The Endless Novel

Some special music in 2020, vol. 4

04:40

As 2020 is nearing an end, it is time to review the albums I have vibed with the most this year. I had made a point and a resolution to keep in touch with music in the scene, as I am sure I have said before. I now find myself with too many albums to make a definitive list, but many things to talk about.
This is not a top anything. There is an album of the year, but that's about it. There are a lot of albums I really, really liked. Some I have novels' worth of content to talk about, some about which my feelings fit in a few lines. There is a little bit of everything.

Throughout the garbage fire that was 2020, I found myself drawn to positive albums. As I discuss somewhere in there, I believe positivity, especially in music, is a double-edged sword, because it's ever so easy to fall deep into the toxic positivity, "I am so disconnected from life so I will be telling you how wonderful life is, even though I know nothing about struggles" vibe. I found the sun, hope, and comfort I needed in albums that dissected feelings, explored the ups and the downs, in honesty, and in company. Strangely enough, despite seeing so many of my favourite heavy bands releasing music, I have not listened to -core bands as religiously and regularly as I usually do. But it's winter, accidental heavy metal season in my world, so, don't worry, I shall be finding my way back to screaming and breakdowns soon. Maybe I'll rediscover hidden gems. I am not purposely ignoring anything or anyone.

THE DEATH OF ME
(Polaris, released February 21st)

I have become picky with my heavy music, and I think it stems down from years of disappointing shows and albums I cannot relate to anymore. When I listen to heavy music, metalcore, deathcore, hardcore, whatever, I want to be blown away, I want to be stopped in my tracks and think well, this is one hell of an album.
I also tend to find most of my favourite heavy bands live, and Polaris was no exception. The first time I saw them was supporting Architects in Sweden, and, as the tour went on, I found myself more and more excited to see them play. In no time, in a click of the fingers, in the blink of an eye, their music has become important to me, and as soon as the state of my brain dips down into the uncertainty and the dark, it's the signal that I have to play Crooked Path on a loop until it gets better. This song has quickly become the musical version of emotional support.
Obviously, I was madly excited at the idea of them releasing a new album this year. I think one of the main reasons why I find it hard to relate to heavy albums is that I feel like some of the bands making them do not want to be making those songs and those albums. I don't know if they realise how easy it is for listeners to hear that the band on the other side of the microphone, the guitar, et al, would rather have their eyes scooped out of their sockets with a rusty teaspoon.
We can tell.
There is nothing like that at all with Polaris, there has never been, and I pray to God there will never be. The Death Of Me is the album of a band that is confident in their sound and who they are as a band. They have some of the most incredible vocals and don't overdo the split between clean vocals and harsher vocals. It never appears like their music sticks to a pre-made formula or something they should adhere to. It all feels very organic and natural, and, as a result, genuine. I couldn't be further away from being a musician, but Polaris also has some of the best guitar work I have ever heard. I love a good, strong, technical riff, as long as you don't try to revive the six-hour guitar solo à la Iron Maiden. I just love heavy music that isn't heavy for the sake of being heavy.
Metalcore has been through many trends and phases, often dictated by the bands who make it big, and all the bands that follow in their exact footsteps in the hopes of making it big too. Metalcore is a constant rotation of tropes and clichés, of keyboards, of breakdowns, of signature sounds, of music videos filmed in decaying warehouses or in forests, of aesthetics, fonts, everything. Metalcore somehow feels a lot more codified than other genres, and I love that Polaris is above it all. They are heavy, ridiculously so. They have screams and clean vocals. They tick all the metalcore boxes, but in a way that feels a lot more genuine than most bands, sometimes more experienced than them. Polaris is, right now, one of the very few truly exciting heavy bands. I wanted to find a better way to conclude this than "Fuck, I love them," but, fuck this. I fucking love Polaris, and The Death Of Me is gnarly perfection.
(PS - Anyone want to talk about their recent triple j Like A Version cover? I don't know what a Black Fingernails, Red Wine is, but I have no doubt Polaris made it 100% better than the original. I think my brain exploded when I first listened to it.)

NO GOOD LEFT TO GIVE(Movements, released September 18th)

Movements have been a quiet storm in the scene. No one knew who they were, and then, they released Feel Something and, suddenly, they were everywhere. Feel Something stole the hearts of a whole host of people in the scene, mine very much included, and it had been a while since a song became as huge a general favourite as Daylily, now an almost classic. There obviously were a lot of expectations for the band's sophomore record, No Good Left To Give, and they were made supremely high because we all collectively decided that Feel Something was perfect. (It is.) It took me a while to fall head over heels in love with Feel Something. Not that it isn't beautiful in every way and one of my favourites, but I feel like I needed to be in the right frame of mind for it. I believe that, somewhere along the way, and maybe just in my universe, Movements are the kind of band I need a specific mindset for, and this is the only reason why I will call No Good Left To Give a grower. I know it will grow on me, I know it will find its place in my puzzle, but when it's the right time.For all the bits I can appreciate and love already, it feels like the next natural step for Movements. I don't like the idea of it being an improvement, or a step up, because it's hard to put anything above something you love as much as I love Feel Something. With No Good Left To Give, I love how the band has pushed their craft even further. For starters, and even though this falls into the "grower" category, the songwriting is absolutely flawless, personal, poetic, and relatable, but I didn't expect any less from them. It isn't a surprise, but I am impressed nonetheless. Sound-wise, it feels a little darker than their debut, but maybe that's just me. In a world where artists are expected to produce content and art constantly if they want to stay relevant, I love that Movements have not given in to the pression and taken all the time they needed to make a second album. This is how we got something as wonderful as No Good Left To Give.These are a bunch of first impressions and feelings, and they're largely, completely, one hundred percent positive. I think I'll become a little more articulate when the time is right.

SELF CARE
(Yours Truly, released September 18th)

It's crazy how a single song can change the game of how you feel about a band.When it comes to Yours Truly, that song was Undersize. It appeared sometime this summer, and I listened to it, just like I had the previous singles for their upcoming debut record, Self Care, and it blew my mind. After I heard it for the first time, I had to pause and think, as if this wasn't real, and it couldn't be this good.Well, it is. It's this good, and it moved Yours Truly away from the list of "bands I like" to the one composed of "bands I am completely excited about."This was the state of mind I was in before I listened to Self Care for the first time, and the album delivered all the things I never knew I wanted it to deliver. There is such a nostalgic vibe in the sound, and it pleased me so much. It tugged at all the heartstrings that are deeply attached to pop-punk bands from the early-to-mid-noughties and told me that a sound like this without seeming utterly outdated was possible. There are two schools of bands with more classic pop-punk influences. There are the ones who just try hard to be their band of choice, and the end result ranges from has-already-been twenty years ago to genuinely uncomfortable. And there are the ones who sprinkle the influences in their music without overdoing it, without drowning the whole thing with screams of "We wanted to be (insert favourite band) when we were kids and this is our chance." Yours Truly are very much in the second category, and this is coming from someone who has no idea who they actually are inspired by. But all throughout Self Care, what I mostly thought was "Oh, this has a bit of a New Found Glory vibe" or "this sounds nostalgic," and I loved every minute of it.Undersize, right in the middle of the album, is the soft break of the album without falling into the "hey, we have to have a slow song on the record, so, this is it, I guess" cliché. It's stripped-down and is original and lovely all at once. The intro is enough to put a smile on my face, and don't get me started on the music video. (There is a dog in it.) I don't want to make all the silly puns about an album being called Self Care and feeling like self-care, but it really does. I feel like the lyrics explore all the facets and sides of self-care. There is anger, there are moments when you want to wrap yourself in a protective cocoon, there is self-confidence, there are moments of exploring conflicting feelings, of wondering if you are doing the right thing, being in the right place, because self-care also means analysing where you are and what you have. All in all, Self Care is a smashing debut album. It's the best possible way a band so young could show the world how talented they are, how they have it all. It puts Yours Truly on the map, and it brings a new, exciting voice to the table. Right now, the world is their oyster, and it's going to be so exciting to watch them grow. (PS- The artwork is also my favourite of the year, because, obviously, embroidery, and it's so lovely and poetic.)

NEW WAYS OF LIVING(The Winter Passing, released July 3rd)

Do you ever think of things someone has told you, and you turn them around and around in your brain, but not in a negative way particularly, just as a souvenir, something someone left you? About four years ago, I had an...eventful night in a club in Brighton, that ended up with my workmates of the time walking me home and me sobbing on the couch about anxiety and many other things I don't remember because I had ingested a minimum of nine Jägerbombs. The part I will never forget is my old workmate telling me that maybe I wouldn't have so much anxiety if I listened to things that weren't blink-182 or Jimmy Eat World. I don't remember the context, but that sentence has been stuck with me, somewhere. It makes me laugh, and even though we don't talk anymore, I don't resent him for saying something so misguided. I'll give him that - I don't have the happiest music taste of all. Though the vast majority of my favourite bands bring me joy and comfort, I'll admit that a lot of the songs I listen to deal with heavy, complicated, and downright heartbreaking subjects.In The Winter Passing's New Ways Of Living, in the song Mind Yourself, there is a line that goes "I'm always wasting time worrying about wasting time." It's the kind of line that makes me stop and think every time I hear it. It's the kind of line that hits home, especially at my age, especially when you have existential crisis after existential crisis, especially when you don't know what you're doing or where you're going. I could choose to let it bring me down, yet another proof that I am, indeed, wasting my time. Instead, it makes me feel less alone. In the middle of every conflicted feeling and situation, I hang on to these sad songs because they are the proof that I am not alone in whatever I feel, even when I feel isolated and lonely. And I truly believe that's the most beautiful power held in music: making you feel like you're still connected with something or someone, even if you feel like you aren't.Ever since I let a boy convince me to spend my sad fiver on a gig ticket instead of cheap Aldi cider, The Winter Passing have had a special place in my life, the band who has always brought me sunshine - and I am not even saying this because, the vast majority of the time, I have seen them on a rainy, cold day. I am not even saying this because, somewhere, my brain associates them with the warmth from the sun on your skin, sunflowers, daisies, iced tea, and fields. (Apparently, my brain is a Pinterest mood board bot for emo bands) The Winter Passing means sunshine because every time I have found myself in a venue where they were playing, every time I have pressed play on any of their songs, the wind has stopped bringing the clouds in. And, if, somewhere in the middle of all my feelings, you need a valid reason to listen to the wonderful New Ways Of Living, this is it. Allow yourself to leave the clouds outside of your brain for forty minutes. Allow yourself to smile when you hear the intro to Crybaby. Allow yourself to be amazed by a band that's doing the music thing extremely well, with sincerity and talent, without falling into any clichés or traps or trends. Allow yourself to relate to the lyrics, take them into your heart, and feel truly connected to something, especially at a strange, painful, and lonely time in our collective lives. Allow yourself to imagine a time when you're going to be in a tiny venue with sticky floorboards and cool posters on the wall, and you'll get to hear the magic in front of you.

