Listening with an open mind. Writing about what I hear.
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In this episode of the I Thought I Heard A Sound Podcast, Terry of Mason City's Why Bother? explains to me over the phone why he and his band don't play live and why he doesn't care what you think of their music. Also, he talks a little about the Return of the Living Dead soundtrack, which is a rad film, and I was happy to hear him give it some love. I'm not going to try to sell you too hard on this one. It's either you get Why Bother?, or you don't. This conversation was recorded via my cellphone, so the audio quality isn't as good as I'd prefer it to be, but you can still hear Terry pretty clearly, and I kind of like all the muffled, scratchy sounds that come through over the receiver. It is what it is. Interview is below:
Why Bother?'s most recent album Case Studies is out on Feel It Records.
I doubt this was the actual initiation point for their EP's title, but the line "The space that's in between insane and insecure," from Green Day's monument to mallpunk entropy, "Jesus of Suburbia," is not a bad place to start a discussion of a band that does their darnedest to alloy Deftones with Thursday at a time when "mall culture" is still alive and well, but only on the internet- thriving in the form of image macro moodboard / "starter packs" and in the dreams of goth girls once they've tucked their wings in for the night. It's insane that a group like Post Heaven out of Melbourne can sound so spiritually akin to so many alt. chart climbers from an era where tracking charts and finding a band's t-shirt on the wall at Hot Topic meant that they had really "made it," and it makes me feel a little insecure reaching that far back into the vault of my recollection to retrieve ancient cultural context to make sense of their music from an epoch when I was seriously considering lifestyle choices such as acquiring a lip ring and wearing eyeliner to family functions to prove my iNDiVIdUALitY (thankfully, wisdom prevailed on both fronts). I don't know for certain how people younger than me (or anyone really) are discovering music these days (the algo is really serving up hot dog crap to me as of late, and I'm sure it's the same for others), but I'd like to think that if they had been around back in the day, that I would have seen Post Heaven's name on a flyer next to the register at a Spencer's Gifts, and had the clarity of mind to encode their name into my memory long enough to check their Myspace page when I got home. I also like to imagine that I'd have the wherewithal at that tender age to appreciate that they essentially start their EP, The Space That's In Between, with what should be the final song, "End Alone," a slow-burning, melancholic sonnet, where lamentations twirl atop a delicately paced piano melody like a flower petal on the surface of a still pond, allowing tension to build until it tumbles over into a tempest's pot of dissonant distortion and soul-rattling echoes of inner carnage and the rancor of requiem. This opener, while seemingly a purpose-built farewell, permits you to bid adieu to your inhibitions in preparation for the following track, "Basic Fault," an iron-clawed little wolverine that treats your head like a soft hill of alpine earth, cracking the seal on your dome as if it were a rotten log and burrowing into the pink peat of your insides with a martyr-making, slash-and-claw combo of interlocking grooves which make way to fill the space they've opened up with the fog of scorched bridges and a resigned, red-wet trickle of heartache. "Exit Wound" follows, and as the EP's most immediately impactful track, it punches through the thin membrane of the ledge that the previous two songs had walked you out onto, pushing you to plunge into a perilous free fall, like Alice in pursuit of the White Rabbit, only the portal you find yourself gliding down is lined with sharp protrusions of shattered memories and portraits of the happy life you never managed to attain, painful reminders of what could never be as you drift down a well of sorrow. Finally, "Hesitation Love" grants you a soft landing in a quickly emptying hourglass of quicksand that pulls you down into a confluence of claustrophobic regret and the devourment of unappeased desire. Somewhere between here and a boulevard of broken dreams, lies the hope that Post Heaven's message and sound will reach you in time to remind you of better days before the delirium of your circumstances and consumption of your contritions swallow you whole.
Would you drop in on a rave where you ran the risk of being fried by a shot of skyfire juice? Do you want 50k volts of pure white energy shot through you like an express train to Shinjuku, coursing through the soft, jiggly mold that is the organ bank of your body cavity, delivered express from the local municipal power grid? I mean, OSHA violations aside, would you take the chance? For Galen Tipton, aka Recovery Girl, the answer is conspicuously clear from the album art of her EP Nausea Rave. Plug her in and let her ride the lightning! Evidently a by-product of her effort to produce a full LP for the Recovery Girl project, Nausea Rave is a gooey and galvanized, punk-infused exhibition of breakbeat soul and fluid, self-reorganizing digital-pulp that is as fretfully human as a first kiss and as coolly programmatic as a machine arm soldering hardware components in a dark factory, steered only by infrared sensors. The fleshwheel platter of your grey, goopy h(e)a(r)d drive will no doubt be spinning once the needle drops on explosive sequences like the hard-bodied, drum and bass pucker up and blow out of "Gasoline," the wryly smitten, flicker and flirt flare-up in collaboration with Diana Starshine suitably dubbed "Spark It Up," the digi-hardcore smoke and smolder Lazarus-beat spin-out "Revenant," the acid-washed shooting gallery of "Smoke Mid No Gas," and the witchy, jungle-brush shaded, warp-zone farewell of "Ghost 2 Me." Nausea Rave has enough of Thor's tequila in the ballast to defibrillate an autonomic two-step out of a partially embalmed cadaver- there is no telling what havoc prolonged exposure could inflict on a healthy human subject, but I doubt any of us will be grousing about our test-subject status as long as the beats keep poppin'- yours truly, least of all.
For a LONG minute there in the late '00s and early '10s, it seemed like every band wanted to be Dinosaur Jr. Now no one does. Ironically, at the start of the '90s nostalgia boom that crested in the early part of this decade, anyone worth their salt stopped wanting to sound like a band Michael Azerrad might have profiled in Our Band Could Be Your Life and moved on to greener pastures (or got an actual job, something). Maybe folks got the picture that he wasn't going to be writing an update/sequel and figured they might as well do something with the degree they spent the equivalent of a mortgage on a medium-sized family home. I learned about Amherst's California X at the tail end of the '80s-aping garage glut, because, well, that's when people were talking about them. Most critics at the time liked to treat California X as more derivative than they actually were, when in fact they were just very apt at capturing a classic sort of rock'n big hair vibe and didn't seem to put much currenty into cultivating clout in the shadows of their idols. They were a band that played, earnest to a fault, retro-sounding fuzz-imbued punk as if it had never occurred to anyone to crank your amps to 11 while spirit spear-fishing through Neil Young's back catalog before- And it worked!. As you might have guessed, the band had been dogged early on by comparisons to Dinosaur Jr., which the band often pushed back against as a superficial assessment of their sound. On their second album, Nights in the Dark (2015), California X made a conscious effort to shatter the impression that they were simply braiding chords from their indie rock forefathers' hair by adopting elements of progressive rock, Americana, and ballsy '70s arena anthems. That being said, that scuzzy SST-era, post-hardcore stomp that defined the best of J Mascis's early career can still be heard lumbering around in the background. Not surprisingly, seeing as the album was produced by Justin Pizzoferrato (who, yes, has produced records for Dino Jr., and Lou Barlow, as well as Speedy Ortiz, who were unfairly maligned at one point as the GIRL DINOSAUR JR.... critics were REALLY thoughtful and creative back in the day, I tell ya). If you're up to checking out this dusty old pick-me-up from my giddy garage rock phase, then I hope you get a kick out of the summer speedway anthem “Nights in the Dark,” with its Phil Lynott-worshipping leads, as well as the vigorous, charged and fluttery guitar sweeps of “Red Planet,” the bluesy, chops-busting guitars and naïve, indie rock charm of “Blackrazor (Pt. 2),” and the felty, distortion-wrapped, razor-toothed dirge “Summer Wall (Pt. 2).” Nights in the Dark might be California X's last album, but it was a real light at the end of the tunnel for me in the era in which it was released.
