Fresh off two singles released earlier this year, Sub*T are back with a self-released four-song EP. So Green is a great sampler for the band, but works well as a release on its own without feeling thin. A two-piece consisting of opposite coast residents, Jade Alcantara and Grace Bennett, the band recorded the EP in Nashville with producer Alicia Bognanno (of Bully), although they are no strangers to trading song ideas and recorded parts online when separated by distance. According to an interview in Alternative Press, Alcantara and Bennett met online, bonded over music, and decided to learn how to play guitar so they could form a band together.
The opening track on So Green, “Bruce Banner,” is a bit deceptive — more upbeat than the rest of the EP, with the refrain of “I was so green” a reflection on youth rather than Hulk-like anger. The real meat of the EP for me is in the other three tracks, less catchy and less straightforward, perhaps, but weightier. The clever, vulnerable songwriting brings to mind 90’s Guided by Voices by way of pre-Bob Rock Veruca Salt. Through fuzzy riffs and twisting guitar lines, the musical layers belie the two-piece nature of the lineup, and the vocal harmonies between Alcantara and Bennett are well-placed. (I have to hope that their live shows push the vocals forward in the mix, because I think they drive the songs.)
A highlight track is “Fur on Porcelain;” from the lines “I’m notoriously surrealist” and “am I just a found object”, one must conclude the title is a reference to Méret Oppenheim’s 1936 sculpture Object (Le Déjeuner en fourrure), while the listlessness of the lyrics (“I’m willing, I am never able / always thinking, never saying”) point more at the impracticality of a fur teacup, and not the more erotic interpretations usually leveled at the piece.
There’s quite a bit of looking back here, both in sound and nostalgic lyrics, but Sub*T are poised to move forward with this first EP. Stream it on November 19 on Bandcamp or Spotify, and check out the band on YouTube. If you’re in Brooklyn, you can catch them with Been Stellar, Computerwife and Dinoboy at Elsewhere on November 21st.
Cover art for “Zorked,” the new solo album by Julia Shapiro
Zorked (adj.) – what happens when you end up thunderbaked, as in extremely stoned–or in any situation where you feel not sober. You can feel so tired you’re zorked.
The dictionary-style entry for the title of Julia Shapiro‘s latest solo effort, Zorked, defines the word but also goes a long way toward previewing the feel of the album. There is a stoner feel about the record — not as heavy as stoner metal, or as meandering as psychedelic rock, but somehow fitting right in with those two genres while not belonging to either of them. Rather, the music here can be loosely classified as shoegazey-dream pop.
Shapiro is well-known as a multi-instrumentalist, singing and playing guitar in Chastity Belt and Childbirth, and drumming in Who Is She? Her first solo record, Perfect Version, came out in 2019. After eight years in Seattle, it was time for a change, and Shapiro moved to LA…in March of 2020, which had to be a disorienting and isolating experience.
Julia Shapiro performing in 2017 (photo by Edwina Hay)
From the outset, Zorked has a dark tinge, with the lead track “Death (XIII)” beginning with throbbing guitars and Shapiro’s voice echoing out from behind them: “This is the end.” But overall, the record is less ‘apocalypse’ and more ‘never-ending sigh.’ In “Hellscape,” the verses speak of unpleasant, edgy boredom: “Wake each day / stare at my phone / the burden of being alive” and “take a walk / call a friend / the burden of staying awake.” It’s a combination of laziness and anxiety I think is extremely relatable.
Not everything is distortion; some tracks show a folk influence, and are suited to the woods. There are tremolo-laden solos (”Someone”) a spoken word track (”Reptile, Reptile”) and really interesting chord progressions (”Do Nothing About It.”) With no tracks over five minutes the record doesn’t get bogged down.
If a city is a sound, I didn’t really hear LA in this record, at first, until reading the press release for the album via her Bandcamp which calls it “a wasteland melting in slow-motion,” and that I definitely hear. Where Perfect Version was less heavy, more of a romp, these tracks feel endless. Not meandering, but without firm resolution. And that’s a perfect analogy for life these days — stoned and trying to figure out a direction, while waiting for the other shoe to drop.
