Albums and Videos – Ezra's Ear

December 16, 2020Aarik Ibanez

“Be Happy” by Dixie D’Amelio: A poorly written, generic pop song that shows off the TikTok stars’ sub-par vocal ability.

D’Amelio’s debut single is topping billboards and crushing competition but does not offer any real musical intrigue.

TikTok, the sensational social media app that allows users to share and view short videos, has thrusted a host of individuals into the spotlight of fame. Among those most brightly illuminated by TikTok’s searing beam of celebrity is the charismatic and easy-going Dixie D’Amelio. She first started gaining popularity in early 2020 and has now amounted to over beam of celebrity is the 34.6 million followers on the app. Though she was first known as Charli D’Amelio’s older sister, she has, since then, has created a name for herself by releasing her own single, “Be Happy.” To date, this song has accumulated close to 40 million streams on Spotify, 80 million views on YouTube, and has cracked the top charts in the US. An impressive feat for someone who, prior to TikTok, was completely unknown to the world. Does “Be Happy” have the musical intrigue to warrant the tremendous amount of attention it has been receiving?

The song opens with an acoustic guitar repeating a simple riff accompanied by D’Amelio’s average vocals. In a flurry, the addition of snaps on the two and four along with a basic rhythm from a kick drum, a rhythmic drive takes over causing us to unconsciously start tapping our foot. We are then sent into the pre chorus where the atmosphere changes and becomes more spacious as we lose the rhythmic drive provided by the snaps and kick drum. After a short rest we are launched into the celebrated chorus where D’Amelio sings ‘Sometimes I don’t wanna be happy’ complimented by an energetic musical accompaniment. The lyrics are quite sad as D’Amelio speaks about her struggles with depression and tries to communicate this idea in a playful way, through the use of an upbeat and catchy instrumental track. D’Amelio uses the upbeat and catchy vibe of the song in order to show how our generation often deals with depression, through the use of humor or making their struggles sound more jovial than they actually are. The upbeat nature allows the true meaning of the song to be concealed underneath the music, a similar technique many individuals in our generation employ in order to conceal their depression. At best this is a mediocre attempt at creating what feels like a generic pop song. Though it has a catchy hook and has clearly been professionally mixed and mastered, D’Amelio’s vocals are quite insipid. Despite the generic nature of this pop song with no real appeal, it has managed to climb the charts and experience huge amounts of success, thus showing the power social media fame has nowadays and how it has completely revolutionized the music industry. Without the existence of TikTok, artists like D’Amelio would stand no chance at receiving the kind of success she has. In the global romper room of TikTok being followed is better – and more lucrative – than leading. Starry-eyed influencers like D’Amelio can seamlessly transition from one form of entertainment to another and experience tremendous amounts of success, regardless of whether or not they possess any real talent.

December 15, 2020Emily Hurwitz

PLASTIC HEARTS ALBUM DISCUSSION: Miley Cyrus

Emily Hurwitz & Andie Chapman

Filled with exciting collaborations, Miley Cyrus’s new album, reveals a pop-inspired deep dive into the world of 1980s synth-punk.

From the days of Disney to being publicly shamed for her VMA performance with Robin Thicke to starting the Happy Hippie Foundation to advocate for vulnerable populations, Miley Cyrus has [maybe lived her entire life] always been in the public eye. She has gone out of her way to create her own independent, fearless image amidst an oppressive music industry and negative public perception. When the band SWMRS wrote an entire song about Miley, calling her a “punk rock queen,” it seemed out of place. I clearly failed to see Miley’s versatility at the time; in my mind, she was a pop star. She continues to prove her musical versatility, as on November 27, 2020, she released her first rock album, Plastic Hearts. This bold 80s-inspired album, filled with pop and rock collaborations, has since climbed to the top of Billboard’s rock charts.

Compared to her eclectic discography, Plastic Hearts is a leather-studded, new sound. In 2015, she wrote a psychedelic record, Miley Cyrus & Her Dead Petz, and two years later pivoted to country with Younger Now. Miley has explored several genres, with her increasingly raspy timbre guiding her towards rock. The punk-ish era kicked off with a series of covers and a Stevie Nicks-sampling cover. Digitally, the covers bejewel the end of the album, including “Zombie” by The Cranberries and “Heart of Glass” by Blondie. This week’s Riot Grrrl (with all three r’s) is Miley Cyrus with her fresh studio album, Plastic Hearts. Here are our thoughts on some tracks! Are they riotous enough?

“WTF Do I Know”

A: Miley unravels lyrically in the opening track, lines stinging with pure honesty atop a dark bassline. The instrumental strikes me as forgettable; her nuance lies in her voice and words. Her delivery feels authentic yet the melodies are unsurprising. While listening I was flooded with comparisons from my emo phase. Bands such as All Time Low, Fall Out Boy, and Jimmy Eat World have created the easy-listening rock songs that fit snugly into a radio rotation. Miley is adding one more, bringing a standout message with a familiar, shadowy guitar sound.

E: The first notes of the bass line draw listeners into the album, enticing them with mystery, and the musical lines build until the chorus where Cyrus explodes with her raw, rocking vocals. It’s catchy for an opening song, but a bit cliché. The blasé guitar solo in the middle sounds too standard for Cyrus’s experimentation with rock and punk. While I hate to compare her to her Disney channel character, I couldn’t help but think the whole time that this sounds like an alt version of Hannah Montana.

“Night Crawling” (feat. Billy Idol)

A: Miley Cyrus and Billy Idol conjured a camp, eighties-loving song, following the new pop pattern of drawing from a synthy era. Billy Idol’s voice sounds a bit austere over the high-production track. It’s glossy without any of the prized imperfections of punk music. The melody, again, is predictable, and the lyrics don’t save the track either. Miley’s rasp shines in the last chorus though as she ad-libs with Idol. Knowing how experimental and innovative she can be from her psychedelic era in 2015, I left this track disappointed. Sorry Billy.

E: “Night Crawling” stands out on this album — it’s synth-filled, but not with the standard formula of today’s pop songs. Rather, it goes back to the roots of synthpop with a definite 1980s style. Miley’s gritty vocals throughout the song stand in stark contrast to the smooth sounds of the synth, making for a unique texture that is rare on the more produced side of new-wave and punk. Billy Idol, who led England’s punk scene in the 1970s as a member of Generation X and rocked multiple generations with “Rebel Yell,” is the perfect collaborator for this song. This connection alone brings Cyrus more credibility in the world of punk rock, something that will be valuable to her if she continues her new direction into rock.

“Bad Karma” (feat. Joan Jett)

A: Yes! The nearly-moaned vocals that surrounded the track feel strange in an exciting, sexy way. Her lyrics are unadulterated, admittance gleaming: “I’ve always picked a giver ‘cause I’ve always been the taker / I’d rather just do it, then I’ll think about it later.” The chorus feels classic eighties rock yet nuanced. Joan Jett’s voice is punk distilled, crowning the track. Their voices on one track, singing these brutally honest lines, is modern punk rock by women.

