The Bands That Set The Mood

Before Your Arms Are My Cocoon took the stage, two other bands played which set the atmosphere for the night. At 7:00 o’clock, the band The Fall of Babylon from Dubuque, Iowa, began their set which involved deep and muddy bass notes, rich and grungy guitar power chords, and lively drum beats, which all laid under neath the harsh screamo vocals from their two lead singers. The multi-instrumentalist filled band readjusted instrumentation and singers after each song. The highlight of their set was the last song they played, which just involved an acoustic guitarist, and one of the lead singers. Although the song carried less energy than their previous ones, but they displayed great, raw emotion and it was very unique compared to the first part of their set. The variety and shifting of multi-instrumentalists made for a dynamic and entertaining set from the young band.

Local Iowa City screamo band, thisworldisnotkind, then took the stage playing several songs that were similar to the band that played before but with more of an emphasis on longer songs that built tension as they went on. The four-person band featured a bassist playing prolonged bass notes that rung through your whole body, a guitarist playing spacey chords and riffs, a (dynamic) drummer, and more screamo vocals from the lead singer who also used a trumpet occasionally to add variety to their set. Again, the highlight of their set was the last song they played, which started with a trumpet medley over a slow and deep instrumental from the other musicians, continued to slowly build energy as the vocalist began singing, and finally culminated in an explosive ending that was full of moshing and exploded the energy of the room through the roof. These two openers brought the energy that was needed to prime the audience for Your Arms Are My Cocoon.

Your Arms Are My Cocoon Takes The Stage

After much anticipation, Your Arms Are My Cocoon began their set with their song snowy!, a song featuring a midwest emo style guitar riff and Odom’s trademark screamo vocals. The live version of this song featured an extended ending matched with heavier drums than you can hear in the released version. The crowd jumped, screamed, and moshed as a saxophone solo whaled over top of the climactic ending of the song. It was an incredible opening song that dipped the audience’s toes in the water of the beautiful set to come. 

The band continued their set with many songs off their new album, including muffled beneath the sound of the ocean, junebug and swan dive. The middle section of their set is where the band really flaunted their ability to be dynamic on stage. They displayed a playfulness during their performance that perfectly fit the style of music, including Odom running into the crowd with his guitar multiple times while people were moshing, beautifully prolonged saxophone solos and medleys over all of their songs, and extended versions of their songs that had the ability to blow the walls down of the small room we were all packed into. At this point the band had the audience watching in a trance, unable to step out of the steaming hot, compacted room even if they needed some fresh air to not miss what they would do next.

Finally, the band concluded their set with the song death of a rabbit, which resulted in the highlight of the entire night. They turned the 6 minute and 14 second song into a 10+ minute sweeping ballad. The song began with restrained guitar strumming, soft vocals, and a bed of electric piano chords that built up to an explosive climax that could’ve gone on for hours and no one in the audience would have been upset. The screeching of the saxophone, the screaming from Odom, the abrasive drumming, and heavy bass notes all in that intimate setting made for the perfect end to an incredible night.

No amount of listening to their music will top seeing this incredible band in such an intimate space. These four phenomenal performers perfectly utilize their mix live and prerecorded electric instruments and are dynamic enough performers to create a completely unique concert experience, unlike anything I have seen before. If you ever get the opportunity to see these guys in concert, do not hesitate and take the chance.

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Fellow Chicago band Blind Equation played right before Your Arms Are My Cocoon. The two bands toured Asia last year together and often feel like they meld well, going hand in hand. Playing their cybergrind tracks, some old some new, they coated the audience in digital bliss. It was as if it was ripped from the screen of an old 2009 MySpace profile page. It provided a perfect preemptive feeling for the set after, awaiting death.

the rabbit is born, innocent and sweet.

Distorted speech spoken through a Software Automatic Mouth echoed out into a loosely packed Gabe’s, introducing the birth of the rabbit. Clad in wedding gowns and emo haircuts, gentle guitar riffs opened around thrashing screams and saxophone. Following the glowing arc of energy, a fevered buzz passed around between band and audience members with the set composed of vibers, jumpers, and crowdkillers alike. I got bonked in the head, which is the hardest knock to the noggin I’ve taken since, poetically, the last time Your Arms Are My Cocoon was at Gabe’s. Bright poppy synth tracks blared in between songs, a transition both musically fractured and bizarrely energetic. Golden spotlight reflected around the saxophone, shining over the bell and glittering off brass keys. Circling the roar of drums and screams, it threw out riffs after runs into arpeggios, a point of brightness guided within noise.

i am sorry.
this rabbit is mine.
our love is mine.
this city is on fire and there is nothing i can do.

