until about 1AM, a full hour before bars, music venues, and clubs have their mandated closing times. Even at midnight, waits for a bus or a train can drag on for longer than 15 minutes, which can be dangerous for people after a night out. This begs the question: why doesn’t the T system stay open just an hour or two later to provide cheap, effective, and safe transportation to partiers and concertgoers who are out late at night? Professor Hollander agrees with this premise, saying “there’s no question that infrastructure like public transit is going to make a city more attractive to late night activities.” However, he goes on to mention that when

t h e MBTA

has experimented with late night services, the costs on a limited budget have outweighed the benefits: “once there is a budget crisis that’s the first thing they cut, so there’s not a long term commitment to providing that late night service.” Unfortunately, this means that in the near future Boston will have to continue without much-needed late night transit service. Professor Hollander offered some solutions to Boston’s late night woes. First, regulations would have to be altered to further a change the culture of Boston’s nightlife would have to occur with altering. Hollander explains, “through changing some of those blue laws,” revised liquor licenses would let bars, music venues, and clubs stay open—and serving alcohol—later. He also provided some interesting ideas for colleges to supplement the MBTA’s meager late night service: “one thing that some colleges do is provide shuttle busses or reimburse students for Uber rides.” However, Tufts does not seem to be interested in these costly programs. There is no easy fix for the late night Beantown blues. Boston is not randomly going to become a nightlife mecca, with raucous clubs raging until the early hours of the morning, small late-night pubs serving the stragglers, and an efficient, safe system of getting people home late at night. For now, college students and other Bostonians should take note of the unique Boston music scene centered around smaller venues and house shows that foster a sense of community between artists and concertgoers. Plus, as cities like Boston try to attract young professionals and modernize their transportation systems, hopefully Tufts students will soon be able to manage an easy reentry after their escape from the bubble. In the meantime, maybe try your luck at asking President Monaco to pick up your Uber tab.

MELISMA | FALL 2017 | 11

FALL SEMESTER IN PHOTOS

TOKiMONSTA by Ross Bretherton

MisterWives by Katie Fielding

Too Many Zooz by Jeff Blitt

Smallpools by Katie Fielding

LANY by Ella Harvey

Atlas Genius by Katie Fielding

Lost Dog by Chelsea Wang

THE CULT OF PERSONALITY KAITLYN MESLIN

raditionally, pop music was intended to reach and appeal to the widest audience possible—and, as a result, contained little actual lyrical substance in its songs. Swing music, doo-wop, and rock ‘n’ roll in the mid-20th century introduced the concepts of fan bases for artists and an overwhelming trend towards listening in social settings, dancing, and music for broad enjoyment. Artists grew in popularity based upon the catchiness of their songs, and, for many pop figures, their physical attractiveness. Beatlemania began the era of what we still consider pop, with hundreds of thousands of fans from every corner of life swooning over the British boy band. With widespread access to television and radio, artists could draw larger crowds to their live performances, and execute record releases with booming popularity. The Beatles captured this sensationalism with their appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show, performing “I Want To Hold Your Hand” to a record number of U.S. television viewers. In their time, The Beatles dominated music media. The Beatles experienced unprecedented success as a mainstream band using media to their advantage to achieve a following unlike ever before. Others followed suit, and pop music grew to incorporate more than just the music as brands were built around the “looks” of bands and individuals in the industry. However, the line between artists’ musical lives and personal lives was still well-defined; interviews on television, talk radio, and in magazines aimed to bridge the gap, but many of these narratives were purely speculative. Only the most successful celebrities were widely recognized and published by media. Fast-forward to the 21st century, with the era of social media in full swing. Self-advertisement is readily available to all, and with this, artists gain a sense of personal expression formerly unavailable. Entertainers use the same platforms as everyone else, and are thus expected to be equally as public with their lives as non-celebrity users. Modern-day pop audiences take interest in not only artists’ sound and look, but also their personal lives, shifting artists’ marketing focuses to turning their everyday lives into their professional image. The way in which audiences flock to artists based upon their personal lives in current-day pop exemplify the concept of a “cult of personality”—musicians’ presence as a whole is what defines their careers and draws fans in. This same concept has been historically exploited to create propaganda for totalitarian governments. The worship of dictators such as Joseph Stalin and Adolf Hitler was achieved with widespread images of the leaders reaching all of their citizens, and thus gaining them vast followings. In this way, pop musicians parallel dictators in their usage of media to convey their images. In modern day, the cult of personality is used by artists and popular figures to create a constant and widespread image for themselves that incorporates enthusing elements of their character, often exaggerated, to draw in fans. Mac Demarco embraces this concept in his artistry— his image as an artist is not necessarily made clear to fans, but the enigmatic nature of his presence and lyricism contributes to the cult following he enjoys. This image is comprised of a collection of snippets, many from his Twitter account, all very raw and unequivocally the product of his own disjointed thoughts. Tweets within the last year include “#lol” 1 and “I like pizza” 2 (the latter featuring the Canadian flag emoji), snippets almost too simple to come from a traditional celebrity. Demarco uses his multifaceted and often disconnected (generally and between