E: Cyrus and Joan Jett, punk music extraordinaire, both have histories of feminist activism and stand as notoriously powerful females in their respective genres. In 2015, Cyrus gave the induction speech for Jett’s induction into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Here, they come together again for a head-banging anthem. In the same manner as “WTF Do I Know,” “Bad Karma” starts out with just a minimalistic backing beat and grunting “uh huhs.” The chorus hints at a bit of country twang in the way Cyrus sings words like “say” and “heart,” which is a quality not usually heard in this genre but is refreshing. Perhaps her country roots will be how Cyrus redefines punk for herself on later albums. This song is not a hard-rocking track; instead, its power comes in the potential energy that explodes in the bridge when she sings “I don’t give a fuck, I don’t believe in love.” In my opinion, this is the best track on the album. It’s unique and radiates a certain energy that brings us back to the early days of feminist punk.

“Golden G String”

A: I’m not fond of the ballads on this record, but “Golden G String” glitters with tongue-in-cheek lyrics and a cutesy melody, swinging up and down like a good conversation, moments of glee and moments of blue. “Golden G String” is an ode to the judgmental media world, their ignorance of depth. Miley sings with love about her wild nature and owning her powerful personality, but admits she is still growing, trying to work it out. The instrumental blooms gradually, synths appearing and drawing back. Moments of this song are just Miley and a soft, electric piano. She mentions a “place” in the chorus, and wishing to walk away, but decides on staying – this is the world that her art can flourish in, and Miley makes peace with the press.

E: Though Plastic Hearts may be too abundant with ballads, “Golden G String” stands as an emotional song with poignant lyrics. Cyrus sings of her struggles with the media shaming her sexuality, with lines like “There are layers to this body / Primal sex and primal shame / They told me I should cover it / So I went the other way.” She laments that we live in a man’s world where they “hold all the cards,” but even in the title of the song, Cyrus uses her sexuality as her power. It’s her own, and no one can take that from her no matter how hard they may try to tame her. In fact, 2020 marks “Can’t Be Tamed”’s tenth anniversary.

Plastic Hearts Full Tracklist

Takeaways

A: Even though I found this record rather over-produced, the lyrical content is resplendent with Miley’s honesty. She makes her art with unfettered love and expression. Her voice and words are punk, but the instrumentals and melodies are not. Perhaps we shouldn’t label her; such complex and colorful personalities don’t need to be shoved into an easy-to-read archetype. She is a pop star that transforms, evolves, and creates albums when she feels anew.

E: Like most albums, Plastic Hearts is a mixed bag, this one being of innovative 80s-inspired tracks and other songs that prove nothing more than forgettable. She caters a bit too hard to pop fans before easing them into her rock side, though this album may in the future stand as a purely transitory time. The collaborative tracks with Dua Lipa, Joan Jett, Billy Idol, and Stevie Nicks are the highlights of this album and are remarkable songs that bridge generations. Plastic Hearts may not be Cyrus’s best album, but it’s an exciting and pivotal moment in her career. If nothing else, it shows how diverse Miley’s musical endeavors can be and establishes her rightful place in the punk rock scene.

December 15, 2020Jonah Levine

A Birthday Salute to John Lennon

Artists pay tribute to the beloved Beatle on his big day.

The Empire State Building shimmered sky blue on October 9^th. A peace sign shone against its spire. One thousand feet below, the world remembered John Lennon on what would have been his 80^th birthday. John’s son, Sean, who organized the Empire State lighting, coordinated a collection of additional tributes for the occasion. After performing his father’s song, “Isolation,” on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, Sean encouraged the music community to produce their own covers of John Lennon’s solo works. His call was answered with enthusiasm from musicians eager to pay homage to their musical hero.

Of all the tributes given, Sean’s performance of “Isolation” was perhaps the most arresting. Standing before the camera, he didn’t have to sing one note to conjure the image of his father. His free-flowing hair, angular nose, and ovular glasses were enough. But sing he did, making the resemblance all the more profound. Sean skated across verses with the mellow melodicism of a young, mop-top John. Hitting the bridge, he beckoned the vivacious howl that became a staple of his father’s later works. Sean backed his vocals with loose, heavy swipes at his electric guitar—an unorthodox rhythm style championed by, as you might have guessed, John Lennon. A mere smudge of the camera lens could have duped viewers into believing they’re watching John himself.

Following Sean’s lead, Rufus Wainwright took to Instagram to post a cover of “Mother,” a heartfelt ballad which Lennon wrote of his parents, who were never sufficiently present in his upbringing. Wainwright, known for his scintillating tenor voice—and for taking a break from his pop career to compose a full-length French opera—seized the opportunity to flaunt his classical abilities. Slowing the song down, he carefully carved a collection of notes into every phrase of the first verse. Intermittent silence between lines was broken by the soft trickle of notes dripping off of a grand piano in the background. Moving through the song, Wainwright slowly sheds his articulate embellishments for a more resonant, emotive tone. Upon reaching the refrain, he lets his shimmering trill carrying him through the end. Wainwright’s gentle, sentimental approach acknowledges the solemnity of the song’s content. His performance reminds us that while Lennon was the comic, clever popstar whose face was printed on lunch pails worldwide, he was also complex, sincere, and unafraid to express his inner thoughts and feelings through his music.

It’s often said that John Lennon inspired musicians of all genres. This notion was affirmed when Kevin Parker, the man behind the experimental, psychedelic phenomenon Tame Impala, threw his hat into the rink, posting a cover of Lennon’s “Jealous Guy” on Instagram. Stripped from the bright lights and electronic effects that usually accompany his performances, Parker is filmed lying in bed with a sole acoustic guitar—an image reminiscent of Lennon’s famed “Bed-Ins for Peace.” Parker’s throaty wine and simple guitar are prudent and unadorned. This raw style pairs well with Lennon’s unencrypted lyrics. Lines like “I was feeling insecure/ You might not love me anymore,” refuse to hide behind a wall of metaphors and symbolism. In this confessionary song, Lennon means as he says, openly reflecting upon his faults as a husband. Parker, shelving his usual electronics to go acoustic, embraces the honest, unvarnished nature of Lennon’s music in his tribute.

