Category: Reviews

Slowdive. Photo by: Ilias Papageorgiou

A Review of Slowdive’s Show in Richmond, Virginia on November 14th, 2024

By Ilias Papageorgiou

As a legendary band begins to fade, a newcomer is reigniting the alternative rock scene with a fresh, electrifying energy towards a promising and exciting future.

On November 14^th, the British shoegaze band Slowdive performed their first-ever Virginia show in Richmond at The National. The band is best known for their atmospheric and dreamy sound, gaining widespread recognition following their 1993 album Souvlaki, featuring classics, “Alison” and “When The Sun Hits,” both of which were performed at their Richmond show. Their early music was key in defining and shaping the genre of shoegaze, which is today seen as a subgenre of alternative rock characterized by its ethereal, reverb-heavy sound, with a focus on guitar effects and soft, buried vocals.

This show was a stop on the United States leg of their Everything Is Alive tour, promoting their latest album by the same name, which was released on September 1^st, 2023. (Read my review of this album in the Fall 2023 Issue, Vinyl Tap Gets Outside.) The sold-out show had a diverse and passionate crowd of long-time Gen X fans and newer Gen Z listeners who have played a key role in bringing Slowdive back into relevancy. 

Wisp, an up-and-coming shoegaze artist, opened for the band. Entrancing, dark-patterned visuals covered the stage as she performed grungy, guitar-heavy versions of her songs. She had a sizable setlist as an opener, performing all 9 of her released songs, which included tracks from her most recent EP, Pandora. Standout tracks from the set were “Once then we’ll be free,” “Enough for you” and “Your face.” Despite being more popular with the younger fans in attendance, she owned the stage with an enthralling presence, captivating young and old listeners alike. In many ways, Wisp outshined Slowdive. 

Slowdive’s uninspiring set left the electrified crowd, properly warmed up by Wisp, with much to be desired. Despite their undeniable star power, Slowdive has seemingly lost the spark that marked their invigorating, yet haunting, live energy from the early ‘90s. Rachel Goswell, the lead singer of the band, seemed lost while performing: inexplicably pacing around the stage and staring off into the distance, while returning to her microphone stand only to conservatively sing, standing with her hands held behind her back. The members of the band did not even address the crowd until the end of the show, seemingly forgetting that we were in attendance. The performance was apparently a chore, rather than an opportunity to passionately engage live with their fans. The band also made rudimentary usage of the stage’s visual effect capabilities, especially compared to Wisp’s opening act. While this is characteristic of the stripped-back style from their old ‘90s performances, it only made their lackluster stage presence all the more blatant.  Some songs, however, did manage to shine above the rest, such as “Sugar for the Pill,” “When The Sun Hits” and “Kisses.” 

It was a great experience to see Slowdive perform live, but as I told my friends in the days following the concert, “It was worth it to say I’ve been to one of their shows, but I won’t be going out of my way to see them again.” While Slowdive seems to be unable to capture the energy that solidified them as shoegaze legends, Wisp is paving the way for the future of the genre while also keeping close ties to the band that helped lay the foundation of the shoegaze sound. Wisp exhibited a bright future for shoegaze, redefining what the genre looks and sounds like in the 21^st century. Even though I attended a Slowdive concert, I walked away a Wisp fan.

By Sophia Carroll, Art by Madeleine Babcock

There is a phenomenon in which one member of a musical group outshines the rest, and this past year, I swore I witnessed it with the charismatic and irony-filled solo album of Wednesday’s MJ Lenderman. Manning Fireworks is not perfect, as I wrote in my album review of this Fall’s Vinyl Tap issue. In fact, I have gripes with its unfortunately uneven pacing and production. Still, my enjoyment of Lenderman’s satirical lyricism and melodies transcended surface-level appreciation. I crowned Lenderman as Wednesday’s Beyoncé. To me, he was their Paul Simon, or Julia Louis-Dreyfus, or Boston Rob. However, after rummaging through Wednesday’s deep cuts and sinking deep into their cover album, Mowing the Leaves Instead of Piling ‘em Up, I recognize that Karly Hatzman’s songwriting and vocals are not to be overlooked. Of course, I have a personal draw to Lenderman’s magnetic solo stuff, but suddenly, I am not sold on his superiority over his complete band. It must take a truly earth-shattering album for me to put a modern indie-folk musician on such an esteemed pedestal, and by the time Manning Fireworks’s hype had dwindled, neither Lenderman nor any other artist had fully met these expectations. That is, until December. 

This holiday season, on the flight back to the home away from my college apartment, I carried a hefty backpack full of ceramic vessels for an especially thick eight hours (homemade bowls for the family). Yet, I paid no attention to the knots being tied in the depths of my shoulders. I was not bothered even after an hour-long flight delay. How could I care with Cameron Winter’s Heavy Metal in my ears the entire journey? Released on December 6th, the album was barely a week old when news of its release reached me. 

“Fresh meat,” I had thought. 