MELISMA | FALL 2017 | 13 an objectifying comment from a guy and not immediately be seen as a ‘bitch’” 3) and appeals to young, liberal audiences when posting. The majority of her tweets are not about her music, but are instead scattered thoughts that, all in all, form her image as a simplistic but highly entertaining figure.

Mac Demarco (left) and Clairo (right). Sketches by Elizabeth Vogt.

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... pop musicians aren’t all that different than dictators in their usage of media to convey their images

”

records) personality to keep listeners interested. Despite being an alternative artist, Demarco still merits the title of a pop figure with his sheer number of followers. While undoubtedly unconventional, he is a staple of the modern music world with the social media choices regarding his image that he makes to maintain popularity.

The social network SoundCloud is appealing to musicians for its low barrier to entry, making it a place where even inexperienced musicians can build their own personality-based brand. The platform has cultivated a niche of artists who output less highly-produced tracks, causing a skewed interest towards simplicity and rawness within its users. Clairo, a teenage girl from Boston, built her name as an artist upon just being herself. Clairo’s viral video, “Pretty Girl,” features the artist sitting in front of her computer camera, lip-synching to a track with very little instrumentation and featuring WordArt-esque subtitles. Her posts on SoundCloud are straight from her own home, and she garnered interest by simply being “normal”—the factor of relatability, as opposed to idolization, is now in style with artists. Clairo’s peers are her fans, and so lies the appeal of social media in modern music-making; it is accessible to the point where fans can seek out raw talent, but also an artist to which they can relate as a peer. Like Mac Demarco, she remains accessible in her tweets—with many posts in all lowercase letters and often featuring emojis, Clairo tweets as any other teen would. She exudes feminism (“imagine a world where a female artist can defend themselves after https://twitter.com/Msldemarco/status/860206653844594688 https://twitter.com/Msldemarco/status/818290447420297216 3 https://twitter.com/clairecottrill/status/933109234358784000 1 2

On the opposite end of the spectrum, hip hop artist MF Doom goes out of his way to separate his personal life from his performing life. He uses masks and even impostors on stage so he can maintain a façade to the public. He has recorded only one interview. MF Doom is radical in his approach to being a musical artist; unlike past and present artists, he allows no part of his personal life to be accessed by the public. He proves, however, that in order to keep personal life away from professional life in the current day, one truly must provide no trace of personality to the public. Not only has the shift from traditional to social media in our society influenced the ability of artists to release their music and gain listeners much more easily than ever before, but it has also brought a new requirement for most successful artists: procuring a personality that is just as important as their musical content. While Mac Demarco and Clairo fall on one side of the spectrum, creating images that are simple and relatable to their audiences, MF Doom creates a persona in which nothing about him is visible, and fans are drawn in by the sheer appeal of mystery. For artists who have sprouted up since social media became more widespread in the current generation, it is imperative that they have a carefully crafted and wellmaintained Internet persona. Though artists like Clairo use social media to their advantage and become closer to their fans, I don’t believe that should universally be the case. With so much weight on artists’ personalities, the lines are often blurred between legitimate talent and simply an intriguing public image. Fans are more connected to their favorite artists, but should they be? With such a high level of relatability in the modern entertainment industry, it will become difficult to distinguish between artists of all abilities. Artists nowadays with talent similar to the Beatles could be recognized on the same platform as a teenage musician with little experience, and as such, true talent is becoming undervalued and hidden beneath a generation of “equalizing” social media.