One final tribute came from Jeff Tweedy of Wilco, who uploaded a cover of Lennon’s song “God” to YouTube. Recording from his home studio in Chicago, Tweedy’s was backed by his son, Spencer, on drums, and his son’s childhood friend, Liam Kazar, on bass. Standing at the forefront of the frame, Tweedy draws a few jangled chords out of his acoustic guitar to the soft, steady tap of the drum. The easy undercurrent of instrumentation is quickly pierced by Tweedy’s gravelly croon. With little regard for pitch or melody, his performance more closely resembles spoken word than song. This style is most fitting for the chosen song, which is a potent proclamation of Lennon’s philosophy on life. It is with utmost purpose and conviction that Tweedy sings such striking likes as “God is a concept by which we measure our pain” and “I don’t believe in Jesus/ I don’t believe in Kennedy… I don’t believe in Beatles/ I just believe in me.” In Lennon’s day, few artists wrote so directly about themselves. Even fewer had the bravery to convey their deepest, unfiltered philosophies in song. Cautiously aware of the difficulties of performing one of Lennon’s most personal pieces on this day of tribute, Tweedy abstains from musical showmanship. The lyrics, still pulsing with the energy which John breathed into them so many years ago, need little musical support to make an artistic statement.

From his flaring voice to his sloppy guitar style, Lennon’s signature sound lives within each of these performances. Then again, these imitations might not be intentional. Tweedy is known for his loose rhythm playing. Wainwright and Parker constantly reach decorate their vocals with high, airy trills. It’s hard to say for sure, but one could argue that Lennon’s influence reaches deeper than these tribute songs, touching how these artists developed their own sounds. Perhaps these tributes are not only celebrations, but payments of debt to a man who moved music forward, providing inspiration for countless performers. Of course, as these performances show, Lennon’s influence goes far beyond sound. While Dylan spoke through symbolism and Springsteen through story, Lennon just spoke, delivering his raw, candid thoughts to the world. Sean Lennon, Wainwright, Parker, Tweedy, you and I listened. We listened to his far-reaching, forthright messages of truth, peace, and love. We will be listening for the next eighty years to come.

December 13, 2020Jonah Levine

EC’s New EP

Elvis Costello continues to reinvent his sound in his latest release, Newspaper Pane.

Nobody put him up to this. Sitting atop a trove of chart-gracing hits, Elvis Costello did not need another album to secure his legacy as the grandfather of British pop-punk. He certainly didn’t need the money, either. Yet the sixty-six-year-old songwriter stepped into the studio once more, and yet again, he refuses to play the role of rock-star-retiree. While his contemporaries are reliving their glory days, writing boilerplate tunes in the keys of their former successes, Costello is moving forward. His new five song EP, “Newspaper Pane,” incorporates genres from New Orleans Jazz to Alternative Rock, reaching into territories previously unconnected to the Costello catalog. The EP will be annexed as part of Costello’s 31^st studio album, Hey Clockface, which is set for release on October 30^th (yes, you read that correctly—his thirty-first studio album).

The EP’s opening track, “Newspaper Pane,” enters upon a hollow soundscape, which is suddenly cut by the discordant twinge of an electric guitar. A backbeat clicks into place, manufacturing an industrial groove. For a moment, listeners may be fooled into believing that they’re playing someone else’s track; the monotonous, percussive instrumentation is far removed from Costello’s classic projective, guitar-laden tone. Then, a squealing, nasal voice punches through the mix, leaving no doubt of the artist’s identity. The first lines paint a scene of a woman deserted in her dilapidated apartment. She plasters newspapers to the wall “to keep out the nonsense/ to block out the needing.” His poeticism primed, Costello winds through rhymes with a flicker of Dylan-esque symbolism and a flair of his own fatalist wit. The song’s energy surges into the third verse, “Pictures of bright futures somehow ignored/ That offered her finery she could never afford/ Tempting out savings that she didn’t have or could never risk/ Not a fashionable kindness, it was grotesque.” Costello’s evocative appeal against the corrosive effects of tabloids and other sensationalized media is poignant here, and extends throughout the rest of the song. True to his style, Costello rattles off imaginative, vivid verses faster than we have time to process them. Upon the line “A bent note on a horn I can’t play,” a row of tart, trite trumpets intervene, moving Costello’s cultural grievances forward with greater intensity. Costello’s bellicose voice balances the broody instrumentation, producing a song that is classic in content and novel in sound.

If the EP’s first song steps into unmarked territory, the second song, “Hey Clockface / How Can You Face Me?” catapults Costello into another galaxy. Rather than revert to his pop-punk roots or elaborate upon the alternative rock aura articulated in the previous track, Costello takes a dive into jazz. No, he was not just inspired by jazz. He did merely not incorporate elements of jazz into his song. Costello is swinging and scatting (yes, scatting!) with the vigor of a New Orleans trumpeter. Bouncing rhymes off a beat of bass and brass, Costello croons to a clockface, wishing for its hands to slow down and give him more time. The song’s campy, fantastical pitch connects seamlessly with the swinging beat, producing a truly vaudevillian tune. A second seal of authenticity is stamped into the EP’s liner notes—Costello is backed by the Parisian jazz ensemble Le Quintette Saint Germaine. As a whole, this formidable facsimile of swing jazz further proves Costello’s abilities to succeed in any genre.

After strolling about the French Quarter, Costello circles back to the desolate cityscape of alternative rock in his third song, “We Are All Cowards Now.” The song begins with one long ooooh—a harmony of layered backing vocals. Then, as quickly as he teases this morsel of pop, he subverts it in a miasma of static and white noise. Pressure builds into a frictional stroke of percussion and is released with a resonant twang of electric guitar. This repeats again and again into a mechanical beat. Costello’s voice chimes in, offering a cryptic critique of war. Lines, such as “pretty confetti, chemical debt/ A necessity to bleed,” are eloquent. However, together these verses fail to make a coherent point or paint a descriptive story. While aesthetically pleasing, Costello’s lyrics fail to distinguish themselves from the heap of poetry that laments the terrors of war. Still, the song is redeemable beyond the writing. Costello injects his lyrics with a melodramatic melody that locks in with the obscure, experimental beat, producing an eclectic and intriguing sound.

Costello continues his theme of sensational journalism in the EP’s fourth track, “Hetty O’Hara Confidential.” The tune follows Hetty O’Hara, a deft journalist whose well-followed gossip column “could kill a man with one single stroke.” Yet all her power and influence could not prevent her fall from grace. After publishing scandalous piece about the wrong person, O’Hara is assassinated by a vengeful vigilante. Costello comments “they’ve got witch trials now/ with witches to spare… Hetty said “I’m powerless and I feel alone”/ Now everyone has a megaphone.” Costello’s story is a vivid portrayal of the powers and perils of modern media. It would make quite the page-turner if ever sent to print. Yet, we may be more fortunate to receive this in the form of song. Costello builds a boisterous beat by layering snippets of himself beatboxing, which combine with his raucous vocals to create a sound just as hair-raising as the story he tells.