I do appreciate it when a shoegaze band gets it right. And when I say that they get it right, I mean that they actually inaugurate a sense of place and dimensional presence in their music. It's so easy, x ∞, to just lean into an effects pedal and let the distension of distortion that expands out from a struck chord do the set dressing for your music for you, but Denver's Ratstallion are not leaving such essential details to mechanical happenstance. Their debut EP Sisyphus Happy sounds like it's risen from the depths of Erebus, seeping up like steam through the cracks in the Earth, and greeting you like a mirage in the forest- a trick of the eye piercing the senses in the dusky shade of an evening's gloom. The six-song release teeters in a balancing act between bright apparitions and scorched floodplains that snare you in a gale of riveting corporal catharsis. Angelic vocals skim with fluid grace over the icy contours of palpably dense distortion, which maps the refined tissue of the chord progressions like a suit of armor around the corpus of a knight- these lithe vocals playfully preserving themselves against the imposing mass of an unfeeling exterior until the tension builds into a rapturous outburst of purgative convulsions, one where all sensitive follicles have hardened to quills and the nausea brought on by the dance of its existence has achingly roiled to its angsty pinnacle, like froth dripping over the brim of a boiling pot. Some specters you see, others you hear, still others creep through your bones, gripping your frame and persuasively conducting you to a realm of dark illumination, where you can discover happiness in release from the ambient torment of the quotidian.
Harm's Way is literally why I'm into hardcore... at all, as in completely, as in no Harm's Way and I'm stuck in a painful, decades-long limbo, grinning and bearing it and putting on a brave face to acquaintances while I pretend to enjoy and appreciate Wilco. It's a long story as to how this happened, and I'm not going to get into it here, but it's essential context for why this review of Like Rats's Death Monolith has come into existence. In the very early part of this decade, I was skimming music discourse, trying to pick up on new hardcore bands that might tickle my fancy, and Like Rats came up in a back-and-forth about Harm's Way and Xibalba (...on Facebook, I think? This was prior to it serving primarily as the internet's trailer park and/or content landfill). I checked out Like Rats's then-latest album Death Monolith (2020), but since I was expecting them to be a hardcore band, I didn't spend much time with the album... until recently. I've been somewhat nostalgic lately for the high-brow, misery-mired sludge era of Chicago's cross-pollination with Indianapolis and the metal scene it produced, roughly running the gamut of the mid to late '10s and begetting such legendary monstrosities as Indian and Lord Mantis- you know, smart guy, bad attitude type stuff- the kinds of music that Jordan Reyes likely started American Decline Records in order to sign, only to have every viable candidate snatched up by Southern Lord or Profound Lore. A Chicago band, Like Rats, emerged out of this milieu, and while they did not reach the lofty conceptual heights of groups like Coffinworm, they demonstrated a strain of intelligence that is all too rare amongst metal acts, even in boom times- they can really write a song. Sonically obtaining succor somewhere between Atlas Moth and Bones, the group wrings all the tarry goop out of tried-and-true death-sludge dynamics, leaving its tendons and muscles spry and springy, lethal and ready to hone in for the kill, whether it be by a frontal bombardment or an evasive ricochet. As if they were a Souls-like adversary, they give glints and tells of their movements, subtly, but mockingly concealed, warning you of their intended course of action, with a feint or flourish, before driving their point to a fatal conclusion with bloody intent. If you're quick-witted and agile enough in your faculties, you can catch wind of the strike and dodge well enough to afford yourself a fleeting moment of appreciation before a succeeding thrust angles for your breastplate, or maybe you'll only be granted the opportunity to appreciate their artful, deathly flow posthumously- Death Monolith is intelligently crafted to delivery you into a prone position, whether this is merely a temporary resting place before a permanent dirt-nap, or a repose before reprisal in proportion to the aggression you've been dealt is a matter of ingrained determination- something Like Rats has in spades, and as I suspect, something they mean to test the mettle of in their audience.
Crypt Sermon is epic doom metal as it was always meant to be. The Stygian Rose is their third album and follow-up to the somewhat lackluster The Ruins of Fading Light, which dropped back in 2019. Their 2015 release, Out of the Garden, descended like a lightning strike on the US metal scene, compelling many to credit Crypt Sermon with single-handedly resurrecting interest in epic doom metal as a viable sub-genre once again. Crypt Sermon's sound is heavily influenced by Candlemass for sure, but also American compatriots, Solitude Aeturnus, so you can expect lots of eastern guitar scales, dancing rhythms, and mountain-shaking, battle-cry vocals. The Stygian Rose puts to bed many of the black metal influences that the band had previously leaned into on The Ruins of Fading Light, which is really for the best. Their love for this style was sufficiently demonstrated on the 2017 flexi single tribute to Mayhem titled De Mysteriis Doom Sathanas, and it is a warranted act of redress that this most recent album sees them consciously clawing their way back to the killing fields where they earned their darkly noble knighthood with a sagacious play towards the brawnier details of swords & sorcery. Like most of their best songs, "Glimmers In The Underworld" tells the tale of bravery and corruption in relief before hubris, exhibiting the fatalistic charm of the group's bleakly heroic baptism of blood and vice with razor-sharp, cut-to-the-bone grooves and cyclonic vocal harmonies that resemble a tempest of grand mal-inducing psychic fulguration, "Down in the Hollow" takes you on a twisting slump into a warped and forbidden romance with an illicit chthonic seraphim of benighted allure, while "Scrying Orb" adds campy elements of occulted arena rock, and the closing title track (it's very common for the band to put the song that bears the album's name as the closer) is amongst the slower and more psychedelic dirges on offer while functioning admirably as both a ballad and a banger. Clasp The Stygian Rose tightly and feel the cathartic cut of its thorns as it rewards your devotion with punitive instruction and cruel cupidity in proportion to the inglorious valor with which it is coveted.
Somehow Chase USA's Honey Baby: I Love When You Call Me hit last year and bounced clean over my head in an arching leap like a superball tossed off a high school gym room- it made its impact on Earth and then completely cleared my field of vision while I'm left blindly staring at the sun, frying my retinas and wondering what the hell all the commotion is about. Luckily, their most recent EP Child Rebel Soldier came at me like a warning shot, hissing and shaving my eyebrows, imposing its presence with searing intensity. Perhaps the reason why CRS has arrived in my purview with such stinging clarity is due to its focused nature. CRS, as opposed to Honey Baby, is a more explicitly coded hip hop album, while Honey Baby, beneath all its layers of burnish and ambition, was a pop-punk project at heart. On CRS, Chase USA continues to display a sharp eye for production and an incredible instinct for dynamics and catch-and-release rhythms, carried over form his previous efforts, while thematically and stylistically, it's less a mash-up of the past twenty years of punk and emo canon with an experiential twist, and more Chase's version of good kid, m.A.A.d city, a hyper-real panoramic sound exhibition that examines the author's adolescence being reared in the junkyard of decay rotting below the pretenses of the American dream, and drawing out how such circumstances have necessitated the extremity of growing up fast, hungry, and ready to stand on business, as if every day was a fresh battlefield in a war of attrition that plays out over a lifetime. If you can't dodge the hard knocks, it's obligatory that you knock back twice as hard, ideally with the punching cycle of a Thompson submachine gun.