HELLO, IT'S YOU(Bearings, released November 20th)

I saw Bearings support Set It Off in London, sometime last year, and despite following them on social media, I didn't know they were releasing an album in 2020 for the longest time - not until I stumbled upon Sway on YouTube, and talked about it to my friends. After that, I overplayed the few songs they had out, and I was hooked all over again.Somehow, Hello, It's You manages to cater to a wide variety of my musical interests, even some truly niche ones. The album feels like the soundtrack of a cute coming of age film in the mid-2000s, and there isn't much more that I would bring back than cute coming of age films with killer scores. Tracks like Super Deluxe and So Damn Wrong have a clever 80s pop influence. Clever in the way that when you're listening to Bearings' most recent material, you aren't listening to a band who's just about to give up on guitars for keyboards and electronic sounds. They have taken all those sounds and influences and mixed them with their light, fun, pop-punk sound, and the result is, well, pardon me my generally overused phrase...banger after banger. As a whole, Hello, It's You heavily reminds me of Kids In Glass Houses' Peace, and if you have been with me for a while, you know how much the Welsh lot mattered to me. Finding a band that, six years after their split, captures a similar essence and sound is nothing short of a dream for me. Some of it, especially in the pop-punkier songs (yes, it's a word now), reminds me of Transit. It's quite the flawless list of influences and feelings here. Hello, It's You is the kind of record I could see myself playing on my way, somewhere, and feel like the cool heroine of a film I will never be. Just before the official release of the album, the band put out the song Dreams into the world. It's on the short side of everything (just over two minutes long) and, on first listen, without context, it sounds majorly different from Bearings' general sound, or the rest of the singles. If you take a look at the YouTube comments for it (don't), you'll notice how mixed the reviews are. I was cautious at first, because I tend to steer clear from everything that even vaguely reminds me of Drake, and this does, a little bit, but with the right context and in the right place, it makes all the sense in the world. Dreams is an audacious, brave song made by a still-young band who isn't afraid of anything at all, and that's going to be awesome to watch in the future.

AFTERBURNER(Dance Gavin Dance, released April 24th)

Afterburner was one of the strangest things that happened to my 2020. I have always liked Dance Gavin Dance, but do not ever ask me how or why I got into them, because I have absolutely no fucking idea. I just do. They're just here, in my life, and if you ask me, yes, I like Dance Gavin Dance. I have seen them live, once, four years ago, when they did that anniversary tour that somehow included all four of their vocalists, taking turns on stage and then all performing together like they were one big, happy, headbanging family. It was one of the weirdest live experiences of my life, and by weird, I may mean awesome. I mostly remember the confusion I felt when everyone was on stage, even though I was aware it was a celebration of their whole history as a band.I have also no idea what genre Dance Gavin Dance actually is. On instinct, I would say metalcore, but they don't sound anything like any other metalcore band I know. Post-hardcore? Who the hell knows. We're going to settle for Dance Gavin Dance-core, because they are so weird, and wonderful, and unique, and different that it would be criminal to force them into a defined genre.Afterburner was one of the strangest things that happened to my 2020 because, despite me seeing some of my adored heavy bands releasing new material, THIS was my favourite heavy album of the year, and I wasn't expecting it. I KNOW their sound, I KNOW their music, and I still can't quite believe they manage the utter and complete feat of making heavy music sound so...groovy? Like, yes, you could totally have a mosh and a crowdsurf to this, I mean, they ARE a heavy band, after all, but...you can absolutely dance to this. I can see myself busting some serious moves at their show. (It sounds like a threat, and considering the state of my dancing, it most definitely is.)My personal highlight of the album is Calentamiento Global, which translates to Global Warming. No, this isn't an enlightened song about the horrors of global warming and climate emergency. From what I have gathered online, correct me if I'm wrong, it is a song dedicated to vocalist Tilian Pearson's partner, who is Hispanic, so, as a tribute to her, half the song is in Spanish. Yes, you read that correctly - this is a metal song in Spanish. The lyrics, in true Dance Gavin Dance fashion, all bizarre metaphors and positively random associations of words, roughly translate to "Your ass brings world peace, the way you move solves global warming." This is, quite literally, the most incredible thing I have heard in...ever?(I'm also really excited because I now speak enough Spanish now to sing along.)I am aware most of these ramblings sound like the written-down version of those "so and so reacts to such and such" videos on YouTube, and this is basically a word for word vomit of the inside of my brain, but, in better words, Afterburner blows my little mind with every single listen. I love everything about it. I love the dual vocals, the harmony between Tilian Pearson's stunning voice and Jon Mess' brilliant screams is unmatched. I love the heaviness and the groove. I love the fact that they have included the word Kyrgyzstan in the lyrics (Lyrics Lie) and I am still adamant that it is a masterpiece of an album.

BIG VIBE(Seaway, released October 16th)

See what I was saying about bands that sound like soundtracks for cute coming of age films of the 2000s?Seaway is IT.Listen to any of their songs, especially post-Colorblind, and tell me you couldn't imagine it being on the soundtrack of a film. Every single one of their songs could be in the unforgettable background for scenes of driving around in the sunshine, hanging out at the beach, the final party/prom/concert/fun function, a makeover at the local mall. The album's first single, Big Vibe, captured this very specific and particular vibe better than most songs I have heard in my life. It was MADE to be in a teenage coming of age rom-com, and it drives me absolutely crazy that it isn't going to. (Unless someone wants to take one for the team and do it, I'm sure we could do something. I don't have a car, but I have half a dozen bikes and a skateboard.)Hearing Big Vibe, the album, for the first time, was, long story short, thinking eleven times that yes, this was absolutely astounding, and just what I needed to listen to. The intro to Mrs. David makes me exult with joy, every single time, as if I had forgotten it existed and was listening to it for the first time all over again. The super eighties-influenced music video is nothing short of a dream, aesthetic-wise. (I'm a sucker for classic American cars and blue eyeshadow, so, maybe I'm a little bit biased.)I started listening to Seaway almost seven years ago, now, because RockSound shared the music video for Your Best Friend and I was so ecstatic at the idea of a band who didn't take themselves too seriously. They were just...fun, you know. Good, old, plain fun. And that's what's always made me stick around. It took me three years to finally see them live, when they played Slam Dunk, and, unsurprisingly, they are one of the most fun bands I have ever had the pleasure of seeing. Watching them at Slam Dunk last year, and that one crowdsurf to Best Mistake everyone on the planet has seen because I have plastered it all over social media, was one of the single most joyful experiences of my life. I was in the north of England in a field in May, it started raining, and I couldn't have given the tiniest fuck. And it's the best feeling you could ever possibly get from music, in my opinion. Like nothing else in the world around you matters. That's what I find in Seaway's music. Like the world around me, and inside of me, could be crumbling, but it's okay, because I've got an escape route through their music, through the sheer joy and escapism I find in it. Big Vibe is no different. Sound-wise, yes, I have said it before, and at this point, you all are probably sick of me talking about the teenage films of my youth, but mostly, it is flawless. Seaway evolved from a band on the heavier side of the pop-punk spectrum to an outfit that isn't afraid of including wider influences and poppier sounds into their music, but they have never lost their fun side. They are a band that can do it all and makes it sound so effortless. (Disclaimer- yes, I have listened to the lyrics. I know they're more than "good, old, plain fun." I'm an overgrown kid with a hopelessly romantic heart and mental health issues, of course, I find myself in Seaway's songwriting. Allow me, for once, to see past the relatable content.)

BRAIN PAIN(Four Year Strong, released February 28th)

Anyone's got artists that make them feel like they are on top of the world, like they can conquer everything the world throws at them, like they are invincible, as if you were heading into battle with your own, personal, badass soundtrack. For some people, these artists are making pop music channeling self-confidence and body positivity. For others, it's the heaviest of heavy metal.My top of the world, badass battle soundtrack has always been Four Year Strong. Only last night, I was watching their Holiday Special livestream and feeling immensely pumped-up, even though I was cross-stitching in my pyjamas in the middle of nowhere. Put on any Four Year Strong song, and I am ready for anything. I'd even run a marathon if I could run more than two minutes without passing out. In 2020, Four Year Strong released their first album in five years, if you don't count their acoustic record. (Some Of You Will Like This, Some Of You Won't, 2017) Not that they've been resting on their laurels in the meantime. They have consistently toured, including a ten year anniversary run for their iconic Rise Or Die Trying, back in 2017. New material was still long overdue, and, despite the half-decade wait, it didn't disappoint.Brain Pain is everything I could have possibly wanted from a Four Year Strong record, which is a thing I found myself thinking about a lot of music, this year. Maybe, in many ways, the universe gave me things I wanted, in the form of albums and music and soundtracks. Brain Pain combines the absolute best Four Year Strong can do. It's got riffs for days, months, decades. I don't want to be that person writing about music, but one could call it rifftastic and be technically right, though unforgiven for using such a word. It's forty minutes or so of straight energy, pumping straight through your veins and, like the rest of their discography, motivating you to move mountains. As the title suggests, it evokes Brain Pain, mental health issues and situations, loneliness and heartbreak and generally feeling down on yourself. A reason why Four Year Strong are my badass battle soundtrack is their lyrical content. There is something so incredibly encouraging in their lyrics, something that makes you believe you will tell the world that it is not allowed to rain on your parade, and that if it wants to bring you down, it's going to have to bring its A-game, because you are fucking unbeatable, even though in your case, just like in mine, "panic at the disco" is not a metaphor. I found this, somewhere, in Brain Pain. I found this same motivating power, this loud and chaotic magic, this irrepressible energy that made me believe I could conquer everything I set my mind to, even something as challenging as my own brain pain.There seems to be a pressure on bands to constantly reinvent themselves, in fear of becoming "irrelevant." We expect bands, especially in the alternative world, a place nostalgic of the mainstream successes of yesteryear, to embrace every little trend, every social media platform, every sound that makes the charts, every conversational topic. We expect, almost demand constant reinvention. While I appreciate and wholeheartedly support change and evolution, experimentation and trying new things out, I grow to love consistency, knowing where your strengths lay and pushing them further with every new song and album. I believe Four Year Strong are absolute champions at doing that, better than many artists, and this is why Brain Pain is such a flawless record. They have taken everything that makes them who they are as a band, taken all their core elements, and pushed them a step further. As a fan, I love this with every piece of my heart, and as an artist of sorts, I admire this so much. Brain Pain is a record born in self-confidence, and I can only hope to reach such a state of myself someday.And, whatever anyone has to say on the subject, opening an album with a song like It's Cool is such a power move, and you cannot change my mind. That riff on a loop and that build up are god tier, as the kids would say.

