The Wake - Issue 1 - Fall 2022

fortnightly student magazine

volume 22 — issue 1

#Astrotok

Mask Mandates p.16 p.8

Advice from a Friend No Homies in College p.18 p.11

Party Foul Q&A Two Weeks p.22 p.13

Art by Grace Theriot

Fortnightly

©2022 The Wake Student Magazine. All Rights Reserved.

Established in 2002, The Wake is a fortnightly independent magazine and registered student organization produced by and for students at the University of Minnesota. The Wake was founded by Chrin Ruen and James DeLong.

Disclaimer: The purpose of The Wake is to provide a forum in which students can voice their opinions. Opinions expressed in the magazine are not representative of the publication or university as a whole. To join the conversation email eic@ wakemag.org.

Editorial Production

Srihita Raju

Sophia Goetz

Vishalli Alagappan

Carter Starkey Quinn McClurg

Vern Nowakowski

Peter Nomeland Ben Villnow Natalie Aue Kailee Baumann

Online Intern: Zoe Hoornbeck

This Issue

Writers

Abby Vela, Sophia Goetz, Nithya Venkat, Gracie Kibort, Lila Swedzinski, Cole O’Brien, Joshua Kloss, Anthony Vystoropski, Rogan Isbell, Madison Fraedrich

Creative Submissions

Grace Theriot, Megan Bormann, Laura Kuchar, Owen Brummel

Executive Director

Creative Director Finance Manager

PR/Ad Manager Social Media Manager Art Director Web Manager Distribution Manager Designers

Marie Ronannder Laura Kuchar

Rashmika Cheekati Gracie Kibort Renee Mottet Megan Bormann Sahra Hussein Selam Gerezgiher Makenna Larson Mallory Paul Kat Regas

Art Interns: Sarah Jiang, Natalie Williams

Art 1 Megan Bormann 2 Natalie Williams 3 Sarah Jiang 4 Grace Theriot 5 Laura Kuchar 6 Emily Inserra

Cover Art: Megan Bormann Feature Art: Natalie Williams

Feature Spread Design: Makenna Larson

NOPE, Renaissance, Born Pink, Hold the Girl, Barbarian, and Spiritualized images from original sources.

wink! one page magazine

AITA for pretending like my airpods were too loud when the CompSci major at the bus stop asked for my phone number?

Am I the Asshole?

Our brave and confused readers submit their most head-scratching campus happenings! Now it’s up to you to decide if they’re in the right or not!

AITA for never obeying the crosswalk signs and yolo-ing it across the street while the cars try their best not to hit me?

AITA for going to a local band's house party even though they only invited my girlfriend to flirt with her?

One of my roommates last year was a serious boil on the butt of humanity and tried to make me the enemy of the house and turn my friends against me. When she would piss me o , and embarrass me in front of everyone, I would use her skincare set. She sucked and my skin looked great. AITA?

Am I the asshole for using my roommate's Britta to filter vodka and forgetting to tell her when she poured herself a glass of water?

AITA for ghosting everyone I've ever talked to for a couple weeks for mental health?

Am I the asshole for lying about having plans when I really just want to take a nap?

AITA for committing tax fraud in 32 WI counties from 2007 to 2013? (this is a joke)

AITA for failing all of my gen chem students on their first lab assignment?

Mask Mandates and the “Return to Normal

Having no Homies in College

Two Weeks: Experiencing COVID from the Perspectives of Di erent Classes

#Astrotok and the Death of Religion

It’s the End of the World as we Know it, and I Feel Fine?

Advice from a Friend The Hats that We Wear Six Reviews Party Foul Q&A

Art by Laura Kuchar

Letter from the Editor

Dear Reader,

First and foremost, welcome to The Wake. This is our first issue of the fall semester, and we are so excited to begin this year with you all.

This year marks 20 years of The Wake. Chris Ruen and James DeLong founded this magazine in the wake of 9/11 because they saw a need for a space where students could freely voice their thoughts and opinions. They were able to start something that now has become 20 years worth of print magazines, 20 years worth of art, and 20 years of student voices. The Wake has been able to thrive for this long because of each and every student that has ever written for us, created art for us, and has been a reader.

I remember the first time I attended a pitch meeting for The Wake my freshman year. It was fall 2020, so it was on Zoom. Despite the screens in-between all of us, it was immediately obvious to me that this student group was somewhere I belonged. I remember being in awe of everyone on the call. All the editors were so well spoken and passionate about their pitches, all the freelance writers who brought in their own ideas had such empathetic and nuanced stories. I had looked up The Wake’s website and socials beforehand, and I became absolutely obsessed with the artwork and creative direction that was curated. And beyond all the talent, the thing that drew me in the most was how immediately at home I felt. I felt so welcomed and genuinely appreciated just for being there.