The fifth and final track, “No Flag,” is a homecoming for Costello. While it lacks the same initiative for innovation as heard on previous tracks, there’s praise to be made in mastering nostalgia. Costello’s opening whine, “I’ve got no religion, I’ve got no philosophy,” could be plucked straight out of his years of youthful rebellion. Bright guitars and abrasive vocals pull more notes into the melody than previous tracks, further achieving the pop-punk aesthetic of Costello’s earliest albums. If it seems out of place for a senior citizen to be wailing of his inability to fit in with mainstream society, remember that this is Elvis Costello. He clearly saved up enough cultural angst in the 1970s to last him the next half-century of his career. The rebellious content is not disingenuous, it’s just Elvis being Elvis. To be sure, “No Flag” is not a complete repackaging of ancient material. The electronically altered organ and synthetic drum machine pepper the song with enough modernity to make this seemingly classic song coherent with the other, more experimental tracks on the EP.

Costello’s new EP spans an impressive range of sounds for its size. For those in search of alternative rock, “Newspaper Pane” and “We Are All Cowards Now” provide a modern, metallic feel. Meanwhile, those longing for the jazz of yore will find comfort in “Hey Clockface / How Can You Face Me.” For the bookish listener, the fourth track, “Hetty O’Hara Confidential,” is a delectable piece of fiction. Finally, Costello invites his veteran fans into the fold with “No Flag,” a shimmering homage to his past tempestuousness. With such variety, one can only begin to imagine what genres Costello will explore in his full album, Hey Clockface, set for release on Friday.

December 9, 2020Andie Chapman

Where to Start by Bully: Fiery, Catchy Modern Punk

Where to Start is the first single and music video from Bully’s third studio album SUGAREGG, exploding with melody and singer and songwriter Alicia Bognanno’s passionate screams.

Quarantine-induced music has ribboned magic into the strangest of times. Artists free from the endless rush of tour are allotted unorthodox amounts of time for their minds to unfurl. Alicia Bognanno, known to the music world as Bully, returns with her third record SUGAREGG, released August 21st, 2020. “Where to Start” launched the project into cyberspace with raspy vocals, indelible bass-lines, and guitar riffs full of fun fury. This bouncy, cathartic punch of a song begs to be played live in a room of sweat-dripping, raucous punks. It is riot grrrl with the heart of a poet. “Where to Start” chronicles Bognanno’s bipolar II disorder, and her strife reflects artfully in the lyrics and accompanying video. The video is a frenetic colorful rush that feels like the inside of one’s brain, a dream visualized. Colors splash one after the other on screen, superimposed with footage of Alicia singing, playing bass, playing guitar, performing wildly in her home. We follow her on a journey of whim, desperation, and anger. Aligning with “I live for you to tear me apart,” three separate shots of Bognanno are shown of her holding a knife to her palm, undoing her braids, and wailing on guitar. The music video is a prism of mood. There is a grunge-like nature to the visuals; film grain, smudges, and distortion. From electric blue to deep red, the aesthetics give off a synesthetic quality. Vivid abstract flares and textures render the song a moving painting with Bognanno superimposed like a modern-art exhibit. The juxtaposition of color and Bognanno’s home feels like an autobiographical dreamscape. It is her likeness, her scrunched expression, guitar playing, and a bloody nose in the shower that feels incredibly personal, but dreamlike due to the ever-changing colors. Alicia splatters paint on a canvas while the lyrics “You turn me back into a child / erratic, desperate, sad, and wild” ring out. The agitated, manic nature of the lyrics and overdriven guitar melt perfectly together.

SUGAREGG is a capricious whirlwind of an album in rock music today. “Where to Start” is brimming with emotion, the fast-pulsing punk that one can lose themselves in, whether in a bedroom alone or on a run. The song is multidimensional, any mood (except for bedtime wind-down time) can enjoy this song. Now is the time to rock out. There are few artists who swell with the howling emotion of Bully in 2020. SUGAREGG demands a listen.

December 6, 2020Patricia Ku

Oh, To Be a Fish Adored By Harry Styles

6 years after departing from One Direction, Styles picks up an adoring new sidekick – a fish from the remote island of Eroda.

Art by Katherine Ku

“He made me feel…very invested in the future of the fish.”

The only person able to generate this effect on another is none other than Harry Edward Styles.

Since his 6-year journey with One Direction, Styles released his first album as a solo artist in 2017. While his fellow (disbanded) bandmembers also embarked on solo journeys, Styles has retained by far the most generous and supportive fan base, who have experienced an agonizing two years of waiting for Styles’s new album Fine Line.

It was well worth the wait, though. Style’s resurgence to the music scene last December included the drop of the music video for his new single “Adore You,” featuring Styles and his best friend – a gold-mottled fish.

Rather than jump right into the song, the music video plays a 2:30 introduction comparable to a short film. Many viewers, I included, appreciated this mini cinematic detour. The voice of Spanish singer-songwriter Rosalia begins the narration followed by a snapshot of the gloomy, frown-shaped island of Eroda. The story tells of a young boy, Styles, from Eroda’s fishing village who has a special ability to blind people with his luminous smile. The boy continues to be ostracized by the ever-frowning villagers and attempts to drown himself among the weather-beaten boulders by the shore. He is immediately stopped by a small, golden fish that threw itself onto one of the rocks. The irony. Fate has brought the two outsiders together, rescuing each other from death.

No, it’s not a real place. I am also devastated.

The song begins right then. Aside from Styles’s magnetic, irresistible smile amidst the colorless fishing village and cheerless Erodeans, the song’s groovy and bubbling beat that seems to evoke an underwater ebullience, is the only other source of light. Decorated with a pulsing synth and bass, the instrumental introduction sets the pace for Styles’s highly time-sensitive mission to get the fish to a safe place, while simultaneously keeping listeners in anticipation.

The lyrics don’t immediately make people think of a relationship between a human and a fish. But they tell the simple, sweet excitement of stumbling upon someone during a rough patch and finding joy in each other’s presence. Styles starts off the song strong and marching, but alone. He then rolls into a progressive rhythm until he hits the climax of the chorus, singing in falsetto with layers of self-harmonies and subtle veiled vocals, all of these musical features most appropriately paired with montages of Styles and his fish picnicking and dancing atop a mountain. The ultimate pairing.

It’s a love song and a romantic film, but in the most platonic way.

According to a devoted listener, “I was really sad when [the fish] crashed through the glass, but then I felt very hopeful when people came to help carry it. I really liked how cinematic it was,” referring to the ending scene, where the fish had grown so large that Styles had to drag it across the village in a cargo-sized tank. After seeing a fisherman butchering a bucket of fish, it panics and breaks through the glass. While indeed heart-wrenching, the scene is balanced by a continuum of Style’s falsetto chorus offering a sense of comfort that everything will be okay.

But that’s not the most emotional part. The villagers, seeing the fish and Styles struggling, band together to help Styles haul the fish to sea. The song ends rather abruptly but with Styles’s assuring voice shouting with passion, “Just let me adore you./ Like it’s the only thing I’ll ever do.”

Styles’s album cover for “Fine Line.” We’re looking at him through a fish lens. Coincidence? I think not.

