Genre Archives: Concerts

Citizen

By majesticmadison on June 6, 2022 in

Based on the latest local guidelines, attendees are no longer required to provide proof of negative COVID-19 test AND/OR vaccination for entry into this event. Other shows on our calendar may still have specific health and safety requirements based on artist request. Be sure to check our venue website for the latest updates and guidelines as entry requirements are subject to change.

ABOUT CITIZEN

Citizen have always eluded definition. The Toledo, Ohio-based three-piece have been making dynamic, wide-ranging guitar music for over ten years, challenging expectations with each new album and refusing to fit neatly in a box. On their fourth full-length, Life In Your Glass World, Citizen have crafted their most singular work to date completely on their own terms—proving that only the band themselves can define their identity.

Since forming in 2009, Citizen—vocalist Mat Kerekes, guitarist Nick Hamm, and bassist Eric Hamm—have endlessly pushed themselves with each successive release, actively resisting the comfort zones that often plague bands as they grow. The band has fearlessly taken risks with their sound on each new album, and shown themselves capable of exploring impassioned post-hardcore, raw noise rock, shimmering indie pop, anthemic alternative, and more—often on the same album, and sometimes even the same track. But growth isn’t always painless, and the band has been navigating the fraught music industry from a young age—learning as they went and sometimes feeling pulled in different directions at once.

When it came time to make Life In Your Glass World, Citizen’s need to continue moving forward creatively went hand in hand with their desire to be fully in control of their creative destiny. Nick Hamm explains: “I don’t have a lot of regret but there have definitely been times when we felt powerless during the band’s existence. This time we really owned every part of the process. It’s easy to feel like you’re on autopilot when you’re in a band, but that’s not a good place to be this far into our existence. We consciously knew we wanted to break free.”

For Citizen that meant taking the entire album-making process home to Toledo (the Glass City) and creating everything in-house. Kerekes built a studio in his garage, a project that was both empowering and practical. “It’s super easy and convenient,” he says. “But I also felt like building the studio was a way to prove we don’t need anything but ourselves.” Hamm adds, “This is the first self-sufficient Citizen record. There was no pressure at all and moving at our own pace allowed the songs to be a little more fleshed out.” The looser recording process afforded the band time to focus on each song’s individual mood, making their signature blend of aggression and melody all the more pronounced, and even capturing appealing imperfections. The result is an album that represents the members’ vision in its purest form, something that feels distinctly Citizen while also marking the start of a fresh chapter.

One of the most immediately striking elements of Life In Your Glass World is the band’s attention to rhythm. Many of the songs feature undeniably danceable beats and sharply grooving guitar lines, which give both the barnburners and the brooding atmospheric tracks a pulsating heart. “When you write songs the same way for X amount of years, you start to want to try something new,” Kerekes says. “These songs were mostly built from drums and bass first, which was different for us. I’d start with a completely different beat every time to get a certain energy.” The band’s desire to assert themselves is palpable both in the music and Kerekes’ lyrics, mirroring not only their creative frustrations but also a long year of personal upheavals. “There’s a lot of anger in these songs and we wanted the music to communicate that,” Hamm says. “I think a lot of people expect bands to slow down or chill out when they get to where we are, but we consciously didn’t want to do that.”

The opening one-two punch of “Death Dance Approximately” and “I Want To Kill You” exemplifies the acerbic-yet-buoyant feel of Life In Your Glass World, and the latter sums up the album’s defiant themes. Kerekes puts it plainly: “Sometimes you feel like you’re being used. A lot of the lyrics are liberating, they’re reclaiming control.” The band wastes no time in showing their range, pivoting to the melancholy haze of “Blue Sunday” and the bounce of “Thin Air,” both of which meditate on the struggle to invest so much in something only to be let down and retreat inside oneself instead. Elsewhere tracks like “Call Your Bluff” and “Black and Red” showcase Citizen’s knack for big choruses, while “Pedestal” features towering drums and a distorted bass line that’s as malevolent sounding as Kerekes’ vitriolic words. “Fight Beat,” with its tense mix of otherworldly menace and memorable hooks, takes the band’s rhythmic-centric writing to its furthest point yet; lyrically, the song grapples with the realization that one has passed a point of no return, a sentiment that permeates the attitude of Life In Your Glass World. “This isn’t a baby step,” Hamm says. “It’s exactly what we want to do.”