Meeting The Wake felt like meeting your first friend in kindergarten. First you’re a little nervous, but after 5 minutes you realize you’re having the time of your life with your new best friend that just a moment ago was a stranger. The Wake has been that safe space, that friend, for me ever since.

On top of being a home, The Wake has challenged me to push past my perceptions of myself and strive to grow. I want to be a better writer so that every article that I create for our publication is one I’m proud of. I want to become a better editor so I can assist our freelance writers in polishing their pieces. I want to be a better person so I can be a good friend to our sta members.

The Wake is my people, and your people should energize you to be your best and go for what you want. It’s a big campus, but The Wake manages to remind me that I have a place in it.

With the new school year starting, I hope you find people and places that make you feel at home and help you grow into who you never knew you could be. And remember, you always have a seat at The Wake’s table.

Earnestly and with love, Srihita

Raju Editor-in-Chief

Art by Megan Bormann

Mask Mandates and the “Return to Normal.”

For everyone’s sake, let’s not go back to the old normal.

BY ABBY VELA

I was shocked to see my friend’s mouth for the first time. We had known each other for months but had never met outside a school building or function. I had known this person for six months and had never seen them without a mask on.

This post-covid shock is a somewhat distressing experience; from what I’ve heard, it is a shared one. We’ve lived nearly two and a half years stuck behind disposable cotton and trapped in rectangular Zoom boxes.

That was our lives, and as of this school year, it’s suddenly not once more. The lifting of the University-wide mask mandate is a drastic change, akin to the end of an era of hiding breakouts and smiling with only your eyes, out with the half-hidden facial expression, and in with the confusion of seeing that masked person in full-faced glory. It’s uncanny and startling and just a little scary.

Quarantine has left us starved of face-to-face social interaction. Now that we have it, it’s di cult to say what is next. How does one navigate a world trying to “return to normal” when we’ve forgotten how to be “normal?” Even further, what was “normal” in the first place? I don’t know the answers to these questions, not completely, anyway. But, honestly, I don’t think anyone else can answer them, either.

If one thing is for certain, society collectively unlearned the value and

skill of interacting with others. Essential workers were the most disparaged, and the so-called “high-value” career people could make their six-digit salaries in the comfort of their sterilized homes. Social interaction was looked down upon; solitude was praised. Of course, quarantine was meant to keep us safe, but where does this leave us now?

The lifting of the mask mandate has very little to do with the slowing of positive Covid cases (if it had been, we would have been fully masked all of the Spring 2022 semester). Instead, lifting the mask requirement is this institution’s attempt to poorly recreate the world that we slogged through, fearing our employers and those in positions of power. The University gave us the freedom to not wear a mask while raising our tuition by hundreds of dollars in one summer.

I am confused. I am frustrated. I am angry. These are all true. Yet, even with this young-adult angst, I am hyperaware of my impact on others. I am careful to be kind, and I am deliberate in the way I spend my days. If I am not a force of conscious positivity, I have fallen back into past habits of drifting through this world without direction beyond what society expects of me. I study what makes me fulfilled, I surround myself with people who foster creativity, and above all, I hold my self-worth above that of anyone else. Perhaps it’s selfish, but we all deserve to be the center of our own universes.

1

I don’t think we can “return to normal.” Quite frankly, I don’t think that there’s a normal to return to. At least, the normal we’d experience isn’t anything like the one we knew before COVID. It won’t be anything like before when we realize the value of our work, debt, mental health, and lives. If the pandemic was the end of an era, it started long before our months of collective solitude. With that ending comes a new beginning, one where we’ve realized that our lives are worth more than any paycheck. We are more valuable than mistreatment by any employer, landlord, government, or higher education institution.

If a return to normal means discrediting my agency as a human being, I’d rather not return.

I was shocked to see my friend’s mouth for the first time, but the relief of seeing a smile drowned out that shock. If the lifting of this mask requirement gave us anything, it’s the little gift of seeing smiles through something other than a Zoom screen, something I will never take for granted again.