WAKE UP SUNSHINE(All Time Low, released April 3rd)

See, I don't know how many people know this about me, how much I have talked about it online, or how many people still remember this era of my life, but I used to be pretty embarrassingly obsessed with All Time Low. I used to listen to Nothing Personal every day before university (alongside Hold Me Down by You Me At Six), my Tumblr blog was plastered with bad pictures taken with flash at shows in America where I desperately wanted to go because they played all the songs they never played in Europe, and I used to regularly don Glamour Kills t-shirts. I had one of the Jack Barakat x GK ones, and I had a purple one I had chosen because I had seen Alex wear the same one. Yes, it's embarrassing, especially when you consider my age at the time, but 2010 was a hard year, and happiness was a fleeting little thing. As it turns out, a four-man pop-punk band from Baltimore who used to make questionable jokes on stage was my gateway to a smile on my face, so, I embraced it, warts and all.Then, due to albums I didn't feel like I could relate to anymore, bad memories, and the arrival of metalcore and deathcore in my life, I fell a little out of love with All Time Low. I would still go to their shows, but it felt like I had lost something. Even though, along the way, I shed the toxic layers of my existence and slowly fell back in love with them, nothing quite felt like Nothing Personal and before.That was until Wake Up, Sunshine came out.I remember listening to Some Kind Of Disaster and Sleeping In and thinking, well, I really like this. I liked the aesthetic that came attached to the era. When the album came out, I listened to it with a curious mind and reasonable expectations, and I was blown away. Wake Up, Sunshine is, quite simply put, some of All Time Low's very best work. It's got the gritty pop-punk side I adored in their first releases. It has the songwriting that first caught my attention, the one-liners younger me would have doodled everywhere and plastered all over her Twitter and Tumblr. It's, no pun intended, a ray of sunshine, pure joy, a bubbly, fruity drink, those scenes in light-hearted movies where the heroine goes outside and looks at the world with brand new eyes and everyone breaks into a spontaneous, yet perfectly coordinated dance routine, including someone jumping in a fountain. I feel like I am entirely, completely, unapologetically back on my bullshit, and I'm not sure I'm sorry.There is not much I want more than finally hearing those songs live, all of them. I want to cry with joy. I want to dance like an idiot with my best friends. I want to open up a moshpit in the middle of people who will glare at me and not understand what the hell the weird girl with the red hair is doing. I want to crowdsurf. I want to feel alive. One of my very few favourite parts of 2020 was getting one of my safe places back, getting one of my favourite bands back. I am honestly so thrilled at the idea of having All Time Low back at a place that feels right that I could cry.

FOLKLORE/EVERMORE(Taylor Swift, released July 31st and December 11th)

When, last year, Taylor Swift dropped ME!, the single announcing her seventh record, Lover, I publicly claimed that whatever she was doing was my Endgame, as a reference to every single person I know turning their lives upside down for what I believe is the last of the Avengers films. (I have little to no knowledge on Marvel, allow me.)That's the thing, between me and everything Taylor does. A part of me embraces the pop singer crazed teen I never was. When she releases new music, I press the pause button on everything else going on in my life, and I give her my full attention. She's the only person in the world I would drop disgusting amounts of money on, no questions asked. Whenever she does something, she comes first, above everyone else. When, on the 31st of July, she dropped folklore, almost unannounced, I got up two hours early to make sure I would have it saved on Spotify to listen to during the day, and listening to it was nothing short of an experience. I cannot listen to one of her albums for the first time while doing something else, because I need to focus on every word and every line. I haven't studied words like this since I was at university. When you work on English assignments and you wonder if you're ever going to use the knowledge and the skill ever again, wait until you become a Taylor Swift fan. She has me analysing seemingly random words, photographs, and music videos like I am back in my third year of university, and I didn't even care this much at the time.Listening to folklore and then, evermore, was almost a religious experience. The problem with loving someone as much as I love Taylor Swift is that in my blinded little eyes, she can do no wrong. So, when she dropped two albums in the same year, it was obvious that they were going to find themselves high up on the list of my favourites of the year before I even listened to them. (Lover was also my album of the year 2019) I love the way they are a complete shift from everything she usually does, and at the same time, you could not mistake them for anyone else's albums. Taylor is used to preparing eras in advance, but folklore and evermore came out with little to no advertising, only posts on social media. It didn't feel like the big Taylor machine was taking over the world, the way it usually does. It was just a girl putting some music out into the world, a back to basics situation. Another thing I love about folklore and evermore is that the emphasis is very much put on the vocals, as opposed to the melodies. Not that the instruments and the melodies and the production aren't lovely, but they aren't what I am drawn to the most. It goes well with the idea of folklore (not the album title), the idea of stories and songs passed down from generation to generation, as if Taylor would have got them from someone else, and was passing them down to us. The fact that the focus is put on the vocals allows for a deeper understanding of the lyrics and allows you to truly immerse yourself in the story.folklore and evermore are stories, and, for the first time, maybe, they aren't Taylor's personal stories. Not that there aren't references to her personal life. The song marjorie is about her late grandmother, and epiphany was inspired by her grandfather. I do believe invisible string is about her long term boyfriend, and don't get me started on the rumours about my tears ricochet. Overall, though, folklore and evermore do not draw most of their inspiration from Taylor's life. They are fictional stories, coming straight out of her endless imagination. Songs are linked together, the albums are linked together, weaving like a little world she has created from scratch.I could talk about Taylor Swift's craft and artistry for hours on end. The way she writes her music, the way she thinks, the way she strings words together absolutely fascinates me. I don't think I have a favourite song in either folklore or evermore. Every single one of these songs feels like something I needed without ever knowing I did. I have never listened to Bon Iver outside of Skinny Love, and I found myself excited about two collaborations between the two. I had never thought she would ever write a song about a woman killing an unfaithful husband, but she did, and no body, no crime is one of the greatest things I have ever heard. (Again, I have never even listened to Haim before, but boy do they add to the song) I love every character, and I wouldn't even be surprised if there was more to their story, a third sister to folklore and evermore. Both these albums feel like such an immersive experience in their own way, and I simply do not ever want them to stop. I want every detail about every character, I would be happy with films and books, and here we go, brain into overdrive.To me, folklore and evermore are Taylor's magic at its finest.

20/20(Knuckle Puck, released September 18th)

Throughout the years, I have moved to a place in life where everything Knuckle Puck does is going to get me so ridiculously excited. All it took was seeing them with my friends and sealing unexpected memories on their debut album, Copacetic. All it took was a Download set, in 2017, when I decided they needed to become more than just memories with my friends. All it took was the summer of 2018, when listening to Shapeshifter felt like rediscovering them, when I ended up seeing them in their hometown of Tinley Park, Illinois, a little by accident, and it was one of my all-time favourite shows. All it took was listening to songs like Conduit and thinking well, this reminds me of another band, not in a plagiarism kind of way, but as if I could establish some sort of connection between the two, and it's something so weirdly magical that I struggle to put words on it.In a less convoluted turn of words, Knuckle Puck reminds me of Jimmy Eat World, and since I realised that, I started feeling more connected to their music. I am not (only) saying that because they have said that their song Untitled was inspired by Jimmy Eat World's Goodbye Sky Harbor, much less because the opening riff of Earthquake uncannily sounds like the first seconds of The Authority Song. It's just something I feel. I think it's just me.Somewhere, out there, I have found a band that reminds me of my favourite band, and it's not like I need another Jimmy Eat World, but it makes the whole ordeal so much more special for me.This wasn't where I was going with this, shockingly.In 2020, Knuckle Puck released their long-awaited third full-length record, 20/20. Through interviews, I learnt that with this album, they wanted to do music that was overall more positive, more light-hearted, which is something I truly believe they have done in 20/20. I was almost annoyed that it came out three days before the start of autumn because it deserves to be listened to at the peak of the summer, while you're driving around. It's an album that was tailor-made for road trips in the sunshine, and, after the year we have all had, it's almost criminal I didn't get to have that. (Yes, I know, there's still next summer.) Something I love and respect a lot in the creative process of 20/20 is the way they have gone about making music that was more positive. Positivity is a double-edged sword. It's so easy to want to head down this road and fall into every 2012 hopecore cliché, and I am at a time in my life when I do not need people to tell me in plain, unpoetic words to hold on because pain ends and make it the bulk of their business model. It is so easy to want to make light-hearted, sunnier music, and fall into the trap of making the same song over and over again, or accidentally strip your music of any sort of meaning in the process. God, we've seen this much too often. Knuckle Puck have gracefully and successfully avoided doing all of this. They have avoided falling on the wrong side of an often empty and weirdly toxic positive discourse. 20/20 is truly, entirely uplifting. There is no way you can reach the end of the record and feel blue and down on yourself. It's so wonderfully sunny, inside and out, that you have to feel a little warmer inside your bones. But 20/20 undoubtedly remains a Knuckle Puck record, with some of the best musicianship in the scene as we speak. Every song is catchy in its own way, and effortlessly so. The harmonies between Joe Taylor's and Nick Casasanto's vocals are always right, simply right, and the choice of having Mayday Parade's Derek Sanders as a guest vocalist on the lovely Breathe was perfect to add another layer of softness to the song. In exploring lighter subjects, the band has kept its songwriting talent, which is, again, no mean feat. Remember that time when Alternative Press published that piece with a headline somewhere along the lines of "sixteen words we didn't know before we listened to Knuckle Puck's Copacetic?" First, what the hell, but also, second, they're still that band, expanding their chosen pool of topics and not losing their way with words, not falling into cliché metaphors and overused turns of phrases. I don't know what long-winded wish of mine 20/20 fulfilled. It made and still makes my days brighter, and it made and still makes me impatient to be in a place where I can have a boogie and a whale-like crowdsurf to Earthquake. (Again, I'm aware it does sound like a threat.)(Disclaimers- I have nothing against The Color Morale, and I know KP say they're from "South Side, Chicago," but no one's going to make me believe they aren't from Tinley Park in some way, shape, or form when they mentioned street names on stage at Warped Tour.)