Much of Life In Your Glass World deals with the bleak and challenging aspects of being human, and the album often feels like an exorcism of pent up negative feelings. But those feelings give way to a sense of hope with the closing track “Edge of The World.” Interweaving guitars rise around Kerekes’ voice as he considers past pain with the kind of clarity that can only come from time and distance—and finds promise in looking towards the future. The song builds to a soaring finale as the clouds part and Kerekes declares, “At the end of the day there was beauty in tragedy.” It’s one last turn, the kind of affirmation that makes you reexamine everything you just heard with a newfound perspective. It’s a fitting conclusion for Life In Your Glass World – borne of the confidence gained through years of trials, tribulations, and self reflection – and one that asserts that Citizen’s true identity is rooted in the raw energy of constant evolution.

Gimme Gimme Disco

By majesticmadison on June 3, 2022 in

The Regrettes

By majesticmadison on May 27, 2022 in

This show was rescheduled from May 14. Previously purchased tickets are still valid at the new date.

ABOUT THE REGRETTES

Further Joy

“There’s so much pressure to constantly better yourself,” Lydia Night, lead singer and songwriter of The Regrettes, says. “We’re obsessed with social media, which makes it easy to obsess over self-growth and unhealthy amounts of productivity. That phrase, ‘further joy,’ summarized what it meant to be on the hamster wheel of constantly chasing happiness, but in turn, that’s what makes you unhappy,” she adds, acknowledging the shared inner turmoil she, guitarist Genessa Gariano, bassist Brooke Dickson, and drummer Drew Thomsen were dealing with at the start of last year. “I was stuck in a loop of wanting to be better, wanting to be good, and therefore I couldn’t be here. I couldn’t be present.” The desire to break free of that cycle is what the band’s third album, Further Joy, is all about.

As the pandemic set in and Los Angeles shut down, The Regrettes were having a full-blown identity crisis. Lydia had been touring since she was 12-years-old, meeting guitarist Genessa when they were just teens in music school. As a band, they’d been on stage long before their 2017 debut, Feel Your Feelings Fool!. And, by the time they released their critically acclaimed LP How Do You Love? in 2019, they’d formed a cohesive lineup with Brooke and Drew, setting themselves on a steady upward trajectory. They’d spent the past two years headlining sold-out shows across North America and Europe, performing at mainstay festivals like Coachella and Reading and Leeds and playing their hit singles on Good Morning America, Conan, and Jimmy Kimmel Live!. As NME said of their sophomore album, The Regrettes were “truly unstoppable” until they weren’t.

“So much of our identity is tied to music and performing,” Brooke says, adding that without the distraction of playing live, they were forced to answer the question: “Who am I when I’m not performing?” That shared inner inquiry can be heard in the band’s most actualized, collaborative, and vulnerable album to date, a self-aware soundtrack for those interested in what Lydia refers to as “dancing the pain away.”

In January of 2021, after more than a year apart, The Regrettes reconvened for a 10-day writing retreat in Joshua Tree. They went on hikes, stargazed, transformed their living room into a disco, and had candid conversations, some of which made their way into songs. They left the desert with a vision for the record and demos in hand, slowly bringing it to life through zoom writing sessions, and working separately with producers Jacknife Lee and Tim Pagnotta. They experimented with their sound, pushed their creative limits, and Lydia, who was once skilled in the art of “writing a song in 30 minutes and then not touching it” recalls writing then editing her deepest truths. Although the subject matter is anything but light, she still calls it the “poppiest, and danciest” album they’ve ever made.

