SATURDAY MAY 20, 2017
529 Presents:
Irrelevant Music Presents:
Art School Jocks
US Weekly
Fat Spirit | Femignome | Yankee Roses
Art School Jocks
The lyrics to "Just A Gwen," from Atlanta pop band Art School Jocks, may ring familiar to women. As guitarist Dianna Settles sings, over slinky, surf-y guitars and a dead-steady beat: "Carry your keys / Between your knuckles / You never know who's trying to follow you home / Smile back and / Say you're sorry / You shouldn't be out this late alone" - They're all part of a litany of reminders that most young women know by heart, a category of precautions we're supposed to take to protect ourselves from harassment or violence. The boredom is palpable in Settles' tone as she sings the catchy, repetitive melody, as if to imply: How many times have we heard this — and how many times has it failed us? This first single from the band's debut self-titled EP is a great example of why Art School Jocks self-applied the description "existential basement pop," with its hooky melody and weighty subject matter (and its titular reference of another pop tribute to frustrating assumptions about womanhood). By taking back the familiar, frustrating language of these safety tips, the band aims to expose their hypocrisy. "'Just a Gwen' is one reminder in a long lineage of reminders that we live in a society that places the responsibility for harassment and rape prevention on the women affected by it," the band says in an email to NPR Music. "Campus organizations, articles and pamphlets suggest ways to avoid becoming a target ranging from self-defense pointers to more conservative fashion recommendations, rather than educating men on consent and the harm of sexual harassment." More than just an eyeroll, "Just a Gwen" is a rallying cry against the assumption that avoiding harassment ought to be the job of those at risk of being harassed.
Art School Jocks comes out June 2 on Father/Daughter.
The lyrics to "Just A Gwen," from Atlanta pop band Art School Jocks, may ring familiar to women. As guitarist Dianna Settles sings, over slinky, surf-y guitars and a dead-steady beat: "Carry your keys / Between your knuckles / You never know who's trying to follow you home / Smile back and / Say you're sorry / You shouldn't be out this late alone" - They're all part of a litany of reminders that most young women know by heart, a category of precautions we're supposed to take to protect ourselves from harassment or violence. The boredom is palpable in Settles' tone as she sings the catchy, repetitive melody, as if to imply: How many times have we heard this — and how many times has it failed us? This first single from the band's debut self-titled EP is a great example of why Art School Jocks self-applied the description "existential basement pop," with its hooky melody and weighty subject matter (and its titular reference of another pop tribute to frustrating assumptions about womanhood). By taking back the familiar, frustrating language of these safety tips, the band aims to expose their hypocrisy. "'Just a Gwen' is one reminder in a long lineage of reminders that we live in a society that places the responsibility for harassment and rape prevention on the women affected by it," the band says in an email to NPR Music. "Campus organizations, articles and pamphlets suggest ways to avoid becoming a target ranging from self-defense pointers to more conservative fashion recommendations, rather than educating men on consent and the harm of sexual harassment." More than just an eyeroll, "Just a Gwen" is a rallying cry against the assumption that avoiding harassment ought to be the job of those at risk of being harassed.
Art School Jocks comes out June 2 on Father/Daughter.
US Weekly
Imagine screaming alone at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Strands of barbed wire cutting across the desert sky. Speeding off miles away from the city, but taking all of the baggage of daily life and strife there with you. A phantom in the backseat dragging a finger from the base of your skull down the length of your spine. Some special varnish runs through this music, delivered with crackling force. Austin’s US Weekly attempt to lasso the tornado that is the wild concept of Ideas. A grasp at the thin air of what it is to even be a human being, to paint a picture, to play a song. This is the score to you smiling amusedly from the lowest pit of your self. “Christian Ideas” is a woozy traipse across asphalt, skittering riffs anchored down by a gravel-crunching beat. Vocalist Christopher Nordahl snarls and barks, vacillating wildly between personal failures and harsh demands. The track reaches its end with the band begging for an answer- surely at the sky- shouting: “Why do I wake up in the night screaming?” The proficiency of the band’s instrumental interplay really shows on Ideas’ second track, “Walls”. Bass riffs veer off into unknown alleys, guitar and drums dance around each other maddeningly. Nordahl’s lyrics are phenomenally poetic, decrees of frustration and anxiety summoned up from the depths of a struggling soul. US Weekly stands out scarily and strongly amongst the steady supply of hardcore punk bands navigating the 21st century. Their off-kilter and upsetting ravage ‘n’ roll is unique, packing emotional punch and a literary voice. Ideas is an exorcism of heart-aching self-consciousness and confusion, a temporary trap door escape route for the emptiness within yourself. With every listen, it cuts away at that distasteful distance between who you are and why you’re here.