HOW BANDS ADVERTISE

WHEN CAPITALIST NECESSITY BECOMES PERSONAL EXPRESSION he word “advertisement” is traditionally associated with impersonality. After all, ads exist to promote interest in and ultimately sell a product or service. However, advertising as a concept has different manifestations in different industries. Unsurprisingly, artists in the music industry can put their own spin on advertising, to reflect their identities more strongly than just music. Some bands are exceptionally good at this. Vulfpeck is a textbook example of a band that puts a creative and refreshing spin on advertising. Vulfpeck is a funk band with a very devoted, internetsavvy fanbase. Fans are constantly uploading covers, as well as creating their own merch and memes to express their love. I place myself firmly within this group. I feel compelled to buy all of their music, as well as any merch I can get my hands on. I even spent $40 of my parents’ money last year to purchase Vulfpeck’s computer font, with which I gleefully wrote all my high school papers. The font, dubbed “Vulf Mono,” was actually commissioned by bandleader Jack Stratton himself, demonstrating a relatively deep knowledge of musical advertising. Their logo, a letter “V,” stylized (of course) in Vulf Mono and enclosed in a circle, is printed onto sweatshirts, which fans eagerly wear to concerts. The symbol is relatively obscure fans delight in seeing others with the logo on. I’ve been approached in Carm on a day when I’m wearing a Vulf sweatshirt, greeted with a “nice sweatshirt” and a knowing smile. Exchanging these glances makes me feel part of something secret, something greater than myself. Although the branding of Vulf has become part of my personal identity, I was originally attracted by the raw musicality of the group. When I first heard the band, I fell in love with the sheer happiness of the music. It had a powerful effect on me: I danced in the cafeteria every morning at summer camp. I skipped up and down the street. I giggled like a child every time I heard the first 4 bars of “It Gets Funkier.” I was enamored with the music.

Vulfpeck. Illustration by Elizabeth Vogt.

BY EVAN ZIGMOND

The second wave of infatuation came when I saw one of their music videos for the first time. I was greeted with the unmistakable “Vulf Jingle,” a sparkling, warm piano riff in D-flat. That’s right: Vulfpeck has a musical watermark. This is the first of many genius advertising concepts the band has developed, concepts that have become pieces of who I am. The jingle, played by Woody Goss on electric piano, is unmistakable in how retro it sounds. Not only is it reminiscent of a bygone era, but it also encapsulates the band’s sound: unique, musically exceptional, and ever so funky. I have come to associate general feelings of happiness with that sound. Then, I witnessed the unique cinematography and atmosphere of a Vulfpeck music video. The video is simply the taping of the recording of a song, usually done in a living room or some other aggressively causal environment. The camera cuts around the room, occasionally filming the feet of an enthused Theo Katzman or Joe Dart’s bobbing noggin. Once again, the band separates themselves from others in so many aspects that it is bound to resonate with people looking for something new. The cinematography is just one aspect of Vulfpeck’s physical presentation that invites curiosity. This is how Vulfpeck draws very loyal fans. The music is supported by diverse, attention-grabbing, innovative, and occasionally limited merchandise that encourages fans to tie the band into their personal identity. Although this sounds sinister, it yields a very consistent market for anything they release, whether it is a new album, sticker, sweatshirt, or font. Vulfpeck is not the only band to gain diehard fans in