You can hear that levity in “Monday,” an upbeat track Lydia wrote at the peak of her anxiety disorder. “Once you accept what’s going on with your mental health, sometimes it gets worse before it gets better,” Lydia says. “Accepting I had anxiety and depression was extremely scary because then it became real. This song comes from the validation of those feelings.” The song’s music video introduces the character “Joy” – a pink representation of the unattainable yet ideal self the album pushes against.

In “Out of Time” Lydia sings “all of these anxieties come over me/ just let me breathe” at a panicked pace, sonically capturing the feeling of running out of time. In “Barely On My Mind” Lydia replays scenes from “a really gnarly, abusive relationship,” she processed during the lockdown. On the song, Genessa turns up distortion, Brooke experiments with palm muting, creating a tight poppy sound, and Drew lives his ‘80s R&B pop dream thanks to the percussion overlaying his drum track. “We’ve all had terrible experiences with abusive men,” Brooke says of the track. “There’s no sweet way to put it, that one’s an angsty banger.” In, “Subtleties (Never Giving Up On You)” Lydia discusses her path to self-acceptance. “‘Subtleties’ in particular feels super pretty, and beautiful, but is one of the darkest songs of the album lyrically,” Lydia says. “I’ve struggled with eating disorders for a large portion of my life starting when I was 15, which eventually turned into body dysmorphia. Me singing ‘Never giving up on you’ is me singing to myself.” In “Homesick” Lydia taps into feelings of longing. “I’d been going through this whole pandemic process with my boyfriend and I hate feeling codependent but I felt so codependent when he left. I had gotten so used to, without even realizing it, having that person around and relying on that person.” Though it’s a love song, “Homesick” still captures the dangers of yearning too much. “There are moments and lyrics that still give you a glimpse into that dark place I was in, like the one-line ‘fetishizing the thought of you lying’ I love that lyric because I feel like that’s my anxiety to a T.”

For Brooke writing “You’re So Fucking Pretty” together was transformative. “That was a new experience for us, both sonically and emotionally,” she says. “We hadn’t explored that space together. That was a big moment for us and it’s a really special moment on the album. Lydia recalls the relief of being open with her bandmates without feeling embarrassed or scared. “It’s the first time I’ve ever written directly about a girl I had a crush on and it took me a while for me to even allow my brain to accept the fact that I’m bisexual,” Lydia shares. “Writing this was important for me because it just validated my own sexuality.” For Genessa, “You’re So Fucking Pretty” was an opportunity to write a song they wish they had when they were younger. “As a queer person growing up it definitely felt like there weren’t many songs I could relate to, and I feel like this song would have been something I would have held really close to my heart as a kid. I hope that happens with other people. I don’t think it necessarily has to be this queer anthem but I think someone else could listen to it and feel the same way, or a girl could feel that way about a boy she likes. Boys can be pretty too.”

The band wrote, “La Di Da” to capture what Lydia calls “the action a kid would have, of putting your hands over your ears and saying ‘la la la’ to block out everything.” The call to action was inspired by their impromptu desert dance party. “I have a playlist of 2000s songs and when we were in Joshua Tree, we had a dance party with these colored lights with gels,” Genessa says. “It may have been the Black Eyed Peas, some song telling us to put our hands up. You don’t have to think, you have no choice but to dance because it’s telling you what to do. That’s such a freeing feeling.” Drew remembers the song, being a “total departure” from the band’s typical path in the studio. “I was playing an organelle, this really cool synth with wooden buttons,” he shares. “That first thing that comes in on the song, that little synth part I was playing, Lydia heard that and loved it, so I kept playing and she started singing. It was one of those songs that came out very quickly.” Writing those songs together gave the band a newfound sense of ownership. “There’s a passion behind the actual music itself now that hasn’t been at that level before,” Drew shares, adding, “It’s the first album that feels like our album.”

The song “Nowhere” draws inspiration from an Alan Watts quote, “You can’t live it all unless you can live fully now.” The line left a lasting impression on Lydia. “What Further Joy means, that chase for happiness, that quote sums it up,” she says. “You’re never going to experience real life if you’re chasing something.” It’s the lesson that allowed The Regrettes to pause, go inward separately, and still land in the same place together, becoming a tighter unit than they’ve ever been. “So fucking much has changed on a personal level which translates into my lyricism and the way we are with each other, how close we are with each other,” Lydia recognizes. “We’ve bonded so much.” It’s also the lesson Lydia hopes listeners walk away with. “We all deserve happiness and to be present, and we’ll never get there if we feel so much shame and guilt for not being there already,” she adds. “Don’t get caught in the hamster wheel of chasing joy.”

Led Zeppelin 2

By majesticmadison on May 27, 2022 in

Soccer Mommy

By majesticmadison on May 18, 2022 in

ABOUT SOCCER MOMMY

Sometimes, Forever, the immersive and compulsively replayable new Soccer Mommy full-length, cements Sophie Allison’s status as one of the most gifted songwriters making rock music right now. Packed with clever nods to synth-filled subgenres like new wave and goth, the album finds Sophie broadening the borders of her aesthetic without abandoning the unsparing lyricism and addictive melodies that make Soccer Mommy songs so easy to obsess over. Sometimes, Forever is the 24-year-old’s boldest and most aesthetically adventurous work, a mesmerizing collection that feels both informed by the past and explicitly of the moment. It’s a fresh peek into the mind of an artist who synthesizes everything — retro sounds, personal tumult, the relatable disorder of modern life — into original music that feels built to last a long time. Maybe even forever.

Sophie was only 20 when she put out Clean, her arresting studio debut, which became one of the most beloved coming-of-age albums of the 2010s. Its bigger-sounding followup, color theory, brought more acclaim and continued to win her fans far outside of the lo-fi bedroom pop scene she cut her teeth playing in. But with all the highs came inevitable lows. Navigating young adulthood is often spiritually draining, to say nothing of the artless administrative chaos associated with being a popular full-time musician. And yet she never stops writing, consistently transforming bouts of instability into emotionally generous music. The latest culmination of that process is Sometimes, Forever, which sees Sophie once again tapping into the turn-of-the-millenium sensibilities she’s known for. This time, though, she advances her self-made sonic world beyond the present and into the future with experimental-minded production, an expanded moodboard of vintage touchstones, and some of her most sophisticated songwriting to date.

To support her vision, Sophie enlisted producer Daniel Lopatin, a.k.a Oneohtrix Point Never, whose recent behind-the-boards credits include the Uncut Gems movie score and The Weeknd’s chart-topping Dawn FM. While the pairing might seem unexpected, active listening reveals a kindred creativity; both artists are interested in utilizing memory-triggering sounds and melodies to make invigorating music that transcends its influences. On Sometimes, Forever, Lopatin employs his boundless synth vocabulary and knack for meticulous arrangements to complement Sophie’s well-crafted compositions. The result is an epic-feeling mix of raw-edged live takes and studio wizardry.

Nowhere is Sophie’s exploration more spellbinding than “Unholy Affliction,” a first-half highlight with a paranoid post-rock rhythm and cursed-sounding synths. “I don’t want the money / That fake kind of happy,” she sings with dead-eyed disaffection. In addition to showcasing Sophie’s appreciation for textures that are at once pretty and unsettling, “Unholy Affliction” foregrounds one of Sometimes, Forever’s more compelling narrative tensions: the push and pull between Sophie’s desire to make meaningful art and her skepticism about the mechanics of careerism. “I hate so many parts of the music industry, but I also want success,” Sophie says. “And not just success — perfection. I want to make things that are flawless, that perfectly encapsulate what I’m thinking and feeling. It’s an unachievable goal that keeps you constantly chasing it.”

Sometimes, Forever fixates on those sorts of contradictory forces: desire and apathy, ecstasy and misery, good and evil, self-control and wildness. Straight-up love songs — like the ultra-catchy “Shotgun,” which likens romance to a chemical high without the gnarly comedown — rub up against much gloomier fare, like the Sylvia Plath-referencing “Darkness Forever,” a sludge-rock fever dream from the album’s midsection. The weightless “newdemo” spins delicately layered harmonies and mystical synths into an end-of-the-world reverie; the impending apocalypse has never sounded so jaw-droppingly beautiful. “I didn’t want to make something super depressing without any sense of magic,” Sophie explains.

