I feel like musicals are one area of music that receives a great deal of hate and disrespect for no legitimate reason whatsoever. There are random hits every now and then, like Hamilton, but the vast majority of musicals are lucky if they receive one-tenth of the praise and recognition given to Lin Manuel Miranda’s hit Broadway show.
Why is this? I swear to you I have spent many sleepless nights pondering how so many can feels such a close connection to the world of musicals while so many more feel utter disdain when even the idea of such creative endeavors is mention and have come to no conclusions that feel worthy of mention here. It seems you’re either born into a world where musicals are viewed as legitimate works of art capable of conveying a great amount of story and detail through song or you’re brought up not thinking about them at all. There is very little middle ground, and if for some reason you feel you are one of those on the fence I hope this week you will give musicals, as well as musical theaters, another chance because it is probably the most incredible form of musical expression possible.
Last week I had the opportunity to attend an early press screening for Damien Chazelle’s latest film, La La Land. Set against a brilliantly imagined and ever-so-slightly different Los Angeles, the film follows two hopeless romantics (Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling) who meet just as they are both beginning to worry that their dreams will always be out of reach. The pair finds the strength to keep going in one another, but as they begin to find success in their individual endeavors their relationship is put to the ultimate test.
La La Land is a musical, but not in the classic sense. There are a handful of song and dance numbers, including an elaborate performance on a crowded freeway, but the majority of the musical moments don’t involve singing at all. Instead, the people on screen express themselves through movement, which can sometimes bend reality. It’s the kind of thing you either go with from the beginning or hate altogether and I, for one, went all in with a smile on my
The film asks two very important questions: If love is all we need to achieve our goals, then is giving up our goals in order to preserve our connection to love the smart choice? If achieving our goals means losing love, then what is the point of having those goals?
I could spend several hundred words discussing how the film does and does not answer these questions, but to do so would be to rob you of the incredibly unique experience of seeing it done firsthand without any idea what comes next. There is a feeling inherent in all musicals that anything could happen at any moment. Maybe people will stand up and sing in a diner, or maybe they will take a long hard look at their life while singing to themselves in front of a mirror. The presence of song isn’t always necessary, but it does allow for deep emotions and complex feelings to be put on display in a way that is fairly easy for most people to understand.
Expressing the human experience through song is a tradition as old as time itself. As long as we have had music there have been people working to relay their experiences on this planet to others through song, and musicals are simply the latest evolution of that experience. I would argue now is perhaps the best time to be a fan of musicals since the Golden Age of Hollywood came to an end in the early 1960s, and there is a chance it will be even better in the years to come. La La Land is just one great example of how the genre is still able to encapsulate the feeling of being human like no other medium, but there are many recent releases to choose from. Sing Street, which was released in mid-2016, accomplishes a similar feat while playing to those who have never lost their love of the 1980s. Check it out:
Looks pretty good, right? The movie is actually great, and again it’s just one of many recent musicals to be made available to audiences around the globe.
This week, take a break from your Spotify playlists and give a few cast recordings your time instead. I don’t care if you pick a serious show or something silly, just make time to lose yourself in a world of song that is similar, but ultimately far more free than our own. Your soul will thank you.
James Shotwell is the Marketing Coordinator for Haulix. He is also the Film Editor for Substream Magazine and host of the Inside Music podcast. You should follow him on Twitter.
November 2016 will go down in history as a month that began by dividing our country in a way we haven’t seen in recent years. Regardless of where you stand with politics I think it is safe to say everyone is ready for an escape. We are all hoping for the best while simultaneously wishing we could disengage from it all and take five minutes to ourselves. We need it as much as we deserve, but as much as the current political climate has left many feeling their way of life has been threatened time continues to march on. Offices, stores, schools, restaurants, factories, and all other industries, services, agencies, etc are still operating more or less as usual. We have to think about the big picture while maintaining the minutia of day to day existence and it’s all we can do to not collapse from exhaustion or hide in our beds until we’re a bit closer to Thanksgiving.
You’ve read the title of this piece so I’m going to assume you know where this is all headed, but earlier this week iconic boy (now man?) band New Kids On The Block announced plans for a 2017 tour with support from popstar turned American Idol reality show personality Paula Abdul and 90s RnB sensations Boys II Men. Dubbed ‘The Total Package,’ this tour will find the five-piece pop group playing sold out and near-capacity arenas all over the country to a wide demographic of people and I’m here to urge you to not hesitate on buying tickets now to see them for yourself.
To be clear, this is not a paid advertisement. I have no ties to NKOTB or their team (even though I would LOVE to).
I was born in 1987 and, like many of you reading this now, spent the majority of my life knowing next to nothing about New Kids On The Block. They were a boy band for a generation before my time, and when I was in the target demo for that particular genre groups like Backstreet Boys and *NSYNC were the names everyone was talking about. This was a time back before social media when most young people had to hope their family could afford basic cable in order to catch Total Request Live with Carson Daly on MTV every day after school if they wanted to know anything about what was happening in music. I loved those groups and in many ways I still do, but I never had the chance to see them when they were in their prime. The world of pop music was something that existed solely on TV and radio, which was more than enough for me.
When I entered college and found myself dedicating more and more time to music journalism the boy band craze of the late 90s had long gone the way of the buffalo. One Direction had yet to spark the third wave of boy band domination, and to be honest my interest in music had largely turned to the world of alternative rock, metal, and punk. I attended hundreds of concerts every year throughout college, and through doing so I was able to see a wide array of artists multiple times at different points in their development as performers. Some of the shows were downright amazing, offering moments that will never happen again in any other place on Earth, but the vast majority were good to perfectly fine. Everyone performed their songs admirably and people went home feeling good about how they spent their money. This is what we all look for in live performances, and let me tell you – it’s easy to find.
In 2015, after nearly a decade of entertainment writing and countless concerts, I began purposely pursuing performances from artists I had never previously considered seeing. I realized I had made a living writing about a handful of very specific music communities, but had largely never thought to experience what life was like for people in other corners of music fandom. I had never been to a top 40 pop concert, nor had I seen a chart-topping country artist play an arena sized venue. I had also spent very little time in jazz clubs (which are sadly, but unsurprisingly hard to find today) or underground rap shows. I had missed a world of events and overlooked a variety of unique communities because I was too focused on seeing everything one specific sound had to offer, and to be completely honest I – not to mention my wife to be – was burned out.
