Shamir - Hell
Follow along this week as singer/songwriter Shamir walks us through notable tracks from his expansive DIY genre-blending discography. Don't miss your chance to meet Shamir in Brooklyn at Full Bloom, our latest food, beverage and music event in collaboration with Strainge Beast Hard Kombucha, on June 25.
"It was not supposed to go down like this, but I think dropping an album a few days after the worldwide COVID lockdown with a song called 'Hell' as the album's opening track felt morbidly serendipitous. Especially since it was done many months before..." — Shamir
— on June 17, 2021Becca Mancari - Bad Feeling
Today we are announcing In The Mix, our new collaboration with Desert Door Texas Sotol, supporting the music and food industries that have been devastated by the pandemic. In The Mix pairs artist-curated playlists, free merchandise and a discounted Desert Door cocktail with the purchase of a special restaurant creation from select partnering restaurants in Atlanta, Boulder and Nashville on December 7-14.
Nashville's In The Mix artist is indie singer-songwriter Becca Mancari. Nashville staple Butcher & Bee has put together a special dish inspired by Mancari's complex songwriting and Americana influence — charred octopus with fermented pepper sauce, broccoli rabe, charred citrus and a delicate blanket of country ham. Paired with the meal is a special Desert Door cocktail, the Mexican Queen, with blood orange juice, orange zest, ginger beer and lime.
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On "Bad Feeling," Becca Mancari's voice rings like a church bell, pure and clear and hanging in the air. “With your hands around my throat and I say baby, please, don’t” — she places each word carefully, as if it may break, but the music isn’t dramatic or intimidating. She has a bad feeling, but she doesn’t sound surprised. If anything, the music sounds laid-back, like a breeze streaming in the windows on a warm spring day. It’s soft-rock but in an intentionally sweet way. The nonchalant flavor is a stark contrast to the harsh lyrics: “Isn’t it hard when you see me for the first time and it breaks your heart?” After the second verse we enter what seems to be a bridge, but it’s really just the song deteriorating into voices, phrases, pieces of guitar and drums and bass harmonics echoing into the ether. Photo by Zac Farro.
— Mikhal Weiner on November 19, 2020Big Head Todd and The Monsters - It's Alright
Today we are announcing In The Mix, our new collaboration with Desert Door Texas Sotol, supporting the music and food industries that have been devastated by the pandemic. In The Mix pairs artist-curated playlists, free merchandise and a discounted Desert Door cocktail with the purchase of a special restaurant creation from select partnering restaurants in Atlanta, Boulder and Nashville on December 7-14.
Our Boulder artist for In The Mix is the beloved local rock band Big Head Todd and The Monsters. Blackbelly has crafted a special dish in homage to the band — koji-cured pork with sugarloaf chicory, pomegranate, charred leeks, pistachio crumble and pancetta. Patrons can complete the meal with the discounted Bitter Heart cocktail made with Desert Door sotol, cynar, lime, simple syrup and bitters.
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To celebrate our collaboration, we are journeying back to 1993 with Big Head Todd and The Monsters’ “It’s Alright.” Off of these Colorado boys’ album, Sister Sweetly, this track is the epitome of every slow, swaggering jam this 90’s child grew up on; it’s riding in the back of my dad’s car on the way to school, sharing the same home-burned CD real estate with “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” and “Mother and Child Reunion.” The vamping guitar, relaxed, methodical groove and ever-charismatic vocals of “It’s Alright” come together to create a track that’s as perfectly at home as I write this from a rainy San Francisco as it always is onstage at their native Red Rocks. Big Head Todd and The Monsters have carved a truly timeless place for themselves in the rock genre over their impressive 30-year career together, and as evidenced by their 2020 release, We’re Gonna Play It Anyway - Red Rocks 2020 (Live), they’re, thankfully for all of us, as tight as ever.