The title Sometimes, Forever refers to the idea that both good and bad feelings are cyclical. “Sorrow and emptiness will pass, but they will always come back around — as will joy,” Sophie says. “At some point you’re forced to say, I’ll just have to take both.” She articulates this sentiment on the gut-punch opening of “Still,” her clear voice imbued with a heartbreaking blend of wisdom and hurt: “I don’t know how to feel things small / It’s a tidal wave or nothing at all.” Sophie understands that Sometimes, Forever is lyrically dark, with macabre imagery haunting even its most upbeat passages. But because she’s in a better place than when she wrote the songs, she has no trouble luxuriating in the moments of uncomplicated bliss that coexist alongside the bleakness.

One of those moments comes on the record’s penultimate track, “Feel It All The Time,” a song-length metaphor about a resilient old truck. “I wanna drive out where the sun shines / drown out the noise and the way I feel,” goes the hook, a heart-bursting blur of shoegaze-y Americana. By song’s end the narrator returns to a state of world-weariness, resigned to the fact that she probably can’t outrun her demons forever. But for a few flickering moments — Sophie’s voice freewheeling over warm guitar ripples, the sun-drenched sound of a generational talent at the height of her powers — it feels like maybe she could keep on driving, faster and faster until all of that existential darkness is behind her, just a cloud of red dust in a dirty rearview mirror.

Calexico

By majesticmadison on April 19, 2022 in

ABOUT CALEXICO

Calexico
El Mirador

Calexico’s Joey Burns and John Convertino return in 2022 with their luminous 10th studio album, El Mirador; a hopeful, kaleidoscopic beacon of rock, bluesy ruminations and Latin American sounds, to be released on April 8. Convening at longtime bandmate Sergio Mendoza’s home studio in Tucson, Arizona, the ensemble recorded throughout the summer of 2021, crafting one of their most riveting and whimsical productions to date. Convertino, who now resides in El Paso, and Burns, who relocated to Boise in 2020, channeled cherished memories of Southwestern landscapes and joyful barrio melting pots into an evocative love letter to the desert borderlands that nourished them for over 20 years.

“El Mirador is dedicated to family, friends and community,” says Burns; singer, multi-instrumentalist and co-founder of Calexico. “The pandemic highlighted all the ways we need each other, and music happens to be my way of building bridges and encouraging inclusiveness and positivity. That comes along with sadness and melancholy, but music sparks change and movement.”

Oscillating between haunting desert noirs and buoyant jolts of cumbia and Cuban son, the album is permeated by longing. The title track conjures images of a lighthouse, beckoning to lost souls in the night with hypnotic bass lines and cascading percussion. That same search for meaning and safety carries over onto “Cumbia Peninsula,” a soaring dance floor epic about confronting our fear of the unknown. The song weaves themes of immigration, a world in turmoil, and the virulent manipulation of information; never offering a diagnosis but wholeheartedly advocating for unity and compassion as a treatment for our social ills.

“El Mirador” features gossamer vocals from Guatemalan singer-songwriter Gaby Moreno, while Spanish rocker Jairo Zavala brings his signature bravado to “Cumbia Peninsula.” By working with friends and recurring collaborators, Calexico also highlights the unique social and linguistic intersections at the US-Mexico border and the magnificent possibilities of a borderless world. “The album is trying to convey openness,” adds Burns. “Look around you. If you’re in the North, you need a South to live in balance. We’re all breathing together.”

“There is romance in this music,” says Convertino, Calexico’s drummer and fellow co-founder. “When I was driving out to Tucson to work with Sergio and Joey, I didn’t have any specific song ideas in mind. I was searching for a vibe and a mood.” The instrumental “Turquoise” perfectly captures El Mirador’s atmospheric universe, where swirling rhythm guitars and distant horns recall dark, heavy skies, almost echoing the record-setting monsoon season that engulfed Arizona during their studio sessions.