Three months after the release of the music video for “Adore You,” Styles partook in an NPR’s Tiny Desk concert, where he performed four tracks from the album: “Cherry,” “Watermelon Sugar,” “To Be So Lonely,” and “Adore You.”

Styles is accompanied by his touring band, this time with mostly acoustic instruments: Sarah Jones on the drums and vocals, Mitch Rowland on the guitar, Adam Prendergast on the bass and vocals, Ny Oh on the guitar and vocals, and Charlotte Clark on the guitar, Wurlitzer, and vocals.

Swiveling around on the chair in front of his mic, Styles awaits his cue as Jones playfully taps the cymbal and snare. Prendergast immediately follows with the bass creating a similar groovy pulsation from the original recording. All vocalists harmonize a full 8-beats with a mild crescendo, paving the way for Styles’s entrance.

Two things are missing from the Tiny Desk rendition: the fish and the mystical, abyssal background music.

Stripped of these and the theatricalities of the music video, the message still stands. According to Styles himself, “It’s about a fish. And uh, I just had this fish. And I just really liked it. And that’s kind of the whole story behind the song,” his facetious answer backed by his bandmembers cueing the sprightly intro to “Adore You.”

Styles and his band in their element. Everyone is there for the purpose of supporting the main star: the fish on Styles’s sweater. (“Adore You” begins 15:10)

All jokes aside, Styles confirms that the point of “Adore You” is to express the initial excitement of meeting someone (or multiple someones) and riding the flow of the shared joy and ease. And it is especially evident in the Tiny Desk concert, where Styles and his bandmembers are filmed just jamming, having fun, and purely enjoying each other’s company. The vocalists are much more apparent, and unlike the original recording, Styles ditches the falsetto. The guitarists each show off a mini solo.

Styles has proven that he can truly do it all. From being the face of boy-band heartthrob during his One Direction days to now flirting with many different genres in his solo music, Styles has created his own (pun not intended) style. Fine Line brings to the table tastes of the 70s, indie rock, modern pop, and rock, all of which are represented in “Adore You.”

Between the music video and the Tiny Desk concert of this single, what really shines through, besides Styles’s blazing smile, is the versatility and flexibility of Styles’s artistry.

If that’s not enough to convince you to give “Adore You” a go, the adorably lovable relationship between Styles and his favorite fish will be.

November 5, 2020Lynn Hong

Across language, through love

On Korean indie-rock standard bearers Hyukoh’s latest, connecting with the listener comes first, understanding their lyrics is optional.

“through love,” Korean alternative phenoms Hyukoh’s (pronounced “he-ah-go”) January 2020 EP, takes you on a sonic odyssey – from bossa-inspired languor, to roguish garage rock, to its final manic, keening outpouring of emotion. Deviating from their previous album’s driving anthems, this is testament to Hyukoh’s commitment to constant reinvention, and is a riveting offering for Korean and global audiences.

Hyukoh has achieved domestic prominence in a scene commanded by balladeers and idol groups. They have won global plaudits, their album 22 (2015) peaking at fourth on Billboard. Hyukoh consists of lead guitarist Lim Hyun Jae, bassist Im Dong Geon, drummer Lee In Woo and multilingual vocalist and guitarist, Oh Hyuk, who writes English and Korean lyrics. Though the band takes their name from their frontman, the instrumentalists are no slouch. On this six-track EP, Oh’s vocals are kept to a muted murmur, leading into the emphatic instrumentals which do the melodic heavy lifting.

The first three tracks, “Help,” “Hey Sun” and “Silverhair Express” are bossa-infused grooves for lazy afternoons, hopefully spent near a sunny beach far from responsibilities. If you are unfortunately desk bound, these songs are a reasonably effective escape.

“Help” is a leisurely, minimalist opener, oozing urbane chic, with a hint of mystery in Oh’s understated drawl. It outlines the template of the coming songs – bossa beat, echoing guitar hook, Oh’s raspy murmur. A sprinkling of unconventional percussion and a flute solo provide a welcome change of texture. The resulting tune is pleasant but unarresting, content to meander into the background.

“Hey Sun” is a stronger endeavour at this format. In this languid yet teasing take on quotidian tedium, Oh switches between an airy falsetto and his grittier lower register as he dangles the prospect of another day of repetition. The lyrics are mirrored by incomplete arcs of suspense and resolution as the verses build anticipation, but on the very cusp of payoff, deflate. There’s partial release when the instrumentals swell into shadowy harmonies and synths – but almost immediately, we’re back on the crescendo, vocals swathed in a halogenic cloud of synths, cymbals trembling in a sparkling haze. The song never fully resolves, the listener left suspended and searching.

The lush soundscape of “Silverhair Express” feels like a fortified version of “Help.” It drifts a touch more fantastical, the guitars an opalescent blur of distortion, ornamented by glittering marimba and flute snippets. The song ends in disintegrating chords which wobble off key with increasingly incredulity, mirroring the reviewer stirring from this sunlit daze, only to be confronted by looming deadlines and assignments. Hyukoh closes with a final echo of the melody, the last wisps of a dream clinging to consciousness.

From here the EP takes a darker turn. On “Flat Dog,” Hyukoh reprises the garage rock of their back catalogue. The fizzing lead guitar swoops wide and low over the thumping beat and Oh delivers his lines in clipped jabs. In the bridge the whole band heaves on the downbeat in a jangling, percussive crash. With every line, the harmony goes up third, upping the ante till Oh’s vocals are at his most histrionic and the guitar roils scratchy and belligerent. After the delayed gratification of the earlier songs, this is a straightforwardly rewarding stadium banger.

“World of the Forgotten” offers a momentary pause, sinking the listener into a reflective space. Translucent synths trace the afterimages of Oh Hyuk’s searching croon, “wait I know you, but where did I meet you?” This bittersweet sound is familiar territory for Hyukoh, and they expertly evoke nostalgia and the lull between wakefulness and sleep. The song fizzes out in a static crackle, an otherworldly hint of what is to come.

“New born,” the penultimate track, is a 8 minute 45 sec long behemoth of cinematic scale and emotional heft. It opens with a moody lower register riff over a simmering distorted lead guitar. The guitar’s guttural, metallic hum after the first verse is unexpectedly meditative, like the flickering outline of a thought taking shape. Rising out of the instrumentals’ monochromatic expanse, the throbbing drums and synths crest in a brooding surge of pace and intensity – till we lurch into freefall, the distortion wailing free, wheeling in and out of harmony. Sheets of static break against its side, like the hissing roar of an equatorial downpour. The dulcet swell Oh’s vocals, echoing like a choir in an empty room, rises into this gale of spectral distortion, soothing over the guitar’s jagged grain. The listener plummets into the harmony, discord, exuberance and chaos of Hyukoh’s sonic universe, like an infant overwhelmed by the sensory barrage of a new world.