RACE CAR BLUES
(Slowly Slowly, released February 28th)

So.If you're surprised by this turn of events, where the hell were you this year? I wrote quite the lengthy post already about my album of the year, and about how it reminded me of a perfect weekend in my life, a time when it wasn't released yet. I KNOW. If you have had a conversation with me, this year, there isn't much I can add about Race Car Blues by Slowly Slowly. I have listened to it a disgusting amount of times, and don't be fooled by the numbers on the date changing, I plan on doing a lot more of that - especially since we seem to have the extended version coming our way, announced by the recently released heartbreaker Comets & Zombies.The only thing I undoubtedly know is that I have found a lot of comfort in Race Car Blues. I have found so much hope, as if, at the end of the journey, I was able to turn things around, leave the dark parts behind, and start all over again without so much baggage. I cannot even explain the feeling. There is something in the title track, in the line "I don't want to go" repeated several times like a mantra, something that feels like, maybe, I, too, don't want to go anywhere, and I don't want to let anything or anyone bring me down. I think in so many ways, I relate to that song. I miss myself, I miss the way I used to be, I miss the way I used to look, I miss the way my life used to be, and, in every kind message, I knew I wasn't alone. It's a strange state of affairs, finding yourself with a pile of things to say about an album you love with all your heart, all of it, every tiny vein, and atom, and cell, and part of it, but not knowing how.I remember reading a live review of a Slowly Slowly show, dating back to the end of 2019, I think, because Creature Of Habit Pt.2 was already out. Maybe it was the Race Car Blues release shows. I can't remember. The reviewer said something about how, when everyone sang along to the line "Olly olly oxen free, not sorry," it felt like watching people leaving all the negative things behind, shedding it all off, and it's the way I feel throughout all the record. You are revisiting the flaws, the negativity, the concerns, the worries, the nagging existential questions, but ultimately, you are letting it all go, as easy as something kids would cry out during an innocent game. There's all the hope I found in Race Car Blues.The hope that one day, after swimming against the current for so long, it will feel so easy to let it go.It's been a long time since music has given me something so tangible, so life-affirming, a lighthouse of sorts, somewhere in the distance, but not unattainable. Something within reach.Going into 2020, the only thing I truly wanted was to feel like getting better was within reach. I got my wish, and it doesn't hurt that it comes in the form of a perfectly rounded album, a journey, with a start and an end. An album the way it should be, in its purest form. It comes with catchy hooks, and the promise that one day, I will find myself in the middle of a crowd and dance like the idiot we all know I can be to Jellyfish. It comes with a duet, for lack of a better word, just the way I like them. It comes with all my big words, my big feelings, and my big emotions, and, at the same time, it doesn't take itself too seriously. It's utterly, completely, absolutely perfect. There isn't a split second I would change about it.

alex the astronaut

Some special music in 2020, vol. 3

03:13

I Won't Fade On You
(Elder Brother, released October 2nd)

I started delving into Elder Brother's music because it is the side-project of The Story So Far's Kevin Geyer, and, if you know me around here, you'll know how thoroughly obsessed I am with TSSF. What I found were intricate, delicate memories paired with some of the most breathtaking vocals I have ever heard. The band has released a third album, I Won't Fade On You, this year, and it has the kind of vibe that keeps all the bad parts at bay. Listening to Elder Brother feels like engulfing the room where I am with warmth. It's truly lovely.

The Theory Of Absolutely Nothing
(Alex The Astronaut, released August 21st)

Every time I listen to Alex The Astronaut's music, I find it hard to believe how young she is, and how The Theory Of Absolutely Nothing is her first debut full-length. It's simply stunning. I jumped headfirst into the universe of an artist I knew nothing about, and I loved every minute of it. Her record, as well as her music in general, is a lesson in storytelling, all from such a unique and poetic point of view. She isn't afraid of touching on any subject, and all her songs find the perfect balance between honesty and subtlety. I Think You're Great was the soft, wholesome reminder that we are all doing great we needed this year. Alex undoubtedly is a gem.

Fracture
(Bleed From Within, released May 29th)

If you don't know already, Bleed From Within have been one of my absolute favourite bands for years, the happy accident I still don't understand when I used to be scared of screaming in songs and could just about stomach The Blackout and Bring Me The Horizon. They stormed into my life, and, from the first show when I thought I would breathe my last breath in Bristol, of all places, they have blown my mind with everything they have ever done. Fracture is, for lack of a better phrase, disgustingly heavy. Because "disgustingly heavy" could mean anything in this day and age, think old school Parkway Drive, but with whatever's in the air in Scotland. (Irn Bru?) These guys are one of the most underrated bands in the UK.

POST HUMAN: SURVIVAL HORROR -
(Bring Me The Horizon, released October 30th)

Three words: Kingslayer featuring Babymetal. One hundred percent a top ten, God-tier Bring Me The Horizon track. There are so many Linkin Park vibes dotted around this album (EP, musical situation, whatever you wish to call it), and I am here for every second of it. It's great, and a reminder that the Sheffield lot can do absolutely everything and will never be where we're expecting them. (I just wish the Amy Lee feature was a heavy song, but, hey ho, personal taste and all that, and their softer voices mesh well together anyway.)

Staring At The Sun
(Decay, released July 10th)

See, there used to be a time when I believed music from the UK was the be-all and end-all. I think this belief died somewhere, leaving me somewhat hopeless about the future. (It's definitely just me) Every time I think nothing from the old island can surprise me anymore, someone comes along and punches me in the face. This year, it was Decay. Staring At The Sun is one of those records that make it hard to believe the band behind it is so young and only just starting out. They will one hundred percent be a band to watch as soon as, you know, we physically can.

All Distortions Are Intentional
(Neck Deep, released July 24th)

I have no idea why I always end up needing a little bit of time to fully appreciate the effort Neck Deep puts into the creation of their album and the era around it, which often has the same feeling as "eras" you can see in mainstream pop. (This is a huge compliment, meaning that an album is never just an album for them, and it comes with a whole aesthetic package, which I appreciate a lot.) I do love the nineties influences, I respect the way they always experiment, and Fall and When You Know are some of my favourite ND songs.

In Sickness And In Flames
(The Front Bottoms, released August 21st)

The Front Bottoms have always been a comfort band of sorts, and I am not too sure why. I don't know what I find comforting in their music, in the voicemails and the strange metaphors, but it all is, and I don't see it changing anytime soon. And maybe they have given us one of the most comforting and utterly positive songs of the year in everyone blooms. In Sickness And In Flames is the album of a band that, no pun intended, has bloomed beyond belief throughout the years, and have found the ultimate perfect way of remaining their weird little selves while evolving and becoming a bigger band.

you'll be fine
(Hot Mulligan, released March 6th)

Hot Mulligan is one of the most recent additions to my musical landscape, and I am glad they are here. They remind me of old school, early noughties emo, which is one of my favourite things in the world, and it's a sound I'm always going to be looking for. I love that they're bringing back long, incomprehensible song titles with no connection whatsoever to the lyrics, and I adore that they can put so much pain and heartache in a song called Green Squirrel In Pretty Bad Shape. you'll be fine is fantastic.

Brain Candy
(Hockey Dad, released July 31st)

I found Hockey Dad when they supported The Story So Far in Prague, last year, and in about half an hour, I was hooked, and then annoyed because they weren't playing the other dates or the festivals I was going to. I was even more annoyed because I was meant to see them this year, but, you know. Instead, I got the brilliant Brain Candy, and the best way I can describe it is that you can undoubtedly tell it has been made by an Australian band. It has whatever is in the air down under, and at the same time, it has a solid Brit-pop vibe, but sunnier. Because everyone needs my metaphors and feelings, it's the perfect soundtrack to driving around in the sun. Maybe I should get a driving licence.

Cannibal
(Bury Tomorrow, released July 3rd)

Cannibal is a pretty straightforward banger of a record. Bury Tomorrow are kings at what they do, and have mastered the art of straight-up super heavy yet super catchy metalcore. Cannibal is no exception. It's the failsafe Bury Tomorrow formula, pushed even further and even harder. I love a band that knows they are brilliant at what they do, that knows where their strengths are, and utilise them to their full potential. I also love that they are opening the mental health conversation all over again, without bringing hopecore back. No one needs to have hopecore back.

Young Culture
(Young Culture, released October 16th)

I lent an ear to Young Culture because I heard quite a lot about them, and I think a part of me needed to know who they were to not get them wrong with all the bands that have either the word "Youth/Young" or "Culture" in their name. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but it was a solid decision on my end. The band's self-titled debut record is one brilliant piece of music. Young Culture isn't just another pop-punk band, though it is the closest genre to their sound. The pop influences aren't limited to "catchy hooks and choruses," though they have plenty of those. They include electronic sounds, a different vocal delivery, and pace (Fantasy), keyboards. Some songs feel like they could be huge, not just scene huge, but Billboard huge.

I have the wrong geographical situation for my music taste, but I'll figure it out.

Pink Elephant
(Stand Atlantic, August 7th)

The Australians of Stand Atlantic have been one of the biggest storms in pop-punk these past few years, going from small pub crowds to sold-out venues and an almost-classic debut record in the space of three years. Pink Elephant was easily one of the most expected albums of the year, and it didn't disappoint. It retains the electric, contagious energy Stand Atlantic is known for, and pushes it towards something heavier at times. I could do with frontwoman Bonnie Fraser screaming on literally every song. I wouldn't mind. Songs like Eviligo start off all light and poppy, only to become much heavier in the last thirty seconds. Pink Elephant is fun, gritty, and takes you places you never expected Stand Atlantic to take you, and, really, it's all you could possibly want from a pop-punk record.

There were many more albums, and much more music, singles without albums, you name it. I loved so much stuff, and I don't even doubt I have forgotten a lot of things too. (I have already thought about two EPs I forgot about in the previous post, that's how much music I have listened to this year.) I like that I can't even remember everything that happened, because it means it was a rich year for music, despite the world (and the UK) telling us otherwise. I have gone about listening to records so differently from what I am used to, and it has made me, shocker, fall in love with music all over again. I didn't know that, but I needed it.
I don't want to hold out unrealistic hopes for 2021, because I want to protect myself from disappointment, but there is still music I am excited about in the next three hundred and sixty-five days.
First of all, one of my all-time, absolute favourite bands, Architects, are releasing a new album in February, For Those That Wish To Exist. It includes features from Parkway Drive's Winston McCall, Biffy Clyro's Simon Neil, and Royal Blood's Mike Kerr, and that is enough to get me on the edge of my seat, as are the first two singles, Animals and Black Lungs.
On the 5th of March, Tigers Jaw are releasing the follow up to 2017's spin, I Won't Care How You Remember Me. The aforementioned spin is the album that put Tigers Jaw at the place where they are in my life, and June is one of my favourite songs on the planet, the kind I could listen to on loop and never get bored. The two newest singles, Cat's Cradle and Lemon Mouth, are everything I could hope from Tigers Jaw, and I have no doubt I will be spinning their new music through all of spring. And summer. Most definitely summer.
One band I never talk about, at all, ever, called Slowly Slowly have pretty much announced the extended edition and B-sides of Race Car Blues. Boy am I excited to cry in the fields.
I would hope that, following their banger of a most recent single, Coming Clean, and all the studio updates we got on Instagram, that Homesafe is cooking something special next year.
I kinda believe there are different types of adults in the scene. You either grow an obsession for Frank Turner, Enter Shikari, Deftones, or Weezer. Even though I have been a Weezer fan since I was a kid, I am definitely one of those. The Blue Album, the Teal Album, and Pinkerton have been some of my most played albums this year, and I want nothing more than FINALLY hearing Van Weezer.

Aaron West And The Roaring Twenties

Some special music in 2020 - Vol. 2

02:17

2020, for all its flaws, was a year filled with kickass new music. Despite being the hardest ever year for musicians and touring artists, especially in the independent, alternative world, our favourite bands and artists kept creating and gave us the gift of music to sustain and help us get through a time we will remember as one of the toughest in history. Having a lot of time on my hands, and having made the resolution to keep up with the scene, I lent an ear to everything. Artists I hadn't paid attention to before, names I didn't know well, recommendations, everything was fair game.

It is the reason why there is no ranked list of the releases of the year, because I cannot and do not really want to compare completely opposed genres and styles. How do I compare metalcore and folk-pop? Pop-punk and folktronica? The correct answer is I don't. I have a top six, but, most importantly, I have a jumble of albums that have helped along the way, brought a smile to my face, proved to be the perfect soundtrack for a sunny day, a rainy day, or a bottom-of-the-bin brain day. That's what we're celebrating today.