— Stephanie Lamond on November 19, 2020Briston Maroney – Freakin’ Out On The Interstate
I always listen to this song while driving to the beach with all my windows down. It has the best carefree vibe to it :) — Claire Rosinkranz
Claire Rosinkranz has referred to her sound on the BeVerly Hills BoYfRiEnd EP as "alternative-blues-pop." Throughout the EP, she sonically depicts the see-saw of emotions associated with being a teen in 2020, especially on tracks like "Tough Guy" and "Seriouslaaay.”
— Alessandra Rincon on November 18, 2020Bleachers - 45
There are few songs that can capture the eccentric high — the particular nostalgic fusion of elation and melancholy — of speeding through your hometown streets with the windows down. Everything around you is familiar down to the electricity in the air, but even though you may have a story for every insignificant landmark on the map, the pang in your stomach reminds you that, in many ways, what has changed most is you. Sometimes we outgrow places and, sometimes, it instead feels like they have outpaced us — as if our goals, dreams, and lives in general should have somehow been bigger by the time we’ve returned. Bleachers’ “45” nestles into this odd comfort; into the reckoning and glistening hope that we can feel all at once when we feel out of touch with the world around us. The track sees the soul of Bleachers, Jack Antonoff, construct this towering moment by swapping out his characteristic vintage synths for an acoustic guitar, light electronic tones and delicate vocal layering. Over this ethereal atmosphere, he sings of this disjointedness (“I'm torn exactly into two pieces / One who wants you and one who's gone dark”) and paints us a picture of two 45 records “spinning out of time.” Despite this, Antonoff reminds us that even in this looming gray uncertainty, the greatest thing we can do is give all we have to one cause: to endlessly seek and shine a light on the deepest and darkest parts of ourselves and those around us, and to love them, even when we feel like we might break. The anthemic chorus is undeniably true to form for Bleachers, who will leave you searching for the nearest yellow-lit concrete tunnel to speed through, aching to understand your love’s own legacy, singing, “But I'm still in sight / Your fast machine / Always holding your love supreme.” Photo by Carlotta Kohl.
— Heddy Edwards on November 18, 2020Beharie - Me and My Lonely
Identity is complicated. There are so many facets to it. Some aspects are shaped by fate, others are shaped by yourself. Still others are domino effects of shaping fate that shapes you back. Sometimes these facets help you lock into a community or build kinship with others; however, it’s just as true that no one has ever walked the exact same path you have. Beharie’s "Me and My Lonely" holds that idea in its palm and inspects it from every angle. The first verse explores the isolation of being aware that there are aspects of yourself that might not make sense to anyone else. Narrating your internal existence can be tedious and uncomfortable — especially when you’re used to just existing without having to justify it to anyone else. The second verse questions what the threshold is to be known by someone else, how genuine it is and if it’s worth the effort. After all, no matter how much time you spend with someone, they’ll never spend as much time with you as you do with yourself. Any depth of knowledge compared to that seems shallow, but does that really mean it is? "Me and My Lonely" doesn’t settle on an answer, but it continues to ponder on it against a pensive acoustic guitar backdrop. Each chorus picks up new textures and tries them on for size. They simultaneously fit and don’t. They all sound pleasant together but also each tugs on your sleeve for your attention. There is too much going on to notice and appreciate every facet, but you can fall in love with it for how they fit together. I guess people are like that too.
— Allison Hill on November 18, 2020Dean Keeton & Cole Bauer - That Sound (feat. Andi Rella)
Austin-based duo dean keeton and singer-songwriter Cole Bauer join forces for “That Sound,” a bedroom R&B tune with a classic touch. Having collaborated twice before on 2018’s “Different Eyes” and this summer’s “Unread,” the trio tap even further into a synced-up late night sensibility and affinity for retro sounds. “Gimme a reason we should keep this on the ground,” they seek, vocals floating higher and higher over an electric jazz piano à la Herbie Hancock. Andi Rella’s sublime guest vocals preserve a sense of soothing warmth over the crisp drums and crooning that characterize their sound, modern R&B production putting a contemporary twist on easy listening. “That Sound” features alongside four other tracks on their upcoming EP of the same name, due out November 20.
