Vinyl Tap Fall 2021 by Vinyl Tap Magazine

Fall 2021

Foreword:

Sources: Gallery Yopriceville, Wikimedia Commons, u/Foxly_The_Trap

Headshots by Catherine Henry & Clara Whitney

IDs by Justin Berg / Doodles by Evelyn Hall

Dear Reader, I don’t know how this issue made its way into your hands, but however it did I would just like to say thank you for checking us out! I promise it will be worth flipping through. It brings me great joy to be writing this letter to you. Two years ago, I joined Vinyl Tap on a whim and even after the first meeting I could tell this group was something I wanted to be a part of. What has, and always will, make me love Vinyl Tap is the people. Some of my favorite college memories are meetings in the radio station, photoshoots pretending to be rambunctious school kids or skeletons or god only knows what, collaborating on the most random playlists, and so many more. From potentially promising newbie to editor-in-chief, it’s been one heck of a ride. But I’m grateful to have all our amazing past and present staff members right by my side. This issue our focus was on coming-of-age movies and tropes. What are the common themes we find? How can we relate to them in our own lives? In the music we listen to? We explore John Hughes soundtracks, 90’s nostalgia for which most of us weren’t even alive for, changing music tastes through growing up, our own embarrassing moments from our youth (side note: I apologize in advance for the Flaming Hot Cheetos one), and we even wrote a William and Mary specific screenplay for you. We also had a lot of fun having our own main character moments during our photoshoot. I’m very proud of this issue, and how hard our staff has been working these last few months to get this magazine out and into your hands. So, please, enjoy this issue! All the best, Isabel Haber Editor-in-Chief

Contents Grunge is Alive 10

Prasanna Patel describes how Nirvana impacted her coming of age

POV: Ur the Main Character

Scenes From a W&M Coming of Age, by Natalie Lopez

John Hughes and the Soundtrack of Youth 32

Erin Collier explores integral songs of John Hughes’ movies

A Two-Fold Evolution 37

Vivian Hoang explores the intermingling of her personal growth and

changes in music taste

Tunnel Songs: a Playlist 42

Inspired by the scene in Perks of Being a Wallflower, staff shares the songs that make them feel infinite

Vinyl Tap Comes of Age 44

Vinyl Tap staff shares their embarrassing coming-of-age moments, gathered by Jack Stewart

Album Reviews 48

Clairo – Sling

Origami Angel – GAMI GANG

John Mayer – Sob Rock

Illuminati Hotties – Let Me Do One More

My Name is Ian – Fantastic Company

Injury Reserve – By the Time I Get to Phoenix

Haiku Reviews 61

grunge is alive how Nirvana impacted my coming of age

by Prasanna Patel

I was one of those Hannah Montana-loving, Beadazzler-obsessed, side bangs-wanting, Club Penguin-playing, Percy Jackson-reading, Photo Booth-using kids born in 2001. Taylor Swift’s album, Fearless, made me want to fall in love. I felt like a cool South Asian person while listening to ‘Down’ by Jay Sean and T-Pain turned a minivan into a party bus when my cousins used to take me to Dollar General to buy off-brand Lip Smackers. 2000s music transports me back to those happy moments of my childhood. However, as much as I cherish reliving those moments, Owl City and Black Eyed Peas rarely make it on the ‘Recently Played’ section of my Spotify. I somehow prefer to live in the era of Kurt Cobain and Eddie Vedder, a world in which smashing guitars is celebrated and screaming lyrics without meanings are acceptable. I first heard Kurt’s voice on a hostile early morning car ride on the way to my Partial Hospitalization Program (PHP). My dad had been lecturing me on how common divorce is, how I should just be able to get over it after seven years, how my antidepressants were the sole cause of my suicidal ideation. With five minutes left in the car ride, I vigorously picked at my cuticles and clammed my lips to stop me from crying in front of him. Words kept spewing out of his mouth while the song changed to “Where Did You Sleep Last Night.” The mysterious melancholy of the tune cradled me like a cocoon while I swallowed thick tears down my throat. I became fixated on the gritty twang of Kurt’s voice, and soon his screams drowned out the noise of my dad’s belligerent jabs. I felt comforted and recognized by Kurt’s anger and raw emotion in a way that I had never before experienced. Once we entered the hospital complex, I made my dad stop the car and I walked to the PHP building in silence.

Anger was not something that I, as an Indian girl, was allowed to possess.

I was scared of anger: my father’s anger, his father’s anger, and, most acutely, I was scared of my own. Anger was not something that I, as an Indian girl, was allowed to possess; I would immediately be labeled as ‘ungrateful’ or ‘dramatic’ if I tried to argue back with my dad. But fuck, was I angry. And my cripplingly depressed and anxious sixteen-year-old self could not seem to handle the fact that I was. The therapists at the hospital tried to pry the anger out of me, but I could not seem to let myself share that vulnerable space with anyone else.

Nirvana’s acceptance of anger taught me how to give myself the permission I needed to honor the anger I had buried away for so many years. During that one car ride, though, I found a rare instance of solace in Kurt’s rasping screams. The song made me feel something other than sad during a period of time in which my two outward emotions were sad or numb. So, of course, I proceeded to listen to the entirety of MTV Unplugged, In Utero, and Nevermind over the course of the next couple of days, and I felt heard for the first time in a while. The clicks and abrasive beeping in “Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle” reminded me of the glitches, shrieks, and scratches I heard in my own head. The rapid drum pattern and aggressive chords of “Stay Away,” along with Kurt’s screaming, helped me truly acknowledge the deep anger I felt towards myself and my familial trauma. “Sappy” perfectly illustrated my experience of feeling stuck while trying to grapple with the idea of happiness. The utter nonsense of “Drain You’s” lyrics gave me a sense of peace with the sheer chaos that permeated my thoughts. For about a year, Kurt, Krist, Dave, and I shared that vulnerable space that no one else could seem to get into. Nirvana’s acceptance of anger taught me how to give myself the permission I needed to honor the anger I had buried away for so many years. 11

The nostalgia for 90s grunge is not unique to my coming of age story. It is not shocking that, despite largely being born in the 2000s, much of Gen Z feels sentimental towards 90s grunge music. While part of the appeal is simply the aesthetic, I do believe that the genre speaks to young adults who are figuring out how to live and emote in the complex web that is our society. In addition to Nirvana, bands like Alice in Chains, Pearl

Jam, The Smashing Pumpkins, and Soundgarden continue to resonate with young individuals because of the bands’ abilities to tap into the most confusing, turbulent, and sensitive parts of one’s mind. Given the hurdles that we, as a generation, have gone through, I say that it is more than okay to scream meaningless words at the top of our lungs and smash a guitar on stage once in a while.

