From MSG OG Soda:

Posted: February 23, 2024 by Kat Meow in Uncategorized
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Tonight I have officially signed over ownership to my MUSIC-SURVIVAL-GUIDE project to my dear and very longtime friend, Kat @a_kat_a_day – This has been a long time coming as she came on as “co” whatever probably 2 years ago. At it’s peak I had the gears really turning and had incredible luck interviewing artists that I have unwavering respect for. I was sent advance albums to review. Care packages arrived at my doorstep. Artists were contacting ME to occupy space on something I created just out of sheer joy for music and writing. Nearly 10 years ago I made my first post and about a year ago I made what I guess, right now anyway, would be my final contribution. Nothing is ever really “done” anymore, so, who knows. I do know it is in good hands. You may see the style and tastes change as Kat certainly has her own voice. But her integrity and intellect will no doubt make it still something special. Please continue to pop into the site at:

WWW.MUSICSURVIVALGUIDE.ORG

There is even an IG page @officialmusicsurvivalguide

Also, please, if you have never, check out the plethora of wonderful interviews and episodes I did over on YT:

https://youtube.com/@musicsurvivalguide7933?si=qD1EDLr0BmJ2xYo2

The pedigree of artists that trusted me and lent me their time is quite honestly, astounding.

And on a final, personal note. I may forever remain an underground artist who cobbles together an eccentric living. The success I was meant to have may never fully manifest itself. However, the quality of my work and my professionalism will always speak for itself. Thanks for reading and always remember to support your indie artists as you may be the sink or swim that keeps the small boat afloat.

A note from Kat: Soda, this treasure trove will remain alive on these interwebs as a labor of love should.  MSG is visibility for a myriad of diamonds in the rough.  Thank you for your trust.

Sunday Night with Voice of Baceprot and Above Snakes

Posted: August 17, 2023 by Kat Meow in Above Snakes, Metal, Rock, Voice of Baceprot
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It was an oddly quiet Sunday night at Gramercy Theater.  I was there to see Voice of Baceprot, the Indonesian all-female metal band that has been storming the internet with covers of Rage Against the Machine and Metallica, among others.  These young queens are touring the US, playing a mix of their own original tracks and a handful of hard rock covers.  Despite the viral spread of VOB’s covers, and the popularity of their first original “God Allow Me (please) to Play Music,” Gramercy was sparsely populated, with a mix of metalheads, older city normies, and various groups of people speaking what I presumed was Sundanese (the dominant Indonesian language).  Still, people were abuzz with energy and ready to rock.

The opener was Boston-based Above Snakes, a nu metal outfit with tons of testosterone.  Vocalist Johnny Skulls got several members of the crowd headbanging, while himself flinging around thirty inches of braided hair and a band shirt that said “I don’t blow coke but I love the way it smells.” It seemed an odd juxtaposition to have that kind of brash blow-and-sausage meatfest next to the modest-appearing cutiepie trio of VOB, but I could see the connection in sound even if the opener wasn’t my particular flavor of rock.

Voice of Baceprot took the stage to expectant shouts and whoops.  I had wondered if they’d bring some heavy metal theatrics, but they walked on stage and collected their instruments rather demurely.  The visual drama came from their mostly black outfits crowned with black hijabs.  They started with “Public Property,” an anthem for women tired of street harassment.  Vocalist and guitarist Marsya glides across the stage between vocals, giving us rock and roll drama in her body movements or a death stare during her shreds.  Bassist Widi is a monster, and you can read on her face how much she knows it.  “That bassist!” I heard a guy exclaim on the subway after the show.  I shouted the same back.  Widi is unbelievable at slapping the funk on these tracks.  And then there’s Sitti, stamping out wild and complex rhythms especially on “School Revolution,” which had me screaming “don’t try to judge us now!”  Their abilities subvert expectations.  The American bias towards hijabi girls is to project a weakness or powerlessness onto Muslim girls and women. But their music is a fierce defense of womanhood and a call to punch upward, the opposite of what Americans would expect. It’s a beautiful thing to watch a stereotype be smashed to smithereens.  Between songs, moments of communication within the band almost break the heavy metal spell and remind me that these are just kids, barely out of their teens.  But once the sound starts, they are giantesses, and they could own arenas.

I am fairly certain that this is VOB’s first tour, and I hope we get to see them in the states again despite the attendance of this New York show.  They sound un-fucking-believable, and they will only get better as they keep growing and writing songs that fight the power.  Brava!