I want to start with live albums.

I usually pay very little attention to live recordings, for reasons that elude me. This year, two managed to catch my eye, and I have a sneaky little feeling that it is because they involve some of my very favourite artists. One of them is the Live At Asbury Park by Aaron West And The Roaring Twenties. For those who aren't in the know, AW20 is the side project of The Wonder Years' Dan Campbell, who is one of my favourite songwriters, musicians, and all-around people. The two studio albums attached to it, We Don't Have Each Other and Routine Maintenance, are a story based on the life of a fictional character, Aaron West. I got to see it performed live twice at the end of last year, and, shocker with me, it ended in tears. There will be songs you listen to, in life, and you think they are lovely acoustic songs, they have a nice vibe to them, and then, you register the lyrics? The saddest line you have ever heard during your time on Earth will hit you straight in the gut. That's the basic summary of Aaron West's discography. Two studio albums, a bunch of songs here and there, and a live record compiling raw sadness and pain. I was meant to see Aaron West And The Roaring Twenties as a full band experience before Slam Dunk, this year, which would have included brass instruments, and hopefully fewer tears, but, you know. 2020 was who she was as a year. In the meantime, I have Live At Asbury Park, a record player, and a whole lot of tears to sustain myself.
Though I will always live for the hope I find in Runnin' Toward The Light. What a song.

I will use the verb discovered for the second half of this very short list, as opposed to talking about a release. It popped up on Spotify, but I have no recollection of the band ever mentioning it, and I have no idea if it was meant to be something more than "something that, one day, popped up on Spotify." It's the triple j live at the Wireless, in Melbourne, by The Story So Far. I think it helped to fill the void of not seeing a band I had become so used to seeing all the time and everywhere, but, then again, does anything fill the void at all? Maybe it was just here to remind me of the great times I had, and hopefully will still have, appearing everywhere, one beached whale-like crowdsurf at a time. Lord, I miss seeing The Story So Far everywhere. Just like live albums tend to do, it allowed me to pay more attention to the instruments, the quality of the playing, and the details I cannot necessarily hear when I am caught in a moment, beaten up in a moshpit, taking in the atmosphere instead. Also, if you must know, it's a little corny, but the first minute of Solo absolutely destroyed me.

I miss the era of split EPs. I miss bands teaming up to release music together. I miss bands collaborating more together, come to think of it.
Split EPs, though deserving of their own post, gave me some songs I adore. The first one that comes to mind is Clairvoyant by The Story So Far, part of an EP with Stick To Your Guns. Imagine what a tour that would be!

There was only one split EP that I found this year, which is nowhere near enough. It hailed from somewhere between Melbourne and Tasmania, a little bit of both. It was announced through minimal promotion, just pictures of coffee makers and tags on Instagram posts, and it gave us two of the loveliest songs of the year. It was the Slowly Slowly x Luca Brasi split EP, and a part of me will always be annoyed that I missed out on the vinyl and the coffee maker. (Damn shipping fees, timezones, and vinyl hoarders)
Slowly Slowly's half of it, Slow Learner, is a short acoustic number packed with feelings. The vocal delivery and lyrical vibe are very reminiscent of the band's first album/EP/musical situation/whatever anyone wants to call it, Chamomile. It was released the day after my birthday, and I listened to it for the first time in my brother's car, under the pouring rain.
It was perfect.
Finally lending my ears to Luca Brasi, this year, filled part of a gap in my heart. Despite the heavy lyrical content, their half of the split, Yossarian, feels comforting. There is something comforting about Luca Brasi in general, something that feels like the sunshine warming you up, and road trips with the windows down. I can't quite put my finger on it, but feelings like these make more sense to me than describing music in elaborate genres and technical words.
Music is now something that feels like weather types and activities.

A few awesome EPs graced the virtual shelves of streaming apps this year, and some struck my attention, big time.

I have always been picky about "reimagined" type of materials. If I am a sucker for acoustic music, I don't want my favourite bands to slap an ambient beat over a song with the vocals turned down and call it a day. It's lazy and unimaginative. If I am going to dig something reimagined, it has to give me a whole new take on the song. It has to pack on the feelings and give me a way to rediscover it, appreciate its intricacies and details, bleed the emotions from the lyrics dry. It has to live up to the implications of the term "reimagined."
Two of such EPs gave me all of those feelings this year.

The first was the second volume of The Wonder Years' Burst And Decay series. See, no one said anything about it being a series. I just want the hope of it all. The Wonder Years acoustic is the best thing since sliced bread, it might even be better, and it gives you the opportunity to rediscover the band's music. You get more places and more moments when you're going to burst out crying every single feeling that has ever crossed your heavy heart. While Washington Square Park gave me all the hope and shoulder-to-cry-on type of vibe I needed when it first came out, Passing Through A Screen Door was a swifter kick to the stomach, an existential crisis of a song amped up to the max. Weirdly enough, this is a compliment. Passing Through A Screen Door, despite being unbelievably sad, remains my favourite TWY song, a solid companion when my brain makes me feel like I have quite literally fucked up my whole life.

The second one was Between The Kitchen And The Living Room, by Alex Lahey. First of all, the title is a reference to 2019's I Want To Live With You, and, if you know me, you know I am the biggest nerd for songs and albums that reference each other. Second of all, I loved that it was all recorded in Alex's apartment during quarantine, every song in a different room. Everyday's The Weekend was dubbed the Laundry Version and came attached to one of the sweetest music videos of the year, full of kitties, puppies, and hope for the future. The weirdly eye-opening and relatable I Haven't Been Taking Care Of Myself was recorded from the hallway. It genuinely felt like a reinvention of the music, a moment when an artist took the cards they were dealt with and made something beautiful out of it. It was lovely, peaceful, and quiet, and, believe you me, my brain needed the break.

As far as original EPs go, a couple have stood out to me, too. I noticed more than I usually do, this year, and while I appreciate all the effort and creativity artists have put in their newer material, not everything struck a chord. Such is life.

If there were ever any favourites as such, the title would be won by Good At Feeling Bad by Best Ex. I have been through this dozens of times before. Everyone knows Mariel Loveland is one of my favourite artists, and most importantly, songwriters in the world. I simply adore the way she can paint a picture with her words, make every line a snapshot of a precise moment, and, at the same time, deliver it in a way that leaves space for your personal experience to grow. The shimmery, glittery pop sound mixed with emotional lyrics is a deadly combination, the best of both worlds. Immersing myself in Best Ex's music always feels like being given a best friend to hold your hand while you're overcoming all the obstacles, the times life brings you down, the boys that will break your heart, the ever going conflict between hope for a brighter future and the anxiety of right now. It always feels like being less alone. Good At Feeling Bad is the kind of music that makes you want to dance your heartbreak away with a sugary sweet drink in hand, go on stupid, yet unforgettable adventures with your friends, or maybe give yourself a makeover, à la 2000s coming-of-age film, but maybe not just for the wardrobe. Maybe I could do with a brighter exterior, but maybe I could shine a light on the inside and start believing that I will be okay. This is what Best Ex feels like.

(Also, I could do with a fluffy green coat)

Another EP I adored this year was World In Colour by Luke Rainsford. I have been following Luke's various musical endeavours for the past almost-five years, and if you think this means I liked Layover, you are right. Listening to World In Colour again yesterday afternoon, I found myself missing them making every possible line-up just that little bit better. World In Colour is all I could possibly want from Luke's music.
Tip Toe is one of the most joyous, hopeful songs I have heard during this hell hole of a year, and I spent many a walk in the fields listening to it and resisting the call of the truly awful dad-dancing. (At least, the people in the village would have had a valid reason to stare at me.) Lack is one hell of a deceiving track, perfectly associating some of the most heartbreaking lyrics I have ever heard to unbelievable catchiness. Frame and In Spite Of All My Worry weren't new, and they took me back to the one time I got to see Luke play this year, in Birmingham, in support of Cory Wells. It was a lovely night I miss dearly. Despite being on the sad, so, so fucking sad side of everything, they feel comforting, somewhere in the memory of that one night. I don't have a lot of very good words for this, which completely defeats the point of me writing any of this. Just know there is something so infinitely special about Luke Rainsford and their music, something I wish everyone in the world could see.
(For future reference, when we have live music again, I WILL make up for all the dad-dancing I missed out on, which I know sounds like a threat. It is. I would like to use this opportunity to formally apologise in advance.)

As a description of No Pressure's self-titled EP, I will use a comment I read on a Nate The Mate YouTube video: "Parker literally Beyonce'd us with that EP and I'm grateful."
No Pressure is the newest project from The Story So Far's Parker Cannon, and one of the best parts about it is that it was dumped on a scene that was not expecting any of it, no explanation, nothing, just five songs, take them or leave them, and then, that was it, aside from a vinyl and cassette tape release. It felt like "Hi, have some music, bye now." No Pressure's music is fast and energetic, reminiscent of two of my great loves in life, early-2000s pop-punk, and early The Story So Far. It's very in your face, and that's what I like so much about it. It's here, yours for the taking, the enjoying, the loving, and that's quite literally it. Weirdly enough, as a huge TSSF fan, what I love the most about it is the early-2000s influence, because it takes all the best from that era, and mixes it with the best from our present time. It has a nostalgic vibe, it feels like it could have been huge at a time when film soundtracks were basically blink-182 and Sum 41 albums, but it doesn't feel stuck in the past. No Pressure perfectly mix nostalgic influences and a modern sound.
You know, when you listen to a band who cites old school blink-182 and American Pie style pop-punk as their influences, and all they do is try to emulate everything from that era to a point when it feels outdated when it was released three days ago? That's the trap No Pressure doesn't fall into. Despite having no information whatsoever on background and influences, it's obvious at least some inspiration came from somewhere early this century. At the same time, it was done by a group of musicians and artists who know what they're doing, who know how to combine styles without falling into soulless imitation and clichés. Quite simply put, it's really fucking good, and I hope that at some point in the future, it gets a live show. The money I would pay to hear those five songs in a tiny, health-and-safety hazard, hot mess of a room.

The last of the EPs does everything I am unable to do in life: keep it short and sweet. This year, as previously mentioned, I have connected a lot with Homesafe's music, and, to my rare unbridled joy, the four-piece released a two-song EP in April, entitled What's Mine Is Yours. It felt like, almost unannounced, the band dumped some of their best material on us, and left us (me) to deal with all of the feelings. Slide and Down are both heaven in musical form, all about love and being here for someone, about wanting to do something and save yourself. They are quiet, simple, but delicate melodies, the harmonies are pure perfection, and the result has that sneaky little power of making the world around you just that little bit quieter. Down ended up the unlikely soundtrack for a tour music video, and there aren't many things I love more than tour footage turned into music videos, unless they have dogs, which this one does. (Down also ended up near the top of the list of my favourite songs released this year, and by Homesafe in general.) I said it before, but when this is all over, when we have live music again, I want my experience to include at least one Homesafe show, and these songs definitely influenced the idea (and better make the setlist).

