PARCH - Hell in These Eyes

Tired of all the cute fall posts littering your feed? Need something heavy and haunting to get you in the mood for Halloween? Well look no further than the new release by PARCH. New Jersey’s noise boys are back at it with another grinding EP entitled Hell in These Eyes, and it roars louder than a chainsaw in a slasher film.

Recorded in a live setting, Hell in These Eyes manages to stamp the chaotic essence of PARCH onto tape. Between my headphones is a band raging in a room, the cymbals denting as the drumsticks smash into them, the squeal of feedback through distortion pedals and blaring speakers. The vocals are throaty and furious and near impossible to pin down. Yet this is the charm of PARCH—tight performances that sound as unruly as a barfight—a charm Hell in These Eyes captures in all its frenetic glory.

The four songs that make up this EP are aggressively raw in all the right ways. “Foretold” ends so abruptly it sounds like an abandoned take. “Sunnydale” rides growling power chords and a headbanging beat, while “Alligator” dredges the waters with blast beats and mud-drenched bass. The lyrics on this record are so sarcastically nihilistic; “Clear” screams itself into existence with the line “Wake up every day with a gun to my head,” while the tape ends with devolving howls of “This town is a hole” over a collapsing band. The sonics of Hell in These Eyes are pure sludge, vicious wet death coughs of vitriol and reckless abandon.

Though less than ten minutes in length, Hell in These Eyes keeps me riled for hours. The music of PARCH hits like a shot of adrenaline, and leaves me jonesing for another fix as soon as the last song ends. Hell in These Eyes raises hell in the ears, so maybe hell ain’t such a bad place to be.

My Top Track: "Clear"

Hell in These Eyes is out on Wet Cassettes; you can also grab a copy off their Bandcamp page.

Jakals - Bat Brains

Anxiety appears to be the plague of the youth. It haunts the mind, a volatile little voice that trips us and tricks us into a constant loop of second-guessing every decision we make. There is nothing like feeling uncomfortable in your own existence, unsure that you are even worthy of existing—and yet this feeling is near-universal in today’s youth. It’s an experience that so many musicians are attempting to broach, but with their new EP Bat Brains, Boston rockers Jakals have captured that feeling of lonely terror and are showing us how to overcome it.

From the opening rush of “Porcelain” to the final fading notes of “It’s All the Same,” it’s obvious that Jakals is a band intimately familiar with disconnection. Every song sounds like it was written in a confessional—the lyrics are painfully honest, the baring of a soul that has known the depths of sadness and adversity. Lines like “I don’t belong anywhere / I’m always a stranger” and “When I was young I saw that I wasn’t enough” impart an intimacy that is almost unnerving with how much it reveals.

There is without doubt much pain and introspection woven into Bat Brains, yet the instrumentation on the EP buoys that emotion with intense energy. The vocals are powerful, taking fearless runs and delivering the timid lyrics with vicious sustain and vitality. The guitars brand the chord progressions with searing melodies and bright tones, mixing gritty fuzzes against colorful cleans. The bass thumps in the low end like an angry neighbor hitting their ceiling with a broomstick, while the drums slice out powerful grooves and fast fills.

Jakals really lay into their performances throughout this EP, giving Bat Brains a volatile sound that belies their tightly controlled and intelligent arrangements. The band drives their compositions outside of the typical 4/4 beat; the chorus of “Trauma Hoarding” rocks in 11/8, while the verse riff in “It’s All the Same” saunters in 7/4. Similarly, almost every song uses dynamics to formidable effect, designing slow-building swells of energy and effects into the song structure so that each tune bursts with a body-shaking bang. These off-kilter rhythms and tension-building moments add an intellectual kick to the songs, giving my mind much more to chew on than just a good beat and fun melody.

Jakals have captured in their EP an experience that is all-too-common to today’s youth, then stamped it with their own hard-rocking signature sound. This record simultaneously sucks me in and pushes me away, giving rise to a strange medley of emotions that I don’t quite yet have the words to describe. Bat Brains is a collection of kickass tunes that tap into the visceral essence of anxiety and loneliness—six anthems for the anxious to remind us we aren’t alone, nor are we helpless. And if ever you’ve been unsure of your worth in this world, then this record is just what you need to hear right now.

My Top Track: “The Sound of Something Else”

Jakals is currently on tour in support of Bat Brains; you can find upcoming dates and other news via their Facebook page. Then head to Spotify or Bandcamp to stream or purchase your own copy of Bat Brains.