The saxophone bound the band together for the duration of the set, a warm accompaniment weaving something sentimental within and around the frenetic energy, before softening into a muted lull. A forlorn duet between sweet bells and a gentle guitar cut through somber air, building once more into hyper thrashing. Energy ebbed and flowed from miserable outcry and a gentle sweet melancholy, traversing through the quiet despair as music confronted pain and past with scattered cries. The sweetness is born from sadness.

Sweet nostalgia gives us a reason to reminisce through sepia days lit in summer sun and Nintendo consoles. Beneath the gilded layers of that fuzzy warmth lives a deep yearning, a bitter regret for the youth passed by. Your Arms Are My Cocoon, built from a teenage bedroom, reaches past false comforts of bygone warmth. They weave their yearning by collapsing into the underlying despair haunting that bedroom, each song blaring a torrent of past agony into the Gabe’s upstairs.

Bleeding in that halcyon feeling, I was reminded how miserable the youth I yearn for was, how days tumbled over each other into pathetic years of anxiety and frustration. That sadness metamorphosed, it evaporated off my stained sweater while dripping down into my socks. Around the music intertwining present and past, the acidic nostalgia smoothed the bitter edges to sweetness. Your Arms Are My Cocoon embraces the scarred stain, a memory of how sadness is born, is changed, but never dies.

the rabbit is dead. the person i once loved is gone. if only i had the guts to stay.

Here this rabbit is dead. Here this music is gone.

Again we brave the bitter chill, to hop along beside ourselves back to our burrows.

The post Your Arms Are My Cocoon: birth/rabbit/death in Iowa City appeared first on KRUI Radio.

On Day 1 of the Mission Creek Festival, L’Rain stepped out barefoot on The Hancher stage cast in violet light, along with emerging sounds of barking and baying dogs. Cheek declared to the audience that tonight “You have to howl with the dogs.” Bells chimed, and cell phone ringers danced around the howls, growing and circulating into a wake up call as Cheek introduced the first song by saying, “I love dogs, I miss mine. See you on the other side,” leading into the beginning of the track “I Killed Your Dog”.

Music flowed from a soft melancholy to the thundering overflow of pure noise, interjected by jazz solos, drum breaks, and simply bizarre synth noises. L’Rain is made up of outright talented musicians all in communication with each other, playing off what one another other brings through their instruments. Roles of guitar, bass, and synth were picked up and traded off during sax-drum duets. In a set structured like a jazz performance where improvisation is key, everyone listened as much as they played. Grounded by each song’s melody and motifs, the instability never broke apart the threads holding each song together. Rather, it brought a gradual and unpredictable experimentation, transforming repetition into a gallery of noise. We think of a gallery as a static place of art displayed on a wall. However, L’Rain curates her own sonic gallery from music into the dimensions of time and sound, placing the frames around her motifs and found sounds to add them to her collection. This collected galley is not static, it can only last as long as the music and its memory allow it to.

Her final song began with laughter. Though Taja Cheek’s life working with field recordings and experimentation would lead her to discover a new dimension of sounds, her laugh must be among the most beautiful sounds in the world. Laughter, screams, and howls distorted into electric echoes that bent into each other. Looping into shrieks tinged with a sad, dark edge was the closing track of the set “New Year’s UnResolution“, having the performance come to its end.

These are artists who perform an experience rather than perform a recording, feeding their feeling into music. L’Rain stands out from the “experimental” label as among the few whose experimentations are a genuine expression of emotion, rather than simply playing into dizzy eccentricities that the catch-all label accommodates. This music revolves, rotates, ebbs and flows with all the disruptions and subtleties of grief, loss, joy, and love. Translating contradictions into sound as human rationalities, emotions and memories collide. L’Rain is so overwhelmingly human.

The post Mission Creek: A Translation of Grief, Joy, and Love from L’Rain appeared first on KRUI Radio.

Here we all shared this common appreciation for De Souza and her music, which best summarizes and encapsulates this feeling of growing up. In other songs of hers like “You Can be Mean” and “How I Get Myself Killed” she sings about the complexities and complications of the processes of moving through phases in life, when one is not yet exactly sure who they are or what they want. Further tracks along the setlist like “Take Off Ur Pants” and “Younger & Dumber” are tracks that embody sensations of what it means to look back on past encounters. These experiences along the seams of things that turned out as they were either inevitably or unexpectedly, become memories that follow you for the rest of your life.

