The Lazy Eyes - "Tangerine"

By Charley Ruddell

If you’ve paid any attention to Australian music recently, you know that psych bands are one of the country’s largest exports following iron ore, coal, and sweet shiraz. Between Tame Impala, King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard, and their respective offshoots—The Murlocs, Pond, and Pipe-Eye to pick a few—Aussie psych rapidly spread and dosed U.S. indie-heads over the last decade with the swift sweep of a panned flanger. Sydney four-piece The Lazy Eyes are the newest group with a buzz from down under, with the release of “Tangerine,” the second single from their forthcoming debut EP. 

What began as teenage camaraderie at a performing arts high school developed into a bounding collective of creative output on borrowed equipment in basement jam sessions. The zippy, acidic “Tangerine” is the first song created from these adolescent fever dreams. Paired with the driven rhythm section comes a trademarked Aussie-psych polyrhythmic melody; lurid Lennon-esque couplets delivered with hushed assurance, the edgy intimacy of DIIV’s Zachary Cole Smith or Pipe-Eye’s Cook Craig bearing influence along the path. 

The unbridled energy that bursts from the pit of “Tangerine” isn’t lost within the bouts of washy guitars in the song’s chorus, or even the clunky deceleration leading up to the song’s climactic, bluesy guitar solo, but is encouraged by the endearing placidity of the vocal delivery. Through its burning three minutes, “Tangerine” is entirely porous and playful in its spirit, with the sleepy eyelids and chugging energy of a teenager who’s been up all night on a tab of great acid.

The Onlys - Flyying Kite

By Andy Andrade 

The Onlys’ new music video for “Flyying Kite,” produced by Kayhl Cooper and premiering on ThrdCoast, offers a glimpse into the melancholic thoughts of lead singer Max Solomon. The band is introduced in a four panel split screen, all of them stuck in a shared affliction of terminal waiting, before cutting to broodingly pastoral Vermont. The feel of the video is spot on, its use of 16mm film mixing perfectly with the melancholy, psychedelic texture of the song.

Solomon captures his music through a TASCAM Portastudio tape recorder, which, like all cassette tape, dilutes and degrades with each rewind. This beautifully matches the song’s themes, as he tries to get back lost time by having his friends listen in on his faded relationship. This coordinated dance of remembering what’s forgotten doesn’t bother Solomon. He’s guided by something greater than himself, a cosmic force driving him to never give up on his friends. “Even kites that fly / High above the trees / No matter what you see / They’re still tied to a leash / They’ll never let that go / I’ll never let them go.” At the end, Solomon is left alone, hoping for a chance to try again.

To hold onto who and what we know can feel like all we are. Time shared with others lives forever in our memory, a little bit different each time revisited, like a tape deck. But even when we’re back together, it’s different than what we remember. And when we can’t stop change, sometimes we wait. Why do we wait for something that isn’t coming?

REVIEW: Rob Stokes - Live at the Heartbreak Hotel

Raquel Dalarossa

There’s not much to be found online about Rob Stokes. Aside from a Bandcamp and an Instagram, information about the musician and artist seems hard to come by. But as it turns out, Stokes is a formidable figure in the Washington, DC indie circuit, where he runs Medium Rare, an initiative that sees Stokes recording, producing, and engineering music for other artists, putting out tapes, as well as curating events. Amidst all of that, the Pittsburgh native has found the time to put together his own album.

Live at the Heartbreak Hotel threads together a background in jazz, a budding career in beat-making, and an easygoing approach to experimentation. It feels like the thematic counterpart to Stokes’ EP last year, Love Was Made for These Times, though the lyrics are not the centerpiece in any of his work (especially given the effects often applied to the vocals, turning them more into instruments than deliverers of actual words). What comes to the fore immediately is how rhythmically driven his songs are.

There’s a lot of variation within these ten tracks, but they meld together beautifully. “Blue” is a soulful slow jam heard through a psychedelic lens, while “In the Cut” is a laid-back guitar-pop dream, ambling along like a summer’s day on just a little bit of acid. Songs like “Space” and “Sharks in the Pond” feature acoustic guitar for a folksier effect, but a lively bass and percussive backdrop keep the groove going. Meanwhile, DC-based rapper SIR E.U features on two jazzy R&B tracks, providing fuzzy but nimble verses that provide a propulsion to balance out Stokes’ mellow singing.

All throughout, even when the tempo goes up, the vibes stay pretty relaxed. It’s easy listening that can find itself in a lounge in the ‘60s or at a jazz club today. And really, that’s what sets Live at the Heartbreak Hotel apart: it feels all at once weird, and classic.