That’s when we made a simple decision. We decided to spend the year experiencing music communities that were largely new to us. This meant we would miss many of our favorite artists when they were in town, but we had hoped it would be a worthwhile exchange and that ultimately proved to be true. There are many reasons why this came about, but one show in particular still comes up regularly in conversation: The night we bought last minute tickets to see New Kids On The Block play Boston’s TD Garden with direct support from TLC and an opening performance from Nelly. It was called ‘The Main Event,’ and that title was in no way misleading.
Having grown up in a world where Nelly and TLC were household names, the collective excitement my wife and I had for their sets was about as high as you’d expect. Both acts ran through their radio hits, and in between each song someone would make some remark about needing to raise the energy or “set it off” before the headliners hit the stage. There were dancers, bright lights, and all the bass anyone could handle. It was a strong start to a night we had no idea would only get better from there.
To be clear, when we walked into TD Garden that night my wife and I only really loved one song from New Kids On The Block, and we weren’t sure if it would make the setlist. The song in question is a more recent release from the group, and it continues to be one of our favorite songs to this day:
Pretty great, right? This song should have been the biggest single of the season when it was released, but I think radio still holds a prejudice against pop stars over the age of 30.
Back to the show — the moments right before NKOTB took the stage were all we needed to realize that something special was about to unfold. Video monitors played a parody of the hit TV show Blue Bloods, which stars member Donnie Wahlberg, where he chased a suspect played by Method Man onto the roof of a building. During their confrontation, Method Man’s character realized the cop chasing him was from NKOTB, and from there laughs were born. It was a simple setup, but it went a long way towards helping outsiders to the world of NKOTB realize what lied in store. The men of the group may be icons in the industry, but they still have a sense of humor about the fact they’re reaching middle age and are still making money by performing songs that sang as teenagers.
As soon as the clip ended the lights dropped in the arena and an announcer came on to introduce the group as if they were boxers entering an arena. One by one the members took the stage in boxing robes with hoods up, but once the first song kicked in they tore off their outfits to reveal completely different costumes that allowed for far greater mobility. The fans, ranging from children to men and women well into their 50s, went wild. The screams overtook the music for a few moments, then subsided to a slightly quieter roar that never really let up.
I had no idea what song was being performed while all this was happening, but it really didn’t matter. As soon as the lights came up and NKOTB were revealed in full a rush of energy filled the room and continued to build throughout the night. The setlist leaned heavily on the group’s biggest (aka oldest) hits, but there was still plenty of room for more recent recordings as well. Every three or four songs there were also costume changes, which were accompanied by pre-recorded skits that were shown on screens throughout the arena. One featured a ‘dressing room’ camera and found the guys dancing around while changing from street clothes to three-piece suits. It was silly and a little weird, but above all it was entertaining.
My wife and I had expected to give NKOTB a chance to amuse us before leaving, but by the time the first few songs were over we had already been converted into fans of the group. It didn’t matter that the 80s were almost three decades behind us because what was unfolding in front of our eyes – and the music that brought it to life – was absolutely incredible. If I have attended one-thousand concerts in my time on this planet I would still place this performance in the top 5 of all-time. To say otherwise would be to deny what I know in my heart to be true.
James Shotwell is the Digital Marketing Coordinator for Haulix. He is also the Film Editor for Substream Magazine and host of the Inside Music Podcast.
If you’re anything like me, you probably started the day by recognizing that the start of a new work week had indeed arrived and then immediately began shaking your fists at the sky in anger. Monday is rarely anyone’s favorite day, and from what I have seen firsthand it feels safe to say it’s the one day of the week some people outright hate. I guess to them the arrival of the work week symbolizes the end of their quote/unquote freedom, and as a result they head into the office/factory/restaurant/store with a negative outlook already on their mind. This leads to bad attitudes, which only makes the experience of being at work worse, and for some reason it also seems to make time slow to a crawl. We’re not about that life, and we hope this post can do the same you that the song contained within it did for us.
Steinbeck’s The Catcher in the Rye is a timeless piece of American literature that has no doubt influenced generations of people. To this day there are schools all over the country assigning students to read the story of Holden Caufield, and in places where it is not considered required reading it is still being discovered by people searching for something that understands feelings of teenage angst and alienation. It would be easy for most to spend hours debating the best passages from the book, but as I was listening to Tidal Wave, the latest album from Long Island based rock band Taking Back Sunday, one quote in particular came to mind:
“The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one.”
Thinking back to the band’s landmark debut album, Tell All Your Friends, it’s hard to believe how far Taking Back Sunday have come. That record, which was lyrically born from heartache, angst, alienation, and the feeling of never being quite good enough, introduced Taking Back Sunday to the world as a group of passionate young men unsure of their place in the world. The use of violent imagery and brash honesty helped to emphasize their willingness to do anything in their power to find somewhere they could call home, despite the fact they seemingly had no idea what such a place would look like.
I was fourteen when Tell All Your Friends was released, and like countless youth across the globe I found myself feeling a connection to the band’s longing for peace and stability in this often turbulent world. I did not completely grasp all the stories of heartache or how they had unfolded, but I (thought I) knew the feeling of being brokenhearted enough to appreciate the sentiment of their lyricism. So much so, in fact, that I could often by found scribbling my favorite over-emotional lyrics onto notebook covers during class or referencing various song titles with a customized screen name on the once popular social networking site known as MySpace. For myself and others like me there had never been enough band that had so completely and uniquely captured the feeling of youthful discomfort as Taking Back Sunday, and as a result we became devoted followers of their message who would flock to shows far and wide to sing-a-long with our newfound heroes.
Time passed, and with each new album Taking Back Sunday continued to evolve without fully abandoning the concepts and sound that initially launched their career. The band documented new struggles with the same one of a kind perspective that had helped set their adolescent problems apart, but the wildfire of hype for each new creation was nothing like the first wave of praise the band had received. Some would claim Taking Back Sunday had a problem developing their sound in a way that was continually interesting, while others felt the decision to focus on problems beyond angst and bad relationships caused the band to lose some intangible edge. I never agreed with these critiques myself, but I did feel the band struggled to maintain the forward momentum of their first two records as the third, fourth, and fifth were shared with the world.