Within this hemisphere of wistful and dewy-eyed tonalities, the music’s live ambiance left the onlookers maudlin with acceptance to whatever may come our way within this venture of maturity. What De Souza tells us through this show is that everything will be okay, and that one must only hold on until the very point of when things will eventually get better. The show left the crowd with a sense of reassurance and comfort, beyond what other things may be able to offer. It left many with a newly found sense of hope for what’s to happen in the future, and provides us with a determination to go on with our lives, with a form of insight that is welcoming to refreshing prospects. They are particularly signifiers of one’s openness to learning more about the world and the rest of yourself.

De Souza’s performance was intimate, closely-knitted, and aligned to its listeners, making a musically ascribed language commence between herself and the audience. The performer and listener meet at a common point of understanding for each other that says “I have been there,” and “I get it.” This confides in the listener that they are not alone. This energy is one that shares secrets amongst the crowd, through the unspoken translation of feelings, emotions, and thoughts that is conveyed through Indigo De Souza being homesick for a tomorrow that is waiting, if not itching, to transpire.

The post Mission Creek: Indigo De Souza Provides a Reckoning on What it Means to Grow Up appeared first on KRUI Radio.

Within the line though were many dressed to their best for what was dubbed “Screamo Prom” by those in the community. Attire included the attempted elegance of high school formal wear combined with darker aesthetic elements fitting the genre of screamo. In this line, and in the days preceding, the local scene was bustling in anticipation. 

-Glab

Image via Paul Botch

Psyop

February 2nd saw the arrival of the eagerly anticipated Screamo Prom, the first proper Iowa City hardcore show of the year. The opening band, local hardcore juggernauts Psyop, were incredibly fitting and, furthermore, representative of the scene, sound, and DIY sensibilities of the Iowa City World City mantra.  

Fronted by prolific local artist and musician Dolly Sperry, they delivered a powerful set rife with rage and passion. Without hesitancy, the set whipped the crowd into an inescapable rolling flurry. It set the stage for what proved to be a legendary night full of talented musicians. Psyop kicked down the door, and everybody else filed in. 

-Joan Priester

Image via John Glab

Aseethe

Swathed in the reds and blues of stage light, Aseethe began their set sending a single dense note into the crowd at Gabe’s who were already itching for a mosh. Diverging from the night’s up-tempo punk, they delivered a change of pace to the lineup with their slow and droning doom metal. Sludgy notes formed into motifs, repeating themselves while overlaying new sounds and vocals into a mesmerizing pattern.  

As the only band of the night using a synth, an uncommon choice for doom metal, they built in an electric effect into their sound. The underlaying synth bled together their layers of sound, distorting the air into a dense mist of pure noise that seeped across the room. Repetitive sounds continued building, bending, and bleeding together into a hypnotic rhythm. One of my favorites of the night for their unique heavy style, Aseethe brought a dense metallic performance to the show’s lineup, generating a droning fog to drag a crowd into their doom. 

-Pauly

Image via Sam Hammond

Bootcamp

Bootcamp’s set was marked by a sharp increase in stagediving, and the like. The chaos seems to have only incentivized the crowd. During the set, not only were there stagedivers, but there were also crawlers, flippers, and even several cases of audience members remaining on stage and singing with Bootcamp’s vocalist. All of it together made for a vivid, lively, and positively unique experience for those in attendance. With this fervor in activity from the audience, the band took it in stride. Their set was fantastic, none of the members, at least outwardly, phased by the happenings of the raucous crowd.  

The band, particularly the guitarist and vocalist, blended a sense of early rock joy into their hardcore musical stylings, jumping and dancing as if it were the ‘60s. The music, too, was on point. The drummer was a particular highlight, while all three of the other members of Bootcamp performed excellently throughout their set. Perhaps the most important gauge of a good set to me is how much fun the band was clearly having. The grinning smiles on the vocalist’s and guitarist’s faces were clear indications of that. 

-Harry Epstein

Image via Sam Hammond

Your Arms Are My Cocoon

Someone said, “Hey, can I borrow your vape?” during a brief reprieve of silence in the beginning of Your Arms Are My Cocoon’s set at Screamo Prom. As the stage was awash in pink light, everyone crowded towards the front to get closer to Your Arms Are My Cocoon’s lead, Tyler Odom. They were dressed in prom attire and wearing a bunny cap that obscured their eyes (sadly not a Gummo reference, I asked them. Rather it’s a natural acknowledgement of their love of caring for bunnies in their off time).  

Through a flurry of unreleased songs and cuts from their 2020 self-titled EP, YAAMC managed to bring their unique blend of rage and melancholy. Their genre clash of bedroom pop and traditional screamo singing bled through into a uniquely cathartic set. Their control of the crowd had people kicking and screaming one moment, then slowly swaying together the next. People weren’t just screaming just to scream, rather screaming lyrics along with the band.  