Then the storm seems to quiet, the guitars dwindling into microtonal trills, before morphing unexpectedly into the rattle of a car engine, or aeroplane. Hyukoh thrusts us into an uncanny sonic portrait of our everyday lives, constructed by swathes of nondescript rumble which could equally be construction, traffic or footsteps. Static crackle weaves and dodges, through train tracks and highways and the roadside clatter of your childhood home, blurring the line between Hyukoh’s spectral world and reality. Abruptly, the noise cuts. The riff comes back, a gentle, muted promise, echoing into darkness. “New born” is sound and fury signifying something inexplicable and profound, Hyukoh at their experimental best.

In “through love,” Hyukoh adroitly traverse genres . There are occasional pacing missteps, but I’m inclined to excuse it as the process of experimentation. This release reasserts the band as a force to be reckoned with on the K-Indie scene and for that matter, globally. There’s a common but reductive view that English-speakers have little business listening to non-English music, particularly in pop where there is a premium placed on music being immediately accessible to the everyman. Why should you listen if you don’t know what they’re saying? But I think there’s a strong case for exploring music you don’t understand.

To start, you discover new palettes of harmony and rhythm. Languages lend themselves to different rhythms and there are subtle differences between music from different places within the same genre. Further, not understanding lyrics can increase your enjoyment. Inane lyrics can be immensely grating, so listening to music in a language I don’t speak is a little bit of “don’t ask don’t tell” cop out.

But most crucially, understanding lyrics is not necessary to communicating meaning. We encounter music fundamentally at an aural level, before we process its language. When you listen to Bon Iver on 715 – CR∑∑KS, or Jeff Buckley on Hallelujah, it’s the pleading in their voices that hits you, before the poetry in their lyrics. If a vocalist is expressive enough, you don’t need to understand what they’re saying to hear heartbreak or swagger or comfort. The music speaks for itself. Rhythm, harmony and tone are the building blocks of its deeply affective language. Lyric-less music, from classical to math rock, has always found a devoted following. Some even argue linguistic space creates greater engagement, through deeper focus on the music, or listeners bringing their own meaning to the piece. I thought “New born” was about an initiation into a wondrous yet bewildering world, but the lyrics recount the end of a relationship. The track’s roaring static and howling guitars will probably mean something different to another listener, but this multiplicity of meaning doesn’t dilute the artist’s intention – it strengthens the vitality of the art.

Good lyrics can reinforce a musical narrative or add an unexpected twist. But they are never the totality of a song’s meaning. Even in daily life, so little of what is said is in our words. Meaning lives also in inflection, body language, silence. Storytelling is at the heart of being human, and we have a plethora of tools beyond language for it.

Hyukoh may be Korean, but that is no barrier to the evocative power of their music. The only criteria to enjoy them, or music from anywhere in the world, is an open mind and a listening ear.

Listen on Spotify, Youtube or Deezer

November 5, 2020Patricia Ku

Next stop, Hadestown

Or rather, the Walter Kerr Theatre transporting you to 20s New Orleans where 21st-century politics meets Greek mythology

Art by Katherine Ku

An against-the-grain songwriter and musician, Anais Mitchell penetrated the musical playwrighting realm in 2006 with her “folk opera” Hadestown. The show underwent 12 years of metamorphosis, from being a DIY community theater project to a studio album and to several off-Broadway productions before taking its final form in Broadway’s Walter Kerr Theatre on April 14, 2019.

The show commences with a groovy solo by a bass trombone, first joined by the fates’ alluring gospellike hums and then by Hermes’ rhythmic vocal mimicry of a chugging train. Persephone, Hades, the onstage musicians, Orpheus, and finally Eurydice, hop off this mythic train one by one and convene on the jazzy New Orleans stage.

You may be familiar with the tragic story of Orpheus and Eurydice: Orpheus pays a visit to Hades to rescue his beloved wife Eurydice, only to lose her to the underworld forever when Orpheus’s impatience gets the best of him. Now sprinkle in modern agitations of climate change, capitalism, and… Donald Trump. Have I lost you yet? Don’t worry. It’ll make total sense.

Persephone, portrayed by Amber Gray, descends into the underworld with her husband for the first time in “Chant.” Persephone’s signature raspy, grainy voice is especially intensified here due to Hades cutting short her long-desired sabbatical on Earth as well as the debilitating heat of hell – I for one attest to the heat radiating from the flaming red stage lights. We also hear the Lord of the Underworld for the first time, as Patrick Page confounds the audience with his thunderous bass voice, which deserves a spotlight of its own. Page explains in an interview how Mitchell composes solely on her guitar, resulting in her being oblivious to the fact that a note she wrote for Page was the G below the lowest key on the keyboard. Nonetheless, Page executes the bass vocal range for his villainous, sardonic singing and laughter in a terrifying but impeccable godlike form. Compounded with the heat-radiating foundry, furnace, oil drums, automobiles, this number succeeded in aggravating four out of the five human senses – thank the gods we were not forced to taste the hot spell. Hearing Persephone, the Goddess of Spring, complaining and being ultimately powerless in the outcome of climate change is very effective in conveying the gravity of the global warming. And Hades’ business suit, unsparing comportment, and deep, repressing voice, make one feel hopelessly squashed under the hand of big business.

“Why We the Build the Wall” features Page’s gravelly voice brings about a sense of trepidation among the audience with its uncanny alignment to the Trump administration. Hades’ sentiments for constructing a wall to keep out the starving and poor shed light on Trump’s problematic immigration policy. The show does more than identify these points, however. The spellbinding turntable on the stage that constantly alternates the stage setting from Earth to the underworld speaks a disconcerting truth: society is in a seemingly inescapable loop with these issues. The impending 2020 election certainly was not on Mitchell’s mind back in 2006. But hearing this in 2019, Page’s foreboding voice was enough to send anxious vibes.

Lastly, and arguably the best number in the show is “Our Lady of the Underground,” a thrilling solo by Persephone showcasing her grunge, sarcastic personality. Gray’s drunken dance moves and undulating voice completely throw out the graceful, tacit image we have of Persephone in Greek mythology. But this is exactly what causes the audience fall in love with Persephone and her qualities of strength and consideration for others. It’s not frequent to have a show engage the pit and the audience, but Persephone warmly introduces each musician’s names and roles. Looking around the audience, it felt as if we were a part of the storyline, laughing and conversing with the Goddess of Spring.

Many argue against the point of Mitchell implementing a modern-day twist on this Greek myth. But I saw Hadestown as a necessary, refreshing take in the world of Broadway. Don’t get me wrong, Phantom of the Opera and Miss Saigon will always have a special place in my heart. But it is about time that Broadway storylines abandon the dated black-and-white storylines and character stereotypes. It is time to hop off that train and onto the one to hell.

November 3, 2020Andie Chapman

ARTPOP by Lady Gaga: Seven Years Later

Lady Gaga’s boundary-pushing album ARTPOP takes on themes of femininity and sexuality, still incredibly important to fans.