Art by Laura Kuchar

Art by Owen Brummel

Art by Grace Theriot

On January 20th, 2020, the CDC reported the first laboratoryconfirmed case of the 2019 then-novel Coronavirus in the United States and on the same day activated its Emergency Operations Center to respond to the emerging outbreak. Only two months later, on March 19th, 2020, The WHO declared COVID-19 a global pandemic, its first such designation since announcing H1N1 influenza a pandemic in 2009. On the heels of its first outbreaks here in Minnesota, classes were postponed, and students were initially told that this disruption would only last “two weeks.” In just two weeks, classes would resume, and things would return to normal. Two weeks became two years, and in that period, COVID-19 significantly altered the college experience for most undergraduate students across the nation. With the help of vaccinations, more treatments, and immunity from earlier infections, the coronavirus may yet transition from a pandemic to an endemic state this year. However, the educational challenges left in the wake of the epidemic make it di cult for schools to foster academic growth and the mental and emotional health concerns that many students still struggle with due to the virus. Nearly two and a half years after COVID was declared a pandemic, this

article reflects four di erent graduating classes’ perspectives at the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis. It hopes to benefit from their reflections on an academic world before COVID and their musings of a post-graduate future that the virus continues to alter. After two years of learning in front of blue screens, quarantined in tiny dorm rooms, and a “new normal,” we ask U of M students, “how are we doing?”

Class of ‘26

I guess you could say we’re lucky. Like, really lucky. I suppose others may look at getting to experience an in-person freshman year free of masks and asynchronous lectures as recompense for junior and senior years of high school spent in front of screens and shocking news headlines.

To most, beginning as a freshman at any university is a renewing experience, full of large expectations and excitement for the future. To me, it is also new, but for di erent reasons. Not only am I entering a whole new world of undergrad, but I also feel it is a whole new world of “post-COVID”, much of which seems surreal, perhaps even too good to be true.

Freshman year seems to come with not only a whole lot of excitement, but a whole lot of anxiety as well. Even as I begin my classes in person and without masking requirements, I still find myself pervaded with questions about the next four years here: “What if things get bad and we have to go online again?”, “Will I actually get to study abroad?”, and “Will I get to walk across a stage someday or have to see my name on a computer screen?”. Despite all of these questions, I am reminded of the fact that I am still here, now, on campus alongside good friends, professors, and sta who are here to support and guide me no matter what happens. Maybe lucky isn’t the right adjective; maybe it’s grateful.

Class of ‘25

I do not think it is out of the ordinary for high school graduation to feel weird for upperclassmen, but I suppose that depends on each person’s definition of “weird”. For me, mine was seeing four years’ worth of education and achievement summed up in a three-second PowerPoint slide with my name and chosen university prepared in a block-type font.

Nearly all of high school was spent anticipating that big transition from living at home with my parents to living on a college campus. But as both my senior year and COVID progressed, things like studying abroad, football games, and autumn career fairs once promised to us by brochures, and enthusiastic campus tour guides grew further and further out of reach until the college experience we anticipated seemed like something of a fiction.

As I begin my sophomore year, I want to try to entertain a more positive attitude remembering that while COVID is “back”--and most likely will always be–so are tailgating, late-night cramming sessions in Walter Library, and homecoming parades. At the very least, it’s been weird.

Class of ‘24

I began school in the fall of 2020 when the end of the pandemic seemed within reach–or so we hoped. “Only fall semester will be online,” I told myself, yet club meetings, lectures, and science labs kept me in a Zoom meeting at all hours of the day. It is hard enough making friends in college, but it was even worse then. By the end of spring 2021, however, I had found a group of friends, and I hoped the fall semester would be “normal,” whatever that means anyway.

Fall of ‘21 came quickly, and I still wore a mask on my face wherever I went. As essential as underwear, an N95 never left my body, it seemed. Additionally, in-person classes were not as healing as I anticipated: Over the course of a fully online school year, I adjusted to the comfort of my home, and suddenly sitting in a lecture for even a 50-minute class was a chore. Learning in-person drained my social battery, recharging was essential during the weekend, and any time I wasn’t wearing a mask, I felt naked.

Now, here we are, Fall ‘22, and the thought of wearing a mask seems distant—even though it was only four months ago the U had just lifted the mandate. And even though I am a junior, I feel like a sophomore. I wish the year spent online did not count, and I could have that time back, but I am fortunate that I can make up for the lost time. Nevertheless, it feels good to see someone’s entire face when I talk to them, and I enjoy feeling more comfortable in public then.

Just be careful, still, because some people are still recovering, and COVID may never completely go away.

Class of ‘23

I experienced the commencement ceremony during my freshman year of Fall 2019 with friends seated beside me in the cavernous Northrop Auditorium. Anxious parents hauling dorm furniture and overstu ed suitcases, enthusiastic welcome week leaders herding their assigned freshmen from building to building, and returning students, that first week was abuzz with the promise of a new school year. For us freshmen, it was the promise of a new era. And it was a new era indeed, just not the one we had envisioned for ourselves.