It's not Halloween anymore, but I figured I'd still share a creepy episode from the annals of my life. A little while ago, I received a padded envelope in the mail postmarked as having been sent by an OmniDyneGlobal... no return address. Weird, right? But I guess if Amazon can find me at this address, really, anyone can. So I open the package, and out spills a CDR with "Scarlet Street - No Alternative: Promotional Use Only! WILL EXPLODE IF COPIED!" printed on it in a strange metallic ink that seems to change color every time I look at it, and a shock-collar, presumably meant for a large animal. I say presumably because when I looked inside the envelope to see if anything else was inside, I also found a grainy, xeroxed photo of the streamer Hasan Piker. At least, I think that's who it is. His features look so distorted, and the ink on the paper smears easily. And there are his eyes. There is something very uncanny about the expression in "Hasan's" eyes... like he can actually see me through the paper- or at least something behind me... On the back of the photo was a pasted-together message made of various cutouts from tabloid headlines reading: DO IT RIGHT OR WE'LL EXILE YOU TO THE DOG HOUSE. PERMANENTLY. Below this message was a URL, printed in the same color-shifting metallic ink as that on the CDR. Despite the ominous nature of the contents of this package, combined with the fact that I don't get a lot of mail anymore, I was understandably curious. I also had the weekend free (for once oh my god a weekend where I don't have to work basically unheard of), so I did what any sane person would do: I typed in the URL into a browser, and without a VPN or a rational care in the world, hit enter on my laptop keyboard. The URL took me to a private portal where I used a previously overlooked username and password that had been written on the CDR with a laser or something (I could only see it if I held it at the right angle). This took me to a chat server where I connected with someone who identified themselves as "Ben from Scarlet Street." As we chatted via short messages throughout the afternoon, I listened to the CDR I had been sent on a USB optic drive, as "Ben" revealed to me many disturbing and malignant facets of reality that lay hidden beneath the assumptions and illusions that undergird the economy, the political system of our country, and our way of life. The following is a semi-coherent transcript of what I was able to piece together from what was revealed to me during this conversation. I share it with you now in the hope that you can make more sense of it than I can and avoid the seemingly inexorable fate that most of the population will only become wise to when it is far too late to avert total calamity. May god have mercy on our souls.
The following interview was ACTUALLY conducted over email in September of 2025. It has only been lightly edited and reformatted from its original contents.
Is there an overall theme to your LP No Alternative?
When we wrote this album, an election was starting, colleges across the country were protesting, rhetoric about dictatorship was ramping up, and we were seeing AI proliferate across social media and into every aspect of life. All of this had us asking ourselves how we got to this point and why things had to be this way, could there possibly be any hope of things getting better? To sort of make sense of all of it there were a few books we read, one of them being particularly relevant was Capitalist Realism: Is There No Alternative? by Mark Fisher. It really reinforced our sort of pessimistic idea of; there is no alternative to modern life, that choice has been taken away from us all. This is all happening by design. None of this was by accident.
The cover for No Alternative is gorgeous! Where was that photo taken? What is in these murals?
Detroit, Michigan. The Main Branch of the Detroit Public Library, 2nd floor. The mural is called Man’s Mobility and it was created in the early ‘60s, it depicts 3 eras in Detroit; 1855, 1905, and 1965, showing Detroit and America’s progress in technology. I think it really depicts a prevailing thought that was once true; Technology and Science will solve all of mankind’s problems. There’s an optimism here that never came true, it’s depicting a future that never happened.
I know you're big Blink-182 fans, and I can still hear some of their influences here, but it also feels like you're leaning more into the grungier aspects of your sound with this record. Why did that feel like the right move for this material?
We’re influenced by so many bands and sounds. I do think it’s purely coincidence that some of these songs land on a grunge style, but I think that’s because there’s a lot of angst and anger behind the lyrics and it simply comes out in the music. There’s a lot for us to be angry about right now.
Image courtesy of We're Trying Records
Do you think there are any inherent overlaps between emo and grunge music? Where are the gelling points for these two styles in your mind?
They’re both styles of music that are very emotion-forward, I think Sunny Day Real Estate is the best example of that crossover. There’s a lot of frustration in both genres, just different time periods. In the 90s there was a lot of frustration around boredom, meaninglessness and leading a bland life. I think in the 2020s the frustration is watching a society with no one at the wheel, doomed to watch a dystopian nightmare day after day while the populous numbs itself. I also think bands like Nirvana sort of poked fun at the same aspects of modern society we poke fun at; the white picket fences and suburban lifestyles that seem cognitively dissonant to reality, where a world running out of resources wants to sell you bigger homes and bigger trucks.
What is the deal with the Bear v Shark callout on the opening track? Are you trying to start some beef with them, or do you genuinely think bears and sharks can cohabitate?
It’s actually a reference to a Space Ghost Coast to Coast episode, and thought it was a fun nod to a lot of the song titles we had on the last album. But also Bears and Sharks being scummy finance people.
It's excellent to hear how you are expanding your sound with tracks like "Victory Speech" and "Palo Alto." It sounds like you've been listening to a lot of Failure or even Deftones while writing this record, with how bleak and claustrophobically spacey they are. Can you give some insights into how/why you attempted to cultivate a consistent sense of crushing atmosphere on this album?
We’ve always listened to bands and albums that have a very desolate, crushing feeling to it, but until this album we’ve never really had the confidence to take that on. We really approached this album with the thought of “What if this was the last thing we ever got to record?” and decided to shoot for the moon. We just really wanted to make a complete artistic statement.
How do you feel as though your sound has evolved between your debut and No Alternative, and what direction do you hope to take it in the future?
We wanted to make a darker record that spoke to people who felt like everything around us is going wrong and wanted something that sonically was a bit of a deeper listen. I only see us going further on the next one. This is a dense record, we packed a lot into this 32 minutes, I think we try to make the next more cinematic, more ambitious, more experimental. We’re probably going to take this sounds and go further with it, this one feels more like a “Scarlet Street” record than anything else we’ve ever done and we want to chase that feeling.
What do you hope is the big takeaway from this album for listeners (besides, "Wow, that ruled!")?
I want people to see this as a reflection of the social and political climate we’re in now. I want to make the people who feel like everything is falling apart feel seen. There’s a lot of people out there who don’t feel like there’s music that speaks to the moment that’s happening right now, and we wanted this music to do just that. We simply made an album we want to listen to, if people are on our wavelength, all the better.
For your further vindication and pleasure, please enjoy this track-by-track breakdown of the band's new album No Alternative.
"BEARS & SHARKS: NATURE’S BEST FRIENDS" We wanted to show immediately to everyone that we weren’t fucking around with this album. From the get go this was going to be the album opener because it set the tone with all the angst and frustration we are feeling with the systems of the world. We feel trapped, and sometimes it feels like the only way out is to simply die by the 2 things the powers that be love the most; Guns or Drugs.
"VICTORY SPEECH" This is the other side of the situation; it’s the ticker tape parade of those in power gloating about how well the deck is stacked. Once again, we just came right out with showing off the heavier sound we’d been working on. The chorus comes from this part in the book The Chaos Machine by Max Fisher, where the overwhelming majority of start ups in Silicon Valley are pumped full of money by venture capitalists in the hopes that one of them will be the next Facebook or Oracle or Palantir. If they don’t pan out it doesn’t matter, what’s a couple billion dollars? This is one of our favorite songs to play live simply because of how much ground it covers between the spacey verses, screaming choruses and the final breakdown.