Art by Boowa Zarcone

Vinyl Tap: The Movie 14

Photos by Evelyn Hall & Catherine Henry 19

POV: Ur the Main Character // Scenes From a W&M Coming of Age, by Natalie Lopez

Author’s Note: Like most people my age, I was raised in front of a screen. I learned life lessons from characters in movies and TV shows, and I grew up alongside them. I didn’t really appreciate this timeline that had run parallel to me my entire life until I reached a life experience without cinematic precedent. Coming-of-age movies usually follow protagonists in the upperclassman years of high school, but due to the pandemic, I didn’t really get those. Now, in college, I’m learning to seize every opportunity for kindness and bravery. It’s time to be the main character in my own life. In my first semester here at William and Mary, I’ve found myself and the people I’ve grown to care about in wacky situations straight out of my favorite movies. Instead of laughing them off or allowing them to disappear, I’ve chosen to remember them. You don’t know when your life is going to stop making sense, when the plans that you had so carefully followed will suddenly fall apart. You don’t know how much the memories matter until you realize that they’re all you have left. What follows is a fictionalized narrative of some of those people and events. Feel free to see yourself in them; it’s what movies are for.

FADE IN: INT. SWEM BASEMENT - NIGHT Blinding fluorescent lighting over a dirty yellow couch. The MAIN CHARACTER, 18 and stressed, is furiously typing on a sticker-covered laptop. She checks her phone — 8:14. Reluctantly, she begins to pack up. We see the inside of her bag: a planner full of post-its, a few brick sized textbooks, crumpled papers stuffed underneath. She puts her backpack on and walks out of frame. CUT TO: INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT Tight on the MAIN CHARACTER, running up a cramped stairwell with her eyes glued to her phone. We see a text conversation in real time. MAIN CHARACTER (text) Heading back. You still in Swem? BEST FRIEND (text) Yeah, where are you? She emerges onto the first floor. 20

MAIN CHARACTER (text) By the entrance. She makes awkward eye contact with the person checking IDs. They offer a tight smile. She turns back to her phone. The BEST FRIEND, 18 and unafraid of life (or at least really good at pretending to be), approaches. She holds an empty Aromas coffee cup in one hand, a Van Gogh tote over the other shoulder. The Main Character is in love with her, but trying really hard not to be. BEST FRIEND (throwing up a peace sign.) Hey, Queen! Ready to go? The Main Character nods, grateful for the excuse to leave. She takes a deep breath andCUT TO: EXT. LANDRUM DRIVE - NIGHT … lets it out. The garish fluorescents are abruptly replaced by night, lit only by the occasional streetlamp. The Main Character’s face fills the frame, her exhaustion obvious. BEST FRIEND (offscreen) So around hour three is when I give up and just vacate the room. Like, she’s a great roommate in every other way: never leaves her stuff on the floor, always fills up the Brita. The Main Character can’t pay attention, but she manages to hum sympathetically. Turning toward her friend, we see the other girl’s animated expressions. Cleary, the late-night coffee did its job. BEST FRIEND (cont’d) But every single night? She FaceTimes him for hours. He can’t possibly be that interesting! MAIN CHARACTER I mean, if she loves him? It’s not like she can see him all the time, if he goes to JMU? BEST FRIEND Ugh, yeah I guess. It’s just that — Woah! A bike flies past, barely missing them. Both girls jump back and the shock of it startles the Main Character awake. BEST FRIEND Hey! Watch where you’re going! The girls watch, identical expressions of irritation, as the biker continues down the road without stopping. They match glances, then burst out laughing. CUT TO: EXT./INT. DORM HALL - NIGHT We see the girls walk up to the entrance of the hall through the door window. The Best Friend

is digging through her tote for something. The Main Character puts her mask on. A Sorkin-style walk-and-talk ensues. BEST FRIEND And, like, he’s having a full on breakdown, defending this guy — who was so rude to my roommate, by the way. She finds what she was looking for — a lanyard with her Tribe Card. She swipes into the building and holds the door open for the Main Character to enter. She ducks under her friend’s arm, then walks backwards into the building, deeply invested in this story. BEST FRIEND (cont’d) He’s going on about how we don’t really know the guy and it’s not cool to make assumptions about people you don’t know. MAIN CHARACTER But we do know him. We live with him! BEST FRIEND Exactly! And we know what he’s like. So, I tell him it’s a joke and not to take it so seriously. MAIN CHARACTER Yeah, it’s literally just an inside joke. We’re not gonna go around telling other people to hate him just because we don’t like him. BEST FRIEND I know that, and you know that, and everyone else on the group chat knows that, but clearly he doesn’t. So he texts me, like, individually, and asks me to apologize. Not to the guy — which I would understand, if I hurt his feelings — but to him. MAIN CHARACTER No! BEST FRIEND Yeah! MAIN CHARACTER Seriously? BEST FRIEND Mmm hmm. MAIN CHARACTER Who does he think he is? BEST FRIEND I know, right?! A beat. MAIN CHARACTER Wait, what group chat?

BEST FRIEND Hmmm? MAIN CHARACTER Which group chat did this happen in? BEST FRIEND The hall chat. You’re in it. MAIN CHARACTER I didn’t get any messages. BEST FRIEND Are you sure? They both reach for their phones, stopping on a landing to search their message histories. MAIN CHARACTER Yeah. Look. She holds up her phone. The Best Friend squints at the screen. BEST FRIEND No, not that one. The one without the RAs. MAIN CHARACTER I’m not in that one. BEST FRIEND You’re not? MAIN CHARACTER No. BEST FRIEND Oh. Another beat. Then, a commotion from above. Pitbull blares through a tinny phone speaker. The sounds of excited teenage boys fill the stairwell. Both girls look up, intrigued but not surprised. MAIN CHARACTER What are they up to now? BEST FRIEND Do we even want to know? MAIN CHARACTER Probably not.

They keep walking up, until they reach the highest landing. Stopping just before they run out of steps, the girls stare at the tableau before them. One boy is sitting on the highest step, shirtless, working on something difficult on his laptop. Another is hauling a bean bag chair down the hall. Four are posing for a picture on a fully made up bed, mattress and sheets transplanted from some unknown dorm room. A piece of printer paper with a terrible drawing, the kind even a seven year old’s parents would think twice about before putting on the fridge, is taped to the wall above the bed. BEST FRIEND What’s happening up here? PRANKSTER #1 We’re pranking my roommate. MAIN CHARACTER Okay. Is your RA here? PRANKSTER #2 No. MAIN CHARACTER Alright then. They carefully step over the boy on the step and dodge the boy with the bean bag. The Main Character stops when she notices the “poster.” MAIN CHARACTER (cont’d) Is that supposed to be his Travis Scott poster? PRANKSTER #1 (grinning) Yeah! MAIN CHARACTER Nice touch. The girls turn and continue down their hallway. They walk in silence until the Best Friend reaches her door. BEST FRIEND I’ll add you later. MAIN CHARACTER What? BEST FRIEND To the group chat. The one without the RAs. MAIN CHARACTER Oh, thanks. 24