My spring semester began with similar vigor, but it did not take long for the whisperings of a foreign and novel virus to evolve from fear-mongering fiction, into real-life chaos that soon quelled the excitement that usually follows the New Year. A couple of months later, I returned from Florida where I had spent my first ever collegiate spring break visiting friends and family to find the life I had left on campus drastically changed forever.

A “new normal,” greeted me with jugs of hand sanitizer, endless grocery store lines, and a mounting death toll flanked by a negligent President. That fall, at the beginning of my sophomore year, I watched the commencement ceremony again, this time seated on my childhood bed in the paltry glow of my computer screen.

Two years later, as I go into my fourth and final year of undergraduate here at the U, I can say while I wish the virus had never happened, I am both optimistic and confident regarding life not just after graduation but after COVID. Class of ‘23, we’ve got this.

#Astrotok and the Death of Religion

BY NITHYA VENKAT

Recently, any scroll I take through my Instagram or TikTok feed has been littered with a very specific type of content. Daily horoscopes, manifestation frequencies, and videos that tell me “like to claim my blessings now!” fill every corner of my social media. On TikTok, for example, tags like “#Astrotok” amass over 300 million views. And this trend towards a generic version of spirituality that melds astrology, tarot, and practices from indigenous cultures, presents an interesting development amongst the American citizenry. A study from Pew Research Center in 2017 noted that the number of people who describe themselves as ‘spiritual, not religious’ had grown 8 percentage points to account for a quarter of US adults. Another recent study from Pew in 2022 also displayed a significant increase in religiously una liated Americans. These two statistical trends mark an interesting and profound precedent, one that poses the question of why so many Americans are turning away from faith-based religions and to a more generic label of ‘spirituality’– and what impact this mass exodus can have.

So the big question is why? What makes “spirituality” a more comfortable label than religion? The first and most obvious answer is the openness spirituality provides. Many traditional religions have a conservative culture that pushes away those of di ering identities and establishes a moral high ground. While there are definitely accepting groups of all religions, many young people find it hard to embrace such a rigid and

orthodox lifestyle. Thus, they turn to spirituality where there is little judgment or emphasis placed on micro-level decisions, and rather the focus shifts to a ‘greater good’ image of morality. Most forms of spirituality preach a simple message: “Do good and good will be done unto you.” It is this exact simplicity that makes being ‘spiritual’ significantly easier than subscribing to a specific faith. For the young queer individual, for example, it’s easier to believe in something that cares little about who they are than being called a sinner for their identity.

Further, many forms of spirituality provide something of a relief from the depressing nature of reality. In an era plagued by disease, natural disaster, and political unrest, the question of ‘why us and why now?’ is exhausting to think about. A spiritual approach allows us to believe that it’s just the natural order and the cycles of the universe–rather than the work of some cruel or evil god who aims to teach us a lesson. Astrology and other spiritual tools don’t look to claim ownership over the people that practice them; rather they are used for tracking patterns over time. Keeping notes of things like angel numbers, Mercury in Retrograde, and what cards pop into our tarot spread when our lives feel hopeless is far more objective than believing that our life events are being orchestrated by beings that are blissfully unaware of their cruelty. Spirituality poses openended questions, rather than the answers of religion that always leave us seeking more.

But this popular shift to spirituality and its presence on social media is not without harm. Traditional forms of spirituality, its tools, and belief systems didn’t spontaneously start existing when white women began posting their journeys on TikTok. Incense, tarot, crystals, and astrology have always been integral parts of cultures worldwide. This shift from religion has been accompanied by the spread of co-opting of Indigenous, African, and Indian cultures. While this might not seem harmful on the face, it has led to cherry-picking traditions from cultures and leaving the people behind. While people enjoy yoga and meditation, some remain outwardly racist to the cultures they took their lifestyle from. People buy white sage to ‘cleanse’ their homes without acknowledging that they live on land stolen from Indigenous people. The communities of origin remain disposable, and the co-opting of tradition robs them of their history. It’s not to say that we can’t learn from other cultures worldwide and integrate their practices into our own lives– but we can’t be spiritual if we don’t remain grounded in reality. The desire to embrace an open-ended lifestyle of no judgment is understandable– but like all things should be done mindfully and with an acknowledgment of who traditions come from.

Why the youth of today are flocking to spirituality– and what harms this may have

It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine?