Then came Tidal Wave, which I was fortunate enough to hear for the first time about a month ago. It only took about three songs off the new record for me to realize that Taking Back Sunday had finally reached whatever creative pinnacle they had been striving towards since the release of ‘Tell All Your Friends.’ The boys who were willing to die as long as they could first prove themselves as gentleman have grown into the men who have willingly sacrificed their freedom for a life spent connecting with people all over the globe through their art. What they were once willing to die for has become the reason they continue living, and everyone – from the band to their fans – is better off as a result.
The thing no one ever tells you about growing up is how the loss of naivety through experience will impact the way you view every aspect of your life. The big things that once felt so important often take a backseat to simpler concepts like family and self-acceptance when one finally has a clear grasp of the finality of death. Whether realized through your own skirmishes or the struggles of those around you, most people do not fully appreciate the futility of life until they’ve felt the loss of one. Even then, finding how to push forward when you know full well you too will one day expire takes an immeasurable amount of strength that billions around the globe struggle to find on a daily basis. It’s a tough truth, but one that must be accepted in order to move forward, and you must move forward. If not, you are as good as dead.
This, and other ideas related to the constant passing of time and our inability to stop or slow it are what makes Tidal Wave something truly spectacular. Taking Back Sunday has created an album that can and will stand alongside Tom Petty’s Wildflowers and Bruce Springsteen’s Born in the USA as albums that perfectly capture the relentless enthusiasm of the human spirit. It’s the realization of what the group has been working toward for the better part of two decades, and it marks an ever-so-slight pivot in sound that should help the band to engage a larger share of the modern rock audience than their previous albums.
I believe Tidal Wave is the album Taking Back Sunday was put on this Earth to make, and hearing it gives me the strength to keep working towards my own goals. I might not know where I am headed, but I know I am doing what my soul tells me I need to be doing, and that’s good enough for now.
James Shotwell is the Digital Marketing Manager for Haulix. He is also a professional entertainment critic, covering both film and music, as well as the co-founder of Antique Records (RIP). Feel free to tell him you love or hate the article above by connecting with him on Twitter. Bonus points if you introduce yourself by sharing your favorite Simpsons character.
If you’re anything like me, you probably started the day by recognizing that the start of a new work week had indeed arrived and then immediately began shaking your fists at the sky in anger. Monday is rarely anyone’s favorite day, and from what I have seen firsthand it feels safe to say it’s the one day of the week some people outright hate. I guess to them the arrival of the work week symbolizes the end of their quote/unquote freedom, and as a result they head into the office/factory/restaurant/store with a negative outlook already on their mind. This leads to bad attitudes, which only makes the experience of being at work worse, and for some reason it also seems to make time slow to a crawl. We’re not about that life, and we hope this post can do the same you that the song contained within it did for us.
We have been and still very much are so busy with the new version of Haulix that updating our blog has fallen a bit by the wayside. That said, we are still listening to as much new music as possible day to day, and recently we came across a release that immediately became a staple of our office playlist. Not just one song off the record, but all of them. Every single song.
Longtime readers of Haulix Daily already know our love of Boston punk/hardcore kings Vanna. Vocalist Davey Muise was even on our podcast once upon a time (and he’s scheduled to return soon – hint hint). The band’s new album, All Hell, builds on the ferocity and unabashed storytelling of their previous releases while still finding a way to catch listeners completely off guard. We expected the record to be heavy, but we never knew a band that is a staple of the Warped Tour scene could release a record as heavy as All Hell. Many albums have been promoted as bone-crushing or skull-rattling, but this album is on another level altogether. With the right sound system, All Hell could be considered music in weaponized form. If the lyrics don’t move you the music most certainly will, and we mean that in a very literal sense.
We didn’t choose All Hell for this week’s Monday Motivation just because of the way it sounds. This record, like every release in the Vanna catalog, demands something of the listeners that most albums do not. When you play All Hell, even just one song, you are forced to look within and see yourself as honestly as you are able. Muise and his bandmates make it clear that understanding yourself, including your dreams and shortcomings, is the only way to start working towards being the person you want to become. All Hell is a soundtrack to destroying the false narratives of your life so that a real, pure one can be built from their ashes, and having used their records to do that very thing we cannot recommend enough that others heed their advice.
Some bands write life-changing songs. Vanna is a life-changing band.
James Shotwell is the Digital Marketing Manager for Haulix. He is also a professional entertainment critic, covering both film and music, as well as the co-founder of Antique Records. Feel free to tell him you love or hate the article above by connecting with him on Twitter. Bonus points if you introduce yourself by sharing your favorite Simpsons character.
If you’re anything like me, you probably started the day by recognizing that the start of a new work week had indeed arrived and then immediately began shaking your fists at the sky in anger. Monday is rarely anyone’s favorite day, and from what I have seen firsthand it feels safe to say it’s the one day of the week some people outright hate. I guess to them the arrival of the work week symbolizes the end of their quote/unquote freedom, and as a result they head into the office/factory/restaurant/store with a negative outlook already on their mind. This leads to bad attitudes, which only makes the experience of being at work worse, and for some reason it also seems to make time slow to a crawl. We’re not about that life, and we hope this post can do the same you that the song contained within it did for us.
Anyone reading this who has finished high school presumably knows the phrase, “the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry,” but how many of us actually apply that concept to our daily lives? In my experience, the answer is not nearly enough, and I’m including myself in that summation. I, like many, imagine myself to be a fairly easygoing person, but if something I had my hopes set on falls apart before coming to fruition I can transform into a bit of an emotional mess that is best compared to a child throwing a tantrum. Life should go the way we want it to, right?
Your answer to that question doesn’t really matter, and neither does mine, because life could not care less about your dreams and expectations. Life is a constantly changing thing that gives absolutely no thought or attention to the desires of individuals or groups. Sometimes things work out, but other times they do not, and there is only so much any of us can do to sway the outcome one way or another. What we can do however, is decide how we will respond to things falling apart. Will you let an unexpected turn destroy you or empower you? Will you give up, or will you see things through despite unexpected hurdles that may appear along the way?
