Photos by Dylan Simmons Entering the Fonda Theatre as the final distorted riffs of Her New Knife’s blaring set faded into nonexistence, my night officially commenced with the arrival of hyperpop duo Frost Children. The New York-based sibling duo Angel (bass) and Lulu Prost (guitar) delivered a maximalist, adrenaline-filled set teeming with an overwhelming quantity…
Photos by Ava London A distinctly familiar yet unexpected crackling permeated the hazy confines of Silverlake’s The Echo, amplified packing tape perhaps an allegory for the soon-to-play Swirlies’ experimentation with the modalities, forms, and capacities of sound. Assembling at Shoegaze’s veritable zenith in the 1990s, the Massachusetts-based group veers on the cusp of shoegaze and…
Harrison Patrick Smith, who performs under the moniker, The Dare, was exhilaratingly sleazy, with sex, drugs, alcohol, and every now and then love made palatable through omnipresent synths; a lá Calvin Harris circa 2007. The Dare resurrected the eccentric grittiness manifested in the indie sleaze subculture of the early 2000s, with hedonism as its face (and probably also offbeat graphic tee-shirts).
Horse Jumper of Lover epitomized slumped shoulders, abstract smears of ash on cigarette-littered concrete, unlaced shoes and ill-fitting jeans. As a collective, the indie rock band delivered a harrowingly pessimistic performance to Highland Park’s Lodge Room, supported by the similarly downcast Teethe and the slow-burning Sour Widows.
Ghanaian-Australian artist Kofi Owusu-Ansah—better known by the moniker Genesis Owusu—is anything but a conformist. With a genre-defying discography that communicates deeply personal, critical narratives, Owusu is constantly pushing the boundaries of his medium; Owusu touches on themes of racism, depression, and Absurdism, utilizing soundscapes that veer from R&B to EDM to Hip-Hop.
Mannequin Pussy was unbridled sacrilege, defiant and rugged, teasing and contemplative. They took their audience to church, whipped them into a climactic frenzy, and left them on their knees.
Prelude to Ecstasy is massively successful as a debut, as much a period piece as a fourth-wave feminist dissertation. At times, overwhelmingly pop sonic qualities clash with lyrical norm transgressions, yet the album ultimately triumphs in its polished sonic qualities, catchy hooks, and punchy lyrics.
Perhaps that ethos is what makes Wyatt Shears’ music (produced under the moniker, Enjoy) so hard to define, an amalgamation of breakneck punk, quirky electronic synths, and a prickly acoustic guitar; a Johnny Cash song on crack produced under brothers Wyatt and Fletcher Shears’ label, Vada Vada.
One with the crowd, dare I say my prior alienation was somewhat relieved, my existence now seeming more a testament to music’s timeless appreciability than the intrusion of an unschooled youth. The Immediate Family has that effect–of making accessible such supreme talent so that the audience too, becomes part of the family.
Peach Pit; Thundercat; The Walters; Kate Bollinger. From indie royalty to tech house up-and-comers, the Shabang lineup is a manifestation of the festival’s ethos–experience, quality, vibes, community, participation.