Diet Cig have shared a second single from their upcoming debut full length, Swear I’m Good At This. With a title that sums up how one comes to regard their birthday with each successive year, “Barf Day” catalogs a series of disappointments on one lonely such day. The song is structured like a snowball tumbling down a ski slope, building in momentum and frustration, until vocalist and guitarist Alex Luciano drops all pretenses and declares that she just want to have ice cream on her birthday. The pay off to the build up is a triumphant half-time coda, where an overdubed chorus of Lucianos provide a cascading counterpoint to her confessional, confectionary mantra.
DC-native Eva Moolchan makes what she describes as “violent vibes” under the moniker of Sneaks. She first drew people’s ears in 2015 when she released Gymnastics on Priests' label, Sister Polygon. On it, Sneaks channeled the groovier, artier edge of early New York punk with a preternatural ear for brevity. Merge caught on and signed her, reissuing Gymnastics last year in anticipation of her new material. “Hair Slick Back” is the second single from her forthcoming record, It’s a Myth. With a bassline worthy of ESG, the song rides an irresistible groove as Moolchan delivers a tense, terse lyric belied by her double tracked, deadpan vocals.
Alabama label Noumenal Loom is definitely no stranger to a humid, absurd realist approach to electronica, having worked with an international cast of good-humored gothic artists like Foodman, Giant Claw, and DJ Voilà. Taking inspiration from swampy folk and electronic exotica, Jasper Lee's Mirror of Wind's is the label's latest. Lee has composed film scores as well as video projects; he also invented the Pyraharp, a plucked string instrument that resembles an upside down endtable. With this new collection of songs, Lee imaginatively creates a realm that seems fantastic and nostalgic, and then he writes its soundtracks. The result is new-age, primitivist plunderphonics in a similar tradition to Belbury Poly or Plantasia. Over a landscape of whooshing trees, cawing birds, and delicate, unidentifiable instruments, a mystery story seems to emerge. Quietly sung over spacious, saloon shuffles in some parts, and improvised with gleeful jazz riffs in others, the plotless journeys within Mirror of Wind are curious and enigmatic, like an unidentified reel of home recordings discovered in a barn. Tracks like "Veil of Crocus" and "Bamboo Shack" best showcase this in short bursts. They are not merely interludes though, but imaginative vignettes that move the album forward. Other numbers, like "Quaint Gothic Spring," are more like dour Western ballads than abstract New Age works, but still blend modern and nostalgic myths and images. As the album unfolds, more instances of magic and suspense appear, drawing the listener in further.
Mirror of Wind is out March 3 via Noumenal Loom. You pre-order it now.
While New York’s Lily Konigsberg (of Palberta) and Matt Norman, a.k.a. Horn Horse, have often operated in different respective sonic modes, Lily’s synth tracks and streamlined vocals and Horn Horse's more fragmented jazz in conjunction generate a shared language. Their new duo Lily and Horn Horse presents a pop-oriented, danceable mesh of synths and vocals from both parties, with rousing baritone horn outbursts. For their tour together last August, they compiled a 28-track album of solo and collaborative tracks which comprise the forthcoming tape release Lily On Horn Horse. In the songs shared below, they showcase their range: Horn Horse opens "Year Book" with a minute-long improvisation filled with pounding drums and horns and keys, then glides into “PVC Pipes,” which features sparse waves of horns and frenetic pipe sounds under haunting vocals from both Lily and Horn Horse. Both parties' words contain a strain of dissociative longing—for a life outside whatever’s inscribed, for a dream world. The closing song "I Only Lose Because I'm Lame" is Lily's long sigh for that world, a stark contrast to the held breath of the previous tracks, just the piano and her voice in the high register calling out, “I can be there, in a dream / I can see it, but it’s nothing / I can see it.” It's an ode to pathetic feeling—and even when she puts on the almost tongue-in-cheek "Oh ... so sad..." there's something deeply resonant in the surrender.
Jay Som, the project of multi-instrumentalist and songwriter Melina Duterte, has released the third single from her forthcoming debut record. Previous singles from the album, Everybody Works, have encompassed a variety of styles, demonstrating the depth of understanding Duterte has for music and song craft. “The Bus Song” is a slow burner ballad that drew inspiration from the guitar-oriented pop of the early ‘00s, while “1 Billion Dogs" is a power pop by way of shoegaze gem. “Baybee,” the latest track we’ve heard from the record, is a perfectly constructed pop song, using an off kilter, new wave-influenced backing track as the basis for a hook so strong it could be on a Cardigan’s record. The accompanying video, directed by Charlotte Hornsby and Jesse Ruuttila, finds Jay Som and company dancing in a skiing resort. The main shot fixates on the group riding the lift up to the top of the slope, seemingly without the pay off of skiing back down. It provides a satisfying parallel to the song itself—beneath the song’s slick, bright melodies is a reflection on a commitment to care for someone in a way that is detrimental to one’s self. There’s no pay off to the work beyond the sense that one is still moving.