Consider for a moment the turbulent existence of Emarosa, an American hard rock band with no place to call home and a list of former members that now more than doubles the amount of people currently in the group. Emarosa formed in 2006, but thanks to a number of vocalist changes over the years the band has more or less had to reboot their sound three times over. The latest incarnation, which features Bradley Walden on vocals, may be the best yet. Walden entered the group as they were preparing to hit the studio for their third studio album (2014’s Versus), and he quickly acclimated to the band’s approach to creativity. Now two years later, the band is about to release what is arguably their best record to date (131 – Out July 8), and Walden is still steering the ship with a knack for brutally honest lyricism that has propelled the band into the hearts of thousands around the globe. This isn’t to say Emarosa were not successful prior to Walden joining the group, as they most certainly were, but when listening through the group’s discography there is a clear change of course that occurs right around Walden’s entrance that undeniably sealed their fate to become what they are today. This band Walden as much as Walden needed the members of the band, and because both sides were willing to persevere through their careers until they encountered one another music fans throughout the world – as well as the band members themselves – are now benefiting from their combined talents.
We could get into the lives Walden and the members of Emarosa lead before they came together, but for the sake of time we’re going to ask those interested in the details to do some Googling on their own time. All you need to know now is littered throughout 131, which tackles the idea of accepting responsibility for one’s own fate as no other alternative rock album has done in years. Every song plays like an excerpt from a story of triumph, failure, and growth that you never want to end. No matter what struggles you face in your own journey, I promise there is an anthem on this record to help keep you motivated when times get tough. Trust me. No, i take that back. Trust music, especially the music of Emarosa.
James Shotwell is the Digital Marketing Manager for Haulix. He is also a professional entertainment critic, covering both film and music, as well as the co-founder of Antique Records. Feel free to tell him you love or hate the article above by connecting with him on Twitter. Bonus points if you introduce yourself by sharing your favorite Simpsons character.
If you’re anything like me, you probably started the day by recognizing that the start of a new work week had indeed arrived and then immediately began shaking your fists at the sky in anger. Monday is rarely anyone’s favorite day, and from what I have seen firsthand it feels safe to say it’s the one day of the week some people outright hate. I guess to them the arrival of the work week symbolizes the end of their quote/unquote freedom, and as a result they head into the office/factory/restaurant/store with a negative outlook already on their mind. This leads to bad attitudes, which only makes the experience of being at work worse, and for some reason it also seems to make time slow to a crawl. We’re not about that life, and we hope this post can do the same you that the song contained within it did for us.
I’ve been thinking a lot about expectations over the last week. The media will tell you to define your life on your own terms, but that really isn’t the world we live in anymore. Everyone is connected to one another, and we all live vicariously through one another with each high and low our connections experience. If someone sets out to launch their own business, everyone they know is made aware of those plans before the business in question is more than a URL and some notes scribbled down on paper. If we want to start a family, our connections can quietly watch as we stumble our way through the dating world, experience our weddings through digital photo albums, and, hopefully, learn to be a parent. Unless you’re living a life completely disconnected from the digital world you know there are expectations for your life that you have no real say in, and even if you do manage to live untethered to the internet their are still expectations from family and close friends that linger in the back of your mind with every step you take. You may know what you want to be, and if so that’s great, but you also know what your family wants for you, what your friends expect from you, and what society says is acceptable.
Now that I’ve settled into the brief period between the ages of 25 and 30 I’ve begun to think of expectations in a manner far different than I did in my teen years and early 20s. Back then, my biggest concern in life was reaching the goals I had set for myself, regardless of how arbitrary or over-the-top they may have been. I think most of you reading this now would agree you found yourself in a similar position. Our childhoods were filled with pretty telling us to reach for the stars, be all we can be, and to always be looking on the horizon for our next big move, but anyone who has passionately chased their dream for a year or more will tell you there is nothing on that horizon except more work. There will always be another hill to climb, another plateau to reach, and countless number of peers who seem to remain miles ahead of you despite your best efforts to be number one. The idea of being the absolute best at anything related to careers or hobbies is a myth we tell ourselves is achievable because otherwise we might not even try in the first place.
In my life I have been fortunate enough to realize what I wanted to do at an early age and receive the support I needed from family to chase after that goal. I wanted to work in music, so I set out to do just that from the age of fifteen and poured everything I could into the pursuit of that dream. This meant going to college for a degree in music business, spending money I didn’t have on travels to events where no one new my name, and, perhaps most importantly, moving far away from the tiny farming community I called home. My parents were sad to see me go, but they knew I had to try and make my dreams a reality because they could sense the fire in my soul. They knew I loved them and music to such a great degree that demanding I choose one or the other would only result in stress and tensions that could be avoided, even if they wished they could somehow change my mind. It took me years to understand how this decision probably meant letting go of expectations they had set on me, as well as our relationship, but now that I’m a little older and have an understanding that can only be gained through experience I feel for the sacrifices they made. In order to let me be the person I felt I was meant to be my parents had to let go of some things they probably wanted for me since the day I was born, all in the hope I would one day return.
Anyone who chases a dream fervently for years will eventually find themselves in a place where they have to face the fact that seeking a sense of wholeness or contentment through hobbies or a career is an impossible task, but not everyone will be able to pinpoint when that moment happens. It’s the kind of realization that happens gradually over a long period of time, and for many it may be years or even decades before they find themselves in a place where their passion has become their career and they still feel a void in their soul that yearns to be filled. For me, that realization followed the death of my best friend, Justin, when I was 26. Justin had expectations for his time on this Earth, and his parents had their expectations for him as well, but despite his best efforts to live a long and successful his time was cut short due to an incredibly rare blood disease based on genetics that has no cure. Justin didn’t even know he had the potential to have this disease until it had already begun to attack his body, and that was nearly four years before he would ultimately pass. During that time I watched his aspirations for the future fade into distant memories and his desire for an understanding of who he was, as well as a closeness to friends and family grow. Tomorrow didn’t matter to Justin because he understood what it meant to say that the next day was never promised, so he only lived in the moment, and when he made that choice the expectation he had set for himself beyond loving and caring for those around him did not matter.