"WARNING SOUNDS" Every day the world feels like it’s going to collapse, and every day you’re still suppose to clock in and go to work. I’ve always had a tough time staying focused when particularly gloomy world events are happening, and yet it seems like co-workers have no problem just shrugging off impending fascism. For me, I’ll simply never be able to turn those sirens in the back of my head off, I guess I’m glad others can. That’s what this song is about. We really took a liking to Prawn and Signals Midwest on this. Just wanted to show off gloominess without heft for once.
"DRINKS ON THE HOUSE / PALO ALTO" We really just wanted to write something brainlessly heavy and when we threw on the fuzz pedal and played this, it just sounded right. It’s a song about being completely brain dead while scrolling all day long. I’m very cautious about social media use, I think it’s a really good tool to numb the populous into just being content instead of getting up off their ass and doing something, hopefully that doesn’t sound too self-righteous, but I think we all need to take a minute and ask ourselves if this shit is actually improving our lives in a meaningful way or if it’s just something we’re all collectively addicted to. Anyway, the post-chorus “You’re sick inside your brain/And we can take away the pain” is my little version of a quote from Capitalist Realism; “You’re sick because of you’re brain chemistry. We can fix you with our SSRI’s” - Essentially casting off the fact that everyone is constantly mentally ill as being a fault of the individual instead of the root cause being; this world is literally mentally torture. Fun fact; I wrote this song while trying to learn "Snag" by Cheem.*
*Editor's note: That is a fun fact!
"HAIL" I went down a lot of rabbit holes and read a lot of non-fiction while writing this album, and one of the most influential was probably The Storm Is Here: An American Crucible by Luke Mogelson, it recounts the lead up to January 6th and protests during the pandemic. I feel like we’ve all collectively moved on from January 6th without learning a single lesson. But anyway, I think there was something so dark and twisted about the people who just mindlessly decided to join this death cult on the far-right, like they felt compelled to take matters into their own hands at the cost of everything. That scares me. That keeps me up at night, and I really think it should keep everyone else up, too. That’s what this song is about; those who are willing to kill their fellow humans over things made up by bots in memes and videos on the internet. All Hail The Line, All Hail The Hook. This song was originally split off from the 1st incantation of “CORPORATE MEMPHIS” actually, but our producer thought it was a little weird, so the verse from that became the bulk of this song, and the chorus from "CORPORATE MEMPHIS" became the verses.
"MIDCENTURY MODERN WHOLESALE FURNITURE" This whole track spawned from a real-life occurrence of hellish, Black Mirror-esque serendipity that I’m sure people think I made up, but I use to have this Samsung phone that had Bixby
(Samsung’s equivalent to Siri) and one day I set an alarm in the middle of the day for something, and when the alarm went off, instead of a chime or bell, it played the Bixby assistant reciting the headlines of the day. This was mid-2020 and of course every headline was the worst news you had ever heard. It stuck with me for years, and I wanted to make something that reminded me of that. We set out to make a sort of funeral march of headlines, and we wanted it to build up and sound like what it feels to just take in every bit of horror that the human condition has to endure. This song had somewhere north of 50 tracks, easily the most dense recording we’ve ever made. We tried to make it as symbolic as possible, as well. Almost every headline is real, except for 3 or 4 because we wanted to symbolize the fact that with as much misinformation as there is you can literally never tell what’s real and what’s fake. Even the ending “No rain in the forecast” symbolizes that there’s no relief coming. We titled the song after one of our favorite Instagram profiles, (now goes by doomscroll_forever) - it felt apt.
"THE STORM IS HERE" I was inspired by the poem “First They Came...” - I really despise the state of activism in America right now, where it seems like posting on social media is the beginning and end of the lengths in which people are willing to go to stop literal fascism and genocide from occurring, it’s all so performative. This song is a critique on people who do that. While people post that they stand against something and do nothing else, others are being rounded up in the country and other countries and killed. The music on this track is one of the oldest on the whole album, it actually predates our first album, and we almost used it on the first one, but it felt too heavy and slow to make sense. I really think it found its place perfectly there.
"CORPORATE MEMPHIS" This came out of complete frustration with the music industry. It really feels like there are a million hurdles in the way of doing anything successfully in music, and there are a million-and- one people who are willing to take your money from you. It feels overwhelming and like a completely uphill struggle. There are so many times between the last album and this album we’ve felt like hanging it up and calling it a quits simply because there’s always someone who wants to leech off you, and yet there’s always someone who’s success is completely undeserved. This was the first song we finished in the studio, and I think it’s really when it became clear we weren’t the same band we were from the Self-titled album; we really went with the big guitars and screamed vocals, and it was so much goddamn fun to do it, and it probably shows.
"EASY DECISIONS" I think just about anyone reading this has laid awake at night, worried about paying rent or bills. That’s exactly what I wrote this about; deciding if I should spend the last few dollars I have on groceries or my electric bill, do I pawn an amp or plead with a friend to borrow a few bucks for gas? Those are tough decisions. The guitar part is actually the first thing I ever recorded, it’s nearly 10 years old, but I never found a use for it until this album and I’m so happy it found a home here, we ran it through a Roland Jazz Chorus and it felt ethereal when we heard it back, and Gary just kept adding layer after layer on the 2nd half of this song until it became this blissful wall of sound.
"IT DOESN’T GET ANY BETTER THAN THIS" In a way this song sums up the previous 10; It has a bit of the sound all the previous ones had, the lyrics are about how we’re just set up for extinction by technology and unfettered capitalism, and it ends in a grand finale. We got to use all sorts of beautiful delays and reverbs on this, and it just rocks hard. We liked it so much we named the album after the lyrics: “No Alternative in sight, so they’ll exercise their right. There’s no way they got this wrong” - The whole album is about systems, systems that aren’t failures, but actually working exactly as designed. We’re overstimulated on purpose, we’re depressed on purpose, we’re numb on purpose.
"THERE WAS A HOLE HERE // IT’S GONE NOW" This song was almost entirely written by Luke on guitar and bass. It’s so mesmerizing and haunting and we just had to have it on the album, but when it came time to write lyrics for it was so hard to get them right, we kept trying vocal deliveries that were super spacious and minimal, but it didn’t sound right, so Gary suggested we go with something unhinged and crazy, and that’s just what we ended up with. The lyrics are actually some of the most personal on the album, it’s my 2nd hand experience with a mental health emergency I once had with a friend and having to deal with them eventually using police force to take care of the situation. Unfortunately in this country we don’t have a way of helping those in need without sending police in which often makes the situation much worse and I think about having to do that every day. The end of this song is one of my favorite moments on the album. Luke, Gary and I all took turns recording our own version of the solo in the outro, Gary mixed it to taste so what you’re actually hearing is all 3 of us playing the solo at different moments.