Emotions were in the air. If there’s one thing I remember about this show, it’s the swiftness between trying not to collapse under the weight of the crowd pushing towards the stage, then holding hands with my friends as the band broke into a ballad, with everyone collectively stopping for a second. 

-Benjamin Romero

Image via John Glab

Frail Body

Before this night, I’d never properly listened to Frail Body. I’d heard a few songs back in October, sitting in the front of my friend’s car, which was filled with a strange sense of high energy delirium I have only really felt while driving home from shows. I barely remembered how they sounded. However, I could almost remember the way my chest ached, and how my peripheral was filled with aviation obstructions and headlights. I remember how tired I was, and how I didn’t care.   

Right before Frail Body went onstage, I also found myself very tired. Each set had been fantastic, but by round five I found myself so drained that I didn’t know what to do with myself.  I was sitting outside of Gabriel’s, watching whisps of cigarette smoke blow in the breeze and wondering how on earth I was going to be able to stay awake long enough to cover this show. A blare of sound check echoed around the garden, and it was time for me to head inside.   

Frail Body woke me up from a trance. I was swept into the pit by dense instrumentation and exposing vocals, letting the piercing waves swallow me whole. Just as this noise began to consume me, the sun broke through, melting all over. The music was tragic but hopeful. You’re falling on the ground, but you’re facing up towards the light. Triumphant bell tones and misty, dark melodies soundtracked this collapse, and blanketed the crowd. It became too much to kick and scream. My feet began to move differently, loosening without the pressure. Flinging myself across a sea of figures, I was ready for the tragedy to not hurt so much anymore. <3

-Casper Bakker

Image via John Glab

In Loving Memory

It had been a tumultuous night already, with each consecutive artist seeming to only amplify the already electric energy of the house. However, by the time 9:30 PM rolled around, the night had taken its toll. Many held towards the back, taking a breather and getting their energy back, that is, until the set began.  

In Loving Memory is one of Iowa’s finest in terms of musical artists. Seamlessly bridging the gaps between the similar but distinct fields of emo, screamo, and emoviolence, they rose to prominence around the turn of the century. Both during their short reign, and in the time since garnering a cult following, their no-holds-barred screaming delivery that doesn’t compromise a millimeter of intricately crafted riffage, has built an immensely exciting aura. The result is a galvanizing, high-tension experience. Look no further than the effect on the crowd that night.  

In mere minutes the general atmosphere turned on a dime from black-and-blue exhaustion to a surging, explosive mosh pit. While their set was brief by most standards, clocking in at about a half hour, those who have listened to their music before know that is more than enough time for them to deliver a potent combination of musical punches, and the band proved it. While bands that reunite after almost two decades often lack the consistency, energy, and hunger that fans often crave from their original work, In Loving Memory proved to be a welcome exception to such expectations. Their stage presence alone was enough to demolish any such thoughts, as they flew about the stage and even into the crowd.

In an emotional address after the set, the band thanked everyone for showing up and convincing the band to return from the grave, as many of them never anticipated to return to the project. They were met with deafening cheers and demands for an encore as they came together and embraced. It perfectly concluded the night dubbed Screamo Prom, which at its core, centered around community, support, and love for the scene. 

-Evan Raefield

The post Screamo Prom 2K24 at Gabe’s appeared first on KRUI Radio.

On a chilly Monday night, a crowd of around 30 people assembled at Trumpet Blossom Café for an evening show. The show was assembled as a feature of the ongoing Feed Me Weird Things program; A series of events organized to bring in eccentric and abnormal performing acts to the live scene of Iowa City, whilst promoting and boosting local artists.

Early arrivals to the quaint cafe, typically closed on Mondays, were greeted by the scene of Tengger eating dinner in front of the stage. Opening act Birdlabs, an Iowa City via Chicago electronic beatsmith, charmed the audience with tasteful selections from their repertoire of releases. They saved the best for last with a blissful ambient loop and then a bouncy house bop to top off the set.

Image via Evan Raefield

Tengger, the headlining artist of the night, is a Pan-Asian trio/traveling family of musicians, currently touring North America in support of their latest self-titled release. Hailing from South Korea, they offer a transformative blend of ambient, drone, progressive electronic, and gospelesque vocals, creating a subtle but transcendental experience as the notes grow and change before the audience’s very ears.

As they began their set, the very venue around us felt as though it was expanding as their tonal bliss filled the room, as Itta flexed her vocals’ delicate but glorious reverberation. I cannot speak for everyone in the room, but I can absolutely say that the gossamer chorus over the ever-present warm hum of the synthetic soundscape turned my mind to concepts of grandeur. Electronic elements like minimalist drones and downtempo bleep-bloops combined with the inherent humanity of such instruments as the harmonium, bells, and vocals.