— Ysabella Monton on November 18, 2020Charlie Burg - Lancaster Nights
This song is SO groovy and has definitely been one of my favorites recently. — Claire Rosinkranz
Claire Rosinkranz's debut EP, BeVerly Hills BoYfRiEnd, promises and delivers simple, satisfying pop songs with intricate yet extremely relatable lyrics about friendship, crushes, family and feelings. Her songwriting explores the depths of the human condition in concise bursts, exposing her extraordinary emotional maturity and strong grasp on her own unique sound. Photo by Liam Sheehan.
— Alessandra Rincon on November 17, 2020Juni Habel - Demons
Relentless guitar arpeggios fill the room as soon as you hit play on Juni Habel’s new track, "Demons," from her debut album, All Ears — it’s like heart palpitations, excited and nervous all at once. The intro has the spirit of Joni Mitchell’s more traditionally folky moments, but Habel’s melody is more static. It’s almost an ostinato over the undulating guitar. Finally at the end of the first chorus (“When I go to those places, how I stumble,” she wails, her voice cracking), the rest of the ensemble kicks in — a drum kit that resembles a bodhrán, a fiddle, a back up vocal. All come together to haunt us (“that’s when I send the demons out in the night / I forgive myself, I try,” she almost whispers), as much as Habel is clearly haunted by the demons in her mind. She conjures them masterfully for us with a few deliciously dissonant notes that, sort of, resolve. But not quite. Relatable. Photo by E Petersen.
— Mikhal Weiner on November 17, 2020Quarter-Life Crisis - Comfortable (feat. Hand Habits)
“Comfortable,” the latest single from Quarter-Life Crisis, producer Ryan Hemsworth’s recent project, is a futuristic, slow-burning synth-pop track with a love of collaboration at its core. Built upon a solid foundation of hazy synths, relaxed guitars and the warm voice of Hand Habits’ Meg Duffy, “Comfortable” shows off Hemsworth's ability to craft songs that immediately get stuck in your head. The most recent of three singles, the track follows a structure that is no doubt familiar to Hemsworth; starting by producing carefully crafted, radio-worthy instrumentals, he has then invited some of his favorite artists to do their thing. In the instance of “Comfortable,” Duffy has done just that. Their comforting voice brings the track into a dream-like state. And, like any good dream, “Comfortable” is over before you want it to be, as the instrumental slowly fades. Photo by Colin Medley.
— Jonah Minnihan on November 17, 2020JOHO - Favorite
"Favorite" by JOHO (Joel Holmes) is a classic mid-2000s falling out ballad that hits a nostalgia sweet spot. A lyrical guitar riff gently raises the curtain to a duet-from-afar montage. It starts more or less where you expect it to — a guy lamenting the loss of a girl he never really expected to leave him. It starts from a place of bitter vanity, almost more upset about a post-breakup bruised ego than the loss of the relationship. But as the verse continues, the ego washes off of Holmes’ voice with each successive syllable. It slides into vulnerability just before he passes the torch to Makenna Parr’s sweet voice in verse two. Her verse plays off the melodic contour of the first, honest and vulnerable in a way that complements Holmes’ well. However, Parr also infuses it with a distinct character, gentle but resolute. A tender keyboard countermelody settles just beneath her warm inflections, a delicate counterpoint to the guitar riff. It drops out as soon as the verse ends, and octave-spaced strings take its place. The perspective returns to JOHO, but all sense of selfishness has evaporated. An admission of fault spirals into an echo chamber of thoughts as Holmes’ voice layers over itself. Parr’s voice mostly disappears among the swirl of harmonies, and suddenly it’s not a duet anymore. It’s all-consuming, tail-chasing regrets — but still, somehow, sweet. After all, it was really something that was lost, wasn’t it?
— Allison Hill on November 17, 2020