Watching Justin adjust to his changing circumstances and face each new twist with a heart endlessly full of hope gave me cause to pause and review my own expectations. I may have told myself I wanted to work in music, but that decision was based on an expectation from teachers, mentors, and the outside world that I would pursue something other than an understanding of self and the connection I shared with those around me. When he passed, I realized how all I really wanted in life was to find myself in a position to spend as much time as possible with those I loved while still doing whatever needed to be done to keep a roof over my head and food in my stomach. I wanted that task to be as fun and/or easy as possible, which is why I pursued entertainment as a career, but ultimately that path was only a means to an end that, hopefully, would allow me a greater understanding of who I am, why I exist, and what it is I am supposed to do with my time on this Earth.
I cannot speak to the experiences of others, but I do know what I can infer from the art they create. I See Stars are a rock band that has experienced the highs and lows of the entertainment industry while maintaining a bond of brotherhood that has only strengthened in time. I don’t know what expectations they set on themselves when they were forming, but I saw our culture place many expectations on them in the light of their debut album, 3D, hitting stores in 2009. At the time, the band was creating a hybrid of pop-rock with elements of post-hardcore and EDM that made for a decidedly intoxicating combination that critics either praise for its catchiness or slammed for its sugary sweetness. Some wrote the band off as being the last death wails of a dying neon-clad movement in alternative music, while others saw them as a sign of where music was headed. I was working in music and covering the band at the time, so I’m sure I added to this pile of ideas as well, but my thoughts should not have mattered to the band (even though I’m sure they did, as all creative people have an inmate desire to seek acceptance from the world around them).
As time carried on, I See Stars struggled to break free of the expectations thrust upon them by fans and critics. Most artists believe their earliest fans want to see them succeed by creating the same type of music they were writing when they were just starting out, which is fine for a time, but ultimately such efforts become problematic because – like everyone else – artists need to constantly progress in order to stay engaged in their own creation. The confines placed on I See Stars by the outside world caused a bit of stagnation in their music, which was painfully evident on 2011’s End Of The World Party and still lingering on 2012’s Digital Renegade. Listeners paying close attention could hear the band’s struggles to find their own path, but something about their output told you they still felt beholden to longtime subscribers and critics who believed their first work was their best work. It was almost as if the band was trying to recreate the lightning in a bottle moment that launched their career, and it took them several years (not to mention multiple releases) to understand such efforts will always be made in vein. That time was in the past, and trying to live in that moment continuously is never truly possible.
I See Stars found some footing with 2013’s New Demons, which would later prove to be the most popular release in their career. The band had shaken off the majority of their early work and focused on finding a new way to share their evolved world perspectives without completely abandoning the sounds and ideas that made them popular in the first place. The entire released carried an edge of “we don’t care what you think” that fans embraced with open arms. It was not a destination as much as it was a step in the right direction, and it gave the members the confidence needed to create what would be, at least in my opinion, the best work of their career.
This week, music fans around the world will be able to hear I See Stars’ fifth studio album, Treehouse, in full. The record blends together everything the band has done in the past with a very focused look towards the future that could very well be the genre-defining sound people suspected them of crafting over half a decade ago. It’s lush, yet refined, and bursting with a sense of honestly not found in many of the band’s genre peers. For the first time in their entire career I See Stars appear to have shaken off all expectations, including their own, and focused on what they felt was most important. They laid themselves bare on digital tape and found the results of those efforts were more pure than anything they had created in the past. They were also more diverse, as is apparent on the hip-hop influenced “All In” or the soft synth of “Walking On Gravestones.”
If you listen closely to I See Stars’ new record you can hear a band that understands their greatest strength resides in the connection they share as people. Their most powerful weapon is the love and respect they share for one another, as well as their fans, and tapping into those emotions have provided a wealth of new ideas that challenge expectations across the board. You might not like what they produce, but you have to respect the willingness to do what feels right instead of what is most commercially viable.
I cannot covert you to being an I See Stars fans, but I do believe you can find the strength to live life free of the constraints of expectations by experiencing their art. Do not miss Treehouse.
James Shotwell is the Digital Marketing Manager for Haulix. He is also a professional entertainment critic, covering both film and music, as well as the co-founder of Antique Records. Feel free to tell him you love or hate the article above by connecting with him on Twitter. Bonus points if you introduce yourself by sharing your favorite Simpsons character.
If you’re anything like me, you probably started the day by recognizing that the start of a new work week had indeed arrived and then immediately began shaking your fists at the sky in anger. Monday is rarely anyone’s favorite day, and from what I have seen firsthand it feels safe to say it’s the one day of the week some people outright hate. I guess to them the arrival of the work week symbolizes the end of their quote/unquote freedom, and as a result they head into the office/factory/restaurant/store with a negative outlook already on their mind. This leads to bad attitudes, which only makes the experience of being at work worse, and for some reason it also seems to make time slow to a crawl. We’re not about that life, and we hope this post can do the same you that the song contained within it did for us.
Chasing a career in music is something I set my sights on at a very early age. My parents were both big music buffs in their own right, and some of my earliest memories involve the three of us traveling all over Northwest Ohio to see a wide variety of acts. By the time I reached elementary school I had already begun learning at the school of rock and roll with a double major in third wave ska and a minor in alternative Christian folk music. The kids I met in my day to day classes knew little of the bands I already swore by, and that trend continue right on through high school. Part of this was probably due to the fact we didn’t have immediate access to the internet, so the act of music discovery required far more patience and time spent listening to radio, but I like to think it was also due to the fact that I spent every moment of time I could find with my ear glued to whatever music I could get my hands on. I devoured everything, from Styx to Big Tent Revival, and I made sure to ask questions (far more than my parents could answer) to better understand what it was that I liked so much about the sounds I heard.
When I reached my teens years I started to recognize just how different my views on and tastes in music were from the majority of my peers. Where other kids had devoted countless hours to making the track team or watching cartoons, I had been sitting in front of our aging stereo with my ears (sometimes literally) pressed to the speakers. Music had become my life before I knew such a thing was even possible, and when I was asked in my first year of high school what it was I wanted to do with my adult years I could think of nothing outside the entertainment industry to name. Music was the only destination that ever made sense, and I worked every day from that point forward to make that dream a reality.