So, another week is starting, and it's getting colder outside. The last thing you probably want to do is crawl out of bed and interact with other humans, or do anything that appears remotely or even hypothetically productive. At this point, thanatosis (the art of playing dead) likely seems a cunning and ultimately tempting option for avoiding the burden of one's commitments- and as a traditional reflex amongst North America's only native marsupial, the opossum, it's arguably the most patriotic measure of avoidance as well. Far be it for me to counsel you on how to justify or edify your rotmaxing, but if you do need to burrow into obscurity for an indeterminate period of time, during which rumors of your expiration may be exaggerated (if only slightly), might I suggest that you take with you into this social-void some tunes from the master of morbid bluffs, Milkypossum- the curiously lively, shadow queen of the internet, whose presence is felt nowhere, and yet everywhere, hiding her power levels in plain sight, while rehearsing a terminal case of taciturn aloofness. This is all to say that she's a lot of fun, but you're going to be hard-pressed to spot her (sans pseudo-rigor mortis) in the wild- much like her namesake. If you're not already hip to Milky's brand of OST acid house, hip-hop, hyper-referential digital hardcore, hyperseeding webcore, and hyper...well, hyperpop, let my interview with her be your introduction to a new world of eccentric opossibilities and digital euphorias as you withdraw into reclusive social hibernation for the year- preferably with access to high-speed internet and a pouch stash of lactose-loaded snacks.
Listen to interview with Milkypossum:
Check out Milkypossum's latest EP 7STAGES:
... and a cool collection of instrumentals from some of her favorite original tracks:
I debated with myself long and hard about whether or not I wanted to say anything about this album, and in the end, the side of me that favored writing a post won out, mostly because I happen to like this release a lot sonically, but also, against my better judgment, I find it amusing. But before I go any further, I just want to say for the record that I hate this kind of stuff and I am generally opposed to it. What kind of stuff you may ask? Stuff like people uploading metal and punk projects to the internet while claiming to be from a country where there is a perception that these types of music are either uncommon, outright prohibited, or both. Over the past decade, the worst offenders in this regard (in my estimation at least) have been black metal and crust punk music from people claiming to be from Muslim majority countries. They are usually embarrassingly exposed from the outset by writing the titles to their songs in Arabic running left to right, but even worse than being liars, these projects are usually pretty suck-ass, soulless, and derivative. Everyone's favorite example of this sort of scam seems to be Ghost Bath, i.e., the North Dakota atmoblack band who initially made their bag claiming to be from China (a country that has no shortage of metal bands in it), but I could actually care less about another personalityless "blackgaze" band. For context, Kuryong (which Google keeps translating for me as Kowloon- a place in China that no longer exists), claims on their Bandcamp, and through a number of uploads to Youtube via channels that post a lot of underground metal, that they are part of a North Korean propaganda project, actually based in the DPRK and sponsored by the government there. Sure... the government of the DPRK is looking to increase warm feelings and tolerance for itself in the West and the world more broadly by releasing black metal music... the most openly hostile and nihilistic form of heavy music there is... great f*cking strategy. What's next? Are they going to hire actors to re-enact a GG Allin set at the next UN General Assembly meeting? I can't claim to be an expert on all things (or any things) North Korean, but I'm willing to bet that a band like this, with this image and sound, is not how THAT (or any) government wants to present itself to the world. So it's nearly 100% guaranteed the backstory of this demo is bull-pucky from a sniff test angle, but then there is the actual proof, manifest, that this is not a North Korean project, this being the fact that IT HAS A BANDCAMP AND YOUTUBE PRESENCE! It's literally against Bandcamp's Terms of Service to use their platform if you are a citizen of, or located in, North Korea, and any money obtained from such an internet presence via sales would violate so, so, so many US sanctions and laws. In addition, YouTube is extremely cautious about letting stuff from sanctioned countries onto their platform because they don't want to get fined or prosecuted by the US government- they will take down a channel run by a woman in North Korea who does nothing but fish and visit waterfalls in order to avoid these complications- there is no reason to believe they wouldn't immediately kill something like this demo as well if they thought there was any chance of it having its origin in the DPRK. So what IS the likely story behind Kuryong's Summoning of Paektu? Well as some people on Reddit and YouTube have already pointed out, the band does appear to actually be singing (shrieking) in Korean, so that probably rules out some Idaho farm boy having a goof. It also means that this is likely a hoax (or likely more accurately a facade) of someone(s) from either South Korea or somewhere else in Asia (potentially making this an even more intriguing and frankly dangerous endeavor than it appears on its surface- because being pro-DPRK, even as a joke, is very, very, incredibly illegal in South Korea). But what is the REALLY REAL story behind Kuryong's Summoning of Paektu? It freakin rips! It doesn't matter where it's from, this is a despairingly ugly, bleak and harrowingly caustic cask of second-wave styled black metal that sounds like it was recorded in the depths of a sunken tomb only to rise like a cloud of diseased bats to blot out the sun and suck the marrow from your bones. A horrid whirlwind of blightingly odious sound that licks and gnaws the ears like a gale formed of biting insects and razor wire. A wretched and consciously vicious emergence of insatiable malignance and pestilent sound that harkens to darker prospects just beyond the field of our apprehension and the light of our intellect and reason. I really don't care who did this, or where they are actually from, but I want to hear more, either under Kuryong's present guise, or whatever other mask they care to don in order to face the world.
I've been thinking a lot more about death than usual. A couple of weeks ago something busted in the vent to the dryer in my house and took up residence in my basement amongst my belongings. I couldn't locate it or even tell what it was for days, but kept finding its nuggets as well as trails of shredded blankets, cardboard boxes, and electrical wires (it had a REAL taste for ethernet cables in case you're wondering) just about everywhere. Then one day, the evisceration of my belongings ceased, and a few days after that, I found, by smell, the carcass of a rabbit in one of the storage areas. It had evidently starved to death, or died of thirst, something... I only wish I had found it sooner because by the time I came upon it, the poor dead varmint was in repose on a bed of writhing maggots- sections of its flank having already collapsed inward into black troughs out of which a runnel of wiggling things aimlessly oozed. If I had been able to spot and catch the little scamp earlier, I could have released it and saved it from this fate- alas, its natural skittishness and the floor plan of my basement conspired to turn it into a forensics challenge. This event has unexpectedly led me to wonder what kind of rut I've designed for myself, and it is leading me to a place I'd rather not be several years down the trail from today, a trap of my own making with no hope of pivoting course. The unfortunate reality is that you can't know if you're doing something stupid, so long as you're following your inclinations, which, like the rabbit that made my home its tomb, means one's best instincts (seeking shelter, hiding from larger animals... chewing on electrical wiring for sustenance) become the surest route to self-disposal. I can't say honestly that there are any habits I indulge that are obvious preludes to doom, but it's hard to shake the ambient anxiety all the same. Someone whose instincts seem spot on to me at the moment though is the Bronx-based black metal project Abriction. Her latest LP Forbidden Bounds is aiding in the ebb of these directionless fears that have swept over me recently by lending me the benefit of its biting catharsis, as it paints a portrait of reality far bleaker than the one I currently inhabit. The album is a meditation on the paralytic psychic-static of loneliness, the gulf in consciousness between souls (even presumably close ones), and the tendency of life to be eaten by ash as easily as a cigarette is consumed by its ember- classic bitter, neverending winter, and cold night for forlorn spirits type material. It's an impressive solo black metal project and a resoundingly piquant effort that goes well beyond the typical blackened void-inhaling drone and d-beat pummel that typifies endeavors of this sort. It seems tempting to silo Meredith Salvatori's (that is, the singular woman behind Abriction) work into the "blackgaze" camp* due to the project's atmospherically dense and morosely melodic tendencies, but the riffage, direful gashes of groove and scaths of disjointed rhythm displayed on Forbidden Bounds appear to have as much pedigree in pop-punk, trip-hop, deathcore, nu-metal and video game OSTs as they do in relation to anything Alcest or Bosse-de-Nage have given spiteful form to over the course of their distinctive careers. The whole and inseparable integration of disparate but counterposing trains of angst-animated euphony are so smooth and effortless here that even describing them as chimeric would be misleading, as their synthesis is so complete that the only source of dissonance they exhibit is in the overwhelming force of alienation their combined form gives expression to- it is less a manticore-type situation and more a representation of a member of the mink tribe in union as human and beast all in the same... and under the influence of a full moon, naturally. The best comparison by example that is raised by Abriction's efforts on this record is actually not a metal project at all, but the hyperpop of underscores, and similarly oriented artists, who playfully arrange familiar yet categorically distinct templates to fashion their masterworks; in this way Abriction treats all genres and past modes of expression as a kind of raw clay from which she scrapes and sculpts to suit her vision and impress her intention upon, molding these sounds to the bleak, malignant curvature of her mind. As of this writing, there seems to be a slow consciousness building amongst fans of Abriction's lengthy and growing discography that her 2024 LP Banshee is the most preferable articulation of all her variable permutations, but this harder-landing, teeth-baring, and less atmospherically-soluble form found on Forbidden Bounds is pressing the frontier of her potential in an even more fruitful and darkly splendid direction and I hope to see it continue. Now if you will excuse me, I'm going to go leave some crackers on the floor of my basement so that no one else inadvertently starves down there, and then shoot my therapist a check-in email to see if we can't get something on the books for next week.