INT. MAIN CHARACTER’S DORM ROOM - NIGHT The Main Character is sitting on the carpet, hunched over her laptop, in the same pose from before. Her ROOMMATE, 18, the kind of person who handwrites color-coded notes, is sitting at their desk, leafing through a notebook. The Main Character is staring intently at the screen, eyes fatigued from an hour of this, when— A SIREN BLARES! The Main Character sits up and stares at the ceiling as the fire alarm keeps going. She checks the time on her phone — 10:37. MAIN CHARACTER I hate my life. ROOMMATE Ditto. The Main Character tries really hard not to resent them for this. Eventually, she closes the laptop and grabs her shoes, keys, and mask. The Roommate grabs their notebook and a pouch of colored pens. We follow the Main Character around as she collects her items, and stop just before the closing door as they both leave the room. CUT TO: EXT. DORM HALL COURTYARD - NIGHT A few tired RAs try to wrangle a crowd of students, in varying states of dress and alertness. The noise fades out as we focus on the Main Character, sitting on the curb and scrolling on her phone. Someone sits next to her and she looks up to see who. The PARTY MONSTER — 18, bleary-eyed, and not entirely sober — rests their head on their legs and hums the tune to some Top-40 hit from the last decade. MAIN CHARACTER How ya doing? PARTY MONSTER Not great. But, also not terrible, so... MAIN CHARACTER Yeah, I feel that. Getting an early start on the weekend? PARTY MONSTER (shrugs) It’s Thursday. It’s practically the weekend. MAIN CHARACTER One can only hope. The sirens of approaching emergency responders grow louder as they keep talking. MAIN CHARACTER (cont’d) Any plans for the break?

PARTY MONSTER Go home. See my dog. MAIN CHARACTER Nice. PARTY MONSTER You? MAIN CHARACTER I’m staying with a friend in NOVA. PARTY MONSTER Ewww. MAIN CHARACTER I don’t hold it against her. She can’t help it. They chuckle, then lapse into silence, the obligatory extension of niceties completed. The frame expands as the Best Friend walks over and sits down on the other side of the Main Character. BEST FRIEND Ugh, this is gonna take forever. I heard a kid from the first floor say that this happened in his brother’s freshman hall and the alarm wouldn’t stop going off all night.

MAIN CHARACTER What happened? BEST FRIEND Didn’t you hear the second-floor RA? There’s a bug in one of the detectors. PARTY MONSTER A bug? MAIN CHARACTER Like, there’s an issue with the system? BEST FRIEND No, like there’s an actual bug, an insect, trapped inside of a smoke detector on the second floor. Its gonna keep going off until they get it out. Or kill it. MAIN CHARACTER What? How did that happen? BEST FRIEND No clue. Anyway, wanna go to Wawa, see if they figure it out by the time we come back? MAIN CHARACTER Sure. 26

BEST FRIEND (to the Party Monster) You up for a walk? PARTY MONSTER Nah, I’m good right here. But you two have fun. BEST FRIEND Alright. MAIN CHARACTER See you later, maybe. PARTY MONSTER Maybe. CUT TO: EXT. CAMPUS TRAILS - NIGHT The girls are returning from their late night adventure, family-size bags of chips and XL water cups in hand. They’re singing — badly — the words to a show tune from their highschool theatre days. The camera reverses and we see two people talking, one comforting the other. CONCERNED FRIEND Hey, where are you guys heading? BEST FRIEND Oh, we live in [REDACTED] Hall. CONCERNED FRIEND That’s right next to hers. Would you mind walking with her the rest of the way. I would, but I live on the other side of campus. BEST FRIEND Yeah, no problem. MAIN CHARACTER Of course. CONCERNED FRIEND Thanks (to the Sad Girl) Text me when you get back, okay. SAD GIRL (sniffling) Okay. The three girls walk on, the silence awkward, but not unsalvageable.

MAIN CHARACTER Are you okay? SAD GIRL Oh, yeah. I just — I’m disappointed. BEST FRIEND Oh no, why? MAIN CHARACTER You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. SAD GIRL No, it’s fine. It’s just this guy I’ve been talking to for, like, the last six weeks has apparently also been going out with another girl from our hall. I just found out tonight. BEST FRIEND Oh god, I’m so sorry. MAIN CHARACTER That really sucks. SAD GIRL I know it wasn’t that long or that serious, but I— (tearing up) I really liked him. I thought he was gonna be my first boyfriend. BEST FRIEND That’s so terrible. Can I hug you? SAD GIRL (full on crying now) Yes, please. They embrace, a pieta lit by the blue of the Emergency Call Box. MAIN CHARACTER I’m sorry that happened to you. You deserve so much better. SAD GIRL (wiping her tears) You don’t even know me. MAIN CHARACTER I don’t have to. I know the type. They continue walking on the path until all three disappear from sight, too distant to make out clearly anymore. FADE TO BLACK. 28

CENTE

ERFOLD

Art by Laura Reitze 31

John Hughes and the Soundtrack of Youth How Music Makes the Message in Hughes’ Classic Films By Erin Collier The Breakfast Club. Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. National Lampoon’s Vacation. Home Alone (— yeah, you heard me, Home Alone.) If you were asked to “think fast” name examples of classic 1980’s cinema, there’s a pretty good chance that film writer and director John Hughes had his hand in one of those titles. Despite the diversity of his repertoire, a number of them — for example, see those first two titles — stand out as quintessential 20th century coming-of-age films. Hughes is a master of the teenage zeitgeist. Part of the nostalgia that his work evokes in his audience even three, odd decades later is created by his handling of the timeless experiences of youth — hopeful endings and bright futures, first loves, awkwardness, little problems that feel like the end of the world, and the singularity of growing up. Listening to his soundtracks brings out that same particular feeling. Today, Gen Z revels in the 80s and 90s aesthetics and sounds featured in Hughes’ movies, but the significance of Hughes’ new wave soundtrack selections are even more intentional and meaningful. For Hughes, his music selection was more than an accompaniment; he considered the songs to be integral parts of his stories themselves. About Simple Minds’ “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” in the infamous closing shot of The Breakfast Club, Hughes said, “We put the song in there because it was part of the movie. You couldn’t take that song out of the movie, couldn’t take that movie out of the song.” So let’s take a look at a few of the soundtracks from his coming-of-age classics and find where the music makes the message:

1. Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986) — “Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want” / Dream Academy The instrumentals of this 1985 cover of the 1984 Smiths original overlay Ferris Bueller’s iconic scene in which the movie’s main trio explores the Chicago Art Institute. The song has the melancholy typical of a Morrissey work, but Dream Academy adds in some signature woodwinds, soft synth, and a female voice floating in harmony — creating a lush, bittersweet soundscape. It sets the mood of the scene, tells us that the friends’ experience is suddenly more meaningful than just a field trip. When Cameron stares at the pointillist, A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte, the camera zooms in closer and closer on one of the figures as the music surges, illustrating Cameron’s realization that life makes less sense the closer you look at it. Shivers, man. 32

2. 16 Candles (1984) — “If You Were Here” / Thompson Twins After her sister’s wedding, the Sweet-16 protagonist, Sam, walks out the front doors of the church, weighed down by an unresolved love story. But as all the guests’ cars pull away... there’s her crush, Jake, leaning against his red car, waiting for her. The moment he’s revealed, the opening notes of “If You Were Here” begin to play. With a major key. synth-pop melody and a mash of layered percussion — even a twinkling sound effect at one point — the song is bouncy, lighthearted, and optimistic. It’s as if we’ve been placed in the head of Sam, a teenage girl whose day goes from meh to great when she sees the object of her affection.