Gaga performing her song *Venus* at the ARTRAVE Tour, 2014.

Lady Gaga’s third album ARTPOP is a collection of eccentric, conceptual, and colorful songs. In 2013, it was a disastrous phantasm of experimentation. Charts donned singles but sales overall were timid for the super-pop-star at the time. ARTPOP was often deemed “highbrow” for a pop album, with many creative moments soaring above the public’s Katy Perry-fixated minds. It was a futuristic, camp narrative of a woman overcoming sexual trauma and exploring an artful landscape constructed by modern artist Jeff Koons.

Gaga’s baroque outpouring of creativity and experimentation was questionably and poorly received. Lyrics surrounding feminism are blown into grandiose pop songs, tilting the norms of a commercial album. I’ve selected standout tracks that never made it on the radio, but deserve a place in anyone’s ears.

TRACK ONE: AURA

ARTPOP opens with a plucky, frantic guitar sound and western-movie reminiscent tones. The distorted voice and eerie howls in the background that greet us with the deranged speak of a murder of Gaga’s “former,” and fall into a sitar melody with maniacal “ha ha ha’s” until we reach a very 2013-like EDM buildup. The drop launches us into spoken-word on top of a slimey, neon, bassy synthesizer. The lyrics are a feminist declaration of who she is, with camp undertones: “I’m not a wandering slave / I am a woman of choice. / My veil is protection for the gorgeousness of my face.” Originally titled “Burqa,” this song is an undressing; the chorus taunts the listener in a cosmic sea of starry synths if they want to “see the girl who lives behind the aura.” She calls herself an “enigma popstar,” mentioning that she may wear things not as a statement but just as a move of passion. It exhibits her true artistic spirit, to wear, dance, and create for the sake of creation. While it does not reveal what is behind the aura just yet, it sets a colorful scene for what follows in ARTPOP.

TRACK TWO: VENUS

Produced by Lady Gaga herself, the sonic palette that follows is cohesive with the previous track. The EDM sounds are melted into a pop atmosphere, not overwhelmingly wubby or deterring. Venus is an intergalactic love song, weaving space with hot love. The repeated “Venus!” reminds us of the goddess of love throughout the entire track The overarching sublime hedonism lyrically is juxtaposed against a camp, electronic instrumental, resplendent with synthesizers. The bridge is an homage to the planets, and especially after listing Uranus, she shouts in a semi-comical, semi-powerful yell “Don’t you know my ass is famous?” The track is an ode to a cosmic lover, one who’s “out of this world, galaxy, space, and time.” The theme of Venus is baroque, alluding to the world of ARTPOP that Gaga affirms in the titular track. One can create anything, and this is one of many fantasies of art that occur on this album.

TRACK 3: G.U.Y.

G.U.Y. is an acronym for ‘Girl Under You.’ It opens with a spoken word passage that continues the Greek god theme established in Venus by mentioning Himeros, the god of sexual desire. G.U.Y. is a nuanced view of feminism over a frenetic dance beat. The riff in the background has a gritty, aggressive quality, which is a reason why one could have been dissuaded from this song, but it bursts and breathes in the chorus. It is pop experimentation with the EDM trend of 2013 with lyrics that take decoding and ultimately becomes a frequent relisten. Lyrics such as “I’m gonna wear the tie / want the power to leave you / aiming for full control of this love,” assert power, but then in the chorus she decodes G.U.Y. for us: she wants to be in power, but without the trope of being powerless when you’re underneath somebody, both figuratively and sexually. The message of being a powerful woman whilst not wanting the norm of submission to continue is a hefty feminist statement not made by any other pop artist at the time. G.U.Y. is Gaga asserting herself as the intense figure that she is. 5’2 and sure of what she wants in love.

TRACK 4: SEXXX DREAMS (or censored as X DREAMS)

Lady Gaga claims that this track was born out of a psychedelic trip and not until the last moment did it coalesce. A shimmering, 80s inspired instrumental glows as Gaga has almost a conversation with herself. One is talk-singing, the other replying in song. This song is a full admission of illicit thoughts to the lucky person, so candid in nature that she even includes a clip of her talking that mimics the confession that she’d genuinely make to the person at a party. The lines are a bit too raunchy to share here, but the message is a tongue-in-cheek due to how forward she is. This song was never likely going to become a radio hit as the FCC would have laughed at any attempts to censor the message. This song also speaks about Gaga’s bisexuality at a time when LGBTQ+ themes were mostly absent from mainstream pop music. In 2013, her blunt lyrics, subtle humor, and catchy melodies were overlooked.

TRACK 6: MANiCURE

MANiCURE experiments with a cocktail of classic rock guitar shredding and modern dancehall beats. Gaga’s energetic vocals are belted like an 80s rockstar with a hint of Kate Bush. The song begins with the private moment of getting ready to see someone, putting lipstick and perfume on but in a wildly flamboyant way. The bombastic nature of this song matches the ardent vocals, even though the subject is that of an insecure relationship, perhaps on both sides. The production is huge, with a booming drum beat, clapping rhythms, and synths that brighten the mostly gibberish chorus. Even though the chorus may be less literary than a song like G.U.Y., it is still ARTPOP to Gaga, meaning that it is her passion driving this heavy beat pop song. MANiCURE speaks about taking time to oneself perhaps by getting a manicure in order to cure oneself of the insecurity of a relationship with a man. The moment that one takes to focus on makeup, nails, or any type of self-care in that realm is a moment seldom spoken about in music, yet it can be therapeutic to have time alone to get dressed up and feel beautiful.

TRACK 7: ARTPOP

The thesis of the album blossoms in this track. “Come to me / in all your glamour and cruelty,” and “the melody that you choose can rescue you.” The funky synth in the background sounds like an intergalactic telephone, as Gaga sings “We could belong together ARTPOP.” This song is the most lyrically dense on the record, speaking of how art can withstand the capitalist nightmare of the music world we live in. Gaga paints us a fantasy that she manifests in this album. Art and pop can fuse in a colorful, experimental palette. Her creative side of eccentricity is not for shock value, rather for expression, echoing back to the line in Aura that “it’s not a statement as much as just a move of passion.” Her art flourishes in choice, sometimes cultural commentary, other times decadent, the idea that art for art’s sake is the soul singing through the medium of song. Immaterial, visceral passion is perfectly apt ground for art, as she says “my ARTPOP could be anything.”