* Because apparently the only unorthodox black metal band anyone is aware of anymore is Deafheaven, so everything becomes "blackgaze" if it tends towards complex shades of moodiness rather than outright nihilism these days.
Once bitten, twice shy they say... unless we're talkin' Philly's Armbite... apparently being bitten by the music-bug has only made them all the more ready to share their rawest and realist feelings with the world. And so we have, Dawg Rock Vol. 1., an album's worth of punky pop-jams about eating trash and nippin' at the mail-person's heels... locating and rolling around in dead fish... um, making logs on the neighbor's lawn... *checks notes* Wait, what is this album about? *fumbling noises* Somebody must have written about it somewhere. *frantic Googling noises* Ah, here we go... No, wait, this is just a Wikihow on what to do if you've been savaged by a foamy raccoon. *Sighs* Alright... I'm going straight to the source with this one. *opens window, takes deep breath* Hey Harrison! Care to explain what's going on here, bud?!?
And that's basically how all the interviews happen. I get some sorta notion and then direct unsolicited questions to people who have better things to do than provide details, at length, about things that are easily open to interpretation, and then spill whatever I've squeezed out of these poor souls onto the internet.
For your benefit and mine, Harrison Lennertz (vocals/guitar) of Armbite was willing to talk to me (on behalf of himself, Marin Duff (vocals/bass), and Matt Guardiola (drums)) about the band's origins, the literal underground odyssey involved in making their debut LP, Dawg Rock Vol. 1., and even broke down the songs off their album, track-by-track, with analysis and deep lore for those who are perverted enough to want that sorta thing (like moi).
While Armbite are pretty upfront about their influences and what they want to sound like (basically Glocca Mora with a hard, Sweet Pill coating), what first attracted me to the band was not the obvious, but rather the subtextual stock from which they spring. To me, they are a band with a very classic, indie-rock vibe, one that is effortlessly fun yet insightful, stone-solid and serendipitous, devotional while still slightly droll in their approach to songwriting, reminding one of groups that are as soft yet dependable, hard-edged yet easy to love, and comforting but not coddling as Lemuria, Mixtapes, and Spraynard. They're in good company as far as my head-canon is concerned, as they are in real life, being signed to We're Trying Records, a label with one of the more consistent discographies in the whole of contemporary DIY and emo-oriented underground.
Hopefully, Armbite will be welcomed into the shelter that separates your ears (and you won't want to leave them out in the doghouse) after you check out their interview below. Dive on in! They don't bite... ok, so maybe they do... but it's like in a nice way, like a cat after you give them some really good scritches, or a brisk autumnal breeze that coolly caresses the tip of your nose while you sip a hot, spiced cider... You know, the kind of bite that's more of a kiss than a snap, of the sort that makes you feel less alone in this world, that kind of bite.
The following interview was conducted via email from October 12th through 14th. It appears in its original form, annotated but not edited.
Where does the name Armbite come from?
When we started playing together we started a groupchat, of which we made that drawing of the guy biting his own arm our groupchat picture. Eventually the time came around where we had to come up with a band name because we were about to get ready for our first gig; we were throwing around a bunch of names left and right, then Matt said something like "wait, hear me out. armbite," like the picture from our groupchat. That name just like instantly clicked for us, and it was pretty set from then. The only quandary we had was whether we do one word or two words, but it's just one word. For the record.
...cute, yeah?
If you were to sum up the Armbite ethos in three words or fewer, what would it be?
Fun, energy, instinct.
[Editor's Note: I honestly thought he was going to say "gotta have fun." Really throwing a curveball here.]
How important is maintaining an element of chaos in your dynamics as a band?
I think that the "element of chaos" comes a bit more naturally to us when we write stuff we think is fun and energetic – like when I write for this band, I want to write stuff that makes you go "hell yeah. This is crazy." We can't just do that all the time though, we need some quiet parts to make those ones stick out; we're not even really doing that super intentionally, it just feels right. I'd say our element of chaos isn't so much that we have the most absurd riffs and polyrhythms and lack thereof or whatever, we just like to keep people on their toes.
Dawg Rock appears to be a bit of an overview of your career as a band so far. Is this a correct assessment? How do you frame it for yourselves?
I'd say so! A lot of the songs on the album stretch back to as early as our first show, with probably the most recent one being written and put together last summer. We thought pretty extensively about if we'd rather have our first release be something shorter like an EP, but all roads came back to us wanting to put our first foot forward with a project that felt more complete.
Tell me about the recording process for this Dawg Rock Vol. 1. It sounds like quite the odyssey.
I think if it felt like an odyssey for anyone, it would have been Bridget*, who we actually tasked with recording the album. Her studio flooded on Christmas 2024, which was awful, and harder on her than it was on any of us. In spite of having to deal with insurance and whatever troubles with that, she was really determined to get us started on the recording process, and had secured us a couple of days at Hidden Fortress near the beginning of January for Matt to track drums, and they managed to record the entire album's worth of drums in that two day timeframe. What then followed was a long tedious process of weekly recording sessions, working around work and school schedules, done in various locations; we did guitars at The Meadow (R.I.P., shoutout Pru for letting us use your guitar amp), my vocals in my basement, Marin did bass at Bridget's apartment, and Marin and Matt did some additional vocal and auxiliary percussion recording in Matt's old basement (R.I.P. The Underworld). I even got Bridget to drive us out to my old college so I could get into the concert hall and record piano. It ended up taking us five months to record the album, and pretty much every session we did independently of each other, but Bridget really stuck it out for us and did the most to actually make this album happen. I'm really glad she has since also managed to get a new studio together, so for the love of god, if you want to record your music, hire her.
* Bridget's not in the band, but she was the recording engineer for this project. She also recorded our first version of "catsitting" like two years ago, our very first show was the last show for Bridget's old band and she said "I want to record you guys and I'll do it for free" so we took her up on it. We've remained very close to her and were very enthused to work with her for this project.
How did Dawg Rock Vol. 1. end up being the title of this album?