3. Some Kind of Wonderful (1987) — “I Go Crazy” / Flesh for Lulu Tomboy, wrong-side-of-the-tracks Watts is in love with her best friend, Keith, but Keith has feelings for Amanda, the most popular girl in school (at least, that’s what Watts thinks for now… she’ll get her happy ending). She bitterly plays chauffeur for Amanda and Keith’s date, and “I Go Crazy” bumps in the background as she drives roughly enough to make Amanda smear her lipstick. Once again, the song is a peek into the protagonist’s head. Of course, there’s yearning in the lyrics (“Oh, I go crazy, I go crazy when I’m without you”). The drums are upbeat and fast-paced, while the strong guitar puts the ‘punk’ in post-punk. It puts a little petty rebellion into Watts’ jealousy that just makes the scene hit.

4. Pretty in Pink (1986) — “Try a Little Tenderness” / Otis Redding In the local record shop, Ducky (the best friend character) does an impassioned, over-dramatic lip sync to “Try A Little Tenderness.” That scene and that song put together are Ducky’s character at his core. One of Otis Redding’s soul classics, the lyrics entreat whoever is listening — please, “don’t tease her, never leave her, get to her… try a little tenderness.” It’s earnest, romantic, and Ducky sings it right at his best friend, the protagonist, Andie, who he’s loved for ages. But at the same time, his dancing is silly and over-the-top. All things considered, we see a person who’s genuine and individual with a big personality — it’s no wonder this scene endeared him to his on-screen and off-screen audience.

Art by Laura Reitze

A Two-Fold Evolution: The Intermingling of Personal Growth & Changes in Music Taste

By Vivian Hoang

Like a second shadow, music has always accompanied me throughout every stage of my life. At first, I didn’t assign any particular meaning to music because like most other things in childhood, music was just fun. Whether it was screaming the lyrics to Taylor Swift’s “You Belong With Me” in my kitchen with my cousin or huddling in the back seat of the school bus with my childhood best friend, excitedly whispering the lyrics to Demi Lovato’s “Heart Attack” in an attempt to memorize the song in its entirety, music was a means of creative expression and bonding with those I loved.

pounding and my breath shaking. Continuing into early high school, my dependency upon music only grew. At the time, music seemed like the only constant in my life that I could consistently count on to make me feel understood and seen. Like many other teenagers undergoing the difficult process of self-discovery, I grappled with toxic friendships, a newfound fixation on body image and self-worth, and a growing consciousness of dysfunctional family dynamics—and music was often the only way I knew how to cope. One album that I constantly fell back on was Cry Baby by Melanie Martinez. I especially held dear the album’s title track, as I resonated with Melanie when she sang about her out-ofcontrol emotions overpowering the logic of her brain and overflowing in the form of tears.

I was so uncomfortable in my own skin and identity that I didn’t know how to properly be alone with myself — much less be able to revel in the silence. But as I grew older, music evolved to be so much more than the backing tracks to the carefree adventures of adolescence. Music, to me, became an extension of self, a vessel for identity formation, and a physical reflection of invisible feelings. No longer was music a passing source of lighthearted fun but, instead, my lifeline. In middle school, music was my sole escape from reality (dramatic, I know, but you need to get the full picture of just how emo I was). Throughout these formative years, I wore music like armor, using it as a form of protection against human interaction whenever I walked into a shopping mall or down bustling school hallways while my social anxiety skyrocketed. Blasting the 1975 or Marina and the Diamonds at full volume from a pair of tangled, Apple earphones that I was never without, I could drown out the sound of my heart incessantly 38

I was also particularly fond of Troye Sivan’s “THE QUIET,” a haunting song about the agony of separation and loss that encapsulated the loneliness I struggled with and second-choice status I felt amongst socalled friends. In the chorus of the song, Sivan sings, “Anything hurts less than the quiet,” which was fittingly emblematic of my constant need for music as a way to distract me from the daunting prospect of having to confront my own thoughts and feelings. I was so uncomfortable in my own skin and identity that I didn’t know how to properly be alone with myself — much less be able to revel in the silence. Therefore, I desperately depended on music to fill the void. Songs like “Cry Baby” and “THE QUIET” became unhealthy coping mechanisms as they validated my intrusive thoughts and encouraged me to stew in self-pity. The seemingly obvious logic that constantly listening to sad music would only amplify your sadness escaped me during

this time as I purposefully subjected myself to these types of songs all day. Depressing, I know. But don’t worry — although I admittedly allowed myself to wallow in a cavity of angst for the majority of high school, I began to pull myself out toward its end. Heading into senior year, the tantalizing notion of “fuck it, do whatever you want because you’re never going to see these people again once you graduate” beckoned me like a siren’s song, and boy did I heed it. I became obsessed with the revenge glow up, a hallmark of every high school movie in which the “nerdy” character takes off her glasses (I in fact did trade my large black frames for contacts during this time), wears something not shapeless and unflattering, and suddenly she becomes the talk of the school. I gleefully revelled in the oh-so satisfying idea of rebranding myself to the point of being unrecognizable, completely obliterating the past me.

of my mental and physical state, my music taste also underwent a paradigm shift. I fell in love with artists like Megan Thee Stallion, Lizzo, Cardi B, and Nicki Minaj as they embodied the ideals of empowerment and badassery that I so fiercely strove to incorporate into my new self, inspiring me to stay on the path of reinvention. My playlists became exclusively and almost exhaustingly upbeat as I banned any traces of the slow, sad songs I had once relied on so heavily. In my determination to never return to the dark pit I had called home for far too long, I adopted a militant kind of happiness that required constant self-convincing and projection onto others—it was the kind of happiness that was defined by the absence of sadness.

Instead of accepting and forgiving past versions of myself, I blocked them out and attempted to viciously eliminate them. This obviously isn’t sustainable by any means; faking it until you make it can only take you so far. My carefully constructed, confident, and happy affect, though outwardly unshakeable, was in reality a mere facade that crumbled at the first inkling of a negative emotion or sad lyric. Instead of accepting and forgiving past versions of myself, I blocked them out and attempted to viciously eliminate them. Happy music coursed through my ears on non-stop rotation all day as I told myself I had to feel good, strong, and confident 24/7 to avoid reverting back to my middle-school self.