LA based-band Mini Trees is really the solo effort of songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Lexi Vega. Raised by musician parents, Vega started young, and her talents are well-showcased on Always In Motion, the debut full length album released under the Mini Trees name (now out on Run For Cover Records). Previous single and EP releases have paved the way for these ten tracks, as well as Vega’s experience as a drummer in various bands.
This genre may be widely described as “bedroom pop,” but Mini Trees is self-described as “living room pop” which honestly fits better. The music is open and airy, more suited for lying on a couch beside a sunny window with curtains fluttering in the breeze, rather than curled up in bed sleeping. Here I’m reminded of Grouper, or maybe Hanne Hukkleberg.
Right from the start, with lead track “Moments In Between,” listeners are treated to ethereal soundscapes and lovely melodies. The music is never untethered, however — Vega’s bonafides as a drummer are very evident here. The production by Jon Joseph is glassy rather than glossy, light scattering across musical panes without ever being slick.
“Everyone’s nervous these days,” Vega sings on the second track “Doomsday,” and it’s a feeling captured throughout. There is a tremulous quality in the vocals and lyrics, in contrast to the surefootedness of the music, and it works very well. There is probably a lot going on in these tracks — I’ve never managed to comprehend programming synths or beats, it seems like magic — yet Vega manages to make it all sound so simple, her beautifully layered vocals coasting along waves of synth and guitar.
On the final track, Vega tells us “there’s no certainty until we reach the end,” yet the end of the album feels like a comma, rather than a period. Vega says of this (on the Mini Trees Bandcamp page): “Over the course of the album I teeter-totter between having questions and wanting answers, but the resolution is to be okay with not knowing.” Throughout the album, Vega uses the songs on Always In Motion to explore themes of identity, faith and perseverance.
Action Park may be a New York (Long Island, in particular) based band, but they’ve taken their name from the infamously dangerous waterpark in New Jersey, and it suits them well. I grew up going to amusement parks (Cedar Point baby!) and this record reminds me of fun, carefree late-teenage years, when we had the freedom of a car and the money from a summer job to take ourselves out to the roller coasters; yet still something bittersweet hung in the air, youth quickly slipping away with the season. In this way, the title of Action Park’s debut album You Must Be This Tall To Die is a fitting pun.
Billing themselves as “sad but rad,” Action Park are a four-piece consisting of Bobby DeQuillfeldt and Matt Riley on guitar and vocals, Vinny Carriero on bass and vocals, and Aaron Pagdon on drums. They declare their new album is “bound to be the soundtrack to your own personal comeback and then inevitable decline,” and You Must Be This Tall To Die is indeed filled with peppy, poppy hooks accompanied by sometimes less-than-peppy lyrics. Fans of NOFX and Lifetime will find a lot to love here.
Lead track “Wrong” kicks the record off in a catchy manner and that’s how the ride stays for the most part. The general vibe is that of 90’s skate punk with driving, constant guitars, melodic solos, and lively bass pinning things down, all behind shouty-singy vocals with plenty of ‘woah-oh-ohs.’ The fill-laden drums provided by Pagdon are a highlight, keeping the energy kinetic. Standout songs include “24 Months” (which is paired with “Wrong” as the first single) “Call Waiting” and “Breathless (Afrin and Sleeping Alone).”
The only misstep is in the last track, “Vacation Photos”, with an interlude of sampled dialog from Bojack Horseman that distracts from the music, but the intro/outro samples of vintage Action Park advertisements at the beginning and end of the record work perfectly to bookend what is overall an enjoyable romp.