We've leaned into the whole "dawg rock" thing since early on, at least since I made the band Instagram and put "philly dawg rock" in the bio. So when it came time to think about a name for the album, it just felt like the most natural choice.
Is there a Vol. 2 in the works?
One thing at a time, please. We do have some songs I've written that we need to actually work on though – next project might be a quick, more emo-driven EP. Then after that we want to do a heavy EP, call it "harmbite" or something.
Were you ever worried that there were too many obstacles in the way of finishing this album or that the recording process would run out of steam?
Personally, no. Did it take a lot longer to record than I expected? Yes, but that's on my own naivety. Everyone involved was really committed to seeing this album through, and if anyone had the right to run out of steam while working on it, it would have been Bridget. She put in more recording hours and stuck through it harder than any of us. Like I said, hire her.
How did you get connected with Jack Shirley, and how did his work on the album help it become the best version of itself?
I just sent him an email. I reached out, he responded, we talked about working on the album, and he agreed to do it. It then took us several months to actually get the songs recorded and sent to him, but he did it. We took a page out of Haunt Dog's (also a Bridget project) book and tried to get someone experienced involved on our project who really could grasp the sound we were going for – for Filbert, Haunt Dog got the guy who did Ghoul Intentions, and we really liked a lot of artists and albums Jack Shirley worked on (Jeff Rosenstock, awakebutstillinbed, the last Gouge Away record, Greatest Hits by Remo Drive, etc. etc.), so we figured it would be worth a shot. I initially just asked if he could just master the album; he said he'd only do mixing and mastering at minimum, but he agreed to work within our budget, and he really helped us make it happen. He was great to work with throughout the process, provided a lot of great advice and much needed reality checks, and he really made the album sound awesome – we told him what we were going for, and he responded accordingly and exceedingly. Incredibly grateful that we got to work with him, and incredibly grateful for what he put into this album.
Do you have any strong influences outside of emo and pop-punk? If not, why not? If so, who?
For sure! At least personally, I listen to predominantly guitar music, and lately I've been really trying to delve into realms outside of the emo-sphere (that isn't to say there isn't an incredible amount of diversity within that scene – fifth wave emo is a beautiful hodgepodge of influences spanning far beyond emo revival). I've been enjoying a lot of more angular genres like math rock, mathcore, brutal prog, art rock, art punk, sass, and no wave, but I also grew up on classic rock, have learned a lot from jazz, and still enjoy genres like indie rock and ska (of course). Some bands that I've gotten into over the past year and have really stuck with me include Yucky Duster, The Callous Daoboys, black midi and Geordie Greep, P.E.E., Tera Melos (and pretty much anything Nick Reinhart), Black Eyes, Grocer, Wince, Black Matter Device, Ruins, Dillinger Escape Plan, The Dismemberment Plan, Fugazi, The Blood Brothers, Sajjanu, Charly Bliss, BCNR, Desparecidos, Fashion Tips, Glenn Branca, Koenjihyakkei, The Gerogerigegege, John Zorn, Lahnah, Marnie Stern, Mclusky, me and him call it us, Palm, Ski Club, The Great Redneck Hope, God Is My Co-Pilot, The Wicked Farleys, Basil's Kite, Show Me The Body, and Zeta. Less so me, but I know other influences in the band come from less guitar-heavy places too, some prominent ones being Kesha and spellcasting.
(I know I just dropped an insane list, feel free to editorialize)
[Editor's Note: I wouldn't dare.]
Explain to me what Dog Math is. I only made it to geometry in high school.
Yeah, it's a damn shame more people don't know about it. The American education system is failing, so a lot of kids don't reach these higher level math courses. I'd say it falls close to the level of AP Calc BC, but leans a bit heavier even into the philosophical approach of conceptualizing how the world works when you have the brain and body of a dog. It's a niche subfield but it's really interesting stuff, I'd encourage you to look more into it.
Image by Ruby Goren, Instagram: @rubyjgphotography
Do you have any pets? What can you tell us about them?
I do! Back home I have a yellow lab named Stella and a siamese cat named Cleo (I don't think she's actually siamese, I think she's just a seal point domestic shorthair. She's got some subtle striping to her, and her head isn't weird enough for her to be a true siamese.)
Have any of you ever been bitten by an animal in a serious sort of way?
Yes actually! I work as a vet tech, but I've surprisingly only been really bitten once. It was when a client brought in what was essentially a feral kitten; I tried getting it out so I could weigh it and whatever, and the cat, being feral, rears around and bites me square on the finger, and its little canine goes deep. I'm like "okay, great. Hopefully this cat doesn't die in the next couple days." A couple days later, I get a text from my coworker telling me the cat died with neurologic signs. So now I'm thinking "great, that cat might have had rabies." I start freaking out a little, because rabies is lethal if it's not caught before symptoms appear, and it was taking an inordinate amount of time for my vet to get the cat sent out for rabies testing. I ended up being halfway through my post-exposure prophylaxis vaccination series when they tell me the test came back negative, so thankfully we were all good. I am now fully vaccinated against rabies, however.
What are the best DIY venues in Philly right now, and what makes them so great?
Philly Style Pizza has gotta be my favorite. I'm a bit biased, sure, because our drummer Matt runs Fortress, a booking group whose main operations occur at Philly Style, and I have helped out with, played, and attended many shows there (the first couple armbite shows were at Philly Style), but it's genuinely one of the best spaces. Mike is really generous to let us use the space as often as he does; he's no nonsense about it, but he really cares and wants to support the scene. Basement shows are definitely what Philly is known for, though, and I'd say my favorites right now are Greenhaus, Luigi's Mansion, and Dead Birds, because they're all run by people who honestly care about the scene, the bands, the space they create, and I actually enjoy going to shows there. If you asked me this question a couple months ago, though, I would have told you The Underworld, because I think that's like the platonic ideal of what a basement venue can be. It was Matt's old house, and whenever they had a show there, the planning was incredibly well thought out, there was always someone filming the set to document it in the DIY history books, and admission was typically ten bucks, always NOTAFLOF, and always a portion of proceeds going to a charity. It's not that these things are uncommon for DIY shows, but very rarely do you see a place that has all these features incorporated into a venue's operating model. Running a venue so selflessly isn't always feasible economically, I know, but I have a 2000s Jeff Rosenstock financial idealism towards music, and I think doing DIY isn't about making money, it's about making space for the music around you to thrive.
Where are your favorite local places to grab a bite in Philly?
Dear god here we go. My favorite cheesesteak is from Woodrow's, but if you don't like the truffle whiz, go down the street to Angelo's, which is also phenomenal. My halal guy is Rahim, who's at 37th and Spruce right now, but the Chicken Maroosh from Saad's Halal is incredible. The best fried chicken is at Doro Bet, for good hot chicken I go to Asad's or Hangry Joe's, and the Crown Chickens in North Philly are really good if you want a lot of food for cheap. My favorite breakfast spots are either Fresh Donuts or Texas Weiners. My go-to Ethiopian is Abyssinia, which also hosts DIY shows. My favorite Mexican place is Blue Corn, but Prima, South Philly Barbacoa, TacoTaco, and Cafe y Chocolate are also good picks. The best burger I've had in Philly is at Fountain Porter; it's not super big, but it's only six bucks, and you can get some great fries with it for four more bucks. I'm a fan of Famous 4th St Deli, but Herschel's in Reading Terminal has the only pastrami sandwich I could have characterized as "juicy" – whatever you do, I swear, do not go to Hymie's in Merion. My favorite Indian place is Indian Sizzler, but it is unfortunately closed right now. I’m a big fan of Vietnam Cafe in West for Vietnamese food. I frequently think about the katsudon from Yamazaki Ramen in Bryn Mawr and how the power went out there one time while my friend was in the bathroom. This place in Chestnut Hill called McNally’s has a sandwich called The Schmitter, which is awesome. My go-to Wawa order is the chicken parm with garlic aioli, tomatoes, and onions, and if you enjoy chocolate milk, I love the double dutch. I like the pizza from Bella Italia in Ardmore, and The Pizza Box in Ambler, but the best place to get pizza in Philly would have to be at Philly Style Pizza (obviously).