Image via Anika Maculangan

About midway through the set, the group played a composition of the youngest member Raai’s creation. Written during the COVID years, when the family was fractured by Marquido’s return to Japan, Raai wrote the song in order to express the feelings he was experiencing at the time. The emotion put into the song was tangible, to say the least. During the song, Raai and Itta came down from the stage with bells, went to each individual member of the audience, and played them over their heads. It was as though I could feel my connection to everyone in the room, and appreciated them thoroughly.

Faith is a hard thing to come by in these seemingly ever-dimming days. We had each come into the night unsure, and had come to find that for just a moment, we were in the right place at the right time, in the company of good people. Maybe that is faith enough. After the show, they immediately headed to their merch table at the back of the room, and personally thanked every audience member who came by. I did not hesitate in buying a CD and thanking each of them for one of the most special live experiences I’ve ever had. If the primary goal of art is to move its audience, then I would say Tengger is one of the most successful artists operating today.

Image via Casper Bakker

“If I shall ever die, God forbid, let this be my epitaph- ‘THE ONLY PROOF HE NEEDED FOR THE EXISTENCE OF GOD WAS MUSIC'” – Kurt Vonnegut

The post Birdlabs and Tengger Bewitch and Transfix appeared first on KRUI Radio.

Kate Bollinger. Image via Cat Dooley

A five-piece assemblage local to the Iowa City area, 24thankyou introduced spacey, ambient forces of rhythmic pattern, with stylish pulses of abrasion and sharply-honed reverb. The phonics swapped in alternation between Emma Parker and Ethan Traugh. Emma with mellifluous, canorous vocals, whereas Ethan with potent, zappy expanses of aria, filtered with sound plug-ins that robotize the voice, sparked the perfect formula for something natural and mechanized, wedding the human to the computer.

Midway through the set with the worst luck, Ethan’s guitar string had broken. While resolving the issue, Emma had shared the contents of her prolific sound board, which was entertaining to say the least. Eventually through the kindness of Sam Burton, Ethan returned with a borrowed guitar. Pushing through, as the newly-acquired guitar saved the show, the musical unit proceeded to set forth their array of vividly radiant sound. A flashing amplification that broadly echoes through Gabe’s spellbound hall. 24thankyou unifies the realm of hyperpop to shoegaze, inventing a hybrid never much explored and experimented with.

Innovative and originally DIY, the collaboration and communication that transpires amongst Muhlena, Wilkins, Griffin, and the other members of 24thankyou, is one that produces a resonance comparable to an abstract painting. Conceptual, impressionistic, and plunging against the boundary of defined compartments, 24thankyou generates a sonority fueled by static buzz and unchartered refinement. Poignant with its rough scratches here and there, 24thankyou is brusquely fitful with a cause. It’s to channel what is broken glass into a glowing cathedral. Such tracks from their latest album release entitled Everything I Was, Burning Slow such as “Gnawed” and “i wash it out” garner a harshly vigorous intensity that fills the ear with rich and teeming electricity.

Lyrically, the songs spoke of metamorphosis, and how in changing time, the self veers toward a subconscious evolution. Although there were some instances of slippery slopes when it had come to tuning and coordination, the group, which seems to pose chemistry-like communication, pulled off their attempts of striking the room with dynamically passionate strains of energy. Something that had particularly attracted everyone in the audience’s attention was Traugh’s pair of granola sandals. Each time as needed, he had stepped onto the pedal board with them. An unusual but fascinating sight, Traugh had held the world upon the cusp of his sandals and the space that had divided it from the board. 

Next on the line-up was Sam Burton, who stemmed from in-between Salt Lake City and L.A., had furnished the stage with forbearingly halcyon underscores of rustic vocals and campestral notation. Tracks such as “Coming Down on Me” and “Maria” from his latest album release Dear Departed, accentuated his trademark for effortlessly sinuous vocal structures that flow across the instrumentals evenly. It was unfortunate that there were no orchestral and side-vocal backings present to further support such tracks that in their original recording, had this chordal facet. Because of this lack of reinforcement, the set felt slightly underwhelming. However, with the aid of a piano and drum accompaniment, the songs still provoked a certain air for what is pensive and brooding.

Amidst the set, Burton expressed that Iowa City is not what he had initially expected it to be, revealing that he was pleasantly surprised by the city’s unforeseen aura and atmosphere. Despite Burton’s set being on the lengthier side, his set was a good relaxant to ease the crowd between the other two sets. Mostly lyrical compositions on romance, specifically around the themes of attachment, courtship, and prurience, Burton’s songs provide the same essence as the “Harana”, a culture of ‘serenade songs’ specific to Filipino tradition. A key observation that I’ve grasped from Burton’s sound is that it speaks of love in such a way that heightens the ardor and fervor for admiration and adoration. The songs are brought upon the umbrella of affectionate introspection and rumination. 