I know there were many more EPs released this year, some of which really good, too, more critically acclaimed, I don't doubt, less unknown, too. But these are the ones I played the most, the ones that came up first when I thought about EPs. If I may, as a last present of sorts, because too much music is better than none, I would also recommend State Champs' Unplugged EP, because Crying Out Loud made me, well, cry out loud, and Mat Kerekes' Songs For Breanne and Amber Park, because his solo music is one of the loveliest and most comforting there is.

alex lahey

Some special music in 2020 - Vol. 1

13:55

In this one, I'm going to make a list of my favourite bands and artists discovered in 2020 without completing the lexical field of 2020 bingo, and I'm sure all of you know what I'm on about.
Yes, 2020 was a trash can of a year, and that's one hell of an understatement.
Yes, we all fucked it when we said it was going to be our year, Weightless style. Sorry, All Time Low.

But there's no point in talking about it over and over again.

I want to talk about the four artists and bands that made it all better. There were plenty more, but these four were the most important ones.

4. Congrats

Anyone who knows me out of here knows. At this point, I sound like a broken record about the works of Benjamin Stewart. For those who have no idea what I'm talking about, here we go.
Congrats is the side project of Slowly Slowly's Ben Stewart, and, by now, I hope I'm making a little more sense. Congrats is all about sleek, polished pop-tinged with electronic sounds and trap beats, which is a very fancy way for me to say it is miles, what am I saying, galaxies away from my usual music taste, full of men with long hair and/or receding hairlines screaming about their feelings above loud guitars.
But if you know me, even just a little, you know I'm a sucker for good pop music, and, in that way, Congrats is right up my alley. The six songs currently out are lodged in every crevice of my brain for the rest of time. I spent a big chunk of 2020 with Cut Down The Middle stuck in my head, only for it to be dislodged by the next single, Russian Roulette, and that was only until Lobotomy appeared on my YouTube feed one evening, all green-screen music video and jumping puppy. (You read that right)
Congrats is right up my alley because it is catchy, but most importantly because it is well written. A character study of sorts, the songs are cleverly penned, somewhere in between pop that should be flooding the airwaves and the emotional songwriting Ben Stewart is most known for in Slowly Slowly. (Don't you dare telling me that "you needed space, so I got a lobotomy" isn't on the same realm of emo as apologising for bleeding on someone's t-shirt. There is even a stripped-back version of it to prove me right)
Through Congrats, Ben Stewart gets an outlet to experiment with different inspiration and different sounds, different parts of a music taste. I am allowing myself to relate, because, to me, artists like Congrats are a way to channel different parts of my personality, the girl who's going to be an emo trainwreck to the grave, but who will, sometimes, switch up the soundtrack so she can do it with pretty clothes, dad dancing, and too much wine.

(Disclaimer I wasn't aware of: I have apparently become a wine person in the year of our lord 2020. I've been in France for too long)

3. Alex Lahey

I have touched upon Alex Lahey's music in my post about the women of Australian music, so most of what I am about to say will not come as a surprise. As I mentioned, I discovered Alex's music in the "Fans also like" section of Spotify, I pressed play on The Best Of Luck Club, and the rest is history, history being written in a tiny village in the middle of nowhere, France.
Somewhere in the free time and the free space I had in 2020, I found myself with too much time to think, which could always be a lethal combination for yours truly, queen of anxiety. (Live life on the edge, am I right) I wondered about my social life, my relationships with other people because I have never been good at it, as a general rule of thumb. On the other side of social media, everyone I knew, everyone I call a friend, because I get attached faster than the speed of light, was thriving, with their friendships and their relationships, everyone they knew supporting their every endeavour and complimenting their every move. I felt, and I guess I still feel, a bit left behind because I have never been a popular girl, and I don't think I will ever be.
And here comes Alex, with I Don't Get Invited To Parties Anymore, the story of all the times you weren't geographically here to be at someone else's birthday, and it catches up with you, and you don't get invited anymore. And you wonder if you could go back, if there is anything you could do to not be left behind, or if you've fucked it entirely. Fun stuff. In what could have turned into yet another existential crisis, I found comfort, because for once, I wasn't alone, and there was music made for me. Music made for my awkwardness, my existential questions, all the times I felt left behind, the jumble of my feelings. In my tiny corner of the world, I found another corner of the world that matched just right, a piece to the puzzle.
And it doesn't hurt anyone that it comes with a sax solo in the incredible Don't Be So Hard On Yourself.

2. Homesafe

Homesafe is one of these bands I had heard of, knew of, had probably listened to at some point, but had not clicked with yet. And, at this point, you have probably gathered that if I am about to start talking about them in a post about music I have loved in 2020, it's because everything has changed.
Homesafe, hailing from Chicago, Illinois, one of my favourite places on Earth, is one of the many musical endeavours of Knuckle Puck's Ryan Rumchaks. I am going to take a wild guess and say that this is why I a, knew who they were and b, pressed play on One, on an afternoon I remember nothing about except that it was cold, I went to the supermarket, I still lived in England, and I listened to it twice in a row because I couldn't get enough of it. Homesafe has, since then, been the soundtrack to afternoons spent creating and writing and channeling every single idea that came to my brain, every story, every project, every tiny thing. They have been the soundtrack of making the ideas into a tangible reality, and if, for now, it has only been for books I don't want anyone to read and small creative projects, I like thinking that I found something in the comfort of their music that made me want to do something, that inspired me.
There have been many times when I have said that I wasn't good at describing genres and music, and I would be the same in real life. I would be the kind of girl who you ask what kind of music she's into, and I would just panic and say "a bit of everything" when I have a wide, yet curated taste. This is what is happening as you're reading this, the pen-to-paper equivalent to the real-life question and panic. I don't know how to describe Homesafe, which box to put them in, which is kind of cool. There is a definite 90s sound somewhere in there, Foo Fighters, pre-American Idiot Green Day, Blue Album Weezer, that kind of vibe. There is a dash of modern-day pop-punk, managing to encapsulate the best things about the sound and avoid the clichés. There is one of the best opening riffs I have heard in a long time in Vanilla-Scented Laser Beams. (Which is also the most awesome song title I have heard in a very long time) There are also super cool, thought out music videos, and acoustic songs for days. How could it possibly get any better?
When I listen to Homesafe, I feel like I am listening to a band that doesn't put themselves in a box, who doesn't call themselves any genre at all, that just, in the best and most straightforward way, just makes the music they want to make. It's music that inspires me, that I find comfort in, and that I want to listen to live, because the two live streams weren't enough to my taste. It sounded great through my computer speakers, whether it was acoustic or full band, but I want the whole experience now, the sweaty venue, jumping over the crowd who won't have a choice, almost being kicked out of a venue in America, the works.

Allow me the 2020 cliché, but when this is all over, on top of my list, I want to see Homesafe live.

1. Slowly Slowly

(Who's surprised, no one)

On Saturday, I received my Chamomile vinyl, after a grueling wait of over a month. My brother, who tends to get lost in all the music I love, asked me who Slowly Slowly were, and I could only say that he'd listened to them in the car, which could be any artist on the planet at this point. When we were driving, later on, Creature Of Habit Pt. 2 came on, and after remembering to say "that's the band from the vinyl," I got lost in the music, drumming along, trying to remember a time when they weren't ever so present in my life.
It's only been a year, and, in the grand scheme of things, a year is nothing. It's three hundred and sixty-five days. It shouldn't change your DNA and the order of everything you love, but it does. Slowly Slowly are the story of how, somehow, I listened to someone's recommendation, listened to an album, waited for the new one that was about to be released, and got swept off my feet so violently that I barely remember a time when it wasn't this way. It's almost as if the before doesn't really matter that much, and, in a year when the world stopped, and my world stopped, I still find it absolutely crazy to have found something I ended up loving so much it became a part of me I don't remember how it was to not have. Life's a funny little thing.
If you know me, you know. You know how I read their old triple j Unearthed page and found out they were inspired by Jimmy Eat World and tried to figure it out. You know how I spent most of my walks in the fields listening to Race Car Blues on loop. You've seen the ridiculous state of my Spotify stats. You've read the Instagram stories and that one blog post. You know how I lost myself in the music, and found myself, too. You know I nourish the hope of seeing them live someday, despite having a twenty-five-hour flight, somewhere between seven and eleven timezones, and a global pandemic between us. You know me. I'll get there, somehow, someday.

I guess I failed at the lexical field of 2020. Twice.
Oh, well.

alex lahey

The story of me, my strange obsession with Australian music, and some memories along the way.

11:52

Let's begin with a story you may or may not have heard. It all depends if a, you know me personally, b, you have been reading this blog for a long time, or c, all of the above.
I grew up in France and, due to the COVID crisis, I have had to move back home. I now live in a tiny village north of Paris without traffic lights or a decent-sized car park for me to learn how to skateboard, and I am exposed to mainstream French culture daily.
I try, sometimes. Over breakfast, I will sit in front of the only music channel we've got (by music, I mean they're playing the same ten music videos on loop for most of the day, until you get to 7pm and then, you can move on and watch about five episodes of Pawn Stars on loop, before there's a low-budget action film, possibly starring Jean-Claude Van Damme) and I will attempt at finding something I like about the video in front of me.
The thing is, the vast majority of the time, the positive things I find are "I like her outfit" or "I like that guy's windbreaker," so it isn't going very well.

French mainstream culture is something utterly and intrinsically bizarre. A part of our collective psyche still believes in the French cultural exception, some outdated concept that leads us to have quotas of music that has to be in French on the radio and believe the sun shines out of our national backside. And at the same time, France seems to have completely given up on promoting music of any kind. You'll have the odd segment on the news, usually featuring someone who hasn't been on television in fifteen years, or someone related to an already famous artist, and that's pretty much it. We have one musical program, a classic called Taratata, but it's on at, like, eleven in the PM, in other words, not at a time when anyone is in front of the television, and the artists on it are usually famous already anyway.
The bulk of what's in the solitary, abandoned music channel is trendy rap about women and crimes, tacky rap about smoking weed and fancy cars with music videos filmed in football stadiums, remixes of ten-year-old songs, and white men with guitars and fedoras singing about how beautiful life is, how they love the village where they're from, and how we need to protect the Earth and the polar bears (but they're probably still eating foie gras at Christmas). Most of these songs have been written by the same dude. The only rock song we've got on there is the unexplainably present Summer Is A Curse by Australian pop-rock band The Faim. Why? No one knows.
This is, in all honesty, quite depressing.

Finding out it isn't the same in every country is still bamboozling to me. (Is bamboozling a real word? It now is.) A part of me believed it was the same everywhere across the world, a planet of mainstream culture promoting the sons and daughters of your already famous people, and not much else. The rest of me knew it wasn't so, but it didn't stop me from being bewildered when I realised it.