For the first time in my life, I started to set aside the opinions of others and instead focused on myself, undergoing a complete mental and physical metamorphosis to become the confident, social butterfly I had always envied from the periphery. I attached myself to the idea that my reality was merely a construct of my own mind and that I had the power to shape it into anything I so desired. I was the creator of my own anthem. Reflecting the 360-degree transformation

However, as I’m now peaking in my “coming of age” journey, I’ve realized the importance of finding that sweet spot between happy and sad — that balance between staying careful to not purposely prolonging spurts of sadness with self-pity, but also radically accepting that sadness is an inevitable, natural part of life. I’ve rediscovered how to enjoy slower, melancholic songs without immediately being transported to the darker times in my life with tears in my eyes; instead, I can appreciate the musicality behind the songs and the 39

vulnerability that the artists were willing to publicly share. I’ve learned how to embrace silence in all its intimidatingly awkward and endlessly expansive glory, catching myself when I instinctively reach for my AirPods to listen to music just for the sake of it. My Spotify is now an amalgamation of both up-

tempo hype songs and somber melodies to both celebrate the good times and process through the hard days, mirroring my growth as an individual. Like I said, it’s all about balance, and I like to think I’m finally finding it.

Art by Evelyn Hall

Art by Lily Buro

Art by Alexandra Mendelsohn

Art by Boowa Zarcone

When I was in the fourth grade, I had to try out for a baseball team for the first time in my life. Tryouts were in a gym, with various dad-coaches in the bleachers observing our swings and timing us as we ran down the base paths. I felt confident walking out of the gym, but a few days later I got a call. My grandfather picked up the phone, and I could tell by the look he gave me that I had not made the team. Instead, I would be playing with younger kids in the league below all my friends. I cried, feeling genuine embarrassment for one of the first times in my life. I went to school the next day and acted like I was perfectly fine with everything. I toughed it out for a year, and made the league next year. I continued playing baseball through high school. There’s a lesson here, I think: Those dads were wrong and they suck. — Jack Stewart

In my eighth grade English class, we were assigned to do a research project on any topic we wanted. Like the outstanding academic scholar I was, I chose to do my project on One Direction, obviously a hot-button topic in academia in 2015. I then proceeded to show up to class in a One Direction sweatshirt and unironically lectured my class about the history of One Direction and why people should stop stigmatizing boy bands and their fandoms for ten minutes straight. I genuinely thought I was the most loyal Directioner of all time for doing that, and I was so proud of my project. I still haven’t recovered from this, and my classmates probably haven’t either. — Vivian Hoang

The first (and last) time I ever ate Flaming Hot Cheetos was at my friend Ceci’s house in the beginning of my freshman year of high school. Let me preface this by saying I didn’t know Ceci (or her family for that matter) very well at the time. I’m pretty sensitive to spicy foods and as a result I don’t eat them very often. Shortly after I finished eating the Cheetos I felt sick and had to go to the bathroom. Without going into too much detail, I pretty much destroyed Ceci’s toilet…and I do mean that literally. When I flushed, the toilet got clogged and overflowed, filling her bathroom with my poopy toilet water. And to make matters worse, her mom cleaned it all up. I don’t have a very clear memory of this event, so I can’t recall if I had offered to clean it and she said no or if I just let her clean it all up without saying anything out of sheer embarrassment. But one thing I’ll always remember is the image of Ceci’s poor mother scrubbing the bathroom floor, trying to rid the bathroom of my poppy toilet water. I’d love to be able to say that I had enough dignity to never show my face at her house ever again, but unfortunately I had none so I continued to go over multiple times after the incident. — Isabel Haber

My junior year of high school, this boy and I liked each other, and we both ended up going on our school’s orchestra trip to Chicago. We were walking around together in the garden on Navy Pier, and we sat down on a bench together and I finally worked up the nerve to kiss him. It was his first kiss, and as soon as I went in, it was immediate teeth to teeth contact. It was an awful kiss. We awkwardly walked away, and he was too embarrassed to talk to me for like another day. Fast forward to the last day of the trip, we’re on this dinner dance cruise in November, it’s freezing cold outside, so he gives me his jacket and we’re talking again. We get back to the dock and then we kiss again (no teeth this time), and walk back to the bus holding hands. About 3 minutes into the bus ride, in the middle of a conversation about us dating, I sprint to the bathroom on the bus. I spend the rest of the half-hour drive back to the hotel vomiting so hard it’s coming out of my nose. My lovely roommates on the trip are helping take care of me, and my orchestra director comes up to ask me if I am okay, and also decides this is the perfect time to ask about my relationship with this boy. I spent the bus ride home incredibly nauseous, and was seated in the back row of the bus with another kid who was also sick. We actually ended up dating for a bit after this, but then I broke up with him sitting in my car at a friend’s birthday party, and now we don’t speak anymore. But he writes music and inside sources tell me there are quite a few about me and our teeth-forward kiss. — Abby Mendez 46

When I first joined radio as a freshman, I was super nervous but also excited to join. I was cataloging vinyl at library hours and someone asked if I was going to the Flying Lotus concert that was the next day. I had only heard like three of his songs but I was ready to get involved in any way possible. It was a few upperclassmen, me, and two other freshmen going in a pickup truck. There was no room left for us freshmen, so we rode in the trunk bed. We took I-64 all the way to Richmond on the most beautiful afternoon sunset. It was the perfect main character moment before that meme ruined the internet. When we got to Richmond, we went to the concert and it was crazy. One of the openers was fucking insane. Come to think of it, Flying Lotus was insane, too. I still have the 3D glasses he gave everyone for the lights show. I wish he had handed out earplugs too because it was one of the loudest shows I have ever been to. The drive home was not much of a main character moment. It was dark, cold, and windy. All of us were wearing short-sleeve shirts, and none of us had a blanket. It was unpleasant. Actually, it was pretty miserable. At around the 45 minute point, we had to huddle together to preserve body heat. I may not remember many of the songs from that night, but that trunk ride was the moment I knew that things were looking up. — Barrett Smith

Art by Evelyn Hall

Album Reviews 48

Clairo – Sling

Fader/Republic / 16 July 2021

Source: Amazon.com

Clairo expresses feelings of manifesting her passion for music in a way that seemed inorganic, unhealthy, and ultimately contrary to her values. Despite the fact that few reach the artist’s level of prestige, I still found these sentiments to be relatable. In a world where competition is incentivized and maximizing economic excess is expected, it is common to feel bound to sell out. Clairo faces a struggle between wanting to follow her desire to make music, being successful, and finding herself: I pull until I’m left with the burns Blisters and the dirt left in-between my fingers Rushing so I can beat the line But what if all I want is conversation and time? Clairo’s sophomore album was a listening experience few were expecting. From an artist previously labeled as bedroom pop, Sling, produced by Jack Antonoff, offers a deeper perspective into the depth and range of Clairo’s musical talent. The artist rose to mainstream fame with her debut album, Immunity, with independently preceding singles “Pretty Girl” and “Flaming Hot Cheetos” already boosting her to high levels of success. Her music essentially went viral overnight. This was not without cause; Clairo’s fans often gravitate towards her refreshing vulnerability regarding sensitive, but common struggles pertaining to depression, anxiety, and sexuality. Themes of Sling still echo the artist’s experiences surrounding her rapid rise to fame and declining mental health, yet I found that this album was incredibly nuanced and introspective relative to her previous work; Clairo interprets her anxieties understatedly, and it reads as an authentic and vulnerable glimpse into her personal and professional life. By exploring her experience of getting thrown head-first into the entertainment industry in tracks like “Bambi” and “Harbor,”

I was so familiar with Clairo as an indiepop artist that I found that this album to sound incredibly folk-y relative to her other work, many of the tracks still somehow incorporate elements like elaborate brass and woodwind sections without sounding out of place. The majority of the album lacks any percussion whatsoever; it is primarily composed of melodic acoustic guitar, piano, and string instrumentals. Therein lies my only criticism of the album; many of the songs are so sonically similar that they tend to blend together. I found every track on the album to be independently enjoyable, however listening to the album in its entirety, it sometimes felt as if I was listening to the same song on a loop. Indeed, it is an incredibly cohesive, well-produced album, but I wish there was a bit more variety in terms of melodies and overall composition. I enjoyed Sling. I keep coming back to it: for its lyricism, its relatability, and unique synthesis of indie, folk, and orchestral elements. It certainly indicated a point of maturation for the artist, and I am excited to see what Clairo will continue to come up with as she continues to explore new sounds and sensations.