Image via Anika Maculangan

As the last act, Kate Bollinger comes on. She embarks on a setlist, composed of songs played with her whole band, while some were played by herself, apace with her guitar which she seems to know all too well, as she emits a sense of comfortability while playing it. As soon as Bollinger and her band made their way to their stage, the crowd, particularly those in the front lines, are enamored and struck by Bollinger’s stage presence. This was accentuated even more so when she starts singing “Running“, her 2022 single release, which the audience, without fail, sang along to word-per-word.

There were some early troubles faced with the bass’ volume level, but this was soon sorted out, as it then sounded victoriously magnified for the rest of the set. The set had powerfully incisive drum beats, and clean yet repercussed vibrations of the guitar, where its sleekness and affinity for jangle-pop tonalities swimmingly complimented Bollinger’s glossy, polished vocals.

Influenced by the likes of Vashti Bunyan, Elyse Weinberg, and The Apples in Stereo, Bollinger encapsulates the utmost feel for ‘Freak Folk’ as she coalesces synth-like modulations to soothingly tempered strums of the guitar. Bollinger’s tonality even traverses across landscapes of what would be considered jazz and R&B. She takes little details from these genres and fuses them into a crisp sound that acts as a glue holding all of them into one melodic arrangement, in succession of whichever harmony Bollinger chooses next to effectuate.

Like a magician of sorts, Bollinger holds many tricks up her sleeve. When someone in the crowd requested her to play the song called “I Don’t Wanna Lose”, with no hesitation, she began playing the track. The song hadn’t initially been part of the show’s designated setlist, yet Bollinger had no skepticism or indecision when it came to playing it. This best exhibited Bollinger’s ability to play any of her songs on the spot, which also raises more recognition toward her capacity as a singer/songwriter.

This proves that all her songs derive and originate directly from her own accord. She knows the nature of these songs, in and out, much as it is apparent that these tracks have come straight from her imagination and creativity. As a last culmination of her mini retrospective, Bollinger plays “Lady in the Darkest Hour”, “You at Home”, and “Yards/Gardens”. Three songs which are celebrated favorites off the Bollinger discography. With this, Bollinger ceases the show in a more quirky, yet refreshingly outré fashion than ever. 

Image via Cat Dooley

In final tense, throughout listening to these three acts, they went satisfactorily well together. 24thankyou being concordant to Bollinger’s indie pop disposition, whereas Sam Burton for Bollinger’s folk orientation. Both extremities had managed to detail the amalgamation of the two, which Bollinger was able to epitomize and exemplify with her sound of duality.

However, what ultimately cements these three acts together were their sensibilities for a sound that brings pride to the ‘bedroom pop’ title. It gives respect toward artists who began independently crafting their music, as they take it to the venues with much more vast rooms than the ones they had written these songs in. This further augments Track Zero’s importance to the current music scene. Track Zero’s prevailing goal is to bring more exposure to artists who started out producing their own music autonomously, but are now ready and prepared to share their music with a larger pond of awareness. 

Kate Bollinger Set List:

1. Running
2. Who Am I But Someone
3. What’s This About (La La La La)
4. God Interlude
5. Any Day Now
6. Pictures of You
7. To Your Own Devices
8. Postcard from a Cloud
9. Lady in the Darkest Hour
10. You at Home
11. Yards / Gardens

The post Kate Bollinger, and When Bedroom Pop Makes it Out of the Four Walls appeared first on KRUI Radio.

Obviously, this ended up not being the case. After feeling ostracized by his own music, Trevor Powers, the man behind the Youth Lagoon project, decided to return to it as he was recovering from a mysterious and drastic health condition that left his vocal cords damaged, and his body weakened. However, from this whole incident, he had an epiphany of self-discovery, and documenting this is the album Heaven is a Junkyard, the first Youth Lagoon release since 2015, and the cause for their first tour in over five years. 

Nina Keith leaning over an array of synthesizers. Image via John Glab

Nina Keith opens for the first two weeks of the Junkyard tour, playing her glassy, minimalistic ambient pieces. The brisk air from the incessant rotating fans, and the cold blueish-white light blanketing the stage amplified the icy atmosphere that the music built. Standing there it felt like being surrounded by frozen walls in an ancient glacial cave. Rocks clambering against the metal on a vibraphone sounded like icicles breaking off from the ceiling. Quick lush noises flashed over classical soundscapes and low surging reverberations. In a reoccurring move by Keith and her bandmate Massima, they would strum the ends of the bars on the vibraphone to create chilling ethereal swells.  