BY GRACIE KIBORT

Each day, ”this is it, it’s finally happening, everything has fallen apart” crosses my mind approximately six times. I know that seems melodramatic (it is), but as a self-identified worrier, sometimes something as simple as opening my computer can send my brain haywire. A million microscopic Gracies dart through my head, shrieking at the top of their tiny lungs, “Fire! Fire! Get out while you still can!” Don’t shoot the messenger, but these are tough times, which appear to be getting tougher as the days trudge on. It has been a grim few years, only occasionally sprinkled with hope. But I swear, I’m not a total bummer. Not to brag, but through a lot of therapy, and I sure do mean a lot. I’ve looked my dread in the face and decidedly named her Alice.

Alice is your typical manifestation of dread and anxiety. She follows me around constantly, lurking in every corner and sitting next to me in every class. The first good morning and the last goodnight. She waits beside me each afternoon, reminding me of the awaited horrors I’ll surely face tonight. Her favorite time to tag along as my plus-one is each weekend, begging for my attention and clinging as I attempt to ditch her in the masses. She’s a crowd pleaser, without a doubt, not so gently reminding me about matters ranging from COVID cases to how people feel about the size of my nose. (Who cares? Alice does.) To be frank, Alice is a total pain in my ass.

But by naming and identifying Miss Alice, I’ve recognized that she isn’t transferring back to her hometown of Hell, USA, anytime soon. She’s going to stick by my side, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, with divorce unfeasible. There might be brief moments of deliverance from this partnership of doom; they’ll be short. It’s allowed me to befriend her, letting her know that she may stay only under my terms.

Through this practice, I’ve found ways to briefly slam the door in her face each day. By accepting my anxiety about the state of the world, I’ve accepted the balance. Each day brings something new, and despite how much that deeply terrifies me, I can remind myself of what it means. Yet another bad grade followed by a night with my friends I will never forget. Did someone embarrass me in public? I get to hear my mom laugh about it on the phone tonight until tears stream down her face. The bad stu might not go anywhere, but neither will the good stu . Find what makes you feel alright, and hold on to it even if your knuckles turn white.

If things are feeling particularly bleak, as they often are, I begrudgingly take the advice of every adult I’ve ever spoken to and write a list of who and what makes me feel the most grounded. This can be followed by a group of lists ranging from gratitude, things that make me feel the most ‘me,’ to a ‘who loves me’ list. The latter is particularly important. The world tends to make us feel more

isolated than we actually are. Maybe this list won’t solve my problems, but it will certainly remind me that I’m not alone, and nothing is more soothing than that.

The world is a scary place, just inching closer to the inevitable with each passing day. Nevertheless, humanity has made it this far and hasn’t done that by ignoring the simple treasures of being alive. I hate to be a cliche, only leaving you with the advice to romanticize your life, so I won’t. Instead, I’ll remind you of when your co ee’s just right or the warmth of a perfect hug. Grass in the summer, soft snow in the winter, crunchy leaves in the fall. The little treasures are how any of us have gotten this far. Who says it has to be miserable if we’re living in misery?

When trepidation can’t be escaped, what’s next?

SIX REVIEWS

NopeJordan Peele Goes 3/3

BY LILA SWEDZINSKI

Riding high o of the success of his two previous films “Get Out” and “Us”, Jordan Peele certainly does not disappoint with his new film “Nope”. The film follows sibling duo Emerald and OJ haywood (played by Keke Palmer and Daniel Kaluuya) in their attempt to capture viable footage of what they believe to be a UFO. Following the mysterious death of his father, OJ Haywood tries to maintain the business that was left behind with the help of his sister. In this e ort, OJ begins selling his father’s horses to their next door neighbor, Jupe (played by Steven Yuen), for his spectacle of a show called the “Star Lasso Experience”. After more mysterious occurrences, similar to the one leading to their father’s death, the Haywoods soon realize that there is something looming over them. In their quest to get the “Oprah-worthy” shot of this alien entity, they soon learn the consequences of their pursuit.

This film is a brilliant commentary on the human desire to create a spectacle or exploit a tragedy with the intent of achieving fame and fortune. With Jupe’s character being the greatest representation of this. His belief that he is “chosen” in some way to bring these extraordinary scenes to the attention of an audience is reinforced by the memory of the trauma that he experienced as a child on the set of the sitcom “Gordy’s Home.” With this film, Jordan Peele poses the question: What happens when you fly too close to the sun?

Renaissance Bèyonce

BY JOSHUA KLOSS

There is the Renaissance, and there is “Renaissance,” an album you either love or hate— depending on how you feel about house music.

But Beyoncè doesn’t care if you like house music or not. Each song on her seventh studio album intentionally pays homage to the culture of clubbing and dancing, centering around the Black and Queer identity whilst celebrating both beautifully. “Pure / Honey” alone features numerous samples of nineties club hits by drag icons such as Moi Renee’s “Miss Honey.” The house music genre was pioneered by Black, Queer, and Latinx artists, after which safe spaces for these communities, such as clubs and discos, began to popularize the genre. This ball culture su ered when the pandemic forced us all into quarantine, which was actually when Beyoncè recorded “Renaissance.”

Furthermore, the whole album is dedicated to Beyoncè’s late “godmother,” who introduced Beyoncè to house music during her childhood. Unfortunately, he died of complications from HIV, but his legacy lives on in “Renaissance.” Listen closely to “Heated,” and you’ll hear Beyonce rap: “Uncle Johnny made me this dress.”

Everybody can dance to “Renaissance,” but not everyone can appreciate its brilliance. Nonetheless, it is a multifaceted masterpiece— a tribute to her uncle, a homage to deserving artists, a celebration of identity, of blackness and queerness. Every lyric is embellished with power and emancipation, and each song commemorates uniqueness. So when you hear “Renaissance” at the club, dance, sing, shout. Embrace “Renaissance,” and never forget those who made it possible.

Born Pink

BLACKPINK

BY ANTHONY VYSTOROPSKI

BLACKPINK in your area! Blinks get ecstatic, and newcomers listen to what this K-pop girl group has to o er. “BORN PINK” is their second full album to be released after debuting in 2016 with YG entertainment. BLACKPINK’s new album “BORN PINK” is introduced with the song “Pink Venom,” which, from the beginning, entices us with a chant. “BORN PINK” is a rebirth into the sweet but dangerous persona: where, if provoked, it will bite back. The rhythm and beats of this album will have you up and dancing on your feet alongside, bopping your head back and forth the whole time.

From “Shut Down” to “Typa Girl” encompasses a strong and empowered era of being one and true either with your besties or simply by yourself. Each singer gets to shine in their own light through the songs providing individuality through cohesiveness. All the while, with “Yeah Yeah Yeah,” we take a turn into the soft and strong transition into independence. The producers and mixers at YG have outdone themselves yet again. Ranging from fast, strong, upbeat songs to something slower, heartfelt, and more instrumental, we get it all in this album.

The way I would divide the album would be 3-3-2. The first three remind you how much of a baddie you are. The next three balance your strength with reflection and softness as two halves of a whole. The final two songs are about rebirth in terms of finding yourself and becoming who you want to be from within. Being “Ready for Love” once you have found yourself. Because as RuPaul once said, “If you don’t love yourself, how in the hell are you gonna love somebody else?

Hold The Girl

Rina Sawayama

BY ROGAN ISBELL

Japanese pop artist Rina Sawayama caught a lot of people’s attention with her debut album, “Sawayama”; it was one of the most acclaimed of 2020. Now she’s back with her second album, “Hold the Girl”, which was released on Sept. 16.

“Hold the Girl” takes a more calm, acoustic approach than her energetic, more hyper pop-inspired debut that blended multiple genres. There are still some of those songs on here, but for the most part, it’s a bit more laid-back with several slow ballads.

Lyrically, the album touches upon the e ects that the COVID-19 lockdown had on her, with a more subdued sound to match. One of my favorites was “Send My Love to John,” a song she wrote about a parent with a gay son who’s trying to be more understanding and apologizing for her discrimination; people don’t typically hear about topics like that in pop songs.

The album is a little uneven in its mix of slow and energetic songs, but songs like “Imagining,” “Frankenstein,” and “Hurricanes” are all closer to the anthem songs of her debut like “XS”; I can’t wait to sing and dance along to those songs at a concert.

While this isn’t quite as exciting or consistent as Sawayama, it’s another good addition to her catalog. I was fortunate enough to see her live at First Avenue in April; she’s an amazing performer and has all the potential to make a name for herself in the industry.

Barbarian

BY MADISON FRAEDRICH

Zach Cregger’s recent horror movie release “Barbarian (2022)”, takes the viewer on an unpredictable and chilling journey while expertly interlacing the story with dark humor to give the audience a tantalizing experience.

From the opening shot, the viewer witnesses Tess Marshall (Georgina Cambell) finding herself in a double-booked Airbnb outside of Detroit, Michigan, with a stranger named Keith (Bill Skarsgaard). Though skeptical, Tess agrees to stay in the house with her unexpected roommate and quickly discovers that the true “barbarian” might not be who she originally believed. Because of his terrifying portrayal of Pennywise in the It franchise and heavy misdirection in the music and camera work, one would expect Keith’s character to be the film’s villain. However, Cregger’s script takes you on twists and turns as the plot develops, constantly raising anticipation levels and the viewer’s heart rates. The most enticing and haunting piece of this film is the creature’s origin and the nature of her motives. Through Tess and the creature’s motherly instincts, the movie presents a strong feeling of woman empowerment and how they inherently have a need to help everyone regardless of their safety.