— Madeleine LeTendre 49

Origami Angel – Gami Gang

Counter Intuitive Records / 3o April 2021

Source: Counter Intuitive Records

reviews from friends, I finally made my way through the whole album and can confidently say that it’s worth listening to each song. Though not every song has as captivating a chorus as “Neutrogena Spektor,” and some songs, like “Bossa Nova Corps,” incorporate unfamiliar and out-of-genre sounds, such as bossa nova rhythms and melodies, each song really adds something to the main themes of the album; from friendship and overcoming obstacles to mental wellbeing. Listening to the album completely and within the context of the main themes adds value to even some of my least favorite songs on the album.

Pokémon, anxiety, Taco Bell, and cystic acne. Origami Angel’s new double album, GAMI GANG harps on a lot of relatable themes for listeners on the brink of adulthood. Full of songs about mental health, love, and relationships, GAMI GANG is similar to a lot of Origami Angel’s most recent albums, and it picks up right where Somewhere City left off, with its quick guitar riffs and fast paced lyrics. Though the album is quite the undertaking, at twenty songs long, each track adds another detail to the story of mental health and young adult life that the band narrates. For people born in the early 2000’s and lovers of pop punk, Origami Angel’s newest album is definitely worth a listen. The number one draw for Origami Angel’s newest album is the intricate melodies. GAMI GANG is full of the band’s signature emo pop sound, from the heavy drums and guitars to the catchy choruses. Despite the catchy melodies and riveting guitar lines, it took me a while to work my way through the entire album. As a big fan of Origami Angel, I knew I wanted to listen to every song, but twenty songs seemed like a lot to sit down and listen to at one time. After hearing good 50

While some songs are better when listened to within the context of the whole album, most of the songs are great standalone singles. For fans who love Origami Angel’s intricate lyrics and catchy choruses, “Netrogena Spektor,” “Tom Holland Oates,” and “Caught in the Moment” are must listens. For people who love Origami Angel’s slower songs, “Footloose Cannonball Brothers,” “Greenbelt Station,” and “gg” feature smooth melodies and focus more on lead singer Ryland Heagy’s voice than intense guitar and drums. If the whole album seems like a big undertaking (like it did to me), listeners can always start with these songs and work their way through the rest of the album at their own rate. One of my favorite parts of GAMI GANG is how Origami Angel chooses to focus on normalizing struggles with mental health. A lot of Origami Angel’s past work focuses on mental health, but the upbeat tunes and headbanging drum lines in GAMI GANG really cast mental health struggles in an upbeat and relatable way. GAMI GANG focuses on depression, social anxiety, and fighting mental health obstacles through friendship. In “Self-Destruct,” Heagy asks an unnamed friend to “promise me nothing that you said was a hyperbole,” admitting his worries

are most likely a “product of anxiety.” By talking about mental health through catchy and upbeat songs, Origami Angel normalizes struggles with anxiety and depression, turning moments of worry into guitar riffs and captivating choruses. Ryland Heagy and Pat Doherty’s lyrics further normalize struggles with social anxiety by including pop culture references that would be recognizable for people who grew up in the 2000s. This makes GAMI GANG not only relatable to people struggling with mental health, but it also speaks directly to young adults, who may be encountering any number of mental health struggles. The pop culture references appear at random moments throughout GAMI GANG. In “Caught in the Moment,” Heagy reminisces on a relationship through remembering “watching Pokémon with you” and “Lyft drivers names I remember to this day.” In “Möbius Chicken

Strip,” Heagy sings “grab your Game Boy, get in the car.” These mentions of 2000’s pop culture make the album particularly relatable to listeners born in the early 2000’s. By talking about mental health through using 2000’s pop culture references, Origami Angel normalizes struggling with mental, especially for people born in the early 2000’s Overall, GAMI GANG is an album written for and by people in their late teens and early 20’s. Anyone on the brink of adulthood can be sure to find relatable themes and references over the course of the twenty song album. Not only are the early 2000’s pop culture references fun and relatable, they also help normalize mental health struggles for listeners in their late teens and early twenties. Though the album is quite long, it’s definitely worth the listen for lovers of pop punk, Pokémon, and Game Boys.

Source: Reverb.com

— Ceci Hughes

Source: USA Today

John Mayer – Sob Rock

This summer, longtime singer-songwriter, guitar virtuoso, and recovering ego-maniac John Mayer campaigned the release of a record designed to resonate with listeners’ soft sides. Promotional billboards declaring, “It’s time to fall in love with an album again” could be found across the country. What Mayer started cooking after his 2018 album, “The Search for Everything,” was a new and softer pop-rock concept album in touch with his vulnerable side, which isn’t necessarily a novel concept if you look back at his seven previous studio albums. With hit songs like “Daughters” and “Your Body Is a Wonderland,” Mayer certainly isn’t a stranger to ballads. Instead of tugging on the heart strings, Mayer’s new record, titled Sob Rock, was designed to help listeners discover how Chandler Bing must have felt while clutching that Lionel Ritchie album, feeling all the feelings. Recent years have seen a shift in the mood of pop music, steering away from optimism and descending into sultry, pessimistic, and often existential territory. From the whispered, confessional lyrics of Billie Eillish to Olivia Rodrigo’s teenage angst, 52

Columbia / 16 July 2021

emotionally charged albums that dwell on relationships, self-esteem, and social issues alike take a front seat on the charts, streaming services, and even TikTok. Riding the wave of introspection, Mayer’s Sob Rock offers reflective lyrics addressing the songwriter’s fears and hopes for the future. On “I Guess I Just Feel Like,” Mayer sings about his anxiety directly in the lyrics, “I guess I just feel like good things are gone, and the weight of my worries is too much to take on.” Tracks like “All I Want” and “Shot in The Dark” deal with failed relationships and anxiety over meeting the same fruitless fate again. All the while, there are inklings of hope buried in Sob Rock, almost as though Mayer is manifesting a future of finding love at last. He sings, “If you don’t wanna love me, let me go / I’m runnin’ for the last train home” on the lead single, “Last Train Home,” vowing to shut down casual relationships in search of the real deal. One could argue that John Mayer has been writing sappy and simplistic acoustic pop songs for decades, yet there is another side to him as a musician. In terms of guitarists, there’s hardly any argument: There is no modern guitarist more talented, skilled, and stylized than John Mayer. Hardcore Mayer devotees watched and listened as Continuum merged pop, rock, and blues in 2007 and are still waiting for another album with guitar chops showcased as prominently as they were on Continuum. Later, the John Mayer Trio, which brought the stellar instrumentation of bass legend Pino Palladino, percussion mastermind Steve Jordan, and John Mayer together on covers of blues standards, reimagined interpretations of Mayer’s catalogue, and brand-new compositions, allowed Mayer’s blues guitar chops to shine. Beneath its pop surface, Sob Rock surprises listeners with a significant quantity of Mayer’s signature blues guitar rhythm and licks. The guitar work on tracks like “Wild Blue” and

Train Home,” at times, are reminiscent of Dire Straits, Eric Clapton’s “Forever Man” era, and Gerry Rafferty.