★ Voice of Baceprot Website ★ Above Snakes Website ★

Saturday Night with Gavin Turek, The Dragon Sisters, and Val Fleury

Posted: August 17, 2023 by Kat Meow in Disco, Gavin Turek, R&B, Soul, The Dragon Sisters, Val Fleury
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I was checking out some sounds for a Saturday night adventure when I encountered Gavin Turek’s personal blend of discoey beats and soulful high vox.  The almighty algorithm had been feeding me pictures of her late 70’s glamour and magnificent afro coiffe in a vaseline filter, advertising her upcoming visit to Elsewhere.  Clearly a fresh face with a mature spirit and some solid tunes, I pulled up into the graff and grunge of Bushwick to check her out.

I arrived at the tail end of opener Val Fleury’s set, just as she emerged from the DJ booth to flavor her fashion techno with some loving vocals.  Bummed about missing the first opener, I ordered a vodka and scanned the crowd for the vibe: queer, eclectic, diverse, and progressive – very Elsewhere, and very ripe for inventive hip hop drag duo The Dragon Sisters.  Their sis DJ Samuella spun the tracks and set the vibe until sisters Issa and Odessa stomped the stage with 40 inches of bronze hair and desert rave glamour.  Give me a queen with a beard ANY DAY.  This duo roused the crowd and then jumped off stage to perform among us.  Bubbling with charisma, the sisters had us chanting how “A.I. Could Neva” and then throwing tips on the stage like a proper drag show.  The Dragon Sisters were a feast for the eyes and ears, serving pointed tunes with sharp wordplay and choreo.

Finally, we landed on Gavin Turek.  Val Fleury returned to the table to pave the way for Gavin, who emerged bejeweled in denim and mesh to a driving beat.  This diva wiggled and kicked to every track she could like a glamorous disco queen. Turek’s fresh take on that kind of late 80s house and R&B gives you that kind of feeling that you’ve been listening to something forever even though it’s a fresh take.  The tracks I’ve had on repeat lately like “Whitney,” “On The Line,” and “Don’t Fight It” had me at maximum wiggle.  She has a genuine sweetness about her, which comes through in her absolutely lovely sky-high vocals and the sweet personal moments she shares with the adoring crowd.  Surprise guest Cor.Ece helped her end the show with a sultry duet, before ending on her sensual hit “The Distance.”  All in all, she puts on a delicious high energy performance that was even better in the intimate confines of Elsewhere’s Zone One room.

All in all, a solid Saturday night that ended with the right kind of sweaty.

Gavin Turek Website ★ The Dragon Sisters Website ★ Val Fleury Website

Coming Back to Life with Sun Ra and his Solar Arkestra

Posted: August 2, 2023 by Kat Meow in Afrobeats, Experimental, Instrumental, Jazz, Sun Ra
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Photos by Baron Wolman and NASA. Messin’ around by me.

In the category of “your favorite band’s favorite band,” this little ditty is about my first foray into the discography of the legendary Afrofuturism pioneer Sun Ra and his Arkestra.  The name Sun Ra had bounced around my consciousness for decades courtesy of the praise of Lester Bangs and LCD Soundsystem referencing Sun Ra in “Losing My Edge.”  According to The Wikipedia, this prolific bandleader and instrumentalist recorded over a hundred albums and over one thousand songs during the decades of his career.  That’s an intimidating stack of sound.  It’s like trying to watch Doctor Who – with so many decades of programming, where do you even begin?  So, I waited.  I decided that sometime, somewhere, out in the universe, I would encounter a CD or a vinyl of a Sun Ra recording, and that would be the right time to sit and listen.  Oddly enough, pop culture chain Newbury Comics had a small section devoted to Sun Ra releases, and I came out with a gatefold box set entitled “Sun Ra, Egypt – 1971.” It seemed as good a place as any to get started.  Risky buying a CD of a band you haven’t heard?  Sure.  I like to gamble.  Some people buy scratchers hoping to win a few bucks, I buy CDs and hope I fall in love.

I was headed to Stroudsburg to see Coventry Carols opening for Life of Agony and Sick of it All on a dreary breeze-less day.   I slid in the first CD while crossing the bridge, hoping to color my lingering depression with something mind-blowing.  The sounds startled me at first.  My untrained ear found it indistinguishable from the sound of my 8th grade orchestra class dicking around before the teacher started.  I sat in an odd confusion while the traffic loosened.  “You’re really on the jazz these days, aren’t you?” my other half asked from the passenger seat, referencing my being neck-deep in Logan Kane’s catalog for a while.  Until that dude educated me, Jazz was always the purview of corporate tower elevators and pretentious jagoffs.  I hadn’t had a taste for it in the slightest until I learned how weird it could be.  The second track: a voice introduced the recording as deep instruments signaled an odd dread over a tippy tappy cymbal pattern.  This music was perplexing.  My guy nodded off but I remained patient, waiting for something to hook me, toying with the idea of abandoning Sun Ra altogether.  Luckily, doing 80 on the NJ Turnpike is no time to change out a CD.  So, I sat in my discomfort and listened through “Egypt,” wondering what I’m supposed to find.

Made of whistle tones, hisses, and cacophonous keyboard noise, “Solar Ship Voyage” was the engine of the Arkestra doing the calculations for takeoff.  More cacophony followed.  Nonsensical rhythmic bangings and disturbed key smashes pervaded fifth and sixth tracks “Cosmo-Darkness” and “The Light Thereof.”  The visuals came on as I shifted into autopilot.  I saw the cosmos, sure.  Bleeping lights and retro-futuristic technologies colored my mind.  “Friendly Galaxy No. 2” was curious but warm.  Its unsettled terrains breathed of life and mystery, with airy drums and twittering flutes creating a mysterious if lightly threatening lushness until it relaxes into calmness.  It rolls into “To Nature’s God,” where I finally got to relax into the rhythmic chanting of the new world.  “Okay,” I remember saying.  “Now you got me.”  By ‘“Space Loneliness No. 2,” I realized the purposeful discord, the otherworldliness, the aliens speaking in electronic key tones, space madness, the cold darkness of the vacuum, the wholeness and splendor of the Gods.

The next opportunity I had, I picked up Lanquidity, again at Newbury Comics.  The first track tinkles with a gorgeous sunrise, until undercurrents of discord begin to flush out and disturb the rhythms, giving shadow and puzzle to the landscape.  Something about it started giving me Ralph Bakshi Wizards style visuals.  I suddenly realized just how many classic science fiction thoughts were coming to me.  Ray Bradbury thoughts.  Rotoscopic animation thoughts.  2001 thoughts.  It occurred to me that Sun Ra was a pioneering Afrofuturist, but all of my tonal pop culture connections were white, and I suddenly longed for a Black alt-culture equivalent of Heavy Metal.  By third track “That’s How I Feel,” I was staring down my own self-dissatisfaction, nodding to the unrelenting groove, caught inside my own self-imposed reticence.

See, I had been struggling.  Like everyone else on Earth these days, my mental health was doing another swirl in the toilet, and a hubris I had for writing suddenly morphed into another round of self-loathing and self-imposed censorship.  I had nothing to say, and nobody for whom to say it.  But within this avantay-garday weirdness, I could hear both expertise in expression and a reflection of my own listlessness and ennui.  So what did I do?  I sat in my discomfort.  And suddenly, I realized, that’s part of what Jazz, and many other experimental, discordant, and unmelodic genres are meant to do.  The listener has to sit in discomfort, get lost in it, and face it, if one intends to emerge from it.

Does that sound pretentious?  Relax, I’m just a huge nerd that likes words.  Pour a cup of Romulan Ale, and imagine it is being served by Guinan from Star Trek, as she tells you (in the voice of Arkestra member June Tyson) “there are other worlds, they have not told you of.” And then travel.

I write this as the discord of the first few minutes of 1974’s film Space is the Place sounds not unlike the clashing radio waves of long-dead stars, or the cosmic frequencies of the Big Bang as transmitted to sound, because why not?  It’s madness, to sit in quivering trumpet tones and feel this feeling, but it works.  I feel a sense of frustration now, about not having been patient enough to learn *how* to listen to music like this.  It is a meditation, a different purpose for listening. The film itself is a strange romp, flush with Blaxploitation themes, ascetic and metaphysical philosophies, and moments of live Arkestra performance. It’s a pretty coherent film even with its rough edges, and therefore worth a stream from Max. 

This isn’t to say I would be invited on the Arkestra and into the new world. Sun Ra’s vision was of an all-Black society free from colonizing power structures, and I’m a doughy white girl from Lawn Guyland.  But I’ll trail along behind the Arkestra, wave with love from the window of the Enterprise, and proselytize Sun Ra’s ever-expanding universe of possibilities from my own instrument, the keyboard. In the mean time, these dudes are still kickin’ around the world, led by Arkestra veteran Marshall Allen, and I have got to go for this ride.

Sun Ra Arkestra Official Website ★ Sun Ra Arkestra Instagram ★ Sun Ra Arkestra Facebook

A Little International Women’s Day Love

Posted: March 8, 2023 by Kat Meow in Alix Dobkin, Americana, Brandi Carlile, Bush Tetras, Film Score, Folk, Hip Hop, Mai Yamane, Post Punk, Salt N Pepa, Vocalist
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Today is International Women’s Day.  Radio stations have been blasting us with a higher-than-usual ratio of kickass female artists, giving me the urge to spread some love on my forever faves, older and newer.  Here are five songs by or featuring women that I want to give some International Women’s Day love.

Ain’t Nuttin But a She Thing – Salt ‘N’ Pepa

My wee little 90s girl heart lived on the rhymes of Salt N’ Pepa.  And while “Shoop” may be the SNP tune I could rap on command, this one gets the IWD love for putting the boot down on being underestimated for our S-E-X.  I love this track for showing love to our unique ability to be mothers while still doing everything else a man can.  The video is equally ferocious, lush with female dominance and enough body-ody-ody for my burgeoning bisexual teen heart.  Extra bonus for the burns and beatdowns on the video’s violating males.

Gotta Knock A Little Harder – Mai Yamane (The Seatbelts)

This little gem from back in the day still gives me chills.  Mai Yamane’s voice is husky and fervent as she tears through this bluesy track.  Every yeah yeah and woo woo is sinewy flesh beating at the door to your heart and coming away with chunks of wood and iron.  Tucked away in the credits of 2001’s Cowboy Bebop motion picture, this track is one of the lesser celebrated triumphs of the “Seatbelts,” a jazz band of collected artists who created Bebop’s beloved and renowned soundtracks that were so good they nearly outshined the anime itself.  Yamane’s voice was a standout among them all, a beacon of fervor I still love decades later.

The Joke – Brandi Carlile 

A good way to measure if you’re dead inside is to listen to this track and try not to get some feels.  Carlile’s voice is crystal clear and resonates around my head.  No, really.  I feel it like someone is gently tugging the skin behind my ears, like the Goddess is gripping me by the cuff like I’m a puppy.  This track is a hammer on the heads of the snide and cruel.  Special love goes to the second verse that gives love to refugee and immigrant women, whose struggles are close to the heart of why have an International Women’s Day in the first place – the tragedy of textile workers, mostly immigrant women, who died while being locked inside the burning Triangle Shirtwaist Factory in 1911.

Too Many Creeps – Bush Tetras

Despite being a lifelong New Yorker, I only recently got into the Bush Tetras and their long history of being one of New York’s finest punk funk bands.  They were remarkable for being mostly female, comprised of vocalist Cynthia Sley, guitarist Pat Place, and a long history of female bassists.  Their recent collection, “Rhythm and Paranoia – The Best of the Bush Tetras” provides nubs like me with a lovingly crafted collection of their finest work, which I have devoured.  I got to catch them doing a Planned Parenthood benefit this past December, and let me tell you, our rock and roll elderwomen are freaking awesome.  Women ran to the front of the stage and stood our ground in a sweaty mess of estrogen and joy.  I wish I had this band growing up, but I am grateful I have them now.

The Lesbian Power Authority – Alix Dobkin

Alix Dobkin was the first lesbian feminist musician to originate in the states and go on a European concert tour.  Back in the days when the feminist movement of the Civil Rights Era was in full swing, Dobkin was a folk musician playing coffeehouses and singing about love the straights wouldn’t dream of.  Her landmark album, Lavender Jane Loves Women, remains close to the heart of today’s young lesbians.  It can be surprising to look back to the wee days of 1973, when singing songs about women loving women was brash and revolutionary.  There is no better day to remember who blazed the earliest trails for women to be fully free than on International Women’s Day.

Want to see other female artists Music Survival Guide loves? Check out:

SATE takes NYC
New Song and Video – “God Complex” by Gentle Party
Katie Toupin – Magnetic Moves album review
Dutch chanteuse Kovacs stuns with new album Child of Sin
Artist Feature – Lara Hope and the Ark Tones

Dutch chanteuse Kovacs stuns with new album Child of Sin

Posted: February 9, 2023 by Kat Meow in Classical, Kovacs, Netherlands, Soul, Vocalist
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Kovacs is the name of baldy-rocking Dutch songstress Sharon Kovacs.  After the initial success of her 2014 EP, My Love, Kovacs released full length albums Shades of Black (2015) and Cheap Smell (2018), as well as several successful singles.  In 2022, she whet the European public’s appetite with four of the album’s tracks as singles (“Not Scared of Giants,” “Bang Bang,” “Fragile,” and “Goldmine”) before dropping the her third full length album, Child of Sin, in January 2023.  In a departure from her more poppy and trip-hoppy releases this past decade, Kovacs seems to have found sturdy footing in a more classical approach.  Co-written with producer Jonathan Quarmby, Child of Sin becomes an unmissable piece of art and drama.

Kovacs winnows down the guts of her stories into their most raw and pure form, and bejewels them in tinkling instruments and jaunty arrangements that center the beats of her storytelling.  There is no extraneous detail, no unnecessary layer, no excess that draws away from the white-hot heat of her bluesy vocal.  That voice!  On tracks like “Goldmine” and “Bang Bang,” she dances on rhythmic tip-toes like a Liza-esque chanteuse, breathing self-possession and ambition into every beat.  More sensitive tracks like “Fragile” and “High Tide” may recall an Amy Winehouse type of flesh.   But her pain isn’t necessarily sacred.  The choices of rhythm sound at home in a cabaret, draped in fabrics, which makes it fun and apt for repeated listens. And for all its pain, Child of Sin is transcendent. Kovacs is reliving the agonies of her youth and emerging, victorious.

The best draws of Child of Sin are the little grotesque details that become brain food for the visual listener.  “Fragile” has its own unique body horror, illustrated through her “porcelain teeth” and her body “decomposed til’ only dust is left.”  “Bang Bang” happens in the heat of the moment until you catch the premeditated detail of the plastic sheet.  Kovacs becomes her own “Love Parasite” after sensing her urges “crawling around my insides, multiplying in the dark.”  It’s this kind of attention to detail that gives her tunes their magnetism and helps expose her core. She is clearly having some fun with it all, like her own personal season of American Horror Story.

A tiny detail of hand-biting in “Goldmine” illustrates Kovacs being subjected to what might be the dominance of men withholding her cash and suppressing her talent.  Similarly in finale “Mama,” Kovacs gently rejects the overbearing maternalism from an apologetically cloying parent: “ain’t like it used to be, when I would hold your hand, and wobble on your knees.”  Kovacs unchains herself from the weights others use to restrain her, both personally and musically. “I’m controlling everything now, independently.” she says in her press release.  “Music, videos, costumes, set design, make-up, even the look of the record.”  The result is as addictive as it is gut-twisting, and wall to wall enjoyable.

Title track “Child of Sin” features a duet with Rammstein giant Till Lindermann singing from the core of the earth, telling a dual story of youth and pain.  While the story has just enough detail to leave the listener wondering about the ugliness of the protagonist’s origins, it creates just enough visual to leave me hungering for a spotlight and a sequin dress.  Kovacs, fellow baldy queen, write us a musical.  I can only imagine what you would do.

Kovacs Instagram ★ Kovacs Website ★ Kovacs Youtube

Music Survival Guide 2022 – Year in Review

Posted: December 22, 2022 by Kat Meow in Action/Adventure, Coventry Carols, Fishbone, General, Ho99o9, Hoddy, Ibibio Sound Machine, Live Shows, N8NoFace, OfficialSoda, Sho Madjozi, Stromae
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In the winter of 2021, while poking through shelves of thrift shop CDs, I posed a pitch to Soda Survive about Music Survival Guide.  My favorite band’s new album was underrepresented by people who make words mean things, and I was frustrated about it enough to act.  “Sure,” he said, handing me an inbox full of submissions he had no time to manage, having just given birth to Coventry Carols.  I began sucking down new music releases like crab legs at the Chinese buffet and regurgitating the thesaurus about ‘em.  Forty-five posts and roughly 20,000 words later, I have come to a few conclusions:  

  • I like writing, but I really like attention.
  • I know I’m good at writing, but I will be excellent at it.
  • I have absolutely no qualifications to write about music in any technical or academic way.  But I am going to keep doing it anyway.
  • If I could be at a show every night, I would be.
  • The hardest and most frustrating posts to write are about shows, and yet they end up being my favorite pieces to have written.

For the last few years, I, like all of us, have all relied on hours upon hours of media content to keep ourselves entertained, functional, and relevant.  But our artists are struggling.  Artist after artist is canceling tours, citing astronomical costs.  They are subsisting on pocket change while half-dead code monkeys figure out new ways to gatekeep which songs break out to wider audiences.  Artists can’t get on radio, as if most radio played new music anyway.  Artists are handmaking merch only to find that venues want a cut of the pie. And you can’t even blame some venues, who are pressured to keep tickets and drink prices low while keeping the lights on with soaring rents.  Some smaller venue owners never really turn a profit, but they keep the machine turning because they like to see bands play – if they managed to stay open.  And yet everyone has their hands in the pockets of people with the fortitude to put their feelings on stage.  I can’t help but wonder what invisible voids are being left by artists who throw in the towel so they can make sure the lights stay on and the kids are fed.  

The ecosystem isn’t functioning.  I don’t know if it ever really functioned – I have no way of knowing, being an outsider.  But I do know that the rest of us take on responsible jobs to be flush with cash, and we’re not getting paid our worth either.  So imagine being the artists, carving their flesh on the stage, for dollars that can buy fewer and fewer groceries each week.

As listeners, we are the largest group of stakeholders in this ecosystem.  But we’re not going out to see shows, even though we’re curating playlists out of artists that make fractions of pennies for all the free pleasure we take.  And without us to consume the art, what is the purpose of performing it?  So much of our consumption of things is at home now.  We’re all gobbling Ubereats and White Claws while binge watching seasons of Gordon Ramsay’s Forehead Wrinkles.  We’re numbing ourselves to these fifteen second snippets of TikToks and reels flying by our faces so fast we can hardly consider the literal nothing we waste our time watching.  We’d rather be in bed than in the world, and we’d rather flake on our friends than muster the energy to connect, and boy don’t we feel numb, because if we weren’t numb, we’d be miserable anyway.  We’d rather keep the ten bucks, even though it’ll eventually end up being spent on corporate weed.  

But, starlight is starting to shine through the miasma.  On any given night, a dozen bands are playing a dozen crappy bars in a dozen cities, and doing it for ten dollars a pop to earn enough gas money to make it to the next town.  And they’re doing it because the alternative is eating some middle-manager’s shit for slightly more money.  There is no reason why any person with a dollop of disposable income and a couple hours of free time shouldn’t be standing in a room listening to someone wailing behind a thrift shop Casio.  There’s nothing at home, people.  The golden era of niche TV is nearly over, and whether Marvel movies are art or trash, we’ve all had our fill of them.  Even the shittiest band’s live show is better than most of the offerings on the streamers, or worse, the cultural feces of trending videos and sounds on the socials.  The plague made staying at home jump the shark.  What a bore.  And yet societally-induced depressions and anxieties have us telling ourselves home is better.  Change the conversation.

But I’m tired.  I’m always tired.  If I’m going to be tired, it should be because I danced.

It costs money.  If I have enough money to order Ubereats, I can afford a $12 cover and a watered-down vodka.

I haven’t heard of them.  I’ll hear of them tonight, then.  

Nobody will go with me.  Go alone.  Being with oneself is the shit.  Experiencing life alone is underrated and yet it still has a stigma of being off.  Fuck stigmas.

What if I don’t like them? I don’t think people understand the power of having a safe experience like listening to music-you-don’t-like-at-first and trying to understand it anyway.  There are few things in the world that teach a person about themselves better than leaning into something one dislikes.  Some of the best experiences I have had this year have been from breathing through something that strikes me wrong, and leaning in instead of retreating.  Remember, THEY have the guts to get on stage.  So give the act the respect it deserves just for having the br/ovaries to try.

A ten dollar show is an adventure waiting to happen.  And I can’t think of anything more dreadful than thousands of people sitting at home doing the same old nothing and feeling the same old nothing while even the shittiest, least developed, and greenest young indie band can make you feel something.  More people need to be going out to shows.  Let’s get off our asses.  If we can leave our hangups, our identities, and our preconceived notions at the door, we can find something in almost any piece of music made with the teeniest amount of skill and thought.  

So in 2023, I am going to write more about live shows.  I want to put my body out in the world, where the music is playing.  And I want other people to do it with me.  When the body is tired, we rest.  But when the soul is tired, we dance.  So let’s fucking dance.

To celebrate a year of good shows, here is a top five countdown of the best shows I saw this year, including a couple I hadn’t written about yet.

5. Too Many Zooz supported by YamYam

Yam Yam started the show off pretty good.  Funky and soulful, with a number of really groovy moments that had me moving.  The bassist was up there looking like Jaco’s grandcousin playing that funk and a handful of smooth covers.  I enjoyed them.

I was supposed to see Zooz many times and never made it, so it was really satisfying to finally be in the sprawl and see what they really do.  Saxophonist Leo P was equal parts gutter and glam in sparkle jorts, Beavis and Butthead tank, and vaguely pink mullet.  Ever a showman, Leo blurts out these deep fat tones while he grinds Ginuwine “Pony” style against his baritone sax.  To the left, the trumpeting was crazy wild from Matt Muirhead.  That trumpet sounds even farther out front in the real world, screaming with impassioned frenzy that vibrates the chest.  But it’s King of Sludge that engaged me most – his face was concentrated, framed by his strong jawline adorned with curly beard hair, framed in a bright pink beanie.  Sludge is lean and solid, and even though he could put down his tools in this non-busking context, he remains pregnant with his drum on his waist, thundering airily like Zeus banged it himself.

4. Ho9909 supported by N8NOFACE and Hoddy

N8NOFACE remains unlike anything I have ever seen.  His maddening self-inflicted violence over darkwave synth loops color his intensely painful traumas, leaving you with powerful danceable Tucson punk.  Ho99o9 headlined with their own combination of hellish cyberpunk filth. Ever been turned on by a six foot tall horror clown with dreadlocks and platform boots? My second 999 show and not my last.  Read more.

3. Stromae supported by Sho Madjozi

This show opened with Sho Madjozi, whose pop Afrobeats and wild dance moves were fun to watch.  She was the first South African musician to ever play the Garden, a dream come true for her.  She’s a high energy mix with her Tsonga-fusion looks and stomping dances and lots of fun.

But Stromae!  I had decided to swear off arena shows after the disappointment of Pumpkins and Jane’s at UBS.  But Belgian pop icon Stromae had sold out two nights at Madison Square Garden, and I had never seen a full stage pop spectacular before.  Plus, I had good company: a friend that had introduced me to Stromae’s heart-grabbing Europop and vibrant imagery through their love of French language.  Stromae’s dramatic voice poured through his most profound songs.  He was illustrated by fifteen enormous screens positioned on robot arms with articulated ball joints; screens that alternated between precise visual choreography and being one giant beast theater for Stromae’s charming animations.   “Fils de Joie,” for example, used images of animated marching soldiers, in military garb of many nations, to illustrate a facade of dignity over the tale of an exploited sex worker.  Geometric animations colored Stromae’s incurable hurt during “Papaoutai.”  A choreographed recliner partnered with Stromae during “Mauvaise Journée” et “Bonne Journée.”  I wanted a spectacle, and I got it – one of very few arena shows that I think were worth every penny.

2. Fishbone supported by Action/Adventure

Action/Adventure are cutie patooties with their barrier-blasting pop punk and branded hot sauce. Fishbone is a tried and true favorite.  A Fishbone show is family. Six down, infinity to go.  Read more.

1. Ibibio Sound Machine supported by DJ Sinkane

Ibibio Sound Machine is now a no-miss band for me.  A friend asked me if they were becoming my new Thumpasaurus, I had them on repeat so much.  That’s some high-as-hell praise if you know me. And Eno Williams is a goddess. DJ Sinkane was a worthy watch considering I’m not a lover of DJ sets. Sweatiest most joyous show of the year.   Read more.

I won’t only be writing up live shows.  Keep the submissions coming!  A handful of career retrospectives and interviews with artists are also coming when I bring back the Music Survival Guide Podcast.  Thank you for reading and for all of the clickies and internet points. Happy Winter! I’ll see you at the end of January 2023.  Keep in touch on instagram, @officialmusicsurvivalguide.

Music Survival Guide Instagram ★ Music Survival Guide Podcast

Glam Rockers ROYAL SUGAR premiere video “Fleeting Love”

Posted: December 15, 2022 by Kat Meow in Glam, Nashville, Rock, Royal Sugar
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I have been a sucker for prettyboys in makeup and scarves ever since I started experimenting with heterosexuality in my late teens.  Royal Sugar know exactly what they are doing with every painted nail and pouffed curl in their new video, “Fleeting Love.”  Check out this Raven-haired nephew of Robert Plant serving drama.  This is toxic romance ripe for angsty teen girls, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say my head doesn’t swing when he shouts “You can’t leave me love!”  

Nashville-based Duo Tyler Cohenour and Garrett Carr started their journey on Tiktok covering Harry Styles’ live track “Medicine.”  But while their sounds come from One Direction, their looks come from another: the Aqua-Net and sterling silver tradition that I have been grieving since the early 00s, when all the bro bands decided to make misery rock and be extra dudely.  Boring.  Royal Sugar plan to carry the banner of a glam rock revival.  Oh please, please do.  I will shower you in glitter confetti.

“Fleeting Love”

Royal Sugar’s ripe-for-arena pop bathes in the visual legacies left by Marc Bolan and Queen.  GNR-flavored crane shots give us full views of their impressive array of deep V-neck tops and scarves.  Bathe in the drama with Cohenour and his antique red telephone.  Watch Carr and his wispy spikes tempt fate while his guitar wails on the wet bathroom floor near a broken antennae television.  So pretty.  So tortured.  So retro.  I hope those heeled boots insulate them from their guaranteed electrocution.  

Royal Sugar are a little silly.  But if you scan their TikTok, they know they’re a little silly, whether they’re eating skittles off their star-spangled tops, or chiseling open oranges with their jawlines.  Think of them like Måneskin but more sexy-cute than sexy-dangerous.  It’s a bit of a respite if you’re bored of oversexed pop imagery.  Glam ought to have a bit of mystery to it.  I look forward to more.

Royal Sugar TikTok ★ Royal Sugar Instagram ★ Royal Sugar Spotify ★

Witchy new video “Hubble Bubble” by FreQ Nasty feat. Chris Munky and MARF

Posted: December 8, 2022 by Kat Meow in Chris Munky, Electronic, Experimental, Freq Nasty, London, Los Angeles, MARF
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FreQ Nasty and his dreadlocked crown hail from desert festivals and underground dancefloors writhing with experimental madness.  Known mostly for his instantly recognizable work with Santigold, and a long resumé of well-known collaborators and remixes, FreQ (Darin to his mum) also pioneers with his own bass and breakbeat collection.  His newest video release, “Hubble Bubble,” is a potion concocted with velvet vocalist MARF and fellow breakbeat producer Chris Munky.  It is spooky, and disconcerting, and rumbles with ill-fated sensuality.  MARF’s shiraz voice casts a potent spell over this ominous gem and its fractured smatterings of sound. 

“Hubble Bubble’s” spell brings toil and trouble in the form of gently pagan motifs and warped analog tape.  Shots of FreQ Nasty and Chris Munky seem to flaunt a collection of imprisoned and mind-warped men as MARF lavishes menacingly in her own cauldron.  FreQ Nasty’s eyes are crazed as if still warped by a spell binding him to his urges.  You get the sense that the desperate spider under a glass, panicking with the drum flourishes, is being rendered impotent by the very spell MARF is casting with her knife and chess token.  She lounges among nature adorned in beats and furs while the vibrating bass rumbles with primal magicks.  Her gaze, dark and witchy with flavors of Siouxsie, enraptures: “Give me your wrists so I can hold them / Give me your heart so I can put it in a bag / Give me your love and devotion / He knelt down and I pulled out my dagger.”  Fuzzy screens, ladders, and reversed physics give the whole video a vibe akin to the cursed video in The Ring, so thanks for those nightmares again.  

FreQ Nasty describes the tune’s “angular amen cuts, slow-motion 808 kick drums, and hypnotic mantra-esque whispers,” which, for the technically uneducated, means he makes all the twiddly knob bits make absolutely looney sounds like distended wibblewobbles and fwips and thudnnnnnnn-D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D *clap* bits.  It’s really good. It’s electronic music with a really delicious homemade visual experience.  I would do some weird psychedelic shit on the dance floor to this one if I encountered it in the wild, and I hope I do.

FreQ Nasty Links ★ Chris Munky Linktree ★ MARF Website

Jem debuts “Love Me Or Lose Me”

Posted: November 30, 2022 by Kat Meow in Jazz, Jem, London, R&B, Soul
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Jem is an English artist hitting the British jazz pop scene with her EP, Love Me or Lose Me.  Motifs about forbidden love come through Jem’s rich tones and smooth jazz rhythms in its four tracks.  The EP starts with “Juliet,” which introduces the more self-conscious and exploratory parts of starting a new relationship.  The red flags are waving throughout – the overthinking, the doubt, the blinders over the lover’s flaws, but that’s par for the course if you’re getting drawn in by a Romeo.  “Falling 4U,” featuring Tomi Balogh, romanticizes the falling with some 00s-type R&B flavors.

A standout track for is “1.18,” where our Juliet is caught in her thoughts in the wee hours of the morning.  Smooth rhythms with spoken-word vocals lament a deep insecurity from an unsure love.  All those red flags from the first two tracks come to a head here.  Sweet and strummy guitars illustrate that frustrating feeling of uncertainty.  It’s hard to know if her lover is giving her the runaround, or if she’s giving it to herself through that endless process of thinking and rethinking into eternity.  What strikes me is how often I’ve been down this road, and how many friends I have watched spiral, asking “what are we?”  Maybe needing to ask is the biggest red flag of all.

Jem’s voice and keys fit with the shift to cold winter tones.  Final track “Fingertips” tinkles this warm EP to a close.  A solid effort from this London-based newcomer.

Jem TikTok  ★  Jem Love Me Or Lose Me EP  ★  Jem Instagram

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