Song Spotlight: Will Grayson's "I was Born with a Caulfield"

Artwork by Andrea Hellwig

“Be bold.”

Perhaps the most important advice ever given to me concerning art. It takes more than a little nerve to create something, even more to make something honest and true. Hard advice, but invaluable.

So much music today is born from swamps of compromise, but CT’s singer-songwriter Will Grayson has never shied away from bold decisions; rather, sprawling compositions, multifaceted arrangements, and sonic exploration are well-honed weapons in his arsenal. And lucky for us, he’s just returned with a new single, “I Was Born with a Caulfield,” one of his most ambitious and powerful takes yet.

Opening with plucky guitar chords, Will Grayson spits some quickfire spoken-word before bursting into lilting vocals as the instrumentation takes off beneath. Multiple guitars converge beneath his singing, mixing twangy clean tones with a vibrant acoustic and a wild fuzz. “I Was Born with a Caulfield” takes sharp turns between elements, the rhythm section slipping in and out to let the vocal shine and the guitars drive. A swell of reverb begins to overtake the tune as it dives into a coda bursting with handclaps, driving bass, and dolorous melodics.

“I Was Born with a Caulfield” is rich with texture and color, and beneath this vibrant landscape of fuzzy guitars and energetic grooves lies a dynamic and lively composition. The vocals lead the tune along a winding path that never circles back; rather, the song continually evolves as it goes, beginning with a soft, jubilant progression and culminating in a full-band explosion. Yet despite the lack of a chorus or verse structure, Will Grayson’s melodies and harmonic chord progressions keep me locked in as I journey with him to the final fading piano notes.

The gentle yet undeniable surge of energy that grows across the length of “I Was Born with a Caulfield” is reflected in the song’s lyrics. The opening poetics are calm, delivered in an almost sarcastic voice, until Will Grayson slips into singing with the line “A silence rallies around the room.” Yet that silence splits immediately, blooming into splashes of guitar work led by the statement “You already know what comes next.” The final suite of the single launches like a bullet with the line “The first to the door is the first to get shot,” pushing the tune’s headbanging groove to completion in a gentle collapse. Grayson’s lyrics lead this odyssey along, his writing as fearless as the composition evolving beneath his words.

“I Was Born with a Caulfield” is a beautiful balance of intelligent writing and unabashedly fun instrumentation. As a precursor to Will Grayson’s upcoming album Yet What Else After All, its fun melodies and expansive arrangements stand as good omens for this new release. Will Grayson is an artist who understands the importance of being bold in his music, a fact that sets him apart from other singer/songwriters. If “I Was Born with a Caulfield” is any indication, Yet What Else After All may be his boldest release yet, and I for one cannot wait for it.

You can find more from Will Grayson, including live shows and updates, by following him on Instagram: @willgraysonmusician. Then head over to his Bandcamp and/or Spotify and stream the new single "I was Born with a Caulfield" off his upcoming full-length, Yet What Else After All, releasing September 21st.

Glenn VeryClose - Episode 0

If you’ve had even half a conversation with me about Connecticut’s music scene, then undoubtedly you’ve heard me mention indie-rock power trio The 30th of February. They’re prolific songwriters and incredible performers, and I reviewed their latest EP Silence a few months ago, which recently saw a CD release featuring an exclusive bonus track. And as if that wasn’t enough to get me salivating, their frontman Ant just released an EP entitled Episode 0, a collection of stripped-down, dolorous tunes published under the moniker Glenn VeryClose, and I find myself completely lost in this record’s winding chords and lilting melodies.

Sonically, Episode 0 is relatively sparse, with each song stripped almost to the bones. Acoustic guitar and a plucky ukulele provide the foundation over which Ant’s haunting vocals float like fog on early morning streets. Yet he accomplishes so much with this little arsenal: “Walking Past a Burning Building” alternates between gentle melody and roaring, chorus-drenched chords, while “PDF” layers both string instruments to create cascading waves of sound. Glenn VeryClose uses simplicity to maximum effect on this EP, letting the energy and emotion of his chord progressions steep into strong elixirs of song.

The melancholy strings set the tonal foundation of Episode 0, and it’s upon this that Glenn VeryClose builds the tales and trials of each tune. The vocals on this EP are insanely mournful, each word carrying the weight of a thousand disappointments. Lines like “Hate yourself for me” from “Hate” or “Lost / in a space I created all myself” in “Vulnerable” shape atmospheres of intense emotion that are blatant, unencumbered by veil or metaphor. Each line is terribly powerful, and yet in these same songs, the speaker lacks agency to act upon that power, instead asking for permission with the questions “Can I hate you?” and “Am I allowed to stay?”

It is this lyrical approach, one of complete abandon, that makes this EP resonate so strongly with me. Glenn VeryClose embeds the very essence of depression, a simultaneous hopelessness against change and stasis, in every single line. It’s a viciously honest portrayal of how it feels to be alone, even if it’s just in your head. And yet Glenn VeryClose does not simply wallow in this darkness—by writing these songs, committing them to hand and heart and record, he thus begins a journey towards acceptance, and hopefully, healing.

No matter how many times I spin this EP, Episode 0 still hits me in the heart like the loss of a loved one. This record offers an intimate, stripped-down look into the world of an insanely prolific songwriter, and each of the four tracks spells out in heartbreaking detail how tough that world can be. With Episode 0, Glenn VeryClose bares all that there is to bare, trusting us as the listener to understand, to believe, to accept. It’s a vivid listening experience, and as you choose to venture into this odyssey, know you will not return the same as you arrived.

My Top Track(s): “Vulnerable” and “PDF” (I can’t choose!)

You can find more from Glenn VeryClose, including upcoming shows and news, on Facebook. Then head over to his Bandcamp page and grab your own copy of Episode 0.

Unpleasant Peasants - Pre-Apocalyptic EP

For too long of a time, in my mind, “heavy” music meant low-tuned guitars, crashing breakdowns, and walls of distortion. Drop-A chugs, blast beats, and vicious screams felt not just like hallmarks of heavy music, but requirements. Never on earth would a 22-year-old me have called a mandolin “aggressive” or thought an acoustic guitar could thump notes that hit me like they were pouring out of a Marshall stack. Yet in exploring folk-punk in recent years, I’ve learned a thing or two about how powerful this sound can be, and after listening to Unpleasant Peasant’s Pre-Apocalyptic EP, I am reminded at just how much weight can come from performance and songwriting.

The instrumentation of Pre-Apocalyptic EP is relatively sparse, built only on mandolin, bass, and a washboard. Yet Unpleasant Peasants use their musical weapons to amazing effect, creating a vibrant and vicious sound at speeds I would balk to attempt. The band rakes at their instruments as if trying to scrub blood from their surfaces, rocking progressions that are fast, bombastic, and insanely danceable. Above it all, their collective gang vocals ring powerful and true, a chaotic chorus of disgruntled voices working together as one and building into unstoppable frenzies of energy.

Unpleasant Peasants are just as virulent and hard-hitting with their lyrics. Much of the writing on their Pre-Apocalyptic EP delivers scathing yet eloquent critiques of today’s society. “It’s Just Business” tackles the repetitive, oft-fruitless struggles of trying to survive in the consumer culture that dominates every aspect of life. “Civilization” sharpens this criticism to a point that Unpleasant Peasants use to prod the sleeping awake: “The world is not in your TV / The world is not in your phone / The world’s not inside your head / It’s outside of your home.” Yet perhaps the best and most searing commentary comes from the opening track “The Farmer,” whose protagonist is hell-bent on destroying anything and everything—be it plant, animal, or human—that stands in the way of his profits. Unpleasant Peasants pair intelligent writing with aggressive performances so that each word hits the listener like a K.O. punch.

Unpleasant Peasants are another testament to the true power of folk-punk, proving with their music that substance in songwriting and power in performance can make for some of the heaviest music around. Every song on this EP is rife with powerful screams and heady riffs; that breakdown and coda of “Pre-Apocalyptic” get me just as riled and ready to move as any hardcore band could. This band’s Pre-Apocalyptic EP certainly carries the weight of the world’s end, yet if this record is any indicator, the future will be looking quite bright for these Peasants.

My Top Track: It’s Just Business

You can find more from Unpleasant Peasants, including news and upcoming shows, on Facebook. Then head over to their Bandcamp page to grab your own copy of their Pre-Apocalyptic EP.

Down with Rent - Entitled Millennial Scum

For the disaffected and marginalized sections of our community, the meeting place is not the town hall, but the dive bars and DIY spaces where hardcore and punk shows are happening so regularly. Punk music gives us a collective outlet for our frustrations, as well as a forum for confronting and changing the asinine aspects of our society. In CT, no band is making better use of this platform than Down With Rent, and with their new full-length Entitled Millennial Scum, they’re breaking out the artillery.

Down With Rent is renowned in the local scene for their explosive live shows, and Entitled Millennial Scum perfectly presses that energy and experience to record. The performances are volatile, almost too powerful for the speakers playing them. The drums thunder out beats so fast, I’m out of breath just listening. The guitar rages along aggressive chord progressions, resonant palm mutes, and searing feedback. The bass guitar’s tone alone feels like a kick in the stomach, riding atop thumping lines and growling low notes that boom within my chest cavity. The vocals thrash with throaty screams and fierce shouts, each absolutely vicious word hitting as hard as the guitar or drums.

The sound of Entitled Millennial Scum is pure and unadultered vitriol, but the lyrics are what give it a focused target. Down With Rent is fearless in calling out the hypocrisies that abound in our society. Lines like “Make no mistake / they won’t hesitate / to take everything / and leave you on the pavement to die” call out the indiscriminate greed and selfishness of the powers that be, a heady reminder that anyone playing the game will happily step on you to win it. In a similar vein, “Entitled to Everything” both pokes fun at generational disconnect with the line “Don’t ask me if you owe us a living / We want this planet and everything in it” before pointing out that action is what earns respect, not age. Entitled Millennial Scum is relentless in both energy and substance, a record seething with honest, no-holds-barred critique of the many cracks in the façade of our country.

One of my favorite aspects of Entitled Millennial Scum is how cohesively it flows. Each song rolls right into the next with nary a second wasted, swells of feedback tying the tunes together and driving the momentum of the record forward. Samples of news reports and police confrontations stitched into a couple tracks help reinforce the political tone of the album throughout. Entitled Millennial Scum is truly a record without a single boring moment—front-to-back, it plays with an integrity and energy that keeps my head and heart locked in.

No matter where you stand, Down With Rent’s new record packs serious punch. Every single song is loaded with kickass riffs, heady screams, and the unbridled energy that is this band’s trademark. Entitled Millennial Scum is a feverish punk powerhouse, the sound of a riot breaking out in the streets punctuated by brutal breakdowns and breakneck drumbeats, giving a furious voice to the fears and unrest so many of us live under every day. So put this record on repeat, and crank it up and up until it makes you deaf—you’re entitled to it.

My Top Track: “Can’t Swim”

You can find more from Down With Rent, including upcoming shows and news, on their Facebook page and on Instagram. Then head over to their Bandcamp and grab your own copy of Entitled Millennial Scum.

Reconstitute - S/T

Since its inception, punk rock has had a political backbone. It has been a virulent voice against injustice, calling out the hatred and bigotry that the rest of our society tries to keep out of sight. In today’s world of regular school shootings, blatant institutional racism, and public displays of intolerance and hatred, this voice is as important as ever, and I’m glad to say, as loud as ever. Just take the self-titled EP by Reconstitute, a collection of heavy-hitting tunes from a band that refuse to stand silently by and watch the world burn.

The instrumentation on Reconstitute is riotous and utterly unforgiving in its energy. The overdriven guitars roar, low chords rumbling next to screeching highs. The drummer pounds his kit into oblivion, each cymbal crash hitting like a brick crashing through a pristine window. The bass guitar is an earthquake, blasting fuzzy lows and searing melodic lines into the ears. Above the chaos are the vicious shouted vocals, each scream a rallying cry that concentrates every element into a sonic punch of punk.

The thrashing strings and thumping drums on Reconstitute could almost generate their own electricity with how much vigor lies behind them, yet it is the lyrics that shape this energy into a tool of change. Reconstitute wields their words against those unjust and insane systems erected to oppress, spearheaded by the madman sitting in the Oval Office. Both “Dear America” and “Treaty” aim themselves directly at Trump’s inherent hypocrisy with lines like “This man doesn’t have your interests in mind / Just his bottom line,” while “Repeal and Replace” virulently addresses the destructive policies he is spearheading such as the infinitely-rising prices of healthcare. Reconstitute pulls no punches with their self-titled debut, instead sharpening their lyrics in poignant razors to hack at the injustices facing the American people.

Though it barely breaks six minutes, Reconstitute is an absolutely relentless, fearless release. From the opening feedback of “Dear America” to the hammering coda hits of “Digging for Coal,” each second of this record is rife with punk passion and hardcore intensity. Reconstitute takes the corruption of our country to task with their self-titled release, a blatant statement that bigotry and injustice will never be tolerated no matter where or when they rear their ugly mugs.

My Top Track: "Dear America"

Reconstitute is a project of the prolific and talented N.E. Hertzberg; follow him on Facebook for updates including news and upcoming shows. Then head over to Spotify to listen to Reconstitute or even grab a limited-run tape (courtesy of Crass Lips Records) from their Bandcamp page.