MELISMA | FALL 2017 | 15 this fashion. There are many examples of bands that market themselves in new and creative ways. Some combine this advertising with a stunning social media presence, one that makes their fans feel included and important to the artist and their music. I recently spoke to Jamie Bronstein, a Tufts alum who has been a superfan of the band They Might Be Giants for over 20 years. The band, a Brooklyn-based alt-pop outfit, has created many notable advertising campaigns over their multi-decade history, coupled with a strong social media presence loaded with fan interaction. We had a wonderful conversation about the history of these initiatives by They Might Be Giants and the ways in which they have shaped her personal identity. Before I forget to mention, she’s also my mom. She, like me, discovered They Might Be Giants before becoming hooked on their branding. My mom graduated from high school in 1986, and during her undergrad years at Tufts, two of the bands’ songs started getting college radio play. She “fell in love with their 1990 album and listened to it on a walkman over and over again.” It is easy to see why mom fell in love with the band’s advertising and image. They Might Be Giants’ first major ad campaign was Dial-A-Song. This was essentially a way to stream their music from a landline. The band “promoted a Brooklyn phone number and, when it was called, a new song would play over the phone.” The band recently revived this genius concept, and it has seen new success in addition to its historical success. The campaign even yielded its own branding when a woman left a confused voicemail on the line, trying to figure out what “They Must Be Giants” was. This voicemail has since been used as an advertisement for the band They Might Be Giants has also worked consciously to alter their image and expand their audience over their long career. My mom reminisces about one of the albums, No, which was released when I was a toddler. I was brought up with great children’s songs about the Edison Museum, a nefarious mouse planning to eat me, and an open question about the manufacturing of balloons, all written and performed by the genius minds of TMBG. Although I personally am not a superfan of the band, there are people my age who also grew up on this material and now love the band endlessly. They Might Be Giants followed No with several other awardwinning children’s albums, covering material ranging from basic numeracy to the ABC’s and science. This shift in audience has grown their fanbase to include a wide age range. The Instant Fan Club, which includes the most hardcore members, “contains people in their late forties, all the way down to people in their early

teens.” This mass appeal would not be of the same magnitude had it not been for the kids albums released by the band. Mom also explained to me the band’s social media presence. They Might Be Giants is “very active on all forms of social media, especially Tumblr.” They show appreciation for covers of their songs, and talk frankly and directly with their fans. On Twitter, they occasionally get political, railing against the president to the general joy of their fanbase. The band also has created a mascot to represent them visually. The “Avatars of They” are sentient puppets that sometimes “have their own portion[s] of live shows.” They are voiced by the two frontmen, John Linnell and John Flansburgh, but they “retain opinions and preferences separate [from the two bandmates].” These avatars also have their own Twitter page, further solidifying them as an important part of the band’s identity. For merchandising, TMBG primarily uses the Instant Fan Club, which is a membership service with multiple tiers that awards merchandise depending on the tier. My mom has paid pretty exorbitant amounts of money for their highest reward tier, but she says it’s worth the price. She gets a digital download of the newest album, as well as a host of odds and ends. Besides the regular fare of shirts and stickers, she has, at various points, received “golf tees, guitar picks, sunglasses, and a balsa wood airplane.” The highest reward tier includes a personalized ringtone that the band recorded, with the name of the patron sung within. My mom, despite having paid for this two years ago, continues to use this ringtone. Mom explained that she would not be in love with them to this great extent had it not been for the genius advertising ideas of the band. Her choice to support them financially has come not only as a result of their sound, but their interaction with fans on their social media, as

www.vulfpeck.com

well as their distinct album covers and creative merchandising and advertising. After all these years of supporting They Might Be Giants, a significant part of my mom’s personal identity is her They Might Be Giants fandom. She regularly tweets about them. She has more than one TMBG shirt for every day of the week. I am certain she will never change her ringtone. Her Facebook bio simply reads “They Might be Giants.” Since her personal identity is intimately connected with this band, it becomes extremely difficult to imagine a world where she doesn’t love their material. Rejecting the band after 20 years of support would be a rejection of a piece of herself. I am in a similar position. After only year and a half, I think about Vulfpeck when I think about who I am as a person. I think of the jingle, the music videos, the shirts, the anticipation of the yearly album. I would not be prepared to dislike their music, as I have come to associate the music with positive thoughts about myself. As cold as it sounds, this is a quite effective marketing strategy, and whether or not the band meant to do it, it certainly happened. I am not the only one, either. “Vulfpack” is a Facebook group dedicated to showing love for the band, and fans have shown many different displays of affection. People cover their songs on everything from the bassoon to glassware. One man got a tattoo of the band’s logo on his chest, which actually prompted my friend in high school to get a chest tattoo of the logo. These 2,000 people will buy every piece of music and merch they can, even going so far as to create their own. This is a surefire way to ensure financial stability by a band, and all Vulfpeck had to do was occasionally express themselves in a medium other than music. With some fanbases, lifestyle changes are visible and quite significant. Fans of Insane Clown Posse are prime example. They paint their faces in white makeup, and some attend the yearly Gathering of the Juggalos. When the Insane Clown Posse was labeled a domestic terrorist organization earlier this year, fans went as far as marching on Washington. These fans will clearly go to great lengths to support the I.C.P., and being a juggalo is an important part of their identities. Through the insane devotion of their fans, I.C.P. secures financial stability for themselves.

