The experimental artist’s posthumous album is surprisingly safe given her overall forward-thinking catalogue. 

The terms “generational talent” and “genius” shouldn’t be thrown around lightly, but a strong case could be made to describe musician Sophie Xeon as such, a pioneer in electronic music who cultivated a distinct sound unlike any other. 

After amassing numerous production credits with artists such as Charli xcx, Vince Staples and Madonna, Sophie released her debut album Oil of Every Pearl’s Un-Insides in 2018. The album is a towering achievement in electronic music, an otherworldly vision of the future that feels distant but also warm, understanding and strikingly human. It tackles queer identity in a way that isn’t overly philosophical and isolating, skipping straight to emotions themselves in musical form. She knew how to make every sound feel larger than life, but also effectively got to the meat of what she wanted to say. 

The collection of songs provided an inspiring, futuristic vision of what could come from electronic music in the future. Sophie’s sound is unique and irreplaceable, unlike anything that came before it.  

Tragically, the promising future of her career was cut short in January 2021 when the artist experienced a fatal fall at the age of 34. Her death was immediately felt by her peers and fans, her long-time collaborator A.G. Cook releasing a statement on her passing, detailing the history of her artistry and impact. 

It’s hard to imagine the songs on this posthumous release were made by the same artist, or that she would have released them as they are in the first place. 

The album, self-titled as “SOPHIE,” comes across as a rough brainstorm of ideas rather than a proper, cohesive project. It feels like an experiment of sounds thrown at the wall to see what sticks. The project was finished by Sophie’s brother Benny Long. The extent to which he impacted Sophie’s sound is up for listeners to decide. 

The album begins with the four-minute ambient track “The Full Horror,” setting a mysterious tone that overstays its welcome, making the concept feel weak overall. You can’t help but feel like something is missing in the track: another tone, another synth, or perhaps it’s simply too long. In this sense, it’s a good track to open the album, as that feeling of something being absent occurs throughout the majority of the project. 

The second track “RAWWWWWW,” is a head scratcher. It takes Sophie’s approach to deconstructing electronic music past the point of coherence. Nothing works together harmoniously, and it leaves you with a performance and instrumentals that feels uninteresting and anticlimactic, especially considering the dramatic opening track. 

Signs of promise are found on “Reason Why,” one of the few songs in the tracklist that feel closer to being fully formed. It has an upbeat, bubblegum bass synth characteristic of Sophie’s signature maximalist production style. The same can be said about the following track, “Live In My Truth,” where BC Kingdom takes the lead, their vocals complimenting the production. 

The next bulk of tracks are instrumental cuts, each sharing a repetitive quality that quickly gets old. “Berlin Nightmare” has glimpses of Sophie’s production style, but feels like a safer, watered down version of her previous work. The track lacks any of her previous edge, feeling too polished despite its aggressive sound.  

It doesn’t help that it’s nearly four minutes of the same few bars repeated over each other. The drums feel overly compressed and leave no mark, an issue present throughout the album on songs like “Elegance” and “Gallop.” 

“One More Time” repeats the same few bars in various degrees of reverb. It has a captivating atmosphere, but the painfully repetitive nature and lack of excitement throughout makes it unsatisfying. The song feels like you’re replaying the same ten seconds before a beat drops. It’s an interesting concept that is poorly executed. 

The final high point that feels like the proper album closer is “My Forever” featuring vocals from Cecile Believe. Believe is credited as a vocalist and co-writer on Sophie’s debut album Oil of Every Pearls Un-Insides, performing on songs like “Is It Cold In The Water” and “Immaterial.” This makes “My Forever” feel more personal. Believe delivers the most soulful performance on the album over a cosmic-sounding R&B instrumental. 

It’s unfortunate that this release will be how many new listeners are introduced to Sophie’s legacy, but perhaps it can do some good by pointing people towards Sophie’s stellar earlier work. Early singles like “BIPP” demonstrated her vision of deconstructing elements of pop music and exaggerating them, creating something entirely new that feels both minimalist in structure and maximalist in sound. Sophie describes it as experimenting with sounds that “exaggerate naturally occurring phenomena. An example being a piano that is mountain-sized and imagining what that would sound like if the strings were that large.” 

Even if the music itself feels more airy and hollow than her previous work, the community of artists and fans interconnected by Sophie’s legacy is one that can be felt in the new releases. The love for her talent and mourning for her loss radiates through her peers and fans. Perhaps the best way to honour a deceased artist is to take inspiration from their work to create something new. This feels especially true for someone as unforgettable and forward-thinking as Sophie. 

Cicada Music & Arts Festival, a festival dedicated to celebrating Canada’s best musical talents, took place over the weekend of Oct. 5. On top of uplifting Canadian musicians, Cicada Fest also welcomed a variety of local vendors to the festival to sell their wares.  

Here is a look at everyone who came out to the Cicada Music & Arts Festival this past weekend. 

Evolution Records: 

A local mobile record shop, Evolution Records, brought the music to Cicada Fest — literally. Selling a variety of vinyl records all around the Niagara region, more information about Evolution Records and their upcoming stops can be found on their Facebook page.  

Jenna’s Doodles: 

Jenna Gregory, a multi-faceted artist based out of Hamilton who specializes in illustration and graphic design, showed off her wide array of greeting cards and prints. Her goods can be found in various local shops around the province as well as on her online store, where she also offers custom design services. 

Lay Low Goods: 

Lay Low Goods, a small business opened five years ago by founder Larissa, showcased a variety of playful and bright jewellery. While Lay Low Goods mostly makes sales by attending local craft festivals, the locations of which are announced on their Instagram. An online shop is in the works.  

Modern Wanderer: 

Starting their business Modern Wanderer in 2019, sisters Shannon and Hailey made an appearance at Cicada with their one-of-a-kind upcycled clothing and vintage goods. Their online shop and their Instagram feature more of the wares they have to offer.  

Rare Olive: 

Owned and operated out of Guelph by Nicole Gagnon, Rare Olive brought its passion for woodwork to Henley Island, showcasing a variety of wooden jewellery. Their online shop also sells other home goods such as jewellery holders, and their Instagram outlines all the craft shows they attend throughout the year.  

Woods and Wicker Vintage: 

Woods and Wicker Vintage exhibited its classic home treasures on Henley Island for the Cicada Musical Festival. While their physical setup is in booth 03O in the Hamilton Antique Mall, more information about their products can be found on their Instagram page.  

Sankalpa Crystal Studio & Elaine Hines: 

Sankalpa Crystal Studio, a local small business that focuses on spreading light and magic, brought a variety of beautiful crystal works. Sold at Studio Shop in St. Catharines and LocalLife in Hamilton, Sankalpa Crystal Studio hosts their online shop on Etsy. More information about them can be found on their Instagram. With them was Niagara region local, Elaine Hines, who shared her colourful tie dye works with festival goers. She posts more of her work on her Etsy shop and Facebook page.  

Art by Katalin: 

A Hungarian-born artist living in Ontario, Art by Katalin showcased folklore, nature and music-inspired prints. Owner Katalin Koos does not have an online shop as of writing, but her work, along with information about the many craft shows she attends, can be found on her Instagram. 

Gilli Naturals: 

Gillian Pagnotta, a St. Catharines local, exhibited some of her natural handmade skincare on Henley Island. With no physical storefront, more information on the products being sold by Gilli Naturals can be found on their Instagram and Facebook pages.  

Melissa Cammisuli Art: 

In an attempt to end the wasteful cycle of “stuffness” through fine art, Melissa Cammisuli shared some unique pieces of art at her booth. All of the proceeds for her work go to Grey’s Haven Farm, a registered non-profit animal sanctuary in Port Colborne. More information about her work can be found on her Instagram page and her online shop. 

Mom and Manga: 

Mom and Manga brought their handmade resin jewellery, all made with real flowers, to the musical festival. Cicada Fest was one of their first craft shows of the season, with more information about their next few stops on their online shop and Facebook pages. 

Nefarious Clothing: 

Created in 2016 in the Niagara region, Nefarious Clothing showcased their variety of clothing and scrunchies. With both custom and wholesale products available and sustainably made, Nefarious Clothing provides in-person shopping at various festivals throughout the year and online. More information can be found on their Instagram and on their online storefront.  

Thistle Bookshop & Café: 

Thistle Bookshop & Café found its home in Port Dalhousie in 2020 and has been a welcome part of the community ever since. Exhibiting a variety of books at the festival, more information about this bookshop can be found on their online store, their Instagram or at their physical storefront at 50 Lakeport Rd.  

Score: 4.5/5 

When do we run out of time to have it “figured out”? No longer able to seize opportunities before they drift out of reach. Additionally, when does adulthood stop feeling like a costume we wear during the day? 

Filmmaker Jane Schoenbrun poses these questions in their chilling coming-of-age horror I Saw the TV Glow, a new staple in queer and transgender cinema and a powerful call-to-action for anyone repressing their identities. 

Nestled in a quiet, humdrum suburb, introverted teenager Owen befriends Maddy, the two bonding over their shared social reclusion and queer identities. Maddy introduces Owen to the late-night TV series “The Pink Opaque,” a clear love letter to ‘90s horror shows like Goosebumps and Are You Afraid of the Dark? 

Lines between reality and the world of “The Pink Opaque” blur as Owen melts further into the static haze of the TV, culminating with Maddy’s ultimate disappearance. As years pass, Owen begins to notice the lasting effects the show had on him, impacting his identity and connection to the physical world. 

Schoenbrun possesses a singular vision of contemporary storytelling. They manage to bring a sense of urgency to their film’s messages, but you’ll never notice until it sweeps you right off your feet. Their films possess an unwavering loyalty to depicting youth culture in an honest way, with a knack for encapsulating how it feels to grow up with internet culture and media as an extension of one’s identity. 

If their previous film We’re All Going to the World’s Fair is a rough sketch of ideas, I Saw the TV Glow is a fully realized mural with its stunning, thoughtful visuals that evoke nostalgia the way blurry, idealistic childhood memories do. 

Through lush imagery and colour choices, the film reminds us that nostalgia can be a tool for comfort, until it’s not. Snapshot memories of the TV shows you enjoyed as a kid are disinteresting; the show just seems cheesy now. The childhood snacks you once enjoyed taste too sweet nowadays. Your favourite online games are dull and unsatisfying. The friends you had in high school are occupied with their own lives, perhaps not thinking of you the way you think of them. The neighbourhood you once grew up in is now welcoming new families. It’s as if the past is telling you your time is up, that you’ve overstayed your welcome. 

Regardless of what stage of life we’re at, nostalgia for simple times is a comfort that can’t technically be taken away so long as we have access to our memories, but at what point does this nostalgia become the very prison of dissatisfaction? When do the memories that gave us comfort become reminders of a life that could have been? What opportunities did we pass up out of fear? Where did it go wrong? 

This fear is universal to people as beings with a library of memories, borrowing feelings from the past but never being able to own the feeling they gave us in the moment. It is, however, important and necessary to consider the queer and trans allegories used in the film. 

For queer people, there’s a feeling that time is moving differently for you, that the world is moving too fast and that you don’t feel like you’ve come into your own quite yet. The coming-of-age path is non-linear and oftentimes scary, but Schoenbrun conveys that the act of self-repression can have far more scary consequences in the long run than facing who you really are. 

In its sombre final act, the film veers away from messages typical to coming-of-age films. Adulthood seemingly works out in these movies one way or another, probably falling back on the trope of learning how to “embrace the mess of it all”. Schoenbrun subverts this by creating something relevant and unsettling, encapsulating the inert feeling of adulthood never truly happening inside you. It’s a depiction of numbing oneself to inner quarrels, never feeling like a grown-up in the eyes of others, despite doing everything you feel the world told you. 

Yes, there is still time to comprehend your identity, but if you continuously live under self-induced repression, it will inevitably consume you alive. Days will become years, years will become decades, your life being chipped away by the fear of embracing parts of you you’ve grown afraid of. As the film puts it, “you won’t even remember that you’re dying.” 

There is certainly no shortage of spooky imagery in the film, but the real horror the film centres on is existential dread. It preys on the ghosts of our repressed selves that follow us around in our day-to-day life, the memories of lives we didn’t live and the terrifying thought that it could all be our fault.  

If we don’t forgive ourselves for feeling this fear, for acknowledging that it’s as integral to our identities as the memories that made us, then the grave we dig for ourselves will only be harder to escape when the dirt gets packed too tight. 

Score: 1.5/5 stars 

It is an entirely joyless experience to witness an artist’s passion project crumble under the weight of their own ambition.  

Unfortunately for legendary filmmaker Francis Ford Coppola, best known for The Godfather trilogy, his latest film Megalopolis is a massive pile of dung forty years in the making.  

Set in an alternate version of New York City, known as New Rome, the story follows architect Cesar Catalina (Adam Driver) on his mission to build a better city. His radical vision is at odds with the authority of the city’s current mayor, Frank Cicero (Giancarlo Esposito), who favours a more practical reform. Aided by Cicero’s daughter Julia, Cesar spends the film challenging the notion of a modern empire, timelining its birth, peak and ultimate collapse. 

Ironically, the only empire that falls in Megalopolis is the film itself, and like all high-reaching empires, it falls hard. 

At ground level, Megalopolis is a film with an identity crisis; it never quite knows what it wants to be, and no number of quotes pulled from a Stoicism 101 guidebook littered throughout the script can rectify this issue. The film is a seemingly limitless string of ideas loosely tied together, not culminating as anything. This is the product of someone always playing devil’s advocate with themselves, never settling on anything besides a self-absorbed debate.  

The film’s identity crisis is worsened by its convoluted worldbuilding. At points the film feels strikingly futuristic, akin to the Blade Runner universe, while at other points it feels like just another day in New York City. This spoils any attempt at immersion and leaves behind a film that feels directed by different people. 

The worldbuilding is damaged by the confusing costume design. In some instances, characters are donned in clothing clearly reminiscent of Ancient Roman attire, but other times they are dressed like anyone you might see on the street today. It doesn’t help that the Roman outfits could have been selected from any clearance bin at Party City, harming the film’s chances at being taken seriously. If anything, they fit in with the hastily designed visual effects and set. 

In one scene, Cesar and Julia talk while standing upon beams suspended off the side of a building. If they take the elevator all the way to the roof, where are these beams being held from? Furthermore, the clouds are seen passing rapidly over the city in the background, yet the beams the characters stand on are stationary, with the characters hardly being affected by wind at all. 

Movies deemed “bad” typically spark the “poor acting vs. poor writing” debate, which is often an offshoot of the “chicken or the egg” debate. In this case both aspects are equally dismal, feeding off the mess they create. 

Furthermore, there is a lack of explanation and lore-building around the revolutionary technology in the film. Caesar uses a tool known as the Megalon to sculpt infrastructure of his envisioned city, but it’s never quite explained how this works or what any of the material is. Of course, movies do not always have to be bound by the logics of reality, but the lack of depth to what the Megalon is makes the whole idea of it feel insignificant. 

The actors never quite seem in sync with one another as well; it’s like they all interpreted the script differently, exuding the feeling that they’re each acting in a different movie. Driver does the best he can with a role that feels relatively hollow, with little backstory or stakes beyond a soiled marriage. Aubrey Plaza garners a few laughs from her typical sarcastic delivery, but her character feels unimportant and forced into the story. 

At several points the script enters uninspired exposition territory with characters exclaiming their actions too often. The exposition dumping is so blatantly tacked on to move the convoluted plot forward that it borders on cringeworthy, completely absolving the film from having any tactful narrative coherence. 

Megalopolis is also a film that stresses the importance of the future but ignores the fact that without adequately fleshing out the past that brought you to the present, a promising future is about as great a pipe dream as winning an award for excreting this catastrophe of a film. 

And yet, upon finishing this movie, you can’t help but ask yourself if somewhere there is a good film to be extracted. Megalopolis’ audacity is almost admirable, its chaos probably enjoyed best if you don’t enter the theatre sober, but this is precisely what leaves it feeling so inoffensive and unexciting. If your finished product is a bad movie, this is exactly what you want: a film so bad it’s good because of how innocuous it is.  

Although there are a handful of quotable moments that lead the film down this path, Megalopolis loses itself in its own confusion. What you’re left with is the ruins of a fortress built on toothpicks: of course it was going to collapse.  

Behind the disconnected parts that make up the fragile empire of Megalopolis, there are glimpses of a good film buried somewhere if you squint your eyes. Unfortunately, it will likely be looked at as a tragic ruin of what could have been, a reminder of how not to realize a creative vision. 

“Phases” explores how local artists interpreted the total solar eclipse that crossed over the Niagara region in April. 

On exhibition until March 2025, the city of St. Catharines’ juried art exhibition “Phases” will be on display in city hall’s Third Floor Gallery space. 

The local artists showcased in “Phases” include Emily Andrews, Ashley Buston-White, Jadyn Deming, Samantha Fickel, John Halenko, Kat Leibfried, Charlotte Moffatt, Victor North, Katia Perez Mendez, Jon Shaw, Rajshree Jena, Richard Smolinski, John van Wissen, Adam Wiebe, Rachelle Wunderink and Yong Yi. 

The artists’ mediums represent various corners of the art world. They range across acrylic paint, oil paint, pyrography, a scanned image of artist-grown salol crystals, spray paint, woven yarn, mixed media acrylic and collage, photography and a clay sculpture — marking the first time the St. Catharines’ juried art exhibition has included a three-dimensional piece. 

City of St. Catharines’ Culture Coordinator Olivia Hope says she chose the exhibition topic to revolve around the eclipse because of the special connection it would have to Niagara’s artists, as they would have experienced it live. 

“I thought it would be interesting to see how a singular event could profoundly impact individuals in a variety of ways, providing an opportunity for artists to respond with their own visual interpretations,” said Hope. 

The most touching part about the exhibition is the profound difference among the pieces in “Phases.” As you walk down the Third Floor Gallery’s stretching hallway, the walls are lined with unique works that each explore an entirely individualized experience of the total solar eclipse. 

With a mix of literal and abstract interpretations of the exhibition’s theme, “Phases” showcases the artists’ differing physical and mental experiences of the event. 

For example, Jena’s acrylic painting aims to capture “the essence of the moons phases in connection with human emotions and cultural diversity,” whereas Moffat’s woven yarn piece aims to create an eclipse “that you both want to touch and can,” mirroring the beauty of the real astronomical event. 

In the making of Yi’s clay sculpture, the word “phases” was used as “a starting point” in the artist’s research. Yi connected the word “phases” to the word “tides,” saying that life’s difficulties come in waves, not all at once. Yi’s piece represents “a structural form with multiple steps” as a physical interpretation of the phases of struggles in life. 

These are only a few of the 16 interpretations of the total solar eclipse showcased in the exhibition. 

The “Phases” art exhibition was the event that kicked off St. Catharines’ Culture Days events. From Sept. 20 to Oct. 13, the city will spotlight local artists and culture organizations by hosting various free events, performances and workshops to help keep the community in touch with the importance of the arts.  

More information about Culture Days can be found at www.culturedays.ca or the city of St. Catharines website. 

The Silver Scream is the perfect Halloween album for lovers of horror and heavy metal. 

Released on Oct. 5, 2018, The Silver Scream is metalcore band Ice Nine Kills’ (INK) fifth studio album, but the first to receive critical acclaim. As lead singer Spencer Charnas says in the bridge of “Hip to be Scared,” the lead single from the sequel album The Silver Scream 2: Welcome to Horrorwood:  

“[INK’s] early work was a little bit too ‘scene’ for me, but when The Silver Scream came out, I think they really came into their own, commercially and artistically. The whole album has a refined melodic sensibility that really makes it a cut above the rest.” 

I have to agree with this satirized version of Patrick Bateman, the lead character from the book-adapted film American Psycho, whose inclusion here may give you a hint of what kind of “cut” Ice Nine Kills purports. 

See, the concept to the track-list on The Silver Scream is that each song is inspired by a horror movie. It may seem a bit cliche at first, but the album’s songs put their corresponding horror movies to excellent use. Both lyrics and sound evoke each film, and the songs stand on their own even uncoupled from the niche. 

Overall, it makes for a memorable front-to-back listen that will make you thrash and get you in the Halloween mood as the nights get colder and longer. 

The album begins with “The American Nightmare,” inspired by A Nightmare on Elm Street. Opening with an overheard television broadcast about the importance of sleep, Charnas sings the listener “a lullaby, a melody for heavy eyes,” as though he were lulling us to sleep — a sleep that Freddy fans will know is deadly.  

Sure enough, the next line promises that “early to bed” means “early to die” and Charnas screams the listener into their “worst nightmare” or in our case, a wondrous dream of guitar riffing and head banging. 

“I’m slashing my way through the golden age of the silver scream,” Charnas sings at the end of the chorus, a line that appropriately foreshadows the arrival of two more horror legends: Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers. 

These characters come in the next two songs, “Thank God It’s Friday,” inspired by Friday the 13th, and “Stabbing in the Dark,” inspired by Halloween. 

“Thank God It’s Friday” begins with acoustic instrumentals as if it’s being sung around the campfire at Crystal Lake, the campground setting of the film. The acoustic sound doesn’t stay for long, but the cadence of a campfire song returns in the chorus, even when the song marches along with its aggressive drumbeat, its tempo calling to mind Jason’s stalking pace past pine trees and camp cabins.  

The final homage to the film comes at the end when a serene instrumental break is violently interrupted by one final savage chant of “ki ki ki ma ma ma,” representing Jason’s sudden leap from the lake at the original movie’s end. 

“Stabbing In the Dark” keeps up the album’s flow with a melodramatic intro that fits the sombre and sinister tone of its movie inspiration. As hospital alarms blare in the background, the song launches into an electrifying, full-bodied guitar riff and the song comes into its own. Halloween’s iconic stinger is introduced after Charnas taunts, “you can’t kill the boogeyman!” and continues in true metal fashion through the bridge and into the song’s triumphant climax. 

“SAVAGES” brings the golden age of horror movies to an end — at least in this album — in what I feel is the weakest of these first four songs, but still a solid addition to this repertoire, with a chanting quality that makes it sound like an anthem for horror lovers, a trend we’ll see again soon. 

“We are the SAVAGES, eating you alive / The original villains in the night,” sings Charnas, cheekily reminding listeners that although this is the fourth song on the album and the previous three villains are more instantly iconic, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre came out in 1974, four years before Halloween, six before Friday the 13th and 10 before A Nightmare on Elm Street. 

“SAVAGES” begins a slight lull in the album, at least in my opinion, which continues into “The Jig is Up” inspired by Saw and “A Grave Mistake” inspired by The Crow. Both songs have their highs and lows — for “The Jig is Up,” the high comes once again in the form of the Saw stinger and the smart lyrics — and they are solid songs, just not standouts on the album. 

“A Grave Mistake” feels like a safer song, an entry point into the band for people who may be apprehensive about the intense vocals and heavier sound that much of the album thrives on. Interestingly, the song received the most recognition from the album, reaching number nine on the Mainstream Rock Billboard music chart. Debates about The Crow question if it should be classified as a horror movie, with many calling it borderline horror. To me, this lends to the more general appeal of “A Grave Mistake,” but you’ll have to listen to the album and give it your own thoughts. 

I don’t have much to say about “Rocking the Boat” other than that it’s a solid and heavy song about a “SHAAAAARK!” — in this case the most iconic shark ever, from Jaws. There are many fish-inspired lyrics, and as you may have guessed, the best part of the song in my opinion is the bridge, where they use the iconic Jaws stinger to perfection — an ominous, increasing rhythm that ramps up as the song gets faster and heavier. 

“Enjoy Your Slay” is an awesome and intense song that perfectly encapsulates the slow-burning mania of its source material, The Shining. It is macabre and haunting at times, with witty lyrics like “Welcome to your last resort / Don’t overlook the past / If you need help finding peace of mind / Don’t hesitate to axe,” and grows more brutally vicious as it continues: “Oh, I’m not going to hurt you / I’m just gonna bash your f****** brains in.” 

Sam Kubrick provides his guttural voice to the latter half of the song, a perfect addition to the tone made even more fitting considering his grandfather, Stanley Kubrick, was the director, producer and co-writer of The Shining. Charnas combines gleeful lunacy with violent depravity in his vocals, a wondrous combination that will find its perfect home at the end of the album. 

Unfortunately, while “Enjoy Your Slay” is a shining point of The Silver Scream, the next two songs continue the lull. 

“Freak Flag” is an anthem for horror lovers in the same vein as “SAVAGES,” only even more so. With lyrics like, “Rise up if you agree / And let your freak flags fly / We’re all messed up inside / And forced to act like everything’s alright,” the song speaks to the rejects of society.  

This makes sense considering the title of the source film, The Devil’s Rejects, but it doesn’t much relate to the movie itself. Perhaps my apprehension comes from the depravity of the movie, which this song seems to support, but perhaps I’m just a hypocrite. Who knows? “Freak Flag” is still a solid song, despite it not being my favourite. 

“The World In My Hands” feels like another safer song based on another borderline horror movie, in this case, Edward Scissorhands. It goes hard in some of the instrumental sections and has fun lyrics based on the premise, like when it discusses “an itch that can’t be scratched” or mentions hedges. Moreover, the ending features a nice keening and tragic guitar solo, but this one isn’t my favourite either. 

The lull ends with “Merry Axe-Mas,” one of my favourite songs on the album for the sheer fun it purports, as cheesy slashers like its source material, Silent Night Deadly Night, are meant to do. 

This Christmas-themed song works so well because of how much it leans into its Christmas theme: jolly sleigh bells are used in tandem with wicked guitar shreds and metal choir voices sing about “the meaning of Christmas,” in this case to punish and slaughter as many naughty people as you can. 

It’s hokey and it knows it, describing how “Santa’s claws are out” and “the noose was yule-tide tight” while singing about “slashing through the snow” and “mistletoe tags.” At the same time, the song speeds along at a breakneck pace, unceasing in its mightiness and providing an exhilarating ‘slay’ ride through heavy metal breakdowns and hoarse screams. 

“Love Bites” succeeds where “The World In My Hands” falters. The song maintains its tragic tone throughout its entirety, unlike “The World In My Hands,” which flips between hard and tragic and can’t seem to decide which it wants to be. “Love Bites” centres around a keening and mournful guitar riff, an emotional song through and through. 

Perhaps the stronger tone comes from the more prominent horror tones present in the source film, An American Werewolf in London, in which the main character fears killing someone he loves due to his lycanthropy. Guest vocalist Chelsea Talmadge duets perfectly with Charnas in this song, standing apart from many of the other guest vocalists whose sound can blend into that of the overall heavy metal.  

Closing out the album is one of The Silver Scream’s best songs, the IT-inspired “IT Is the End.” Much like how Charnas’ voice lent well to the lunacy in “Enjoy Your Slay,” this is even more prevalent here as he provides his take on Pennywise the Dancing Clown, a psychotic and supernatural child-eating monster. Charnas sounds absolutely insane, taking endless glee in the carnage he inflicts within his underground big top, joking and choking that he’s got “some big f****** shoes to fill.” 

“IT Is the End” is wonderful, featuring brass instruments and teeny horns to combine circus music with a racing heavy metal sound that provides the perfect conclusion to the album. As Charnas says, “It’s everything you know / It’s everything you fear” from The Silver Scream, but it’s also so much more. 

And surprise! If you give the album’s deluxe edition a listen, you’ll find some acoustic and live versions of songs, a decent cover of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” and a bonus original song inspired by Scream, “Your Number’s Up.”  

This is another banger, starting with a seemingly innocent phone call that turns into a horrific game of cat and mouse, just like in the movie. The whole song is a dialogue between the killer and the victim, emulating the opening scene of the self-referential slasher flick and bringing the album’s original songs to a violent end as the victim’s knifing is heard over the phone. 

The Silver Scream is a chugging monster of an album, perfect for the Halloween season and when you’re furiously writing last minute assignments for midterms. 

Whether you’re a heavy metal and horror fan or you’ve never explored the genres, The Silver Scream is worth checking out. 

This is the first of a two-part series. Stay tuned to The Brock Press for a retrospective on The Silver Scream 2: Welcome to Horrorwood. 

A chilly gust of wind shocks the rather imposing horde of travellers that have just exited the Lakeshore West train onto platform six, the air filled with a cacophony of their murmuring remarks on the impending arrival of fall. Wedged between two exceptionally large locomotives, dozens of bodies crush together in the race down the stairs to Union Station, the sound of their voices humming in the atmosphere like radio static. 

The shuddering crowd is diverse. Fans donning bright blue Toronto Blue Jays baseball caps are blissfully unaware that they are about to lament a crushing loss to the Miami Marlins before the night is through. Men with briefcases struggle to part the sea of people as they travel against the pack, attempting to board a train home after a long day of work. Airport goers drag luggage behind them on their journey to the air train, dodging dirty looks from those around them who suffer the nipping pain of a suitcase wheel running over their toe.  

Upon first glance, the shuffling faction of travellers seem pretty average for a Friday night in the big city. Yet peppered amongst them are a collection of unique bodies whose hands and necks have been painted black, their shoulders and knees covered in strips of red and yellow duct tape. Hiding in this crowd of ordinary, everyday people are the few, the proud and the emotional: members of the Clique getting ready to embark on an indescribable journey towards emotional actualization.  

Those who were previously camouflaged now congregate together openly outside of the Scotiabank Arena, covering one another in the colours of Clancy and his Banditos. The sound of joyful laughter fills the air, signifying an unspoken comradery amongst a gathering of people who often find themselves stuck in the periphery. Suddenly set ablaze with glowing red light, the crowd rallied in Maple Leaf Gardens begin to cheer at the sight of Tyler Joseph and Josh Dun reflected on the 2,200 square foot LED screen attached to the side of the arena. “TWENTY ONE PILOTS: THE CLANCY TOUR,” the projection reads in massive yellow letters.  

If you’re in the wrong place, you should probably leave now.  

Just inside the doors of gate six, a woman confiscates duct tape, a mandatory part of the Bandito wardrobe. Both of her forearms are decorated with various red and yellow rolls which fans have reluctantly handed over. Her eyes light up in malicious glee as she catches another perpetrator, snatching the tape from their outstretched hands before announcing her accomplishment to the crowd of people at bag check as if she has solved world hunger.  

Yet, the unbounded positive energy being expelled by fans of the band — who now occupy ever corner of the venue — permeates the space with fervor, overtaking any negativity that might have previously existed.  

Inside the arena, the crowd is buzzing. People clutch various items of merchandise to their chests as they make the embarrassing shuffle past fellow concert goers’ knees to get to their seats. Cell phone flashlights interact with each another from across the room, dancing in synchronized circles as if to say: “Is anyone else out there?”  

Suddenly, as the massive curtain concealing the stage drops to the floor and the show begins, this tiny, beautiful fraction of the world congregating inside the Scotiabank Arena collectively releases a deep sigh of relief.  

There is someone out there. 

Throughout the night, Tyler and Josh play a variety of tracks, the setlist elegantly intertwining classics with songs from the band’s most recent full-length release Clancy. Expertly balancing the inclusion of the band’s lore with good old Twenty One Pilots humour, the concert keeps its audience on their feet and desperately wanting more.  

As the show progresses, time starts to feel as if it is passing in slow motion, minds and souls lost in blurred hues of red and yellow. All around the room, tired bodies glisten with sweat and flushed faces are covered in remnants of old makeup smudged by traitorous tears. When Tyler re-takes the stage to perform “Oldies Station,” he seems to suck in a shuddering breath of emotion as it finally hits him — he did this. In a moment of quiet contemplation, the man who started it all watches as the beautiful community he has managed to cultivate stares back at him with overwhelming reverence flashing in their eyes.  

“You don’t quite mind how long red lights are taking / Push on through / Your favourite song was on the oldies station / Push on through / You have it down, that old fight for survival / Push on through” Tyler encourages the crowd, and a chorus of voices sing the same sentiment back to him with fervour. It’s a moving testament to the interminable love that has brought together a room of complete strangers, a never-ending connection that will persist long after the night is through.  

As the song ends, the artist and the audience reflect on all the obstacles they have had to overcome to get to this moment in time and a quiet moment of feeling envelopes the congregation as they consider the sheer beauty of what they have just experienced.   

The band conclude the concert in the same way they have for as long as anyone can remember, with the song “Trees.” Assuming their positions on two metal platforms nestled amongst the crowd of people in the pit, Tyler and Josh play the show out in a deeply cathartic and culminating moment of intense emotion.  

“Trees” stresses the importance of persevering against struggle, connecting in times of isolation, living even when things get hard. The performance is a symbol of everything the band stands for: staying alive and pushing through.  

As people begin to disperse onto the streets of Toronto in a daze, the band’s concluding words, “We are Twenty One Pilots, and so are you,” remind the crowd of the wonderful community they are a part of.  

Stay strong, live on and power to the local dreamer. 

Prolific composer Mozart died over 230 years ago, yet he has still managed to drop a new single in the 21st century.  

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, an 18th-century Austrian who is considered to be one of the greatest composers in the history of Western music, is known worldwide for his extensive repertoire. His music is well regarded for its “melodic beauty, its formal elegance and its richness of harmony and texture.” After an exceedingly short but incredible life, Mozart died tragically at the age of 35 in his home in 1791 after crafting over 600 compositions.  

Yet, on Sept. 19, Leipzig Municipal Libraries announced that they had uncovered a previously undiscovered work of Mozart’s in their collection. Just 280 miles south of Salzburg, Mozart’s birthplace, researchers were working on updating the Köchel catalogue, a chronological compilation of the composer’s works, when the seven-movement composition was found.  

Written on off-white handmade laid paper in dark brown ink, the piece was originally titled Serenate ex C but has now been named Ganz kleine Nachtmusik, which means “quite or very little music.” 

While the physical print of this composition is believed not to have been transcribed by Mozart himself, it was likely written down by someone else who was making a copy of the work around the year 1780.  

Ulrich Leisinger, the head of research at the Mozarteum Foundation, said that based on the piece’s compositional characteristics, it is likely that Mozart wrote the composition between the ages of 10 to 13 years old during the mid-to late 1760s. Furthermore, the absence of the composer’s middle name in his ascription suggests that the work must have been completed prior the Mozart’s first trip to Italy, as after 1769 the musical aficionado started to include “Amadeo” in his attribution. Mozart wrote many chamber works like this in his younger years, and many of these works were thought to have been lost to history.  

“We are convinced that we can now present a completely unknown, charming piece by the young Mozart,” Leisinger told the German Press Agency following some concerns that the piece could have been misattributed.  

Leisinger went on to say that “[t]he similarity with other Mozart compositions from this period and the external features such as the composer’s name on the notes speak for the fact that this serenade came from Mozart. This is not 100 per cent verifiable. But everything has been done to rule out that this piece is in some archive under the name of another composer.” 

The premier of the 12-minute-long opus took place on Sept. 21 at the Leipzig Opera, resulting in 400-metre-long lines of people desperate to hear the piece played live. Consisting of two violins and a bass, Ganz Kleine Nachtmusik was played by three graduates of the Johann Sebastian Bach Music School.  

The three musicians then played the piece again outside, where researchers think it was written to be played, for crowds who could not attend the official performance.  

A video of the performance can be found here. 

Gigi Perez’s new single “Sailor Song” became a Billboard hit overnight, but not without some controversy from religious individuals.  

After a stripped back, acoustic clip of her track “Sailor Song” went viral this past spring, Gigi Perez, a musician who has mostly found acclaim through her following on TikTok, saw overnight fame.  

Perez isn’t new to the music game, having released the popular track “Sometimes (Backwoods)” in 2021 as well as singles “Normalcy” and “Please Be Rude” in March and May respectively. After the great success of “Sometimes (Backwoods),” Perez found herself signed to music label Interscope Records, but this pairing didn’t last very long as she was later dropped for not producing music at a rapid enough rate.  

“I was stuck inside of a machine that didn’t work for me and I was unhappy,” Perez said about her time under her former label.  

“Normalcy” and “Please Be Rude” were then released independently, but following the success of the recent release of her track “Sailor Song,” Perez has signed a new deal with Island Records. 

One of the original few clips released of “Sailor Song,” uploaded to TikTok on July 5, has nearly 4 million views and over 480,000 likes. Furthermore, while there are various TikTok audios attached to the song, the top five attributed to Perez herself have a combined 500,000 plus videos posted underneath them. Within a day of its July 26 release date, the song had skyrocketed to Spotify’s Top 100 Trending tracks list. 

But following the introduction of the full track to the rest of the world, some listeners were quick to denounce Perez for one lyric in particular. The line “I don’t believe in God, but I believe that you’re my saviour,” a lyric that is referencing Perez’s lover, has caused a stir of upset among a few religious communities.  

“When I accidently read the part ‘I don’t believe in God but I believe that your my saviour’ either I [go] quiet or [sing] ‘I do believe in God and I believe that your my saviour,” one commenter said under a TikTok posted about the song.  

Another person responded to the video asking, “What if I still sing the song but I just say, ‘I do believe in God and I believe that he’s my saviour’ instead of the real version?”  

Fans of Perez pointed out how disrespectful this was to the creator of the song as she had written the track around themes of religious trauma and queer female relationships. This furthered the controversy around the song, with some people saying that because of this line, Perez must worship the devil.  

Perez recently responded to this public dispute by uploading a clip of a new song she had written which fans have taken to calling “Love was the Law.” The name comes from the very few lyrics Perez has posted, which read: “Capital loss / Love was the law / And religion was taught.” This song seems to hit back at those who have treated “Sailor Song” as being a devotional to Satan, and not what it really is, a song about absolute, all-consuming love.  

Score: 1/5 stars 

Katy Perry’s latest album feels 143 steps behind the times. 

The pop hitmaker isn’t exactly known for consistent critical acclaim. Her past three albums have all been met with mixed to outright negative reception. With several hits under her belt, these albums signify the loosening of Perry’s grip on the everchanging sound of pop. There is something confusing about her music from the past several years; it’s as if she herself doesn’t know what makes her many hits tick. 

It cannot be understated that her sophomore album Teenage Dream is an essential text for early 2010s pop music. While it may have a fair share of derivative deep-cut tracks, the top tracks like “Firework” and “California Girls” are blueprint radio-friendly pop songs. 

However, her success strategy is apparently akin to throwing darts with your eyes closed. Sure, it might not require skilled precision to accidentally hit a bullseye, but you’re more likely to repeatedly hit the wall instead. 

This hit-or-miss strategy is all too apparent on her latest release 143, a clunky disaster of an album that comes across as a trial-and-error attempt at reclaiming the bygone magic of her past hits. 

The biggest weakness throughout the entire album is Perry’s uninteresting lyricism. Songwriting has never been her strong suit; even on hits like “Firework” and “Dark Horse,” she’s always relied on a grasp of hooks and melody to make something stick. Unfortunately, there isn’t anything standing out on 143 for listeners to latch on to, and the verses in between feel impersonal and inauthentic. 

On the opening track and lead single “Woman’s World,” Perry confidently spits “sexy, confident, so intelligent, she is heaven sent, so soft, so strong,” over the opening verse with an uncharismatic, monotone delivery. Perry addresses the “on-the-nose” tone of the song and its accompanying music video in an Instagram post, stating “YOU CAN DO ANYTHING! EVEN SATIRE!”  

If you have to explain something is satire, it isn’t good satire — simple as that. It’s almost as if she had satire saved as a cop-out in the event that the song’s literal interpretation was poorly received.  

Whether Perry’s exaggeratedly dull take on feminism is satire or not is completely soured by the track being produced by Dr. Luke, Perry’s long-time collaborator who engaged in various lawsuits surrounding artist Kesha, accusing him of “sexually, physically, verbally and emotionally” abusing her. All this makes “Woman’s World” a confusing track. Is it trying to satirize the male gaze? Is it trying to be some post-ironic empowerment anthem? Whatever it’s trying to do, it’s not convincing anyone to believe in it. 

“Lifetimes” is a run-of-the-mill house track that lacks the warmth and invitation of a summer hit. It’s the brand of tired music that bores you out of the club. The same can be said for several other tracks. “Crush” is a particularly vapid track with lines like, “Is it a crush? Makin’ me blush / Here I go again, I’m falling in love.” 

Brief glimpses of hope can be found in “All The Love,” where Perry’s vocals move harmoniously with the driving production. The song has a sticky hook as well with “back to me” repeated in the post chorus, but generally it leads nowhere, further demonstrating 143’s lack of direction. 

The album’s features range from a cut above Perry to being dragged down to her level. Kim Petras sounds disinterested on the track “Gorgeous,” her performance following the same shticks she has succumbed to in her own releases. Doechii brings a breath of fresh air on “I’m His, He’s Mine,” as she slides over the beat as the dominating force in the song. It is amusing, however, that only a few tracks after Perry claims “it’s a woman’s world,” she creates a song revolving around attracting the attention of a man. This alone is enough to make 143 feel disjointed from the get-go. 

The album leaves you with nothing, Perry’s bravado coming off as a shell of a popstar. The production is seemingly polished, but it speaks to nothing and carries no weight, perhaps best equated to a department store fitting-room soundtrack. 

The failure of 143 is a cautionary tale to artists who vehemently reject criticism. When your entire feedback loop exists in the vacuum of fandom, you’re bound to believe every idea sticks. This strategy may work at creating a loyal fanbase, but any hope for expanding your audience gets left at the club doors. 143 makes it clear that Perry will continue to swing her bat blindfolded with the dream of recreating the home-run magic of her early hits, but some teenage dreams are meant to be left behind. 

Score: 4/5 stars 

Some horror crawls under your skin and stays there longer than you’d like. 

This description aptly fits Oz Perkins’ latest horror film, Longlegs, a modern classic in stylistic horror filmmaking that doesn’t fully compromise substance for an immersive audiovisual experience. 

The film’s story follows FBI agent Lee Harker (Maika Monroe) as she is tasked with uncovering information about a series of family murder-suicides connected to the enigmatic serial killer “Longlegs” (Nicholas Cage). Further information about the case points her towards the occult, complicating the task of uncovering Longlegs’ true identity and his motivations behind the string of grisly murders. 

First, the elephant in the room: claims have circulated that Longlegs is, hyperbolically, “the scariest movie of all time.” It’s not, but as far as recent horror releases go, a strong case can be made for it being in the verifiably scary camp.  

The marketing team at NEON Rated achieved groundbreaking work building hype around the film from the ground up. In winter of this year, various teasers were released with cryptic imagery and characters of an unknown cypher. None of the promotional material ever revealed Cage’s appearance as the titular character, further building anticipation and paying off tremendously when you finally see him. 

Longlegs is certainly a scary film, but it’s far less aggressive than the marketing makes it seem. It begins as a stylistic police-procedural thriller, the plot slowly introducing a more sinister mood. The horror largely lies in the atmosphere; the paranoid feeling of being stalked. Longlegs’ presence is felt throughout the entire movie, always leaving hints that he is watching events unfurl. 

The performances are stellar all around. Monroe delivers a steely performance as Agent Harker, showing her ability to disappear into a role characterized by aloofness and inner turmoil.  

Cage’s performance is probably the biggest love-it-or-hate-it aspect of the entire film. Concealing his appearence in the marketing gave a shock-value boost for his success here, but his general creepiness as Longlegs is a dominating force onscreen that commands attention and cannot be understated. However, an eccentric, chaotic performance like this will confirm to viewers whether they’re fully immersed in the film or pulled out of it entirely. And, as established, the film already depends heavily on the immersion aspect to be effectively scary. 

Despite having only a handful of feature films under his belt, Perkins clearly has a vision of what he wants to bring to horror cinema. His commitment to consistent aestheticism is comparable to Ari Aster’s work in Hereditary and Midsommar.  

What sets Perkins apart is the general bleakness of his films. Longlegs is a visually stunning film, demonstrating Perkins’ ability to control the mood, but it doesn’t possess the same illusion of security that Aster’s films do. Both Longlegs and his previous film The Blackcoat’s Daughter are openly bleak, wintertime horror, relishing in the gloom of the sun setting a little earlier.  

He holds the camera on uncomfortably long, wide shots to drive the imagination wild. You’re constantly anticipating something to appear just in the corner of the frame, and when something does, the film only further sinks its teeth into you. It’s a classic rumination on whether it’s scarier to be alone or not alone in the dark; the feeling of being alone in the woods at night and wondering what could be out there watching you, hidden from view. 

That’s the thing about this brand of atmospheric horror; it doesn’t rely on the immediacy of jump scares to get under your skin, though the few it does use are shocking, full-body scares. 

Picture yourself in bed late at night. You switch the lights off and anticipate the quiet pattering of rain on your window to lull you to sleep. Before sleep can swallow you, your eyes notice a shadowy mass hunched in the corner of your room, watching. After a minute of staring at it, your eyes convince you that its body is rising and falling with its breath. Your tired eyes picture it slowly standing up, the uncanny, humanoid form glaring down at you. 

Surely this would raise anyone’s heart rate, if not for the moment you turn on a light and you’re met with the unruly sight of the dirty laundry you procrastinated.  

While the atmosphere of Longlegs may feel suffocating, it doesn’t take much to see through the shadowy front and exit the trance it puts you in. Whether or not it’s effective in scaring audiences is entirely dependent on their decision to entertain the things that go bump in the night. 

The film’s clear attention to style tests our ability to intuitively feel when something isn’t quite right in a space, but it’s by no means a film that neglects narrative substance to maintain its aesthetic orientation. What Longlegs succeeds at imprinting on audiences is a chilling reminder of evil’s presence in our world. 

You’re led to believe it’s lurking just out of sight — the beady eyes you feel on your back as you flick off the basement light, climbing the steps to the safety of the main floor — but it’s always been within arm’s reach. Even if you give yourself time to notice it, how long is there before it’s too late to do anything? In other words, don’t forget to check under your bed before you nod off tonight. 

Chappell Roan took the VMAs by storm with her fiery performance of her hit single “Good Luck, Babe!,” but there may have been a deeper meaning hidden within her performance.  

The MTV Video Music Awards (VMAs) are a staple in the music industry and an important stepping stone for every new musician on the road to success. Considered to be more than just an award show, the VMAs continue to make a cultural impact as they reflect and influence overarching trends in music, fashion and entertainment.  

While many deserving individuals won big at this year’s VMAs, none won more than pop star and queer icon Chappell Roan. Many have speculated that her performance of the hit single “Good Luck, Babe!” will be inducted into the VMA Hall of Fame alongside Madonna’s 1990 performance of “Vogue” and Lady Gaga’s 2009 performance of “Paparazzi.” 

Roan arrived on the red carpet in a long black sheer dress and a sage green overcoat, mimicking classic medieval silhouettes while remaining contemporary. An imposing crucifix hung from her neck, thick metal cuffs encircled both of her wrists and she carried with her a full-size sword.  

While those watching the red carpet in real time had no way of knowing it, Roan’s outfit was hinting at the overarching theme of her upcoming performance. 

Donning a suit of armour and wielding a crossbow loaded with a flaming arrow, Roan appears at the beginning of her performance locked behind the large metal gates of a castle. Freed from her imprisonment, Roan departs from the castle before turning back and shooting her flaming arrow, setting the whole set ablaze.  

While many people have theorized that Roan was alluding to the infamous story of Joan of Arc in her performance others have pointed to Julie d’Aubigny, a 17th century French opera singer, as a potential inspiration.  

While little is known for certain about the life of Julie d’Aubigny, also known as Mademoiselle Maupin, the multiple tumultuous romantic relationships she supposedly shared with various women throughout her short lifetime have branded her as a historical queer icon. 

While she was married to the Sieur de Maupin of Saint-Germain-en-Laye, d’Aubigny spent much of her life dressed in male clothing, triumphing over men in fencing competitions and wooing young women. Early in her life, d’Aubigny began a sapphic relationship with a young woman whose parents sent her away to a convent to keep the two away from one another. d’Aubigny entered the convent as a postulant, stole the body of a dead nun and placed it in the bed of her lover before setting the room on fire and escaping. Thinking she had successfully faked her lover’s death, the two maintained their affair for a few months. But the young woman d’Aubigny was involved with soon returned to her parents and d’Aubigny was charged in absentia — as a male — with kidnapping, body snatching and arson and was sentenced to death by burning.  

While d’Aubigny did not die on the pyre and went on to have various other adventures, many viewers believe this narrative is the one Chappell Roan is referencing in her VMAs performance. The song Roan performed, “Good Luck, Babe!,” chronicles the singer’s heartbreak over a lover who refuses to accept that she could have feelings for another woman and instead chooses to repress her sexuality and force herself to pretend that she is attracted to men.  

The story of Julie d’Aubigny and her young lover who eventually returns home to live a “normal” life as a wife and mother mirrors the narrative Roan spins in her hit single. Furthermore, the imagery of the massive crucifix the singer wore on the red carpet, the burning of what was first interpreted as a castle but could also be a convent, and her medieval armour all point to Julie d’Aubigny.  

Still, some people online have suggested that the story Roan is portraying on stage does not seamlessly match that of Julie d’Aubigny. And considering the singer herself has not yet revealed who the performance was inspired by, there is no way to know for sure exactly what Roan was trying to suggest with the performance.  

Yet Chappell Roan’s mere presence at the VMAs was still a huge win for queer folks all around the world, paving the way for the celebration and continued acceptance of queer media in the music industry.  

On Sept. 22, 1997, The Sundays released their final album as a band, Static & Silence. After 27 years, the album remains a timeless ode to the band’s unique sound with a light and airy conclusion to their discography. 

The genre of The Sundays’ sound is incredibly difficult to pin down, which is what makes the band so unique. Their sound varies from alternative pop rock, dream pop and indie pop to many other genres. With that said, there’s a universal folk tinge overlaying the varying stylistic differences of their albums. 

Their first album Reading, Writing and Arithmetic emerged out of the alternative pop-rock scene that gained popularity in the nineties, sharing that sonic space with bands like The Cranberries and The Cardigans. 

Their sophomore album Blind took on a significantly more melancholic sound, trading the upbeat rock on their debut for slow, dreary tracks. 

Coming five years after their second LP, Blind, Static & Silence found a way to encapsulate the drastically different sounds laid out before it, taking the upbeat excitement from Reading, Writing and Arithmetic while also incorporating the slow quietness of Blind. 

The album opens with its single track, “Summertime.” With a light acoustic guitar strum and groovy wah pedal bounce, the song would fit as a great soundtrack for a lively summer day. The opening track functions as a stark transition from its predecessor Blind, sounding as though Static & Silence opens the curtains and lets the light in, dissolving Blind’s darkness. 

The second track “Homeward” is a slower lost-love ballad that still maintains the album’s jangly sound. Functioning like an inner monologue, “Homeward” sets up the thoughtfulness in Static & Silence, as it introduces the lyrical pondering that carries through several tracks on the album. 

Thoughtfulness continues onto the quiet “Folk Song,” a track that is reminiscent of an idyll as lead vocalist Harriet Wheeler opens the track with an image of a “summer sky and a throat bone dry / and the fields are all gold.” The track continues with lyrics like “silver trees and a whispering breeze,” adding to the imagery. As gaps of wordless singing and plucked strings fill the space between lyrics, the song leaves room for pondering. 

On the 12-track album, there are equal amounts of deep pondering juxtaposed with fun, upbeat tracks. This balance helps to maintain the lightheartedness of the album’s sound, seemingly asserting that the record is not meant to be purely melancholic but a mix of emotions. 

“She,” “Another Flavour” and “Your Eyes” are springier songs in the tracklist, momentarily breaking the tension and seriousness of the songs preceding and following them. These tracks are not just lighthearted filler, they shape the overall sound of Static & Silence’s into a kind of homage to The Sunday’s discography. They cross the borders of genres and echo the alternative pop-rock sound that The Sundays began with on Reading, Writing and Arithmetic. 

The fifth song on the album “When I’m Thinking About You” is the most dream-like cut. Filled with slow acoustic strumming and deeply introspective lyrics, this track brings sound to the feeling of longingly staring out of a car window as rain races down the glass. 

Wheeler’s repeated pleads on the track — “could I keep dreaming for a little while longer” — encapsulate the bittersweet nature of impending endings as she is mourning the loss of “dreaming” while she is still doing so, speaking heavily to the theme of finality in the album. 

In an interview with ABC, The Sundays’ guitarist David Gavurin says the band’s lyrical process is more reliant on feeling the music rather than telling a story. 

“With our lyrics … we tend to operate on that level that if things feel right, then that will be good enough for us. It doesn’t always have to have a solid intellectual reason behind why we choose a word or a song,” Gavurin said. “That’s how I think we look at music in general … people are going to listen to it and they’re going to respond to it.” 

The introspective feel of the album is brought to its peak in the final track “Monochrome.” The light conclusion to the album — and therefore The Sundays’ work entirely — is filled to the brim with nostalgia, with Wheeler recounting a memory of her and her sister at “four in the morning, July of ‘69” secretly watching presumably a gathering hosted by their parents. She describes the group as “dancing around” in a lively joyous atmosphere. 

“Monochrome” is incredibly intimate and replicates the feeling of making memories through watching others make their own memories. As the band’s final track, it perfectly closes the curtains on their nine years in the music industry while also establishing the band’s ever-presence like a crystal-clear memory. 

Static & Silence deeply plays into the folk sound that appears in each of The Sundays’ albums while simultaneously giving it a novel nostalgic edge. Incorporating every bit of The Sundays’ sound, their final album remains a timeless exploration of their diverse music while also bringing a deep thoughtfulness to the band’s discography.