Having "alternative" as my favoured genre of music and half of my favourite bands being Australian led me pretty early on to find out what triple j is. For those who don't know, it is THE radio station down under, and its most famous segment is called Like A Version, in which artists cover other artists' songs. About a year ago, a random man in Sydney told me it was a government radio, and it entirely blew my mind.
Since the start of 2020, I have delved pretty deep into Australian music, and have often fallen into a deep dark hole of triple j videos on YouTube. (It's surprisingly easy. You'll listen to a song by an artist you like, and the suggestions will be a person you've never heard of covering Linkin Park or Avril Lavigne and, if you're like me and a sucker for a cover, you're there until the end of time, watching people perform In The End with a harp.)
A lot of bands and artists I appreciate, which, again, fall under the "alternative" umbrella, have been performing live from the studios and been broadcast for the country to hear, at a time of day when people are likely to have the radio on, ie, not the middle of the night.

A couple of days ago, something else about triple j and the multiple videos I have been watching hit me.
There are quite a lot of women involved in the process, and a lot of these women are playing rock music, pop-punk music, alternative music, are playing the guitar, the bass, or the drums. See, our representation of women in French mainstream music is limited to a very small amount of categories:

a- R'n'B singers with songs that don't always mean anything at all, but then again, maybe I'm too old to get it. (No matter what anyone ever leads you to believe, "tu hors de ma vue" is not a grammatically correct sentence in French.)
b- Girls next door with acoustic guitars who whisper into a microphone and are really pretty with minimal makeup on, and usually sing about love, but in metaphors that make no sense to the general public, but then again, maybe I'm not middle-class and cosmopolitan enough to understand.
c- Mylène Farmer. She's been majorly famous since the eighties, every single one of her songs is either about death or sex, again in metaphors I'm not sure I understand. To the best of my knowledge, she's the only French woman who consistently sells out stadiums and arenas all by herself, and she's got a bit of a rockstar mystique about her. Too bad she's also made it her mission to choose young protégées and have them sing sexually charged songs when they're sixteen.

Again, finding out it wasn't like that in every other country in the world blew my mind. You mean to tell me that some other places celebrate women in different genres? Invite women on the radio and they play instruments, and they are relatable, and don't have to fit into a certain category? You must be lying.
Except it's a real-life thing that's happening in Australia.

I understand it was a long-winded, roundabout way of getting to a list of music made by Australian women I have been enjoying a lot in 2020.

Before I get into the heart of things, I will go back to my first love when it comes to music made by Australian women: The Veronicas. Identical twins Jess and Lisa Origliasso, originating from Brisbane, have entered my life in circumstances I don't remember when I was seventeen. I remember downloading their debut album The Secret Life Of... and playing it every morning on my way to school on my old MP3 player, thinking this was the real deal. I had found IT! Girls in a pop-rock band! Girls playing the guitar! Girls in a rock band that wasn't fictional! Something to fill the pop-punk Avril Lavigne-shaped hole in my heart!
(I wasn't a big fan of The Best Damn Thing at the time and I couldn't relate to pink-haired Avril anymore, I was seventeen and life was a struggle, leave me alone.)
It's been a disgusting amount of years since I was seventeen, but I still love every minute of The Secret Life Of..., and I still know it all off by heart. Even though I had no clue they were Australian at the time, they were my introduction to what I would like to call The Badass Women Of Australia. A part of me freaked out a little (a lot) when I saw them on a big screen in the train station in Brisbane. Live music is but a distant memory, but I would LOVE to see them live someday. According to hearsay, they had a wall of death going on at Good Things Festival in late 2019. How sick is that?
(Side note: Good Things Festival had Parkway Drive and The Veronicas on the same lineup, and I have rarely heard of any festival which catered to every part of my personality like that.)

Another very important band to me when it comes to Australian music is Tonight Alive. Starting out as a pop-punk band, they tend to refer to themselves now as a conscious rock band. They deliver a message of positivity, kindness, being true to yourself, and not being afraid of being who you are at your core. They entered my life by accident, when I saw them support Young Guns in Manchester, back at a time when they only had one five-song EP out, Consider This. They used to still perform their iconic Punk Goes Pop cover of Mumford And Sons' no less iconic Little Lion Man live. From then on, I was hooked.
Their 2013 record/masterpiece The Other Side is one of my absolute favourite albums in the world, and it turned my life upside down. I genuinely believe I wouldn't be who I am as a person if it wasn't for this album. It's seen me through everything: depression, anxiety, undiagnosed mental health situations, toxic everything in my life, low self-esteem, recovery, break-ups, boys being terrible, you name it, Tonight Alive were there, holding my hand.
From the start, I have adored their frontwoman, Jenna McDougall, and found inspiration in her lyrics, her speeches on stage, and her social media presence. Tonight Alive are a positive, sunny, motivating presence in my life, all the soft, friendly reminders I could ever need, and I owe so much to them and their message.

Sometime in the winter of 2017, I was in the back of a pub in Saint Albans, England, and the Australian quartet who was about to take the stage turned out to be game-changers, which is worth noting, because not many game-changing things in the world happen in Saint Albans.

This Australian quartet was Sydney natives Stand Atlantic, and they have been favourites of mine ever since. A part of me felt the same I had when I had first listened to The Veronicas, all those years ago. I had found IT! A band with a woman at the front who I could relate to in a lot of ways, a band that still made gritty pop-punk I could have a mosh to. I remember telling my friend Charlotte, about three songs in, that not to be dramatic or anything, but I would die for this band. (I haven't yet, but I almost kicked Bonnie in the face in Sydney, when I crowdsurfed under the literal ceiling of Frankie's Pizza, which is not only a pizza place, but a badass music venue too.)

Since that fateful night in Saint Albans, Stand Atlantic have released two full-length records: Skinny Dipping in 2018, a pure pop-punk composition, with hints of coming-of-age films of the early-to-mid 2000s in songs like Cigarette Kiss, and Pink Elephant earlier this year, containing all the grit I originally loved in their music. It's been three years, and a part of me still thinks they're IT. A band I can relate to, who caters to all parts of my personality, from moshpits to teenage films, and who is fun to see live.

(Can we have live music again, please?)

In the summer of 2019, I performed the ultimate act of love for American pop-punkers State Champs: I went to see them play in Southampton, via Victoria Coach Station. It took me to two things, a, one of my now very good friends (Claire, this one's for you), and b, Australian band Yours Truly.
I very easily liked their energy on stage, as well as frontwoman Mikaila Delgado's warm, powerful voice. I bought a copy of their EP, Afterglow, kept them somewhere safe in the back of my mind and, when they announced new material for 2020, I came back to them and found myself impatient to check out their début album. Self Care came out on the 18th of September and is full of early-2000s pop-punk nostalgia. (For the little nod to every single one of my personality traits, the front cover is embroidery.)
The real game-changer in the History Of Little Old Me And Yours Truly was one of the singles released previously to Self Care, Undersize. A toned-down, unplugged number dedicated to one of Delgado's close friends, the song is, quite literally, one of the loveliest things I have heard this chaos-filled year. It's all warm and comforting, the kind of song that feels like a nice cup of tea and a warm hug all at once. (Bonus point: There is a dog in the music video)

There are two things I didn't usually do before 2020.

A- Listen to individual artists, apart from side-projects and the odd über-famous pop singer.
B- Listen to whoever was on the "Fans also like" section of Spotify, on account of "why the hell not?"
Jumping out of my pop-punk-and-emo-scene comfort zone is what brought me one of my now-favourite artists, Melbourne-native Alex Lahey. I knew of her before pressing play on The Best Of Luck Club, by way of a featuring on Stand Atlantic's Skinny Dipping (the re-recorded version of the song), and because I think I'd seen her name floating around tour posters when artists I like went to Australia. (Before any of this happened, she was supposed to play with Jimmy Eat World and City And Colour)
At this point, everyone is going to get bored of me saying "I thought this was IT," but I pressed play on The Best Of Luck Club and...This was IT all over again. There I was, listening to someone with conflicted and messy feelings, just like me, someone who didn't get invited to parties anymore and wondered if she could turn back time, and someone who reminded me not to be too hard on myself. (I believe you cannot be sad when you listen to Don't Be So Hard On Yourself. I mean, there's a sax solo. Before lockdown came back around for season 2, I would listen to it in, like, public transport, and feel like I was floating on air. That's the best feeling a song can give you.)
In the middle of all the mundane and specific but extremely relatable lyrics, there is the line "You've got champagne taste on a beer can budget," which has stuck with me as absolutely awesome, don't ask me why.
2019 single Misery Guts is featured on the soundtrack of the new Tony Hawk game (the most badass and punk soundtrack of all, if I do say so myself, the girl who can go on a ten-meter straight line on a skateboard if there aren't any obstacles and if the wind is in the right direction), and Alex's cover of the emo anthem of a generation, My Chemical Romance's Welcome To The Black Parade, is perfect, powerful, and Gerard Way-approved. What else could you possibly want?

Another artist I found through the magic game of looking through the "Fans also like" section of Spotify is Ruby Fields. She was a name I had begun to see appear when I started delving into Australian music, and I figured, at some point, that I should listen to her, again, because "why the hell not."
The real shift was when I saw a video she did for triple j, where she is being interviewed about how she started music and the like, and she takes us through how she wants to know how to build guitars from scratch and is basically learning everything there is to know about guitars.
I know nothing about guitars and music instruments. My musical career consisted in that one time I knew how to play the chorus of Green Day's Boulevard of Broken Dreams on the bass for about half an hour. I had a shit acoustic guitar at home, more of a toy than anything, and I tried playing on it when I came back home and, guess what...I had forgotten how in the space of a bus journey.
So I gave up.
I know nothing about guitars and music instruments, but, somehow, hearing the story of a girl who started learning how to play when she was a kid to impress boys and grew up to become an awesome musician who wanted to build her own guitar floored me. I think it's the exact moment when I realised that my own national culture never showed me women like Ruby, women I can relate to and who dress like me, women who are honest and wear their heart on their sleeves. I never get any of that anywhere else than my own scene and through my own research.
One day, when this world is okay, I'll find my way back to Australia, and I'll hear Ruby play Dinosaurs live. It's the most melancholic, bittersweet, heartbreaking, and relatable song I have heard in a very long time, and every video I have seen, as well as the live version for triple j floating around on Spotify, have given me a hell of a lot of goosebumps. I want to experience this, for real. It's really all I'm asking for.