This absorption of a band or artist into the personal identity of the listener is not limited to alternative acts. Acts with mainstream appeal also employ this strategy. I’ve seen Khalid as a background on people’s phones more times than I can count. When One Direction was popular, someone made a “Bible of Zayn,” which was basically a standard Bible with the word “Zayn” written in Sharpie on every page. This level of fandom, once again, guarantees the sale of concert tickets, as well as the purchase of music and merchandise. From this perspective, advertising benefits music fans. Artists do have to advertise, but they may create something that resonates with listeners, transcending the act of listening to music and transforming fandom into a central facet of personal identity. Fans would not truly understand how personable Chance The Rapper is if he didn’t offer to play “Rock, Paper, Scissors” with them as a reward tier on a concert ticket. Fans would not grasp Aminé’s love for his fans all over the country if he didn’t wear pants with patches from fans in each city sewn on. These alternative methods of advertising in turn forge a more personal signature for the musician. If that identity resonates with the listener, then the musician has a much better chance of converting casual listeners into consistent, long-term supporters of their work. Advertising is necessary, but it also can serve as a form of expression, which is essential to the vision of many artists. This expression, in turn, carries over to fans of those artists. Musical advertisement enables audiences to connect with those around them through more than just their songs. Without advertising, my mom and I both would be missing large chunks of our identities. She wouldn’t have more than one TMBG shirt for every day of the week. I wouldn’t have the motivation to upload silly dance tutorials of my favorite band’s songs to Twitter and Facebook. I’m content with this knowledge, though. After all, my mom gets to be the “super-president of the instant fan club” and I get to use the coolest computer font ever.

MELISMA | FALL 2017 | 17

THE MORALITY OF FANDOM CW: Sexual Assault and Violence When an artist held in high regard by fans is accused of crimes or immoral acts, those fans are forced to consider the ethical implications of continuing to support the artist. In some cases, it is possible to separate the artist’s work from their action. But in many recent high-profile allegations of sexual assault, a line must be drawn. Fans are what make or break an artist’s career, yet the disparity in fan reactions towards the questionable actions of artists reveals a sharp dichotomy within what fans of different genres are willing to tolerate. In some cases an artist accused of wrongdoing has been unequivocally rejected by their community of fans, yet in others “the line” has been blurred or ignored altogether. PWR BTTM was an indie band rapidly on the rise to becoming the face of the genre, with their push for queer and trans- acceptance in the music industry, and their second album Pageant was met with critical acclaim. Then, in May 2017, amidst allegations of sexual assault against band member Ben Hopkins, the fan backlash was so severe that within a weekend they were dropped from their label and their tours were canceled. However, when abhorrent actions such as domestic abuse or violence occur in other genres, they aren’t often met with the same opposition. In hip hop, there are artists who have committed multiple crimes, and yet have minimal setbacks to their careers. Chris Brown, for example, has a history of aggression towards others, notably his infamous assault of Rihanna in 2009. Even after this came to light, he still maintained a steady fan base, and continued to collaborate with some of the top artists in the genre. This is not a new phenomenon in hip hop. For example, N.W.A represent icons of 90’s rap, but have members with histories of violence and domestic abuse. This continues in the rap scene today with artists such as XXXTENTACION—known to fans as “X”— and Tay-K, who are both currently facing charges of domestic assault and murder, respectively. The history and background of the genre likely play a role in how artists are able to achieve success even when they commit violent acts, as hip hop is grounded on these ideas of struggling and living in communities that face these issues. The misogyny that is prevalent in hip hop leads to people believing that this kind of behavior is appropriate, which is what causes artists to commit these acts and fans to become complicit. X is one of the most polarizing figures in hip hop today; his core fan base worships him, but others vilify him. The most graphic case against him is his girlfriend’s deeply disturb-