TRACK 11: MARY JANE HOLLAND

Opening with a guitar riff written by a teenage producer from France, Mary Jane Holland is an avant-garde hyperpop song bathing in synths and unusual beats. Freedom from international fame is a fantasy for Gaga; she conjures a character named Mary Jane Holland, free from blonde hair and the “culture of the popular.” This track chronicles her time in Amsterdam with freshly-dyed black hair, in disguise for the first time in years. It’s a breathtaking song about Gaga having a breath of air unpolluted by paparazzi. In an experimental bridge, one cannot tell if the instrument in the background is an electric guitar or distorted synth. Theatre-inspired vocals create a strange narrative over an EDM beat that beckons her back into the last chorus, in which Mary Jane Holland is introduced as a star again with cameras clicking in the background. Her escapist dream is over as the show begins that night in Amsterdam.

ARTPOP was a wild art experiment in 2013, sonic palettes leaving listeners confused instead of bemused, but now one should relisten and swim in Gaga’s colorful world.

November 2, 2020Spencer Nachman

Blackberry Smoke’s New EP: A Badass Take on Southern Rock Classics

Live from Capricorn Sound Studios, Atlanta group Blackberry Smoke delivers a soulful performance covering songs by artists including the Allman Brothers Band and Little Richard.

Blackberry Smoke gathers for a band shot with matching denim jackets and long hair.

Blackberry Smoke, an Atlanta-based powerhouse band indebted to their musical roots, was responsible for creating the soundtrack of quarantine summer 2020 with their new EP Live From Capricorn Sound Studios. The six-track extravaganza is an amalgamation of covers freshly picked for this unique recording opportunity, and each song takes on its own character as the set unfolds. With only 30 minutes of content, this live EP holds its own among the various other Blackberry Smoke albums, and it is a brief but mighty work that keeps listeners gripped with every note.

Live From Capricorn Sound Studios commences with “Midnight Rider,” a well-known song by the Allman Brothers Band. Though this was not simply a note-for-note cover of the original. Blackberry Smoke delivers a rousing rendition of this song with a heavier feel than the Allman Brothers version, which can be mainly attributed to Brit Turner (drums) opening the tune with heavy emphasis on the ride cymbal. This gives the song an open and vibrant feel right from the beginning, almost as if the band is picking up from the intensity at the end of the Allman Brothers version.

Blackberry Smoke carries this same energy throughout the song and reaches a climax with an expressive and articulate slide guitar solo towards the end. Charlie Starr (vocals, guitar) delivers a powerful vocal performance in this song, which shines through even more as a result of his vocal style that naturally resembles that of Gregg Allman. “Midnight Rider” is an opportune opening for this live EP since Gregg Allman broke into Capricorn Sound Studios to record the demo for what became this Allman Brothers classic.

Blackberry Smoke then digs out one of The Marshall Tucker Band’s early tunes, “Take the Highway.” Based in South Carolina, The Marshall Tucker Band played an integral role in establishing Southern Rock and paved the way for the genre to flourish in the following decades. Since flute plays a major role in the original version of “Take the Highway,” Blackberry Smoke calls on Marcus Henderson (flute) to guest on this song. Midway through, as the song changes from major to minor and the band lays down a funky groove, Henderson at first joins in on the riff and then dives into a solo filled with tasteful staccato lines that punctuate the mix and rise over the rest of the group.

After swiftly exiting the solo section, the band returns to the main chorus of the song with even more energy than the beginning. Paul Jackson (guitar, vocals) proves to be an integral part of the group on this song as he thickens the guitar sound and keeps the main feel steady while Starr takes a guitar solo. Jackson’s higher vocal register also adds a unique texture to the group and further fills out the sound.

Each song on the live EP has a video of the band’s performance at Capricorn Sound Studios, and while watching Starr grin from ear to ear as guest Jimmy Hall (vocals, harmonica) sings “Keep On Smiling” with the band, it is hard for the viewers to keep from smiling themselves. Blackberry Smoke puts a modern twist on the acoustic Wet Willie tune, but the band stays true to the intent and feel by summoning the magic of the Black Bettys, a duo of backup singers (Sherie and Sherita Murphy), as well as Jackson who plays acoustic guitar in an isolation booth in the studio. In the middle of the song, Hall jumps into a soulful harmonica solo that sets up the final segment of the tune in which the Black Bettys engage in a lively call and response with Hall. This mighty singing duo’s sweet sound and vibrato create another instrument in itself that occupies the upper register of the mix.

Hall’s vocal delivery of “Keep On Smiling” is topped by that in “Grits Ain’t Groceries.” Taking on a Little Milton tune is a bold move in itself because of his wide range and powerful voice, but Hall performs this tune perfectly while raising the key a full step. His voice blooms and blends beautifully with the Black Bettys in this song just as it did in the previous tune. Richard Turner (bass) keeps the up-tempo groove rock solid, rooting the rest of the band in a feel that is rigid, but that also takes on a bounce on the back end of the beat. The song closes with an open jam with the three guitarists and Brandon Still (keyboards) repeating unique riffs simultaneously. Starr’s smile remains throughout this song as well, an indication of the joy that ran through the studio during the session.

To honor the legacy of the Allman Brothers Band’s music recorded at Capricorn Sound Studios, Blackberry Smoke pulls out another classic, “Revival.” Turner’s heavier drum work on “Midnight Rider” is similar to that “Revival,” which makes it a vigorous cover. The band’s respect for the Allman Brothers Band’s original is apparent as each melody and harmony part is executed to perfection, and the Black Bettys’ continue to lay down soulful background vocals that enhance this version of the song. At the time of this live recording, Blackberry Smoke was preparing for a summer tour that focused on music from southern musicians like the Allman Brothers, but it was disappointingly cancelled as a result of the unstoppable COVID-19. The music off this live EP is a hint of what is to come for Blackberry Smoke once they resume touring.

The band lets loose their country twang for their final song, Little Richard’s “Southern Child.” Little Richard passed away just two months after this recording at Capricorn Sound Studios, and he would have been proud to hear Blackberry Smoke play homage to his work in an honest and true fashion. The band adds slide guitar, a traditional touch to this southern rock gem recorded in 1972. Turner also has an opportunity to shine in a brief but impactful bass solo, a proud showcase of the often forgotten instrument in a rock group. Each member of Blackberry Smoke holds their own while recording this live EP, and their shared excitement while playing is infectious even across the computer screen.

Blackberry Smoke has amassed a hefty following and achieved great success over the years, so over the last few months the band has been in a position to give back to the music community. They decided to donate a portion of the proceeds from “Live From Capricorn Sound Studios” to the Recording Academy’s MusiCares COVID-19 Relief Fund as a way to help struggling musicians during this difficult time. The members of Blackberry Smoke have remained busy during their time in quarantine by writing new music and posting some of their collaborations on their YouTube page.

They have also put on two live stream shows, one from the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville, Tennessee on September 23, and one from The West End Sound in Atlanta, Georgia on October 30. The band will film their next live stream show from The Tabernacle on November 23, a full-fledged rock-fiesta to ensue. Don’t wait to see Blackberry Smoke in person, they are bringing their mastery right into your home: hop onto the couch, grab your computer, and let the 21st-century rock wizards take over.

Track listing: