In her video for “Fist in a Honeypot,” Mignon cuts a regal figure, decked out like a Marie Antoinette for late stage capitalism. With Benjamins dripping from her cage skirt, and more bills doubling as a fan, she sips tea and spits out lines like, “money to cheat for/they rob you.” Both the costume, made by the singer herself, and the song are a commentary on today’s “let them eat cake” elite.
“It’s about people having too much money,” Mignon says with a laugh about what she describes as the most anti-capitalist of her new batch of songs.
There are few albums in my recent memory that have the transportive power of Wormslayer, the latest from English rock band Kula Shaker. Throughout its eleven songs, the album takes listeners into tales of devil’s bargains, bloodsucking villains and unassuming heroes. And, like all good fairytales, Wormslayer has its roots in the here and now, with songs like “Good Money” and “Charge of the Light Brigade” riding a lyrical line between social commentary and fantasy.
For their eighth album, Kula Shaker’s classic lineup (Vocalist and guitarist Crispian Mills, Hammond organist Jay Darlington, bassist Alonza Bevan and drummer Paul Winter-Hart) primarily recorded live and with analog equipment, the end result being an album that captures a similar urgency that’s steeped in the songs’ lyrics. Meanwhile, Mills’ brought together elements of “The Winged Boy,” a story that he had previously been developing as a film, and manifest in the song of the same name, as well as “Good Money” and “Shaunie,” with references to WB Yeats and dragon lore for the lyrical content. While Wormslayer may not be a concept album in the strictest sense, it does flow like a battle between good and evil, particularly when the tension mounts on the eight-minute title track. In an email interview, Mills shared some insight into the making of Wormslayer and explained who the worm and wormslayer(s) are.
For singer/guitarist Ramesh Srivastava, there are distinct eras of Voxtrot, the band he fronts. The first he references centers around the band’s 2005 EP, Raised by Wolves,where he sings about his first major love and heartbreak. “To me, those songs are very clearly that and don’t really have much poetic diffusion,” he says on a recent video call. With the band’s self-titled album, released nearly 20 years ago now, Srivastava sang about the pressure he says he felt being in a group with a record deal and big opportunities before them. “It was a very challenging time, so I feel like that album is lyrically mostly about my psychology. It’s not really about other people,” he explains.
Emerging from Austin, Voxtrot’s first run coincided with the rise of music blogs, file-sharing and early social networks like Friendster and MySpace, what people now might fondly refer to as “the good internet.” The band gained a buzz online, as well as in traditional media, with the EPs leading towards their 2007 album. While a couple singles followed the debut full-length, Voxtrot split in 2010.
A 2022 reunion and successful tour led to recording Voxtrot’s recently-released full-length, Dreamers in Exile.In the 12 years that passed between the band’s first and second lives, plenty changed, including Srivastava’s lyrical approach. “Now, I feel that I try to talk a lot about my own experience, to talk about my experience, being gay and of mixed race and how weird it is to be that and be from Texas and how hard it is to be that anyway,” he says. “I try to talk about my unique human experience, but also constantly bringing in stories and references of people and works of art that inspire me.”
He adds, “I’m really into creating a world that is both deep and meaningful, but is also aesthetically enjoyable.”
For Drew Miller, one word sums up the themes that attract Boiled in Lead to traditional tunes: Darkness.
Darkness extends to the Celtic punk band’s name too. Boiled in Lead is derived from an Irish song, “The Two Sisters,” specifically a version associated with Clannad and is a reference to the punishment that befell a murderous sibling. “In 1983, that seemed like a really good name for a punk rock band doing folk music,” the bassist explains.
Grrrl Gang spends a lot of time online. “It’s just too much sometimes, to be honest,” says bassist Akbar Rumandung. But, the inspiration for the band’s latest release, Online 24/7, hit IRL via a photoshoot at a friend’s gallery. One shot of the Indonesian punk band, taken through a window with a sticker that read, “Online 24/7” on it, stood out. It looked as though people were watching the band through their phones.
“That photo it reflects what we actually feel as a band nowadays,” says Rumandung on a recent video call from Jakarta, “where people try to categorize us through social media through what they see about us through social media, where they don’t actually know us, they don’t actually understand what this band is actually about.” It also, coincidentally, fit the music that Rumandung’s bandmates, Angeeta Sentana and Edo Alventa, had been writing, which reflected what they were seeing online. “Before that, we didn’t know what we should name the maxi-single. There are so many options, but we didn’t feel it yet,” Rumandung adds. “After the photos… we knew that this was our title for the maxi-single.”
Andrew Becker awoke from a dream with a phrase “the house that kept Hemingway alive” in his head. “Did I make that up or did I read that?” he wondered. So, the LA-based musician, who records as Human Potential, looked around and found an article about the house in Idaho where Hemingway lived until he died of suicide in 1961.
“Out of the four or five houses that he lived in, that’s the only one that is not open to tourism,” says Becker on a recent video call, rain visibly beating against the window of his home in Highland Park. “I found that interesting. Then there are stories about all these people making pilgrimages to the house and trying to climb the fence and get in.”
The Black Watch live at The Barkley in South Pasadena (Press photo by Lee Gentile)
At some point in the middle of a conversation with the black watch founder John Andrew Fredrick and producer Rob Campanella the subject shifts to Fredrick’s flip phone. Or, really, it shifts to Fredrick’s unease with technology. “I’m a very right brained kind of person who thinks that technology is killing us,” he says as we sit on the back patio of the Echo Park bookstore/cafe Stories, “and I don’t want to be the sort of person who is staring at a phone all the time or going on Tinder or anything along those lines at all.”
That’s fair. Technology probably is killing us and scrolling is tedious. Plus, Fredrick’s flip phone has become a conversation-starter in its own right. “It’s a way to make people chuckle. They want to touch it and consider me a relic, which is fine. I don’t care,” he says.
“Brian Wilson isn’t the only guy who just wasn’t made for these times,” he adds. “I was not either.”
Lapêche’s new album, Autotelic, is out now. (Photo: Nicole Miller)
For Krista Holly Diem of Lapêche, a dance background came in handy when it was time to make the video for “Happy 4U,” from the band’s recently released third album, Autotelic. “The subject matter of the song is pretty heavy and I wanted to do something that was kind of silly and danceable in a way, almost in a way where you’re dancing and crying at the same time,” she says on a recent video call from Salt Lake City, where Krista and her husband, Lapéche bassist Dave Diem, are based.
Kiss Big, the latest album from Irish singer Ailbhe Reddy opens with an ending. “I see you,” she sings on “Align” as a melancholy synth percolates underneath her description of the reflection in a train window. You can imagine the goodbye play out as if it were filmed in black-and-white.
Reddy began writing Kiss Big several years ago, when the Dublin-raised artist moved to London, where she’s currently based, and was going through a breakup. “There were bits and pieces that I wrote over the years,” she says on a recent video call. The components gradually came together in the form of an album that digs into the aftermath of a relationship and all the conflicting emotions that come with it. Lyrically, Reddy glides back and forth through time as she juxtaposes flashback’s with revelations that sound more recent than they are. Making an album takes time.
Around the junction of the 1970s and 1980s, brothers Clive and Mark Ives met up about three times a week to experiment with synthesizers. “We were having a real journey working with each other,” Clive recalls on a video call from his home in Brighton, England. “He had taken control of the tape recorders and I had the synthesizers and we would sit opposite each other and we were able to produce hundreds of little bits of music.”