The funny thing about chasing a career in music, especially in this millennium, is that it can be incredibly hard to know when you’ve quote/unquote ‘made it.’ Anyone can start or band, manage a band, book DIY shows, or launch a music blog, but only a select few can find a way to use those paths to establish a lasting presence in the music industry at large. Of those that do manage to navigate the treacherous waters of the entertainment business and secure paid work, far less feel secure in the positions they’ve earned. We all know there are hundreds, if not thousands of aspiring industry professionals working every day to get a job just like ours, and with that knowledge comes a sense that we are all easily replaceable. There will always be another self-proclaimed marketing guru willing to work for pennies in exchange for a place in the music business, just like there will always be more bands, more managers, more publicists, and more producers. The quality of their work will vary, of course, but if one person doesn’t fit the needs of the business you can rest assured another will.
My journey in music started when I was just fifteen years old. I booked and promoted shows for a local venue in between writing, recording, and performing with an acoustic project all my own. Most gigs came with a door charge of $5, and I thought I had made it anytime more than 20 people showed up to an event because that meant we made at least $100. When I reached college I gave up my own musical pursuits and took up writing, which lead to the launch of my own music blog. That site would later sell to a major media group before I had even graduated, and as a result of the deal I was able to get a handful of interviews at major independent labels and music tech startups. I had a few gigs, but nothing felt permanent until I landed the job I have now at Haulix in 2013, which was essentially one full decade removed from the days of playing guitar for my friends in coffee shops.
What I’m trying to say is that I spent a decade more or less being a music professional before I felt I could even tell people I worked in music, and even then I was lying awake in bed at night wondering if I would be able to keep the dream alive for another week. Even now, at twenty-eight years of age, I still worry about what I will be doing to make ends meet in the years to come. It’s not that my job isn’t secure, because it most certainly is, but it’s the fact I spent so many years fighting for every single step I took on the journey to get to this place that I fear I still haven’t reached my professional destination. There will always be another job on the horizon, and there will be stiff competition for any role I choose to pursue beyond the position I currently hold at Haulix. There is also no guarantee Haulix lasts another five or ten years. I believe it will, and our clients are as loyal today as they have ever been, but still something in my gut tells me I need to be prepared for the day when I find myself back at square one.
It may sound obvious to some of you reading this now, but it took years for me to realize that I could find the strength to continue fighting for my place in music by listening to my artistic peers. The bands I grew up listening to were very much growing up themselves, and their anthems of chasing dreams fueled my every move. I’ve been in music long enough now to have seen many of those dream chasers give up their passion and pursue other, more reliable paths, which in turn has only added to my own dread over what the future may hold. What I had to realize for myself was that those artists who manage to make their time in this industry extend beyond two or three releases are often fearing the same downfall into obscurity that keeps me awake, and that fear often fuels their material. They might not write anthems laying this out in a direct sense, but if you listen closely to the music of artists with more than a decade of experience under their belt their is a sense that they know they have to leave it all on every recording because they know they might not have another record. Where some career fields award longevity with higher pay and bigger rewards, music often works in the opposite way, with decreased sales and decreased interest in new ideas. The trick to surviving this changing of the tide is to learn that what matters most is how you feel about what you’re doing. If you believe in you, then you’re doing what you need to do, and the public can react however they want.
Enter Garbage. I knew of Garbage when I was just starting my journey in music, but I honestly didn’t realize how big of a role they would play in my life until their new record, Strange Little Birds, was announced in the fall of 2015. Here is a band that many may say peaked in the late 1990s still finding a way to chase their dreams and share their view on the world in 2016. It would be very easy for a band like Garbage to tour off the hits of yesteryear, but instead the band is forging ahead with new material, new ideas, and a palpable passion for their craft that can reignite the fire within any dreamer. Strange Little Birds may not be the best rock record of the year, but it’s a strong contender for that title, and it has more heart than any other mainstream rock release of 2016. We’ve been jamming the record here at Haulix HQ for weeks as we prepare the biggest update in our company’s history, and when our patience is wearing thin it’s the vocals of Shirley Manson that empower us to push onward. We’ve been wanting to thank the band for giving us this strength for what feels like months, and the best way we can think to do that is to tell others of the strength we have found.
If you are struggling with your place in life, or if you feel like you may never be who you know you are capable of being, make time for Strange Little Birds when it arrives in stores this Friday and see if it doesn’t make a difference. Garbage are one of the best bands of the last thirty years, and the reason they continue to hold that title is entirely owed to their perseverance in the face of a culture that says aging talent is not as important or good as young blood. That belief is a lie, and sometimes we all need to be reminded of that.
James Shotwell is the Digital Marketing Manager for Haulix. He is also a professional entertainment critic, covering both film and music, as well as the co-founder of Antique Records. Feel free to tell him you love or hate the article above by connecting with him on Twitter. Bonus points if you introduce yourself by sharing your favorite Simpsons character.
If you’re anything like me, you probably started the day by recognizing that the start of a new work week had indeed arrived and then immediately began shaking your fists at the sky in anger. Monday is rarely anyone’s favorite day, and from what I have seen firsthand it feels safe to say it’s the one day of the week some people outright hate. I guess to them the arrival of the work week symbolizes the end of their quote/unquote freedom, and as a result they head into the office/factory/restaurant/store with a negative outlook already on their mind. This leads to bad attitudes, which only makes the experience of being at work worse, and for some reason it also seems to make time slow to a crawl. We’re not about that life, and we hope this post can do the same you that the song contained within it did for us.
I don’t know whether it’s harder to succeed in music by leveraging the same tempos and chord progressions every major artist has used for the last half century or by finding a sound that is unique to you and pushing it out into the world, but they both have their drawbacks. On the one hand, building on the blueprints of former greats gives you the knowledge that at least part of your creation will work with audiences, but it also means you will lead a career riddled with critical comparisons to other, possibly far bigger, names for as long as you are in music. On the other hand, creating a sound from scratch requires you to convince people whatever you have developed is worth their time, and that struggle will never end. You can write the greatest song known to mankind, but unless you can convince those in radio, licensing, and major labels to give a damn your career will plateau long before those who pursue a far more traditional and commercial path to musical success.