Burns and Convertino have been performing together for over 30 years, sharing a deep love of jazz and usually building songs on a foundation of bass and drums. But all these years later, Calexico is still breaking new ground. El Mirador showcases a sunnier side of the band, cutting through two years of pandemic fog with a blast of danceable optimism. Writing and recording alongside Sergio Mendoza (keys, accordion, percussion), the album expands on long running influences of cumbia, mariachi and the plethora of diaspora sounds flourishing throughout the Southwest.

“I’ve been playing with Calexico for about 15 years, and I admire Joey and John’s constant search for new sounds,” reflects Mendoza, who’s newly built home studio became a refuge for the band and reduced pandemic risks while fostering a more organic creative process. “After so many albums,” he adds, “I’m really proud we were able to achieve something so fresh together.”

Mendoza was born and raised in Nogales, where he soaked up the classic cumbias, rancheras and corridos that soundtrack daily life at the border. This rich melange of influences translates into the effervescent “The El Burro Song,” complete with mariachi strings, slide guitars and zapateado performance that transports the listener to a papel picado-decorated backyard party. On “Liberada,” piano and Cuban percussion provide an exuberant canvas for a universal tale of resilience, where even in the face of adversity, celebrating your uncle’s 80th birthday always comes first.

Calexico delivers one of their most loving desert anthems on “Cumbia del Polvo,” enlisting a production assist from frequent collaborator Camilo Lara, who infuses the song with his signature wizardry of electronic beats, organic instrumentation and otherworldly backing vocals. El Mirador‘s all-star guest list is rounded out by poet Pieta Brown, who wrote “El Paso” and “Then You Might See,” as well as Iron & Wine’s Sam Beam, who provides backing vocals on the fluttering choruses of “Harness The Wind.”

El Mirador stands both as a lookout point and beacon in the dark; an opportunity to search inwards, ponder our connections to the Earth and its people, and hopefully illuminate a path forward. After decades on the road Calexico’s music remains boundless and romantic, still gazing upon the horizon in search of their next adventure.

Aly & AJ

By majesticmadison on April 14, 2022 in

Aly & AJ originally scheduled at Majestic Theatre on April 16, 2022 has been rescheduled to June 6, 2022. All tickets purchased will be honored for the rescheduled date. For any further ticket inquiries please reach out to point of purchase.

ABOUT ALY & AJ

Aly & AJ have spent over a decade putting an eternal creative truth into practice: you don’t find your voice by waiting around; you create it, by writing through. After rising to fame as teen stars in the worlds of Disney pop and TV sitcoms—beloved right at the cross-section of millennials and Gen Z, as evidenced by the recent runway TikTok revival of their 2007 kiss-off “Potential Breakup Song”—the sisters have quietly worked on songs. They chiseled away at their craft, manifesting themselves honestly.

Their first album in 14 years is called a touch of the beat gets you up on your feet gets you out and then into the sun, which is just right. This long and winding name befits their singular journey through music, a title full of rhythm and poetry, but with an ease and a brightness: All qualities that help define the newly independent sound of Aly & AJ. Having survived the slick, hyper-manicured pop sphere with their souls in tact, the Torrance, California-born duo—and lifelong musical collaborators—have transformed their sound into something looser and more personal. (Along the way, they produced the 2015 Richard Linklater-inspired film, Weepah Way for Now, based on their own experiences of sisterhood, stardom, and growth.)

Aly & AJ are now at a point where they can celebrate their unique past—“We’ve become these accidental TikTok queens,” AJ laughs—while staying true to a vision that feels right to them. In an inspiring turn, they even re-recorded “Potential Breakup Song,” ridding it of the AutoTune that defined so much 2000s pop and singing an explicit update of the lyrics (which their fans had been requesting for years). “It’s funny to have been making music together for so long, to be able to finish each other’s sentences and perfectly match our voices to each other,” Aly reflects. “Some people will ask, ‘Who’s singing on this?’ And it’s both of us: our third voice. We have a third voice that comes from my and AJ’s voices together.”