A Cameroon native with a past working as a full-time software engineer, singer-songer Lætitia Tamko, aka Vagabon, has spent the past few years developing her songs through live performance, experimenting with solo and full-band versions of her sets, which are invariably intense. February 24 marks the release of the Brooklyn-based artist’s first full-length, Infinite Worlds, on Father/ Daughter Records, and Vagabon is set to tour in March alongside Allison Crutchfield. On Infinite Worlds, Tamko blends the frank lyrical stylings and swelling guitar rock that marked her 2014 debut EP, Persian Garden, with lush electronic flourishes. In late January, she spoke to us over the phone about her music’s evolution, and offered some thoughts on how DIY and the “real world” aren’t always so different after all—at least when it comes to questions of inclusivity.
AdHoc: The title of your record comes from a book of poems by Dana Ward called The Crisis of Infinite Worlds. What did you like about that collection?
Lætitia Tamko: It was a really challenging read for me. His writing style is so particular. There are a lot of run-on sentences; I had to really comb over his poems to grasp even an idea of what he meant.
I detect a similar affinity for strange repetitions and movements in your lyrics.
It’s funny—these songs were written before I read the book, but I was reading it as I was recording. It’s one of those things that sticks with you, though.
On her third album as Pharmakon, Brooklyn artist Margaret Chardiet explores the relationships between humans and their bodies and the bodies of others, and how our self-conceptions mediate these relationships. On “No Natural Order,” the second single from Contact, Chardiet takes aim at a pervasive assumption underlying our understanding of the self—that we are ordained, either by nature or by divinity, to be stewards of the world around us. The track is built around a throbbing synth pattern and a slamming drum hit which demarcates every other bar; a seemingly logical pattern that that is progressively undermined by clattering sounds and shivering electronic buzzes. Chardiet’s vocals, delivered with all the contempt merited by the violence endemic to a belief that the mastery over our world is our birthright, affirm that humanity is not, in fact exceptional. We are merely, she argues, “animals, lost in a confused dream / where Mankind is real, / and at the center of everything.”
I never went to my high school prom. My boyfriend at the time and I thought we were too alternative to take part in such an antiquated ritual, so instead, we took a train 40 minutes to see Portugal the Man perform in a packed warehouse. It was my first time having a partner I could feasibly invite to something like that, but going to prom never crossed my mind. Prom was for normies, after all. I didn’t think I was missing out on much.
As an adult, I’m still not big on traditional heteronormative practices, but I am a fan of coopting uncomfortable relics of the past and creating something new and exciting. Obviously, when it comes cultural appropriation, there is a line. I’m talking about the inverting-McDonald's-logos-for-band-merch type of appropriation, not the insensitive cultural kind. Fucking up prom made sense to me.
The first Indie Pop Prom I put on, in 2013, was probably the most successful: a bill full of friends at the now-defunct 285 Kent. The Pains of Being Pure at Heart headlined, with Swearin’, Waxahatchee, Potty Mouth, and Weed Hounds supporting. The New York Times covered it, and I’m proud of the headline to this day: “Independent Women Celebrate Genres That Never Went Away.” People actually dressed up—and many said it was much more fun than their actual prom.
Boston slop-rock tricksters Vundabar are sharing a new song, “Shuffle”, with all proceeds from digital sales going to Planned Parenthood. The track hones in on the band’s sonic signatures; reverbed guitars and dry, fuzzed out drums hack out an exaggerated waltz while the band sings an elegantly constructed, hook-filled melody in a swooning falsetto. The band turns the song’s structure inside out multiple time across its three minute length, agitating for new ways to express the song’s central lyric: “I just want to hear my own voice.” One moment it’s a whisper, the next a scream.
Romance and masculinity have been enduring fascinations for Philadelphia-based punk band Pissed Jeans, from their 2007 Sub Pop debut Hope for Men to the upcoming Why Love Now, out February 24. In advance of the band’s record release show at Brooklyn Bazaar that same night, we asked frontman Matt Korvette what contemporary straight men are getting wrong about relationships and other social behavior.
AdHoc: Several of Pissed Jeans’ records explore the ins and outs of modern masculinity. What draws you to this topic?
Matt Korvette: I’ve always been fascinated by myself, my motivations, and being a man. It’s probably a bit narcissistic, even if I’m being self-critical, but my lyrics for the band have pretty much always been based on things in my life that I’m actively pondering, curious about, angry about, or sad about. And my identity and how I fit into the world has always been a part of that. I also enjoy taking shots at guys and the generic vision of masculinity, since it’s a ripe target for criticism and I don’t think it gets nearly enough grief—especially from people who fit within it.