BY JASON MEJIA

ing allegations of domestic abuse, in which she accused him of beating her repeatedly and threatening to kill her on multiple occasions. This is just one of X’s many assaults, some leading to charges. Meanwhile, his debut album, 17, was met with overall positive acclaim, peaking at second in the first week after its release and receiving co-signs from Tory Lanez and Kendrick Lamar. He also has a very dedicated online fanbase—one million SoundCloud followers strong—who actively defend any of his behaviors and actions, essentially giving him a pass with what he has done under the guise of “innocent until proven guilty,” despite his confirmed criminal history. While he was in jail, fellow rappers would write on social media “Free X” in his support. Tay-K, another rapper with a violent background, has also managed to find success and support from fans and artists alike. In fact, he owes his rise to fame to gaining notoriety after an arrest. Tay-K’s song, “The Race”, climbed up the Billboard Hot 100 charts after it became known that he made the song and filmed the video while on the run from the police. Like with X, prolific rappers like Travis Scott adamantly supported his release. Tay-K also has a history of legal trouble, including multiple assault, armed robbery, and multiple capital murder charges against him. Yet, he still has a motivated fanbase who will play his music at parties, even as it is released from prison. Why is is that PWR BTTM’s career essentially evaporated upon the allegations coming out, while XXXTENTACION, who has multiple records of assault on his record as well as the domestic abuse allegations, is still thriving? It likely stems from the lack of relatability for fans of the artists in hip hop that allows them to dismiss their behavior. For fans of the artists in the queer music scene, much of the music they listen to is very relatable to them as it is based off of the community’s experiences. For those in queer communities, sexual assault and abuse is unfortunately all too common of an experience. So when allegations were brought against a figurehead of the community, who specifically promoted safe spaces and informed consent, it unearthed acute pain and an even more severe backlash from their fans. X appeals to a younger audience that is more naive to the impact of his reprehensible past actions. In a Complex article profiling his supporters, the responses ranged from sheer ignorance (“I don’t really know enough about it to have a strong opinion”) to the same tactics currently being used by the GOP to elect Senator Roy Moore (“like that’s the one thing, it’s allegedly”). Once fans learn of an artist’s actions, they may question whether they should continue to support them. Does enjoy-

ing the music of these artists make the fans bad people? I don’t think it does, but continual support can lead to a slippery slope. Should artists be able to earn success when they have a background of committing crimes and heinous acts? Personally, I have my own line on separation of art from artist. Growing up with friends and family around me getting involved in drug dealing and the violence of gang life, I can relate to artists who struggle in these ways. However, I can’t back artists who commit sexual assault or domestic abuse, especially if they have a history of either. Artists who commit deplorable actions like those should not be supported by anyone, regardless of how impactful their music is.

Many of the legends of hip hop have committed the same acts as today’s SoundCloud rappers, yet are still held in high regard for their influential music. Should artists be given a pass for their actions if they create art to which people can connect? I believe that some deserve forgiveness in the context of their background. However, some actions like sexual assault and domestic abuse are too abhorrent to forgive. In the end, fans decide whether or not an artist is supported, but people need to be aware of what exactly they are enabling in society as a whole.

BROCKHAMPTON: PRODUCERS’ CORNER

BY JOSH SCHUBACK

rockhampton is a self-described boy band taking the rap world by storm, but one member who might not be getting the credit he deserves is Romil Hemnani. As a producer in the group who did work on all but two of the tracks from the group’s most recent effort, Saturation II, Hemnani is a multi-instrumentalist whose guitar-driven and melodicbased production sets the vibe for a lot of Brockhampton records. His beats sound like nothing else that is being made in the rap game right now, and his production is key to what sets Brockhampton’s sound apart.

a lead melody as well, but therein lies Hemnani’s diverse instrumentation that separates him from his counterparts. Hemnani continually pushes the envelope of what a hip hop song can sound like, using, for example, a sitar for lead melody in the song “Tokyo.” Hemani’s guitar-focused origins combined with quavering synths and diverse instrumentation creates the backbone of his sound, but his early production continued to miss something: drums. The unique percussion style that Hemnani would develop over time is now essential to Brockhampton’s sound.