Youth Lagoon began the set with the tracks “Rabbit” and “Prizefighter,” both off the new album. On the right, Trevor Powers sat surrounded by three different synthesizers, and a small tower that housed drum machines, other electronic instruments and a laptop with a neon orange duct tape cross. A drum set sat on the left side of the stage being sparsely used since most of the songs’ percussion came electronically from the press of a button. Powers’ bandmates, Tchad and Logan, occupied the middle, and swapped roles between playing guitar, drums and bass. Despite Gabe’s smaller performance space, they still managed to include drenching RGB LED lights, setting them angled on the ground.  

Trevor Powers among his set up. Image via John Glab

The third song of the night was “Cannons” from 2011’s The Year of Hibernation. When Powers played the glimmering synth lead, the audience stirred with excitement. A faint echo of “I have more dreams than you have posters of your favorite teams” from voices singing along backed Powers’ vocals. That echo grew with intensity as the instrumentation became more engulfing, before ending with its biting guitar solo. Youth Lagoon didn’t abandon the older tracks that Powers grew to feel detached from, and played multiple other classics including “Montana” and “17,” which further stimulated the crowd. These tracks followed the calm, reflective, stripped back structure that built up into flooding zeniths, and elongated, indie power-pop jams.  

Following “Cannons” was the song “Deep Red Sea” which had a very loungey feel from plinking piano licks, and light plucked basslines, but still intwined with a course synth part during its end. The setlist was dominated by tracks from the new album. Fitting for the Junkyard tour. The jazzier arrangements of these songs allowed for more people to shuffle along with the music, giving the audience a livelier radiation. The lyrics on these songs had a lot of clarity and personal elements, like with “Trapeze Artist,” which Powers briefly spoke on the tumultuous state he was in while writing it, before playing the song. Tracks like “Idaho Alien” had smooth hooks with lingering, memorable flows. Even though those in the audience were more unfamiliar with the songs because of their novelty, many were still able to find themselves mouthing along to them.  

Image via John Glab

Powers interacted with the audience a lot during the performance, talking back with different people. In one instance, Powers had asked for Tchad’s bass to be turned down in his headphone monitors because the reverb was too much to handle. After himself feeling bad for the request, the crowd started chanting Tchad’s name to seemingly boost his spirits. They then cycled through Logan and ended with Trevor’s name. Youth Lagoon then played what they claimed to be the last song “Mercury” ending with its forcible chorus.  

The three members then walked off the stage and out the back door unconvincingly for a predictable encore. Most of the people in attendance still stood around, either because they too saw through the game of peek-a-boo or were still left buzzing from the performance. Somewhat sheepishly, the band walked back on stage and played the songs “Posters” and “Dropla” for the encore. Afterwards, Powers expressed his gratitude towards the audience, and seemed genuinely humbled by the reaction throughout the night.  

You can listen to Heaven is a Junkyard and all the other Youth Lagoon releases on their Bandcamp and other streaming services. Youth Lagoon continue their tour for another week before taking a break and returning again in September. 

Full Setlist: 

Rabbit 

Prizefighter 

Cannons 

Deep Red Sea 

The Sling 

Afternoon 

Trapeze Artist Mute 

Little Devil from the Country 

Idaho Alien 

17  

Mercury 

Posters 

Dropla 

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Beatrice Thomas’s presentation on what the end of the world looks like, and what we are going to do about it, illuminates the anxiety and suffering that our society feels in the face of violence, political unrest, and sensory deprivation.

Thomas describes herself as “an arts & equity consultant, creative producer, multi-disciplinary artist and social justice drag queen” dedicated to bringing a sense of humor and purpose to the spaces she engages in. Hailing from the Bay Area, Thomas emphasized her particular dedication to the LGBT community in arts and elevating the voices of those who have less privilege and visibility. Given with uproarious humor and the confidence of a born performer, Thomas opened her presentation with a look into her life as a social justice drag queen. This ability to confidently wear one’s own skin and also make themselves digestible by diverse audiences was, to me, unique to Thomas’s presentation and stage presence. The humor in her voice, body language, and content all made the room feel relaxed and open to the ideas she was presenting.

These ideas mixed Thomas’s personal lived experiences with commentary on societal developments, particularly after the 2016 election. Thomas introduced the ideal of social practice, an “art medium that involves everything,” which Thomas was drawn to because of her extensive background in a variety of art mediums including sculpture and theater. For her, it was a natural complement to her desire to turn her creative work into paid work, a reality that many of us will have to come to terms with. As a former municipal arts administrator, Thomas felt that the change she wanted to see and the work she wanted to do wasn’t possible within a bureaucracy, and left to pursue her life goals elsewhere.