As much as I wish my decade in music had already taught me the path aspiring songwriters should follow, that is not what has come to pass. I’ve seen knock-off make it big while creative originators exhausted their resources trying to be heard. I’ve also seen talent that feels undeniably unique make it big while bands that appear to have their image and commercial appeal down to a science struggle to get noticed. All this has taught me there is no approach that is better than the other, and maybe that is because your approach to making a name in music doesn’t matter nearly as much as how much heart goes into your music. If you can write catchy pop songs with a 120 tempo that run three-and-a-half minutes in length and carry a big dramatic punch then who am I to tell you that type of music is any less organic and true than that of an artist who only writes five-minute prog rock epics? If people are connecting to what you create, and what you create stems from something true deep inside of you, then who am I or anyone else to tell you that is not how ‘good music’ is made?
Half Hearted Hero is a five-piece rock band from New Bedford, Massachusetts. The band has billed themselves as a rock act since inception, but if you’re expecting something along the lines of Disturbed, Korn, or Five Finger Death Punch you couldn’t be further off base. The music Half Hearted Hero plays is far more influenced by the world of punk, indie, and pop, but again I don’t know that I would claim any of these genres really explain the type of music the band creates. Like many New England groups, Half Hearted Hero have a clearly defined narrative running through their music that mirrors their experiences as people. With each release the band has showcased their growth both as humans and artists through the music they create, and in doing so have attracted throngs of listeners around the globe who hang on every note hoping to hear what happens next. It’s not all that unlike a great TV series or movie franchise in that each new installment is different, yet ultimately connected to everything that came before its release, as well as everything that will come after. When you hear Half Hearted Hero you’re hearing a moment in time, captured and preserved with audacious creativity, and you want to live in that moment for as long as possible.
With their new album,Isn’t Real, Half Hearted Hero are continuing the narrative found on their previous released a brash an unflinching sense of honesty that is palpable in every note played and every word sung. The material included on Isn’t Real tells of aspirations for success, uncertainty over the future, and the balancing acts between relationships and dreams that any creative mind grapples with on a near-constant basis. None of these concepts are necessarily new, but the way they’re presented on the record is undeniably unique, and that results largely from Half Hearted Hero embracing their collective perspective on existence without any sense of worry over how the world might react. This is the band at their most honest and, as a result, their absolute best. You never doubt that what is pouring through your speakers or headphones is exactly the thoughts and ideas the band hoped to convey, and you love them all the more for allowing you a little more time in their musical universe.
When I first played Isn’t Real earlier this month I was immediately overcome by the realization that Half Hearted Hero had been able to accomplish something with a single album that my past decade of writing had been unable to achieve. In under an hour, the members of Half Hearted Hero presented the world as they see it and invited me to explore it with them, complete with ups and downs, emotional car wrecks and uplifting moments of self-realization. For a short amount of time, which I then repeated dozens of times in the days that immediately followed, I was disconnected from my own reality and fully engaged in that of the members of Half Hearted Hero. I wanted to live there, and as a result of having a copy of Isn’t Real to call my own I could. I still do, from time to time, and I expect to spend many more hours there in the months and years to come.
Does this mean I believe Half Hearted Hero is poised to be the next big thing in music? Not really. The band’s music is incredibly personal and honest, which doesn’t necessarily equate to mass appeal, but for those who appreciate such art the band might be the best thing to happen to that specific community of music fans in a very long time. Half Hearted Hero may never be the biggest band on the planet, but they will and most likely are the biggest band to thousands of people around the world. Isn’t Real works because it is not afraid to focus on the little details that make life great just as much as the emotional extremes that tend to make stories more compelling. They offer you a bit of everything all at once, and as a fan of music you’re thankful for that gift. Perhaps more importantly, their art also inspires you to be more up front with others about your own perspective on things. You find strength to be a more honest version of yourself because Half Hearted Hero is so self-assuredly themselves on this release. That kind of inspiration, which makes it possible to love yourself a little more by embracing what makes you unique, is something that too few records accomplish in 2016. Half Hearted Hero make it look easy, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they inspire a whole generation of aspiring musicians with the release of this record.
James Shotwell is the Digital Marketing Manager for Haulix. He is also a professional entertainment critic, covering both film and music, as well as the co-founder of Antique Records. Feel free to tell him you love or hate the article above by connecting with him on Twitter. Bonus points if you introduce yourself by sharing your favorite Simpsons character.
If you’re anything like me, you probably started the day by recognizing that the start of a new work week had indeed arrived and then immediately began shaking your fists at the sky in anger. Monday is rarely anyone’s favorite day, and from what I have seen firsthand it feels safe to say it’s the one day of the week some people outright hate. I guess to them the arrival of the work week symbolizes the end of their quote/unquote freedom, and as a result they head into the office/factory/restaurant/store with a negative outlook already on their mind. This leads to bad attitudes, which only makes the experience of being at work worse, and for some reason it also seems to make time slow to a crawl. We’re not about that life, and we hope this post can do the same you that the song contained within it did for us.
Bands comes in all shapes and sizes, cropping up wherever there happens to be a group of like-minded people with a passion for creativity, but I have always felt a sense of kindred spirits with people from places no one knows. Well, not actually no one, as almost anyone from anywhere knows someone who knows they exist, but people from tiny towns and villages that only register as legitimate places to people who grew up in the same geographic region. That was always the case with my hometown, a tiny village in the Southwest corner of Michigan known as Constantine, and as I’ve grown older I’ve unfortunately witnessed the town sinking further and further into obscurity as state plans to change the paths of major roads have made the once thriving community a place where many residents are fighting to maintain their way of life. It’s heartbreaking, but not all that unusual in the so-called rust belt of the midwest, and whenever I meet another young adult from a similar town we seem to share a mutual understanding that the place we could quite possibly outlive the place we call home. We hate that fact. Every single one of us hates this fact. That doesn’t change anything though, so instead we push forward, striving to create something that speaks to the inspiration and experience we gained from our lives in our hometowns, and in doing so at least a part of us feels like we may keep our community alive — at least in spirit.