It’s impossible to overstate the influence Pretty On The Inside had on me as a musician. Of course Live Through This is a masterpiece, with Courtney’s abrasiveness set against gorgeous melodies that break through the distortion, and mature songwriting skills from her and guitarist Eric Erlandson. But I already knew that melodic and loud was a possibility. From the start, I was drawn instead to the grittier side of Hole. Lucky for me, the very first time I heard them was on the “Violet” CD single, which in addition to the classic A-side contains a live rendition of “Whose Porno You Burn Black,” (a tweaked version of the end of “Burn Black,” a single track from 1991.) “It’s all whores, it’s all pain, it’s all disease man, it’s all the same!” Courtney screams, and I immediately knew I needed more of that raw version of Hole. Sure enough, there was more of that on POTI — within the first five seconds, in fact, as “When I was a teenage whore” comes grinding out of the speakers.
The rhythm on POTI is brutal, the guitars a slash of sonic meanness. Produced by Kim Gordon, (a piece of trivia I was proud to know and tell all my friends) and Don Fleming, it features a different lineup than what many people consider classic Hole, featuring Caroline Rue on drums and Jill Emery on bass — and with a different rhythm section, the vibe is very different, jumping along rather than gliding as on later Hole releases. The music can be derivative in places, but we forgive the blatant rip-off of Bauhaus’ “Dark Entries” in “Mrs. Jones,” because who doesn’t want to shred those four descending chords while growling “cry me a river baby, just take me home.”
“Mrs Jones” live in Paris 1991.
And it was vulgar. Holy shit was it vulgar. Abortions, jizz, blood, fucking, spread legs, dicks, no punches pulled, many punches thrown. There are other female fronted bands with obscene lyrics, but so often they are (very fun) taunting call out songs. That is here as well, but much of the vulgarity was internal. Courtney’s lyrics involve milk, disease, being gross, being in a weird body. I’ve heard people wonder (cruelly) what Kurt ever saw in Courtney. Have you looked at their lyrics against each other? These are two deeply weird people. Of course, when a man does it, it’s artistic and poetic. The collage-style artwork of the album and Hole flyers of the time also hammered home the ‘beautiful-turned-ugly’ aesthetic.
Sometimes people ask me how I can enjoy Courtney’s music, when she herself is such a messy person and has said some very strange and fucked up things in her time. “I’d love to have a drink with her, I’d never lend her my guitar” is what I like to answer. In the days before the internet was Everywhere, and we were trading bootlegs through the mail, I didn’t have every little thing she had ever said or done laid out in front of me. I had the music of a woman who had obviously Seen Some Shit and was absolutely not afraid to tell you about it, and she wasn’t going to get her point across in weeping acoustic confessionals.
Live footage (once only obtainable through aforementioned trading circles and eBay, now easily found on YouTube) reveals the rawness of these tracks even better. In particular I’d like to recommend this show from Boston in 1991 (watch out for the ‘artistic zooming in and out’), and this early 1990 version of their later-polished cover of “Gold Dust Woman.” Courtney is aggressive as she delivers these songs, a quality she never lost, even as Hole became a glossier sounding band. On stage is where all artifice falls away. (On stage and in cars – and good god does POTI absolutely RIP when coming out of a blown aftermarket sound system in a Buick Skylark; I was once mentioned in a local zine for doing just that in our high school parking lot.)
Hole- “Gold Dust Woman” 1990.
Which brings me to my bias: I like to think I have a special window into the feelings Hole songs, and especially the ones on POTI, evoke, because I have performed in a Hole cover band, Teenage Whores, for the past seven years. (Nothing is funnier than telling people you are a professional Courtney Love impersonator.) But I don’t have a monopoly on them. Watching over a hundred people scream “is she pretty on the inside, is she pretty FROM THE BACK?” thirty years later is a testament to the staying power of this album. The fact that it’s usually a majority non-cis male audience that comes to see us speaks volumes as well. The expectation to perform attractiveness in a society-approved fashion is something I think they all understand. Courtney didn’t perform it — she was vulgar, and strange, and exorcised her demons (or rallied them around her) in public for all to see. She was crucified for it.
In 1991, Pretty On The Inside was a revelation, and it remains so to this day.