I don't know if I should state that the next artist was brought to me through a game of "Fans also like" on Spotify, but here we are. 2020 didn't make it easy to find artists through typical channels. You just had to listen to other people's recommendations or get lost on music platforms.
I was wondering what "folktronica" meant when I pressed play on Alex The Astronaut's début album The Theory Of Absolutely Nothing, and I still don't know, if we're being honest. I imagine the folk part comes from the storytelling, because Alex's music is a lesson in storytelling, in true folk fashion. Her songs could be about quite literally any topic, from love (Christmas in July) to coming out (Not Worth Hiding), through teenage pregnancy (Lost) and abusive relationships (I Like To Dance), and Alex manages to make it all sound delicate, refined, subtle, and almost relatable. She takes you on a journey. There is a comforting feeling to her music, best embodied by single I Think You're Great, the ray of sunshine every single one of us needs in this chaotic year.
Music like Alex's is so far out of my general interests, and so far out of my comfort zone that I am still not sure how I ended up here, and it is a tiny revolution in itself.
You know, when I was a teenager and I listened to music on my old MP3 player and through football compilations found on YouTube (I was a lame kid, we know), I would listen to quite literally anything. I didn't have a scene. Sure, I had a preference for rock bands as a rule of thumb, but I didn't have a scene. I didn't call myself emo, or pop-punk, or rock, or any other anything. I just listened to music I liked. I'm still like this, I still surf in between several genres all at once, easily navigating from sweet pop music full of glitter and positivity to the heaviest of deathcore tracks, the perfect soundtrack to your slaughter in a moshpit. But at the same time, I very much consider myself part of a scene, and the endless game of the "Fans also like" section on Spotify and random triple j videos on YouTube expanded my horizons a little. In so many ways, it felt like being a teenager again, the girl who finds songs at random and keeps listening because she likes it, nevermind the genre.
I stuck with Alex The Astronaut because her music is lovely, and because I love the magic in the mundane. I love it when artists write songs so personal you could almost paint the scene along with the music. I love it when songs feel like snapshots of moments, like looking at a photograph and being given the context, what's moving behind the stillness. I stuck with Alex because she tells a story like no other, and it's so easy to sit back, get on board, and find yourself where she wants to take you.

The second artist from this list who is so far out of my general music taste did not, shockingly, arrive through the "Fans also like" or "Recommended for you" section of Spotify.
They found their way to me, or I found my way to them, however you want to put it, through a triple j Like A Version video.
I'm starting to get a little predictable there.
Remember Alex Lahey's cover of Welcome To The Black Parade? That's where it comes back.
I try hard, real hard, every time I am on a social media platform, to not read the comments. At the same time, I'm only human, a flawed one, at that, and it's almost second nature, sometimes, to scroll down after I have finished reading something or watching a video. After I watched Alex's cover of Welcome To The Black Parade, I did just that. Most of the comments are very kind, and a few of them were talking about the musicians playing alongside Alex, keyboardist Clio Renner, and percussionist G Flip, who a lot of people spoke about because they have got the largest grin plastered on their face from start to end. No one in history has smiled that much through any My Chemical Romance song.
And I didn't know anything about them, so I looked them up, and here we are.
G Flip, full name Georgia Flipo, is an Australian pop artist from Melbourne - what is in the air over there? How are you all so talented? They released their debut album in 2019, About Us, a pop, electronic, and sometimes acoustic beauty. The song range from absolute bangers that make you want to dance to emotional ballads, and it all retraces the highs and the lows of a relationship.
I tend to be picky with my pop music, or maybe I just don't find anything in the mainstream I can relate to. Or maybe I have convinced myself that I only like Taylor Swift and the odd album from the early 2010s. I don't know what it is with me and pop music that makes me so picky, I don't know why it has to tick so many boxes, but maybe it is why when I find some poppier music I like, I hold on to it and never let it go.
As I mentioned earlier, I found G Flip through that Welcome To The Black Parade cover, because no one has ever smiled this much through a My Chemical Romance song. (And maybe I was drawn by the sheer enthusiasm) They are a drummer, and I find this even cooler. I love that some of the artists mentioned in this play multiple instruments, have so many different layers to their art.
And I'm a huge, HUGE fan of the homebuilt drumkit.

When I was a teenager brought up on music-based reality TV shows, I was a sucker for a good duet. At the age of twelve or thirteen, I spent hours listening to my favourite CDs and imagining how to split the song in two to create a TV-worthy duet out of it. (Again, I was a lame kid.) I have lost all interest in any of these programmes now, but one thing has carried with me - my love for a good duet.
They are aplenty in my favoured scene, however you want to call it, even though we call them featurings instead. At this point, which band has not recorded a song with Mark Hoppus, Derek DiScanio, or John Floreani?
My main beef, or maybe that's too strong a word, but my main issue with most features like those is that they usually include the guest artist somewhere in the background, or performing one line out of the song, just for the fun of including their name on the credits. It took me such a long time to figure out featurings sometimes, just because I couldn't recognise the voice hidden under all the instruments and harmonies and whatnot.
This is where Slowly Slowly comes into the picture.
In their 2020 full-length album, Race Car Blues, there is quite the excellent single, Safety Switch, which includes, guess what, a featuring with another artist, Bec Stevens. And, for once, a too-rare occasion, the guest vocalist isn't just adding some background harmonies on a loud chorus. Nope. Forgive me the reality TV-worthy word here, but Safety Switch is a proper duet, the kind of song I will always be a sucker for. At times, especially in the verses, it feels like a call and response situation instead of just a subtle, hidden featuring. Bec isn't just a guest vocalist, a featured artist. She is part of the song.
And she is a wonderful part of the song to say the least.
So, me and all my 2020 resolutions, we looked her up on Spotify, and we pressed play on her 2016 EP More Scared Than Me, and then, on 2019 follow up, Why Don't You Just.
Remember how this part started with my teenage love of duets?
It carries on with my neverending teenage love of sad, acoustic songs performed by women, the kind of songs I would listen to on my old CD/MP3 player on the bus, staring out of the window, imagining myself in some sort of complicated tryst like I was the heroine in a film. (Obviously, this scenario takes place at a time when I didn't speak enough English to understand how crushingly sad the lyrics are.) This is how it feels like when I listen to Bec Stevens. Like I used to when I was a teenager whose main care in the world was taking the same bus as the boy I had a crush on. And, pardon my French, but it feels fucking fantastic.
As first heard in Safety Switch, Bec's voice is absolutely fantastic. It's soulful, and strong, and powerful all at once, and it carries emotion so well every song feels like a punch in the gut, whether you relate to it or not. I have rarely ever heard a line as mundane as "Well, your place , it's a ten-minute drive from mine" carry so much intensity and pain. Imagine the talent one has to have to make you feel things by just saying that someone else's place is a ten-minute drive from theirs.
And, you know me. I've always been a sucker for a sad song.

The moral of all of this is... 2020 was a complicated year for all of us, and if I have been reminded of one thing, is that music can cure your growing pains, it can stay by your side when you feel alone and isolated, and it can put a smile upon your face. We may not have got the opportunity to see our favourite bands live, and God knows when we will be able to again. In the meantime, music is still here.
Take two minutes to listen to that band your friend talks about all the time, even though they sound like a broken record saying how much they love them. Take two minutes to click on a suggestion on YouTube, or have a browse into the "fans also like" section of Spotify. Listen to a band you don't know on your favourite record label. Check out the whole album of that one song you liked off the radio or the television.
Before this year started, I was pretty much out of bands I had never seen live that I wanted to see, bar The Veronicas and twenty one pilots. The list is full again. There might be a twenty-five hour flight minimum to this, but the hope exists, and it's more than enough for me.

think about it

In loving memory of the UK rock scene.

08:48

Some special music in 2020, vol. 4

THE DEATH OF ME
(Polaris, released February 21st)

NO GOOD LEFT TO GIVE(Movements, released September 18th)

SELF CARE
(Yours Truly, released September 18th)

NEW WAYS OF LIVING(The Winter Passing, released July 3rd)

HELLO, IT'S YOU(Bearings, released November 20th)

AFTERBURNER(Dance Gavin Dance, released April 24th)

BRAIN PAIN(Four Year Strong, released February 28th)

WAKE UP SUNSHINE(All Time Low, released April 3rd)

FOLKLORE/EVERMORE(Taylor Swift, released July 31st and December 11th)

20/20(Knuckle Puck, released September 18th)

RACE CAR BLUES
(Slowly Slowly, released February 28th)

Some special music in 2020, vol. 3

I Won't Fade On You
(Elder Brother, released October 2nd)

The Theory Of Absolutely Nothing
(Alex The Astronaut, released August 21st)

Fracture
(Bleed From Within, released May 29th)

POST HUMAN: SURVIVAL HORROR -
(Bring Me The Horizon, released October 30th)

Staring At The Sun
(Decay, released July 10th)

All Distortions Are Intentional
(Neck Deep, released July 24th)

In Sickness And In Flames
(The Front Bottoms, released August 21st)

Brain Candy
(Hockey Dad, released July 31st)

Cannibal
(Bury Tomorrow, released July 3rd)

Young Culture
(Young Culture, released October 16th)

Some special music in 2020 - Vol. 2

Some special music in 2020 - Vol. 1

The story of me, my strange obsession with Australian music, and some memories along the way.

In loving memory of the UK rock scene.

Blog Archive

Popular Posts

Some special music in 2020, vol. 4

THE DEATH OF ME(Polaris, released February 21st)

NO GOOD LEFT TO GIVE(Movements, released September 18th)

SELF CARE(Yours Truly, released September 18th)

NEW WAYS OF LIVING(The Winter Passing, released July 3rd)

HELLO, IT'S YOU(Bearings, released November 20th)

AFTERBURNER(Dance Gavin Dance, released April 24th)

BRAIN PAIN(Four Year Strong, released February 28th)

WAKE UP SUNSHINE(All Time Low, released April 3rd)

FOLKLORE/EVERMORE(Taylor Swift, released July 31st and December 11th)

20/20(Knuckle Puck, released September 18th)

RACE CAR BLUES(Slowly Slowly, released February 28th)

Some special music in 2020, vol. 3

I Won't Fade On You(Elder Brother, released October 2nd)

The Theory Of Absolutely Nothing(Alex The Astronaut, released August 21st)

Fracture(Bleed From Within, released May 29th)

POST HUMAN: SURVIVAL HORROR - (Bring Me The Horizon, released October 30th)

Staring At The Sun(Decay, released July 10th)

All Distortions Are Intentional(Neck Deep, released July 24th)

In Sickness And In Flames(The Front Bottoms, released August 21st)

Brain Candy(Hockey Dad, released July 31st)

Cannibal(Bury Tomorrow, released July 3rd)

Young Culture(Young Culture, released October 16th)

Some special music in 2020 - Vol. 2

Some special music in 2020 - Vol. 1

The story of me, my strange obsession with Australian music, and some memories along the way.

In loving memory of the UK rock scene.

Blog Archive

Popular Posts

THE DEATH OF ME
(Polaris, released February 21st)

SELF CARE
(Yours Truly, released September 18th)

RACE CAR BLUES
(Slowly Slowly, released February 28th)

I Won't Fade On You
(Elder Brother, released October 2nd)

The Theory Of Absolutely Nothing
(Alex The Astronaut, released August 21st)

Fracture
(Bleed From Within, released May 29th)

POST HUMAN: SURVIVAL HORROR -
(Bring Me The Horizon, released October 30th)

Staring At The Sun
(Decay, released July 10th)

All Distortions Are Intentional
(Neck Deep, released July 24th)

In Sickness And In Flames
(The Front Bottoms, released August 21st)

Brain Candy
(Hockey Dad, released July 31st)

Cannibal
(Bury Tomorrow, released July 3rd)

Young Culture
(Young Culture, released October 16th)