Imagine screaming alone at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Strands of barbed wire cutting across the desert sky. Speeding off miles away from the city, but taking all of the baggage of daily life and strife there with you. A phantom in the backseat dragging a finger from the base of your skull down the length of your spine. Some special varnish runs through this music, delivered with crackling force. Austin’s US Weekly attempt to lasso the tornado that is the wild concept of Ideas. A grasp at the thin air of what it is to even be a human being, to paint a picture, to play a song. This is the score to you smiling amusedly from the lowest pit of your self. “Christian Ideas” is a woozy traipse across asphalt, skittering riffs anchored down by a gravel-crunching beat. Vocalist Christopher Nordahl snarls and barks, vacillating wildly between personal failures and harsh demands. The track reaches its end with the band begging for an answer- surely at the sky- shouting: “Why do I wake up in the night screaming?” The proficiency of the band’s instrumental interplay really shows on Ideas’ second track, “Walls”. Bass riffs veer off into unknown alleys, guitar and drums dance around each other maddeningly. Nordahl’s lyrics are phenomenally poetic, decrees of frustration and anxiety summoned up from the depths of a struggling soul. US Weekly stands out scarily and strongly amongst the steady supply of hardcore punk bands navigating the 21st century. Their off-kilter and upsetting ravage ‘n’ roll is unique, packing emotional punch and a literary voice. Ideas is an exorcism of heart-aching self-consciousness and confusion, a temporary trap door escape route for the emptiness within yourself. With every listen, it cuts away at that distasteful distance between who you are and why you’re here.
Fat Spirit
A splendid mix of dark power pop, shoegaze and grunge, Fat Spirit’s newest record is one you need to add into your rotation if you aren’t hip to them already. The four-piece, which consists of Ian McQuary (guitar), Matty Seabass (bass), John Graham (vocals/guitar), and Robert Lindstedt (drums), will drop their new album Nihilist Blues April 16 via RVA label Citrus City Records and follow it up with a slew of Richmond shows and larger tour. Fat Spirit recently released the teaser track "Cave" off the upcoming nine-track release. The teaser starts out very grungey, giving you all the 90s Nirvana feels, but as it progresses, it gets a little more upbeat and catchy. As for the album, Seabass said listeners can expect a few different sounds.
A splendid mix of dark power pop, shoegaze and grunge, Fat Spirit’s newest record is one you need to add into your rotation if you aren’t hip to them already. The four-piece, which consists of Ian McQuary (guitar), Matty Seabass (bass), John Graham (vocals/guitar), and Robert Lindstedt (drums), will drop their new album Nihilist Blues April 16 via RVA label Citrus City Records and follow it up with a slew of Richmond shows and larger tour. Fat Spirit recently released the teaser track "Cave" off the upcoming nine-track release. The teaser starts out very grungey, giving you all the 90s Nirvana feels, but as it progresses, it gets a little more upbeat and catchy. As for the album, Seabass said listeners can expect a few different sounds.
Femignome
"There is a laid-back ease to Femignome’s lo-fi punk that could easily be misconstrued as nod-and-wink slacker rock. The music is loose and — on the surface, at least — blissful in a manner that goes down easy. Tracks like the infectious opener “Teenage Monster” and “I Hate High School” are coated in caustic humor, taking swipes at societal norms while navigating the emotional land mines of youthful unease and despair with songwriting that is both clever and catchy. But, to put it simply, guitarist/vocalist Anna Jacobson is far too earnest to associate with a genre built on enshrouding irony and detachment in music that is breezy and relaxed. At times it feels like she can’t quite contain her enthusiasm and all that excess energy spills over into her vocals resulting in an assortment of yelps, squeals, and screams that puncture her hooks and lend the album an air of unpredictability. And it’s that tension — the one between Jacobson’s zealous entreaties and Femignome’s casual, swinging grooves — that makes Anxt so compelling. At their core, these are simple songs rooted in ’60s pop and early ’90s alt-punk that feel warmly familiar, and it only takes a few listens before the urge to sing along sets in. Currently, Femignome’s trajectory is pointing towards a steep incline and Anxt‘s infectious melodies and effortless cool will only accelerate the group’s ascent. There are only a handful of moments over the course of a year where you can hear and feel a band begin to separate themselves from the rest of the scene, and this is undoubtedly one of them. Anxt is snappy, smart, and exceedingly entertaining." -Immersive Atlanta
"There is a laid-back ease to Femignome’s lo-fi punk that could easily be misconstrued as nod-and-wink slacker rock. The music is loose and — on the surface, at least — blissful in a manner that goes down easy. Tracks like the infectious opener “Teenage Monster” and “I Hate High School” are coated in caustic humor, taking swipes at societal norms while navigating the emotional land mines of youthful unease and despair with songwriting that is both clever and catchy. But, to put it simply, guitarist/vocalist Anna Jacobson is far too earnest to associate with a genre built on enshrouding irony and detachment in music that is breezy and relaxed. At times it feels like she can’t quite contain her enthusiasm and all that excess energy spills over into her vocals resulting in an assortment of yelps, squeals, and screams that puncture her hooks and lend the album an air of unpredictability. And it’s that tension — the one between Jacobson’s zealous entreaties and Femignome’s casual, swinging grooves — that makes Anxt so compelling. At their core, these are simple songs rooted in ’60s pop and early ’90s alt-punk that feel warmly familiar, and it only takes a few listens before the urge to sing along sets in. Currently, Femignome’s trajectory is pointing towards a steep incline and Anxt‘s infectious melodies and effortless cool will only accelerate the group’s ascent. There are only a handful of moments over the course of a year where you can hear and feel a band begin to separate themselves from the rest of the scene, and this is undoubtedly one of them. Anxt is snappy, smart, and exceedingly entertaining." -Immersive Atlanta