However, commercial appeal still plays too large a role, creating a barrier that prevents John from hitting his lyrical stride.

Could Sob Rock be Mayer’s magnum opus, striking a balance between skillful guitarwork and the commercial pop that serves as the foundation of his solo career? Eh. Considering the length of his career and his experience touring with Dead and Company for the last 10 years, it’s clear that Mayer’s guitar technique continues to improve. I’ve had the pleasure of seeing John live twice over the course of the last 4 years and I can attest that his guitar solos only become more jawdropping over time. His songwriting, too, has gained maturity through the years, but sprinkled in with the seriously contemplative and stylistically interesting songs is “Why You No Love Me,” which, evident in its title alone, is downright cringey and groan-inducing. Sorry, John. That’s going to be a no for me. In my opinion, Sob Rock begins to unveil Mayer’s matured thematic creativity while successfully blending sophisticated musical instrumentation into his adult-pop blueprint.

Another disappointing aspect of Sob Rock (beyond the embarrassment of “Why You No Love Me”) is that this album doesn’t really feel new. There are only six truly new songs on Sob Rock with all things considered. “New Light” rocked the adult alternative radio waves in May 2018. “Carry Me Away” was released in September 2019. The song that best captures the theme of the album as a whole was one of those previously released tracks, “I Guess I Just Feel Like,” which entered the world as a single back in 2019, just in time for junior-year-of-high-school Mary Beth’s slump. The first time I heard it, I was sitting, thoroughly exhausted, on the carpeted floor of a community center lobby after a full-day dance convention. I had senioritis a year early and I felt stagnant. I wasn’t sure who I was, I didn’t know why I was pushing myself so hard, and I began to wonder where I was going. “I Guess I Just Feel Like” helped me realize that I wasn’t going to find myself in the life that I was living, and I was ready for change. “I Guess I Just Feel Like” and Sob Rock are about coming to terms with who you’ve been, letting yourself marinate in your emotions for a little bit, reflecting on ways in which you want to change, and looking into the future with realistic optimism. While Sob Rock comes closer to matching John’s ideal aesthetic, it only scratches the surface. To borrow Mayer’s line, it “won’t be long ‘til the right one comes.” With Sob Rock, Mayer found his groove and now, it’s only a matter of time until the right album comes along. You won’t find me hugging my nonexistent vinyl copy of Sob Rock like Chandler Bing, but you can be sure that I’ll be first in line when the right one comes.

— Mary Beth Bauermann 53

Illuminati Hotties – Let Me Do One More

Hopeless Records / 1 October 2021

Source: Illuminati Hotties

for this entire project, and this track sets the precedent. “MMMOOOAAAAAAYAYA,” (yes, that is the real title) the second track, is another standout. The guitar line in the verses is one of my favorites in indie rock this year. Tuzdin is at her most expressive here, and she excels in the humor and biting sarcasm upon which the song is built. This comes across in the bridge especially, with the chanted: love me, fight me, choke me, bite me the DNC is playing dirty text me touch me call me daddy I’m so sad I can’t do laundry!

Illuminati Hotties are free. For those unacquainted, Illuminati Hotties, or rather, Sarah Tuzdin, the mastermind behind the project, was originally signed to Tiny Engines. After the small label faced allegations of irregular pay and abuse of power, Tuzdin’s exit agreement required her to make one more project under the label before she could leave. Hence the aptly named Free I.H.: This is Not The One You’ve Been Waiting For. With the help of Hopeless Records, Tuzdin now works under her own label called Snack Shack Tracks, under which she released her newest project: Let Me Do One More.

Tuzdin is at her most expressive here, and she excels in the humor and biting sarcasm upon which the song is built. The album opens with “Pool Hopping” — a bouncy and upbeat tone-setter for the rest of the album. Tuzdin’s riff writing is spot on

There are few vocalists that can let go of ego and give themselves entirely to a song, no matter how ridiculous. Sarah Tuzdin is one of them. The album has too many highlights to count. There’s the western rock ballad “u v v p,” with a monologue from Buck Meek of Big Thief. There’s the slow-burn “Threatening Each Other re: Capitalism.” And there’s my personal favorite, “Joni: LA’s No. 1 Health Goth.” The song opens with a radio broadcaster thanking listeners for the support of “little shredders like you.” The song then descends (or maybe ascends) into punk-rock chaos, with Tuzdin yelling the thesis of the song — “You wish! You were! Like her! Like her!” Is Let Me Do One More the best album of the year? For me, I think it certainly makes the top ten. But it’s certainly the most fun I’ve had listening to an album all year. — Skyler Foley

My Name is Ian – Fantastic Company

Bubblewrap Collective / 4 June 2021

and a basic, singable melody; especially the refrain, “WHOOO! Motherfucker, ayyyye macarena.” It is silly and joyful and simple — like getting to emerge into the world following a year and a half of isolation.

Source: Bubblewrap Collective

Another standout track from the album is “Where is the Time?”, featuring HMS Morris, another Cardiff-based band. This song relies almost entirely on electronic instrumentation, yet still contains whatever essential quality makes one of the bands’ songs their own. Perhaps it is the lyrics of frontman Reginald Foxwell, or the horns coming into the end of the song, or even the distinctive Cardiff accent. Whatever it is, it is very good and very cohesive with the rest of the album, despite being the most adventurous track. The start of summer 2021 was a very happy one, with adults being able to receive vaccines and the end of Zoom University. There is, in my opinion, no better album to encapsulate that feeling than Fantastic Company by My Name is Ian. While the Cardiffbased band has definitely explored many genres in their eighteen previous albums, this record lands in a sort of whimsical-folk-indie realm. It strays from their previous sound in favor of experimentation with electronic instrumentation, and does it well. Its opening track sounds like the song in the background of a movie about this summer, but the movie is from decades in the future reminiscent of right now. The lyrics seem to be mixed intentionally far back in the mix, with a guitar riff that loops for the majority of the song as the main focal point. My personal favorite track on the album, by far, is “I’m on Top of the World;” it sounds like an incredible sense of joy and contentment, like having the opportunity to really just exist in a way that feels right in your soul. It has very simple instrumentation

The final track on the album, “Everybody Love,” truly embodies the sheer optimism and joy of the album, as well as truly showcasing the sheer bizarreness of this band. The chorus makes up the bulk of the song, repeating the words “everybody listen, everybody love, everybody wants a thing, a missing link, yeah, everybody needs a bit of love.” It is a testament to how being pleasant can go a really long way. But no worries; the band is self aware as to the ways in which loving everyone and getting along sound like “hippie bullshit.” Overall, this album provides an incredibly fun listening experience, just as the rest of the band’s discography does. It is a relaxing, fun album that does not dig into heavy emotions but rather, celebrates the simple pleasures. If you need a good destressor, want to look cool by listening to a record by a band that has only fifteen thousand monthly listeners, and want to laugh a little bit at the lyrics, definitely check this one out. — Abby Mendez

Injury Reserve – By the Time I Get to Phoenix

Source: Stereogum

Self-Released / 15 September 2021

What does grief sound like?