What's your favorite Always Sunny quote?
"I have contained my rage for as long as possible, but I shall unleash my fury upon you like the crashing of a thousand waves! Begone, vile man! Begone from me! A starter car? This car is a finisher car! A transporter of gods! The golden god! I am untethered, and my rage knows no bounds!" Either that, or Frank saying "I get it" after Mac's interpretive dance.
And if that wasn't enough, here is the track-by-track breakdown of the inspiration of each song off of Dawg Rock Vol. 1. that was teased earlier in the article. Check it out!
"gotta have fun"
Marin and their friends Nate, Eze, and Jack got wasted one NYE a few years back and decided to write an EP only using a cat keyboard and their phones. Nate, being used as a divine conduit for the word of god, played three notes on the keyboard and said “alright, I’m ready to record ‘oh, you gotta have fun’.” The song has existed as a psalm since then, this is just one of our renditions of it, and it happens to be what we play at the beginning of every single set. Please feel free to make your own versions.
"catsitting"
This was the first like “armbite” song I really wrote; I tuned my guitar to open D and said to myself “I want to write a song like Glocca Morra,” and didn’t quite do that, but this came out of it, which I think is pretty alright. It’s about being berated for leaving a relationship. Fun!
"big head"
This one’s about getting your ego deflated a little. In the little section with the breaks we typically do a thing where before the last one, Marin will ask someone in the crowd if we can play the rest of our song, and thankfully, a good amount of the time they say yes. The funniest thing that happened though was the one time my parents made it out to one of our shows, Marin asked my dad that question, but I guess he didn’t hear them well enough and thought that was an invitation to play bass on the song. There was like a small minute of confusion and I don’t think he ended up really getting it, so we just ended up awkwardly finishing out the song. Feels apt to the meaning of the song now that I think about it.
"green song"
This one is me trying to do some observational lyricism where I just kinda tried to take in the people around me, which particularly started off when I was feeling very down in Media, Pennsylvania. In that theme, it’s not the most positive, and details a lot of frustrations. Something you gotta realize about Pennsylvania, Philly included, believe it or not, is that it’s a really beautiful, green place. With that, I kind of encoded that visual atmosphere into my interpretation of the song, so it’s always felt green to me, hence the name.
"murray"
My dad used to drive this wine red Nissan Murano he called Murray. This song’s about that car and about not liking Los Angeles.
"marin has heelys"
One time in undergrad, I was on a date and we were walking around the campus, and who else but Marin rolls up behind us, wearing what else but their Heelys. It was pretty cool. This was one of the few times that the song title came before anything else, I just knew that had to be it. Besides that, the song is about finally learning to drive when you’re twenty years old.
"the bluffs"
If you couldn’t already tell by the incredibly gauche lyrics, this song was written when what was a very low point for me mentally; I was super anxious, was sleeping and eating a lot less, and just overall felt bad all the time. I was with my parents in LA during that time, and decided to go to these bluffs to do like a beach hike thing. I got down the bluffs via a really steep trail, and I walked along the rocky beach for like an hour or two before I decided I wanted to go back up. The next trail up, however, wasn’t for another roundabout or two. Not wanting to do that, I pretty much scaled up the side of the bluffs to get back to the street level. It was pretty cool because that distracted me for like a little bit, with the adrenaline hitting, but as soon as I got up there the feeling just sank right back in.
"(oh, you gotta have fun)"
The word of god manifests itself in many different ways. One night I decided to “reharmonize” gotta have fun to make it more jazzy and whatnot, made a voice memo and sent it to the band, and that became the first part of this song. The second part was me sitting at the piano in Hidden Fortress just telling Bridget to keep rolling and then playing some bullshit. Building off that bullshit, we turned it into a fun interlude track that basically gave us an excuse to record a bunch of little instruments. Matt even used a little box of nails for the percussion somewhere in there.
"lucky penny"
I wrote this song for my old band. It’s a bit more poppy, rips off Marietta a little, has a verse-chorus-verse-chorus thing going on; I uncovered it and sent it to the band, and they were like “we have to do this one,” and I was like “fuck.” I know it’s Matt’s favorite, but it’s definitely not mine, haha. That being said, the song kind of encapsulated the feeling I had one time when I was walking back to my apartment from the college library at like midnight in the winter, thinking “how awesome would it feel if I just fell in this snow and laid there for a while?” I didn’t do that, but I did write this song. The “lucky penny” part is because I saw a penny on the ground, but it was tails up, so instead of taking it, I just flipped it over for someone else to find.
"dog math"
Another attempt at observational lyricism on my end, but this time feeling more frustrated with myself because I was bogged down with my own shit. I was trying to distract myself by getting out into the city just to do something, but it didn’t really help me get past that mental block. A little bit of a callback to “the bluffs”, I guess. We were struggling to get a name for this one, then Matt suggested “dog math” because of the line about “psychoanalyzing my dog” and it stuck more than any other of the ideas we were having, so we ran with it.
"filbert hates you"
This one is more about just like a general frustration with people, in particular, stubborn people who are too dense to really look inwards and will die on their hills of idiocy. Some might say these lyrics could be turned right back around to apply to me, myself, but they would be wrong, because they don’t realize that I’m perfect and right all of the time. As for the song title, because it’s derived from a bit more of a nonspecific place, I had a harder time coming up with one, but then someone suggested “filbert hates you” and we were like “yeah. What if Filbert from Haunt Dog was evil?”
"delthorne park"
Once again, a song about not liking LA. It was about a point where I was just working part time and living with my parents, too tired to do anything after my work days, with not much to do even if I wasn’t. It kind of gave me one of those crises where I thought “christ, is this what the rest of my life could look like?” Thankfully I don’t live in the LA suburbs anymore, I live in Philly, where I can actually take public transit, walk places, and there’s way more cool music happening. Shoutouts to Collars and Jordan and all my friends out there, but I am so glad I’m not there anymore.
Gather 'round, boils and ghouls! It's time to get your freak on and shake the dust from those old bones! Oliver Ghoul is here to put down a sick beat for your next monster mash and/or wake, keeping spirits higher than even the lowest gallows humor. He's a man possessed by boogie fever and it's catching like the black death! Our intrepid ghost, erm, host was able to pry some of the gory details of his musick-making process and the reap-cording of his debut LP, Ghoul for You, out of his carcass for the latest episode of this here bog's podcasket. Grab yourself a shovel and dig in!
Sorry, getting into the spirit of the season there... All jokes aside, Oliver Ghoul is an impressive solo artist who is fantastic at what he does, creating a conicopia of psychedelic sounds drawing from '60s grooves, '70s funk, '90s hip-hop, and afternoons chillin' on the couch catching up on old school Scooby-Doo reruns that I thoroughly enjoy and relate to. I'm really pleased to present my interview with him below:
Check out Oliver's debut LP Fool for You:
