It’s a little known bit of punk lore that when Bruce Springsteen wrote “everything that dies someday comes back,” he was specifically referring to the reunion of the New England band Orchid. Maybe the Boss was a prophet, maybe I’m lying, or maybe Orchid’s obsessions (black jeans rather than blue, roller rinks, mixtape nostalgia, a finely tuned localized pain) were more universal than their niche adoration implies. Maybe—if young lads acting out, made old by a cruel, cruel world, is a recurring feature—New Jersey predicts Valhalla.

If this reads cute, fine. Orchid was always half overreach (ambition to transcend whatever you got, a refusal to settle for mere hardcore striving), with an irresolvable tension between staunch/arch integrity and proto electroclash horniness. The other half of Orchid was an infinitely propulsive monument to chaos. Whether one prefers one half to the other probably depends on the notches on one’s library card. But the band, in their totality, was pure explosion.

The band’s story began with Jayson Green, Will Killingsworth, and Brad Wallace at Hampshire College, a small school where students with signifying t-shirts might find each other (in Jayson’s recollection, Will was wearing “probably something cool like His Hero Is Gone” and Jayson was wearing “some Connecticut hardcore like, I dunno, Fastbreak. Probably Hatebreed…”). After completing the then common hetronormative bonding ritual of trading mixtapes, Will eventually suggested they start a band. Stars so aligned, what followed was an American story so well tread as to verge into archetypal: Jeff Salane was recruited, the band recorded a demo, played a show at the legendary Hampshire College Tavern, and got asked to do a split with Pig Destroyer. In the biopic, Scott Hull is played by Tom Hanks.

Regarding “screamo,” “emo-violence,” or any genre designation and the band’s place within it, that particular blood on Orchid’s hands is complexified. While memory may place the band as part of the San Diego/Pacific NorthWest tradition of white belts and tight pants, the truth is that “Salane, our drummer, was like an indie kind of guy. He sang and played guitar as well as he played drums (which is very good), while Will and Brad came from a crust grind background. Garlock is like a classic hardcore background guy, you know?” Jayson says, comparing the band aesthetics to old photos of Black Flag, where it was like “how do these people even know each other?”

Sonically, the band was unabashed in their attempting to worth within a then nascent tradition of heavy, shambolic, abruptly gorgeous hardcore-adjacent cacophony who captured the aggression of punk, while shying away (in their playing if not their record / t-shirt collections) from the bully-barking which made up so much of the genre. Of course, as the KLF recommends, in attempting to sound like their social betters, Orchid made something—jaggedly melodic leads and self-lacerating, witty preachifying over blast beats—entirely their own.

While they existed, Orchid took on the scene—past, present, and future—with reverence, contempt, and joy. That was Orchid’s approach; taking the dead horse of hardcore and breathing life into it by poking it, prodding it, loving up on it, scrawling situationist slogans on its corpse like they were itchy runes, till the dead horse had no choice but to get up and gallop around the all-ages venue.

After Orchid broke up, the individual members kept their boots on the ground in other projects. Instead of the years creating an insurmountable distance, the band remained close friends. With two decades of reunion disavowals slightly undermined by that absence of schism.

When asked to rate the improbability of Orchid’s reunion, on a scale of 1-10 Fugazis, Green rejects the metric, seeing Orchid’s reuniting as somewhat less “world imploding” than Fugazi getting back together, while making clear that upcoming touring was made possible by the band members’ common bond.

“We’ve been offered stuff forever. Everyone’s got their own stuff going on and it never appealed,” Jayson says. “Finally, I remember talking to Damien Abraham from Fucked Up and he said, ‘You like the guys?’ And I was ‘Yeah.’ Then he’s like, ‘Do you like the songs?’ And I was like, ‘Yeah.’ And he goes. ‘So what’s the problem?; And I was like, ‘Huh. That’s a good point.’”

“Then Brad said, ‘you know, I’m kind of ambivalent about reuniting… But I think, when we’re on our deathbeds, we’re not going to be like, I’m sure glad we didn’t reunite Orchid!’”

That was also a good point.

Sure, nostalgia is a corpse to be danced on, but now, with passion being passe still being up for debate, Orchid’s brand of sloganeering—revolutionary love backed by force and caustic rhythms—is a welcome addition to the hell-discourse. Either way, the band—dastardly anti-fash futurists and anti-trad traditionalists that they gleefully and paradoxically are—have returned…ready to revel in the confusion.

HiTech is a Detroit-bred triple-threat collaboration between rapper-producer-DJs King Milo, Milf Melly, and 47Chops. HiTech is putting a modern twist on Detroit’s electrifying ghettotech sound with a mouthful of Hennessy and a double dose of booty-shaking techno. Since first releasing music in 2022, HiTech has performed across the midwest from venues in Detroit, Chicago, and Cleveland to nightclubs and stadiums in New York City, Atlanta, and Denver, as well as overseas at festivals and venues throughout Europe.

Before their eccentric self-titled debut, HiTech organically formed as a group of young creatives who were bound together by their respective roots in Detroit. Beyond the Detroit-based influences that ground the group, an array of earlier influences find themselves rooted within HiTech. 47Chops spent time growing up in both Richmond, Virginia as well as in Cambodia during his early childhood, and he credits his dad— a hairdresser and musical artist who would burn CDs for his hair shows—for an early introduction to cinematic techno, referencing the Matrix soundtrack and Detroit’s popular New Dance Show. King Milo was also exposed to music at an early age at the hands of musical parents—his dad was a full-time rapper-performer-comedian. Milf Melly recalls riding around with his mom and hearing musical influences that spanned rap subgenres from coast to coast, and later credits the video game GTA V for getting him into dance music specifically.

Influenced by midwestern dance music icons from the likes of DJ Assault, Moodymann, DJ Rashad, and more, HiTech began to fuse a new sound that transitioned the Detroit-based-ghettotech sound they loved into a modern era. High-technology 808s, illustrious melodies, vibrant synths, and fast paced, pitched up vocals weave together their debut project, HiTech as well as their critically acclaimed follow up, 2023’s DETWAT. With a new album on the horizon for 2024, HiTech are well on their way to reimagining dance and techno culture and cementing a new quintessentially Detroit sound.

A great pop record is like a great friend: an intimate confidante, a shoulder to cry on, and a partner in crime when you’re ready to get dolled up and dance the pain away under the disco ball (or in front of your bedroom mirror.) That’s what you’ll find from Marci – the solo alias for Marta Cikojevic (of Montreal soft-rock group TOPS). Marci’s stepped out on her own in self-assured style with a guileless collection of synth pop songs that brim with unabashed sincerity. Alongside longtime collaborator David Carriere (TOPS, Born At Midnite), Marci crafts music that sounds warm and vintage, touching on musical hallmarks of hit songs of the past, but also sharply futuristic.

“As an artist, you have to keep dealing with your shit. Otherwise, you can’t keep making your art.”
—Mary Timony

For more than 30 years, singer-songwriter and guitar hero Mary Timony has cut a distinctive path through the world of independent music, most recently as vocalist and guitarist of acclaimed garage-pop power trio Ex Hex (Merge) but also as a member of seminal post-punk band Autoclave (Dischord), celebrated leader of the deeply influential Helium (Matador), multifaceted solo artist (Matador, Lookout!, Kill Rock Stars), and a co-founder of supergroup Wild Flag (Merge). Described by Sleater-Kinney’s Carrie Brownstein as “Mary Shelley with a guitar” and dubbed “a trailblazer and an innovator” by [Mary’s former guitar student] Lindsey Jordan a.k.a. Snail Mail, Timony has distinguished herself as one of her generation’s most influential guitarists and songwriters. Although she has remained a cult hero and critical favorite since the early ’90s, appearing everywhere from 120 Minutes episodes to Coachella sets, Timony’s many triumphs have long been counterbalanced by crippling doubt and self-nullification.

Her fifth solo album, Untame the Tiger, approaches these emotions head on. Her first solo release in 15 years is a startling document of an artist fully coming into her own power during the fourth decade of her career. It is the product of lessons learned during life-altering struggle.
The mystical, guitar-driven Untame the Tiger emerged after the dissolution of a long-term relationship and was bookended by the deaths of Timony’s father and mother. The album was recorded during a two-year period during which she was the primary caregiver for her ailing parents. “This was the hardest thing I’ve been through. Every week I had to manage a new crisis.”

“I started realizing that I gotta control the things that I can,” says Timony, who would write songs while going on mind-clearing walks and bike rides around her native Washington, DC. “Because I was making impossible decisions on behalf of my parents, creative choices now seemed more manageable. Since I had to confront the reality of loss, I realized what was important to me about being alive, and I became less scared. The record became my anchor in a time when I was losing so much around me. It felt like all I had—a guide that helped me through, and gave me hope.”

The tectonic psychic shift Mary experienced due to the loss of a long-term relationship and also of her parents informs many of her lyrics. Standout track “No Thirds” “is a song about losing everything and having to keep on going,” says Timony. “I wanted the verses to sound like a wide-open barren space, like driving across a desert, because that is what the song is about—losing people and the feeling that your future is a giant, wide-open blank space.” The stripped-back acoustic instrumentation of “The Guest” conjures Sweetheart-era Byrds. Timony describes it as a song sung directly to loneliness: “I was imagining loneliness as a house guest who keeps knocking on your door. I thought it would be funny to say loneliness is the only one who always comes back.”

Untame the Tiger does not eschew Timony’s guitar hero reputation; in fact, “Summer” relishes in it, a straight-up banger that you’d be half tempted to call “no frills” until its initial garage rock stomp breaks into the unexpected bliss of a twin guitar solo conclusion. “I wanted the recording to have the energy of the Kinks, early Dio and Elf, or Rory Gallagher,” she explains. “I was also listening to a lot of Gerry Rafferty’s first solo album and was inspired to have two simultaneous guitar solos.” Lead single “Dominoes” is a cynical and funny description of dating the wrong person, acceptance of it being a disaster, and a reminder of the healing power of music.
Untame the Tiger picks up the thread woven through Timony’s freak-folk-anticipating solo albums of the early ’00s. Basic tracks were recorded at Studio 606 in Los Angeles, with Timony backed by Dave Mattacks, drummer of legendary British folk-rock band Fairport Convention. Mattacks has connections throughout the pastoral, surrealistic world of ’70s folk including credits on Nick Drake’s Bryter Layter, Steeleye Span’s Hark! The Village Wait, Bert Jansch’s Moonshine, Richard & Linda Thompson’s Pour Down Like Silver, Brian Eno’s Before and After Science, and many more.

“Mattacks is a hero of mine and one of my favorite musicians of all time. He is a true legend. I never in a million years thought he’d agree to play on my record,” says Timony. “Before the session, I had a panic attack and had to go sit alone in the parking lot… Once we started playing together, it felt so great that the fear subsided and turned into excitement. His playing felt instantly familiar, which makes sense because it’s the foundation of many of my favorite records.”

Untame the Tiger was produced by Mary Timony, Joe Wong (composer on Master of None, Russian Doll, The Midnight Gospel, Krapopolis, host of The Trap Set podcast), and Dennis Kane. The album was recorded over the course of two years at Studio 606, Magpie Cage, 38North, and in Mary’s basement. Additional engineering by J. Robbins (Jawbox, Burning Airlines). Musicians include Chad Molter (Faraquet, Medications), David Christian (Karen O, Hospitality), and Brian Betancourt (Cass McCombs, Devendra Banhart, Hospitality). The album was mixed by Dave Fridmann (MGMT, The Flaming Lips, Mercury Rev), Dennis Kane, and John Agnello (Dinosaur Jr., Kurt Vile, Waxahatchee).

youbet is the Brooklyn band led by songwriter Nick Llobet (they/them).

The music youbet makes is filled with relentless bursts of color, commanding attention through lyrical intimacy and stunning instrumental arrangements. Driven by equal parts humor and melancholy, youbet finds delight in disorder, leaning into the completely unexpected with the aim of pure freedom. Their debut record, Compare and Despair, landed on Ba Da Bing Records in 2020. In the almost four years since, fueled by restless energy and a revitalized collaborative spirit, they have written, demoed, and recorded a catalog of treasures, ready to see the world.

Their new single, “Carsick,” confesses a tendency to overdo things, all with a charming frankness. Yearning for the sweetness of self-control yet unable to stop the car, Nick pushes forward into the ills of excess. Their clever self-deprecation takes the edge off as they admit to indulgent and, at times, self-destructive patterns. Not without nuance, they wonder if there’s ever an end in sight while acknowledging how immoderation feeds their own self-assurance. Llobet grounds these themes in faded memories of a past road trip with a lover as they come to grips with being a better partner, shaking off frenzy, and finding restraint.

Camae Ayewa (Moor Mother) is a national and international touring musician, poet, visual artist, and Professor of Composition at the USC Thornton School of Music. Her work speaks to many genres from electronic to free jazz and classical music. Camae’s work has been featured at the Guggenheim Museum, The Met, Carnegie Mellon and Carnegie Hall, Documenta 15, the Berlin Jazz Festival, and the Glastonbury Festival. Through the lens and practice of Black Quantum Futurism the art she makes is a statement for the future, as well as a way to honor the present and its historic connections to a multitude of past realities and future outcomes. She specializes in practical concepts, but works in speculation and historical concepts. Moor Mother creates soundscapes using field sounds and archival sound collage in order to create sonic maps that allow us to journey to our buried histories and futures. She is an artist who, through writing, music, film, visual art, socially engaged art, and creative research, explores personal, cultural, familial, and communal cycles of experience, and solutions for transforming oppressive linear temporalities into empowering, alternative temporalities. Her work seeks to inspire practical techniques of vision and agency against a forever expanding re -conquering of land, housing, and health in Black communities. Camae is a Pew Fellow, a The Kitchen Inaugural Emerging Artist Awardee, a Leeway Transformation Award, a Blade of Grass Fellow as part of Black Quantum Futurism, and a Rad Girls Philly Artist of the Year. She has been an Artist-in-Residence at West Philadelphia Neighborhood Time Exchange, WORM! Rotterdam residency, and the Creative Capital and CERN collide residency with Black Quantum Futurism.