Tiny Moving Parts hail from a place in rural Minnesota they themselves will tell you no one knows. It’s a tiny community lacking any tangible music scene, yet it gave the members of Tiny Moving Parts everything they needed to find a unique take on the crossroads between punk and indie-rock that has now become the group’s trademark sound. Listening to their latest release, Celebrate, brings to mind a lifetime of memories spent contemplating the unpredictability of the human experience from the security of your childhood home. It tells of growing up and finding one’s true identity, as well as all the hardships and unforeseen consequences that you must face in the search of truth about practically anything. In roughly thirty minutes, Tiny Moving Parts encapsulate a moment in life when you finally realize just how unique and inexplicably beautiful your own existence is, and through doing so they challenge you, the listener, to ask what you’re doing to make the most of your time.
What is it about Tiny Moving Parts’ hometown that made it possible for the young men in this group to be who they are? I could not tell you. Even if you could tell me, I am not sure I care to know the answer. When Tiny Moving Parts share their art with the world they are consciously sharing every pivotal moment and emotional exchange they have experienced through a riveting and lively take on rock that is unlike anything their industry peers are even attempting to produce. It’s a style of music that the group has more or less been sharing since day one, but in the roughly five years since they became the talk of the alternative underground no true competitors or knock-offs have made themselves known. The reasons for this are probably as varied as the reasons why certain people prefer sneakers to sandals, but I like to believe it’s because we as an alternative community recognize they are something special unto themselves. Tiny Moving Parts are part of this world, but they exist on an island unto themselves, and each new release shares a little more insight into how they see the world around them. Celebrate is the best example of this yet, and I cannot wait to see what they do next.
James Shotwell is the Digital Marketing Manager for Haulix and host of the Inside Music Podcast. He is also the Film Editor for Substream Magazine. When not working, James can be found in Minneapolis with his two fat cats, Paws Von Trier and Chub E. Chubs, watching old police procedurals and eating copious amounts of popcorn. You should follow him on Twitter.
If you’re anything like me, you probably started the day by recognizing that the start of a new work week had indeed arrived and then immediately began shaking your fists at the sky in anger. Monday is rarely anyone’s favorite day, and from what I have seen firsthand it feels safe to say it’s the one day of the week some people outright hate. I guess to them the arrival of the work week symbolizes the end of their quote/unquote freedom, and as a result they head into the office/factory/restaurant/store with a negative outlook already on their mind. This leads to bad attitudes, which only makes the experience of being at work worse, and for some reason it also seems to make time slow to a crawl. We’re not about that life, and we hope this post can do the same you that the song contained within it did for us.
Two things that no one I know can shake are the fear of death and the fear of the unknown. Some try to drown these demons in alcohol or religion, maybe even both, but we all end up spending countless nights looking at our ceilings trying to answer the one question that plagues us all: Why? Why are we here? Why are we born if our only option from there is to die? Why do we love? Why do we believe we have any say in how others live or love? Why do they believe they have a say in what happens to us? We all struggle with these questions and we rarely, if ever, discuss our personal journeys as they relate to these topics with one another. The reason for this is not due to a lack of concern, but rather an abundance of fear. We may claim to seek ‘the’ answers,’ but all we really want are ‘our answers,’ and we worry someone else may come across a truth that forces us to spiral even further away from the inner peace we seek.
Enter Holy Ghost. The third full-length recording from Philadelphia alternative rock favorites Modern Baseball, Holy Ghost is a condensed indie punk infused ode to the philosophical questions that plague all humans and the way those struggles reveal themselves in our everyday lives. From battles with depression and the feeling you will never be able to free yourself from the anger you feel inside, to stories of love stretched between state lines and the terror you feel when you realize you have to say goodbye, there is a song for everyone’s current place in life strewn somewhere amongst this twenty-eight minute record.
Now, before you going believing this record is the ultimate downer because it ruminates on tough topics, just know this is a record still born from the same creative minds that gave us Sports and You’re Gonna Miss It All. Modern Baseball know that before they can tackle tough subjects they first have to pull you in with catchy melodies and original ideas, both of which are abundant throughout Holy Ghost. This is not a pivot in the band’s approach to songwriting as much as it is a great leap in the evolutionary sequence. Rather than releasing an album that felt like the next logical progression the band has jumped ahead three spaces, and in doing so put themselves in a position to explore several new ideas without having to completely abandon the sonic foundation they established on previous releases. It’s quite a feat, and it’s executed well.
When listening to Holy Ghost it’s incredibly hard not to compare the band’s progress as musicians to your own development as a person. Many people fell in love with Modern Baseball because of their unabashed approach to sharing deeply personal moments and thoughts through music, many of which aligned with feeling or experiences that everyone encounters as they begin to reach adulthood. Their journey mirror our journey as listeners, and it continued again with You’re Gonna Miss It All. Songs like “Graduation Day” addressed the sweet taste of nostalgia and how it offers an escape from the present whether or not you actually need it. The album also addressed the challenges of adulthood, and how chasing your dreams often requires a personal sacrifice in the form of relationships or your general interconnectivity to the world you’ve known for the majority of your life. Holy Ghost takes things even further, as we all must do eventually, by putting down a metaphorical foot and proclaiming that our fate is in our hands.
Maybe there is a God, or maybe there is not. I don’t know and neither do you, nor do the members of Modern Baseball. In a way, it doesn’t matter where you stand because at the end of the day you have to save yourself from whatever it is that keeps you up at night. You can pray to the heavens or beg to the world around you until your throat is too sore to speak, but the decision of whether or not to continue living is yours and yours alone. The only thing that is certain is what you are experiencing right now, and sometimes that truth may be too much to bare – but Holy Ghost hopes to convey that we are all stronger than the sum of our opposition. We can be and do whatever we want, as long as we put our minds to it. That doesn’t mean the road ahead will be easy. In fact, it almost certainly will get harder from here, but as long as you have hope and faith in yourself there is a way through it.
James Shotwell is the Digital Marketing Manager for Haulix and host of the Inside Music Podcast. He is also the Film Editor for Substream Magazine. When not working, James can be found in Minneapolis with his two fat cats, Paws Von Trier and Chub E. Chubs, watching old police procedurals and eating copious amounts of popcorn. You should follow him on Twitter.