I was vaguely familiar with Geese; I had heard “Cowboy Nudes” when their album 3D Country dropped a year ago. Knowing me, I probably skipped exploring their discography because of its indie-pop lean. Let me clarify my stance just in case a reader wants to condemn me to pretentious music hell: I indulge in pop music frequently! God, maybe I am an asshole. Even so, there is an undeniably dated genre of bouncy, bubblegum pop that is reminiscent of a playlist made by a high schooler circa 2017. I guess “Cowboy Nudes” was enough for me to understand the type of music being peddled by the New York City-based band, and I was content with skipping the rest of their tracks. Heavy Metal, however, is a new debut album that singles out their husky-voiced lead — an album that explores a molasses-like, folk-country side rather than twanged pop.

A friend of mine constantly reprimands me for my love of whiny men. I admit that I tend to lean towards male artists that initially sound, well, really bad. Maybe it’s because imperfect male voices like those of Mk.gee, Elliott Smith, and Alex G prods at a latent emotional turmoil hidden behind a curtain within my psyche. Maybe it’s because I think it’s sexy. Jail me if savoring an acquired taste is illegal. The taste of Heavy Metal, however, is less acquired and rather completely individual. Initially, on the album’s introduction track, “The Rolling Stones,” Winter’s vocals are strikingly gargled and distracting. As the song continues, his voice reveals itself as hauntingly expressive, guttural, and unlike anything I have ever heard. Imagine a throaty John Hartford with a deep Thom Yorke-like vibrato in the style of a mellow Isaac Wood of Black Country, New Road. It is a voice that betrays the album’s cover, which elicits expectations of Swedish lyrical rap (my argument lies in the mod cut and double chains) rather than experimental pseudo-country. With every droning “Me and you,” Winter and his distinctive hum curate a backdrop of moaning sorrow for the rest of the album to dwell in.

There is something fundamentally intimate in Winter’s production throughout the record. In “Drinking Age,” the raw vocals and instrumentals play along with his stream-of-consciousness lyrics. “Table by the door,” a lyric melodically mumbled against silence, is followed by a cathartic sequence of vibrating piano chords and then repeated in a gentle whisper. His compositions are gorgeous, but Winter shatters them with throaty words that drip with borderline nihlism. The line “Today I met who I’m gonna be from now on / and he’s a piece of shit” transforms into a realization that he will always be a “Piece of meat.” Although most of the album’s lyrics seem nonsensical, Winter’s pungent delivery allows them to develop lives of their own. The lyrics within the track “Cancer of the Skull” are senseless but graciously subjective:

Do I fully understand what Cameron Winter is attempting to convey with these lines? Not entirely, but they affect me intimately, privately, and quietly still. Perhaps this power of potent expression is Winter’s ultimate gift. 

After multiple monetary references throughout the album, the album reaches its climax in its lead single, fittingly titled “$0.” The song is arguably the most effective in Winter’s mission of conveying evocative melancholy. As the longest track, lasting around seven minutes, it performs like a confession or a prayer. Its soulful piano instrumental and imperfect vocals make it feel accidentally beautiful; as a result, it leaves the impression that I should feel blessed to be able to witness its miracle. In its accompanying music video directed by Brooklyn-based photographer and cinematographer Andy Swartz, Winter is placed amid a bustling city street like a standing spectacle. He throws bread into a surrounding swarm of pigeons as he croons into his portable mic setup that sits splayed out on the concrete below him. “You’re making me feel like a dollar in your hand,” he sings as a young child frolics around him in an attempt to touch one of the birds.“You’re making me feel like a zero dollar man.” For a singular moment, Cameron Winter is a prophet. He wails against strings, “God is real / I’m not kidding God is actually real / I’m not kidding this time I think God is actually for real,” yet his message transcends religion. And still, he stays unnoticed on the ever-changing New York City street that surrounds him. He also wears a bright yellow shirt with the words “Daft Punk” and a badly drawn rendition of Kirby with Peter Griffin’s face on it sprawled across the front. Absolutely electrifying. 

After much thought and reflection, I can easily declare Heavy Metal as one of my favorite albums released in 2024 and crown Cameron Winter as the better individual artist of his group, Geese. The album shares glimpses into Winter’s boundless potential; the tracks leave me on my knees begging for more, praying for Winter to become one of the greats. So sure, Cameron Winter is the Beyoncé of Geese. However, with a debut solo album as good as Heavy Metal, perhaps he is just Cameron Winter.

listen to it here:

I first got into any form of “punk” a few years ago, as a lighthearted, retroactive excursion into teenage rebellion. This summer, I was ready to move past the likes of FOB and MCR, and I stumbled upon Dan Ozzi’s Sellout. The book chronicles the 1990s–2000s era of punk, when major labels started converging on a so-called anti-establishment genre. Each chapter is its own narrative; Ozzi is a storyteller as much as he is well-researched. Although he focuses on 11 major-label bands (one per chapter), Ozzi mentions countless others. In honor of our 90’s issue, here’s a playlist to recount every band Sellout introduced (or reintroduced) me to.

– Justin Berg