At this point in the presentation, Thomas began to bring in the reality of our political landscape as she was one of the many people who acutely felt the consequences of the change in White House administration. A sense of safety and security that anyone is capable of being lulled by, disappeared for her and for many others. It is this reality that Thomas and artists and activists like her are meant to guide us through and nourish us. To Thomas, the apocalypse had many visible tenets from the tide pod phenomena to the violent clashes between polarized groups of people. Thomas pointed out that our society is one that suffers from desensitization and the desire for immediate gratification which, cannot be sustainable. Instead, Thomas proposes that we need investment and dedication to our communities.

By starting with ourselves and identifying our values, priorities, and the work that we are able to do, Thomas gave tangible points for us to focus on in a world that can be confusing and overwhelming. The best advice I took from Thomas’s presentation was to identify what you have to easily give (what you can authentically provide) and can give in abundance. The most valuable thing I took from Thomas’s presentation was that there is something to do about the world we live in. There is no place too small to start or action that will go unnoticed. We must reclaim our integrity, embrace each other, and find beauty where we can if we are to survive the apocalypse. Follow Beatrice Thomas on Twitter to keep up with the world of artist-activists.

The post Witching Hour: Creative Tools for the Apocalypse @ Iowa City Public Library 10/02 appeared first on KRUI Radio.

Speaking about it, but more broadly about his approach and process, he curtly opined “I think we’ll look back and realize that there has never been a point in history where we’ve taken art so seriously.”

The comment puzzled me for ways I couldn’t quite explain, so I pushed it to the back of my mind.

Only a short while spent with the music of Des Moines’ Extravision reveals a blunt reinforcement of Frahm’s belief, that nearly excessive attention to detail is the essence and lifeblood of streams of artists today.

For musicians like Ryan Stier, who fronts the group, it isn’t so much a choice as a requirement; an obligation to explore ideas all the way down to their most refined core.

The shadowy aesthetic of The Mill in Iowa City, in pairing with a crowd embracing the musical lovefest that is Mission Creek, refracted their acute awareness through a magnifying glass of accepting arms and ears.

A debut album title like “Waking Up”, released this February, does little to dispel the notion that Extravision is anything other than a serious band for serious times, whose musical ethos seeks awareness and understanding far beyond the surface level.

Their method of delivery, however, is far less consistent. Friday night’s show saw flirtations with a range of genres, sometimes even within the same song; opener “Still, Up in The Clouds”, floated majestically on the back of textured Stratocaster drenched in reverb and tremolo, in the same vein as Chicago shoegazers, Airiel.

The climax boasted equal fluidity and control as the five-piece climbed together, kickstarting a set as polished and well-composed as it was emotionally affecting.

In contrast to the initial extended jams, which felt buoyant and atmospheric around enveloping delay effects, Stier’s 12-string guitar strummings turned inward on the band’s collective meditations, which touched on mortality (“Moments of Clarity”), purpose, loss, and transition over the course of forty short minutes.

The shimmering sounds of the steel strings held up beautifully alongside guitar leads of increasing intensity and drive, and the occasional punch of overdrive or phaser.

In either case, whether raucous or subdued, balance is fully realized with keys, bass, and rhythm that refused to be overbearing, but rather an accessory to Stier’s psychedelic creations.

On “The Dark Where I Could Only Hear”, a true manifestation of the band’s sonic identity, acoustic textures were smartly woven with jabs of electric guitar touching higher octaves.

Combined with an expressively coherent vocal delivery that aptly filled narrow gaps in the arrangement, it was hard not to be reminded of fellow-Iowan Dick Prall’s voice but washed over with a backing of modulated effects and decay.

The full-blown instrumental push over multiple minutes was carried out with reckless abandon, at least as much as could be mustered for a group with such care and focus. Few groups warrant as direct a comparison to Philadelphia rockers The War on Drugs, and the drone squeezed out in the final seconds of the track confirmed why.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gf0r9TjlzU4

For as unabashedly as Extravision resides in the vapor trail of post-Woodstock Americana and psychedelia, make no mistake- they aren’t ripping anybody off. Stier’s pensive songwriting and honest delivery boast uniqueness that can only be fully understood in front of one’s own eyes.

Led by curious minds and ears, and a clear sense of direction, whatever this group is searching for, I’d bet that they’ll find it.

The post Mission Creek Festival: Extravision @ The Mill 4/6/18 appeared first on KRUI Radio.