Contrary to the obvious assumption, the “Barbarian” could easily describe the male characters and their abuses towards women. There is an emphasis on gender-based violence and how there should be no redemption for these levels of abuse. In the modern horror genre, this release ranks highly because of its defiance against predictability and its ability to stir up an audience, and I highly recommend it.

Spiritualized

2022 Tour

BY ABBY VELA

The Minneapolis venue, the Fine Line, hosted the experimental-space rock group, Spiritualized for a night of pure noise. Their debut album, “Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating In Space,” brought them massive popularity in the late 1990s, and their commitment to sonic experimentation has paid off. The band’s two albums, “And Nothing Hurt (2018)” and “Everything Was Beautiful (2022),” forayed into ambient gospel and shoegaze that make for a lovely, dissociative evening. I wish I could say the same for their live performances, but there were a few crucial qualities that left me unsatisfied.

While the live music sounded good, the performance felt lackluster. The band congregated on stage with very little movement while bright lights flashed and videos of distorted static played behind. Usually, I’d find this juxtaposition striking, but these paired with 10-minute-long songs that started to sound the same after the 5th song. Halfway through the set, I felt as if I’d listen to the same verse over and over again. Don’t get me wrong. I love a droning and repetitive song that builds into oblivion before bursting my eardrums, but with every song being like this, a whole two-hour set list like that starts to sound monotonous.

Did I mention the setlist clocked in at two hours?

Spiritualized is a band that’s done some groundbreaking work, but it is work I shall listen to in the comfort of my own headphones.

A film that will leave you forever skeptical of Airbnb’s

Party Foul

BY QUINN McCLURG AND PETER NOMELAND

Party Foul is an up-and-coming Minneapolis-based indie rock band. The band is composed of vocalist and keyboardist Abby Vela, drummer Eli Armstrong, bassist and flutist Emily Inserra, and guitarists Joey Peterson and Zev Cohen. Keep reading to learn about what an average jam session looks like, how the band defines their genre, and more, including their experience participating in the Battle of the Bands 2022.

: Where are you from? Did you look to Minneapolis for music?

Abby: We’re from many places, though mostly the Midwest! Emily and Eli are from St. Paul (the best city ever), Joey’s from Maple Grove, Abby’s from Appleton, Wisconsin, and bestie Zev is all the way from Boston. Doesn’t have the accent, though… Very unfortunate. At least those of us from out of state; I don’t think we knew exactly how many of our favorite acts were from the Cities until we got here. It’s kind of surreal. I feel like everywhere we turn, there’re fantastic bands that make us so grateful to share a music scene with them all.

: What is it like being part of the music scene in the cities?

Joey: It’s really, really cool. Moving here as a college freshman I really just kind of hoped to meet some people to jam with, maybe get to play guitar and nerd out. But if you told me a year or

two ago, I’d be where I am now with Party Foul; I probably wouldn’t have believed you. It’s crazy to me just how big and cool the Twin Cities music scene is. Not only did we meet each other, but we’ve met so many other crazy talented, and cool people, and it really is a wonderful thing to be a part of. The support from everyone is really awesome, and I’m still kind of in disbelief that I get to be a part of such an awesome community.

: What inspired you to form the band, and how did you meet?

Abby: The Twin Cities has such a vibrant art and music scene. Because we’re all so passionate about music, it was kind of inevitable that we’d want to get involved in one way or another. The ways that we all met, though, are really funny and serendipitous. Emily, Zev, Joey, our former member Alex, and I formally met online through a music group chat for the Class of 2025, but we had never met in person until our Welcome Week. Eli met the

rest of us at the Battle of the Bands semi-finals, playing for a completely di erent band! His old band dissolved, and we needed a drummer; it just clicked.

Joey: I would like to add that me and Abby initially actually met through D&D in a completely unrelated setting.

: What inspires your genre and your sound the most?

Abby: We all have super di erent tastes and inspirations, and we can definitely tell when we write music together. I tried to think of some red string that binds it all together, but I can’t say we know what it is just yet. We love our storylines and concept songs, though. Those of us who write the lyrics are writers and storytellers by trade, so writing about people, real or fictional, was a natural progression. Our sound tends to match the lyrics more than any constant genre. I’m trying to convince the rest of the band to have a country arc, and have been unsuccessful so far… one day, though…

Joey: I like to make my amp/guitar/pedals or really anything that makes a wacky sound.