In earlier productions, Hemnani’s tracks are built around his first instrument, the guitar; in songs like Kevin Abstract’s “Save,” it stands alone, layered over minimal drums and doused in heavy reverb. The mixdown gives Hemnani’s guitar a wavy and dark underwater sound. A year later on Jon Waltz’s single “Anna,” Hemnani’s sound begins to change. On this track, he starts sacrificing guitar riffs for synths that would later come to characterize his sound. The pitch modulation of these synths give them a bounce that makes them feel like they are wavering with anticipation or uncertainty, an ideal background for up-tempo hip hop. You can hear Hemnani’s synth technique on tracks like “Junky” off Saturation II, where it stands in stark contrast to the traditional synthwork heard in hip hop production today. Most synths in today’s hip hop productions act solely as a backdrop to lyrics; they stay constant and sit far back in the mix. Listen closely to Drake’s catalogue or tracks produced by Metro Boomin. You can hear a synth backdrop that barely develops over the course of the track, opting instead to provide an invariable riff or subtle harmony that takes the backseat to razor-sharp percussion and explosive 808 samples. Usually these synths are playing chords that are held for extended periods of time, but Hemnani’s synths have more movement to them, acting frequently as a lead melody that plays off the vocals. Popular songs like Future’s “Mask Off” often have

Most hip hop drums are formulaic. They revolve around a clap or snare that hits on the third beat of every measure to keep the rhythm. Hi-hats rolls are added for energy and excitement while a kick drum punches through the song, adding emphasis on certain beats. Hemnani deviates from this formula in structure and sound. Listen to any rap song made in the last five years. During the peak intensities of a song, there will be an unrestrained barrage of rapid hi-hats. Hemnani never uses hi-hats like this, and instead, sprinkles them into his songs at select points only to add diversity to the percussion. Particular to Hemnani’s drums in production is his use of percussive sounds outside traditional ones. Tracks incorporate shakers, snaps, conga drums, and other random found percussion that he often records and plays live. He opts for this over sampling. A great example of this is “Jello,” off of Saturation II, where Hemnani uses vocal samples of breaths and vowel sounds as percussion. The percussion does not flood tracks and instead sits in the back to add depth. Using sounds outside the simple kick/snare/hi-hat keeps Hemnani’s tracks fresh. Hemnani has honed his craft over the years, and his unique sound has been instrumental to Brockhampton’s rapid acclaim. As Brockhampton continues to evolve, so will Hemnani’s sound, and we can only wait in anticipation to see where this boy band goes next.

MELISMA | FALL 2017 | 19

SPRING PREVIEW WHO TO SEE IN CONCERT

WHO WILL BLOW UP

CLARA LA SAN

Clara La San caught our ears with her emotive vocal performance on Mssingno’s anthemic “Fones,” but until lately has kept a low profile. Her upcoming debut, Good Mourning, features not only the original track from which “Fones” samples, but 10 other soothing compositions over co-productions with Jam City. It remains a mystery how she has collaborated with so many high-profile producers prior to her official debut, but what’s clear is that she’s poised for a successful year.

SUPERET Los Angeles-based Superet makes classic rock current with their newlyreleased self-titled debut EP. Recently, the band was on tour opening for Dreamcar and just finished up a residency at The Echo, an L.A. staple. The members come from a variety of incredible groups like Spoon, Harriet, and Divine Fits. Check out “Pay It Later,” a punchy power pop single with a catchy hook in the vein of the Fratellis or Spoon.

REX ORANGE COUNTY Rex Orange County is a 19-year-old singersongwriter from the U.K. with a soulful voice and a sentimental, teenage perspective on the world. His music totally defies genres: he makes songs that can be described as both angsty indie or melancholy R&B, but he’s also featured on one of the most critically-acclaimed rap albums of the year, Tyler the Creator’s Grammy-nominated Flower Boy. For a taste of the full variety of Rex’s sound, listen to his sunny, but semi-sad “Sunflower,” his longing hooks on Tyler’s “Boredom,” or his gorgeous “Loving is Easy (ft. Benny Sings),” perhaps the happiest song of 2017 Romil Hemnani (left), Kevin Abstract (right). Illustration by Chelsea Wang.