The album’s opener, “Outside,” begins with spacey synths that fade in and out behind a sample of a URLTV battle rap. The beat continues to meander as Ritchie slowly saunters into a braggadocious verse, dissing his critics, the so-called, “r-slash…white boys talking all wildly.” As his vocals echo, Ritchie implores listeners to understand that they cannot agree to disagree; that there is no happy medium. His breathing labored, the beat kicks back in, bouncing from wall to wall, and then fades out, leaving only the huffing. Outside is followed by the second lead single, “Superman That.” This track, which samples Black Country, New Road’s “Athens, France,” features the first appearance of Groggs, who provides ghostly backing whispers as Ritchie repeats the phrase, “Ain’t no savin’ me, ain’t no savin me or you.”

This is the question that Injury Reserve attempts to grapple with through the course of the 41 minutes and 14 seconds that comprise their latest record, By the Time I Get to Phoenix. In 2020, Stepa J. Groggs tragically passed away as the trio was in the process of recording their third LP. The group’s other MC, Ritchie with a T, and producer Parker Corey were left with the bare-bones sketch that would eventually come to be an exploration of loss manufactured under the ominous cloud of the pandemic.

The punk-rock-sampling “SS San Francisco” sees Ritchie trading a verse with ZelooperZ over a haunting bass riff and vocals from The Fall’s “Auto Tech Pilot.” Ritchie’s vocals are distorted as if they are coming through a speaker on an old, rat-eaten, cockroach-filled PC in your parent’s basement. The track leads into the frenetic drumbeat that comprises “Footwork in a Forest Fire,” on which Groggs delivers his first of very few verses. Panicked, terrified, it seems as though Groggs foresaw the oncoming terror of death.

The record started with an improvised DJ set in the back of an Italian restaurant in Stockholm, Sweden. Far from ideal, one may think, but that one would be neglecting the production powerhouse that is Parker Corey. Even when I saw Injury Reserve live back in November of 2019, Corey mixed the entire show on a soundboard. Without the accoutrements, the group pushed themselves beyond the bounds of genre and into an entirely new realm.

On “Ground Zero,” Ritchie spits over yet another The Fall sample, this time addressing the ever-present pandemic. At one point, he interpolates Future’s “Mask Off,” opining, “I got the mask buss down, got the gloves, got everything / We in here / I seen a few with goggles on, I might cop those too.” “Smoke Don’t Clear,” produced by Body Meat, stutters in. The rapping on the chorus recalls Kanye’s “Through the Wire” as Ritchie spits through gritted teeth.

Source: Pitchfork

A highlight of the record is “Top Picks for You,” in which Ritchie grapples with the leftover technological remnants of Groggs. It’s the most muted he appears thus far on the record, and speaks to the terrifying and beautiful reality of technology as a preservation tool, even when that is not its intended purpose. Avid listeners will be reminded of 2017’s “North Pole” from the group’s EP, Drive It Like It’s Stolen, as Ritchie is haunted by yet another death. The technological theme continues into “Wild Wild West,” another meditation on the Internet, but this time more so a meditation on Injury Reserve’s ability to use the Internet to destroy their opponents. “Postpostpartum”: the period after the period after childbirth; or, in other words, adolescence. A flip of Tee Mac Omatsahola Iseli’s Nam-Myoho-Renge Kyo, the track sees the group watching their progeny attempt to emulate the lightning-in-the-bottle phenomenon of the trio. Another staccato sample, this time of black midi’s “Sweater,” comes in the form of “Knees,” which offers the most prescient Groggs verse as he confronts his alcoholism head-on. Really, it’s only his second real verse on the record; yet, he still makes an impact, though perhaps not as much as his absence. The track feels weighed down by the stresses of life as if

Injury Reserve has been placed in the puffer jackets of the “North Pole” music video; this time, it isn’t snowing, but pouring. And rain it does, on the album’s closing track “Bye Storm.” Brian Eno’s “Here Come the Warm Jets” is shaped and molded by Corey into an atmospheric closer. Ritchie with a T continues to perform, reluctantly, as he compares the last year to a squall that caught the trio unsuspectingly. It’s not hopeful, nor is it hopeless. “It rains, it pours, but damn, man, it’s really pourin’ / They said you’ll cope, but damn, man, shit, I don’t know, man.” And I don’t know either, Ritchie. None of us do. All we know is what we can feel. Groggs’ absence is felt throughout every minute of the album’s run. When he does appear, it’s fleeting, but never lacking. What does grief sound like? It’s the last 1:30 of “Bye Storm,” as the beat degrades, and we can imagine how Stepa J. Groggs would sound, the words he would use to fill the silence. He’s just out of earshot. — Van Monday

Rest in Power Stepa J. Groggs (1988–2020) 57

haiku reviews RINI – Constellations simply ascending enter a realm of pure bliss songs smooth like butter

— Vivian Hoang

Mitski – “Working for the Knife” it’s a Mitski song it sounds like a Mitski song very Mitski song — Skyler Foley

Adele – 30 one-woman chorus of jazzy, impassioned grooves overflowing soul

— Mary Beth Bauermann

Taylor Swift – Red (Taylor’s Version) murdered a man twice rest in peace, Jake Gyllenhaal John Mayer, watch out — Sarah Bomar

Lorde – Solar Power love songs to nature self-aware, scaled-back sounds with reflections on fame — Sarah Bomar

Staff Editor-in-Chief

Isabel Haber

Design Editor

Justin Berg

Writers

Mary Beth Bauermann Erin Collier Skyler Foley Vivian Hoang Ceci Hughes Madeleine LeTendre Natalie Lopez Abby Mendez Van Monday Prasanna Patel Jack Stewart

Art Editor

Laura Reitze

Copy Editors

Art

Mary Beth Bauermann Jack Stewart

Lily Buro Evelyn Hall Alexandra Mendelsohn Boowa Zarcone

Photography

Evelyn Hall Catherine Henry Clara Whitney

Design

Sarah Bomar Lily Buro Isabel Haber Evelyn Hall Madeleine LeTendre Laura Reitze Boowa Zarcone