: What does the average jam session look like?

Joey: It depends on whether we are focusing on rehearsing for a show or writing at that point in time, but for the latter, it typically involves someone bringing an idea they have, and then we all contribute ideas, add to it, and write something to go along with it. Since we’re all multiinstrumentalists, really anything goes - it’s really cool to have that many people with that many skills in one room while we’re writing. Don’t get me wrong, there are definitely moments where we all hit a creative wall, but we always come back to the ideas when we feel refreshed. There are also plenty of times when someone just starts playing, maybe Em lays down a bassline, and without saying anything everyone just starts jamming and it always kinda blows my mind how in sync we can be. Like total nonverbal communication but the jam will rise and fall and change naturally, and we all stay in sync. I’m going on a little bit of a sappy tangent here, but I feel like as a band we really are connected from a musical perspective, and just having fun and messing around jamming is oftentimes one of the most fun things we do together.

: How easy was it to transition from covers to originals?

Emily: Believe it or not, playing covers is actually much harder than writing original music for us! Every band has a sound that is unique to them, and that usually shines through original songs better than covers. Covers are always a lot of fun,

and we’ll continue to change out new ones in our sets. However, to us, our original work is what’s really special; and hopefully those who come to our shows agree. So, transitioning from playing covers to writing was not hard at all once we finally sat down and decided to solely dedicate our time to writing original music rather than learning others. Like everyone says, we all have di erent and diverse backgrounds that come together in our music. We are all multi-instrumentalists, so I also think that crossover plays a big factor when we write together. What we have had a hard time with is coming up with a genre to label ourselves with, now we’re embracing the “genre non-conformity,” we’ve been described as. We’re working hard on self-recording our original music in Eli’s cool but dingy basement— so be on the lookout for new releases soon!

: What was it like participating in the Battle of the Bands?

Emily: Battle of the Bands now feels like an awesome turning point for us. Since we had only played three shows prior, we entered the competition in hopes of just getting our name out there— we did not have high hopes! But we were wrong. Through the first preliminary battle, we met Eli, who would later join us as our drummer. We also met new homies, Flying Fuzz, a stellar band from Madison, WI. Afterward, it was a happy surprise to hear that we had won the first battle and would move on to play at Spring Jam. Competing at the actual Spring Jam was really cold. It was on a large outdoor stage, unlike anything we had experienced before. There was security, expensive equipment, and sound guys running around, and it was so cold, rainy, and windy- we could hardly see into the huge, gray parking lot we were playing in. Eli mentioned that

the circumstances surrounding our performance made it feel like we were the only six people left on Earth. It just felt very fun and pretty crazy at the moment. Overall, Battle of the Bands helped us meet people now very important to us, become better known to our community at the UMN and also the general music scene, and play at two really incredible shows. We’re very honored to have been the runner-up!

: Who would be your dream collaboration?

Abby: I think it would be a funny, wonderful, terrible idea to put us and every band member’s favorite artist in a room together and see what would happen. I want to see Deftones, The Chili Peppers, and Bendigo Fletcher try to make music together. I don’t think we’d be making any music in this situation.

Emily: Thom Yorke and Abby would probably have a really fun time writing lyrics together.

: Who’s the most Party and who’s the most Foul?

Abby: This is a question of high debate. We have fought many battles. Blood has been shed, and we shall never be the same.

Emily: Party — Joey, Abby, Zev, Em, Eli —Foul (Eli is the most foul because he knocked over the ashtray onto my shoes last time I saw him).

Joey: I seriously have no idea everyone has a di erent answer.

: What is your advice for aspiring or up-and-coming artists?

Emily: We are also aspiring and up-and-coming still; how do we answer this, do we make a joke like I don’t know, can you tell us?

Joey: It’s weird to think that we would be giving advice since I feel like we have just gotten started, but as corny as it sounds I’d say just do it because you love to make music. I mean that’s all I really came into this wanting, and I’ve been lucky enough to get so much more out of it, but at the end of the day, I’m really just thrilled I get to have such great friends that I get to play instruments with and hang out and jam. Also, be friendly! Be nice! Be outgoing! Go to other bands’ shows, talk to them, and make friends. You wouldn’t believe how far that will get you. The Twin Cities music scene is full of cool people just looking to have a good time and listen to music, and it is very, very welcoming. Also keep in mind that it never will be easy and that everything from getting organized to learning how to write songs to booking/ preparing for shows takes a lot of time, e ort, and organization. But it’s not at all impossible, and the payo is awesome.