Gimme Gimme Disco

By majesticmadison on April 12, 2022 in

Chicano Batman

By majesticmadison on April 12, 2022 in

Shaman’s Harvest and Crobot

By majesticmadison on April 7, 2022 in

ABOUT SHAMAN’S HARVEST

“This was the hardest record we’ve ever made, on every level,” says Nathan Hunt, referring to Shaman’s Harvest’s seventh LP.

The storyline seems obvious: The Missouri hard-rockers assembled this project during a global pandemic that debilitated the entire music industry. “Hard” has kinda been universal lately. But the road to Rebelator was even rockier than the band expected: natural disasters, logistical nightmares, an extreme case of collective writer’s block. “We struggled the whole way,” Hunt adds with a gruff baritone chuckle. “It was an interesting process for sure.”

Every creative step seemed to be hampered by an outside distraction—or even act of God.

“A tornado ripped through our town, 2 miles from our studio, leveling everything in its path” recalls guitarist Josh Hamler. “Luckily, no one was killed. Everything can be rebuilt, but we completely lost our creative vibe following the tragic event”.

“There was so much stop and go,” adds Hunt. “There was a flood. We’d have something scheduled, so we’d focus and be locked down for like a month at a time. Then somebody would have to go home, and it would be three weeks later before we’d start up again.”

“Or we’d run out of money,” Hamler adds with a laugh. “It was like Murphy’s law at one point—like, Jesus, what else is going to go wrong in the making of this record?”

Luckily, they had time on their side. After a couple grueling years of touring behind their last album, 2017’s Red Hands Black Deeds—a stretch that included numerous major rock festivals and runs opening for Nickelback and Seether—Shaman’s Harvest were creatively and personally drained. “You try writing on the road, maybe go to the back of the bus and come up with an idea,” Hunt says. “But it’s hard to be inspired when you’re tired. We were like, ‘Let’s just take the time off we need to make the record.’ We didn’t want to half-ass it.”

So founding members Hunt and Hamler, along with guitarist Derrick Shipp and drummer Adam Zemanek—hit the reset button hard, clearing out six months for demo construction at their Jefferson City rehearsal space. This meticulousness marked a distinct change from their usual methodology—instead of slapping together outlines before entering the studio, they treated their first takes with a new level of sensitivity, fleshing out the pieces until they knew them intimately.

“We usually have a really rough idea going into the studio—maybe it’s a verse, maybe it’s a thought,” Hunt says. “But we just write it on the fly and try to catch the magic. This time we wanted to approach it with some intention. We saw the demos all the way though, and that took a good, long pieces of time.”

The process was fairly haphazard at first, as the band tried to regain their footing. With everyone on-hand (the non-Missouri residents were staying in the space itself), they’d all wake up and try to churn up ideas—though it was slow going for a bit. “We’d just sit there and noodle until the spark [was lit],” the frontman admits. “The first songs—some of them made the record, and some of them didn’t. Some of the stuff wasn’t up to par. We were sending stuff back and forth to the label, like, ‘What do you think of this?’ Just going from tour mode to creative mode, I had quite the block. I know everybody was like, ‘I don’t have anything.’ Then it just erupted.”

An early breakthrough was “Wishing Well,” a signature rocker that pairs a detuned metal chug with a twangy, soaring chorus and subtle yet eyebrow-raising flourishes like fingerpicked acoustic guitar and experimental vocal effects. The ideas just kept flowing from there, with the band encouraged by producer Kile Odell, who joined them for a month to offer his feedback.

Shaman’s Harvest were working with any musical seeds they could plant—like Hamler’s droning guitar on “Bird Dog,” which sprouted into a desert wasteland atmosphere of mouth harp, group percussion and deep, growling vocals. Hunt calls the final result a “weird mixture of things,” blending its dust-blown textures with bits of Metallica and Queens of the Stone Age—the perfect backdrop for his almost post-apocalyptic lyrics.

“It’s definitely a cinematic thing—if nothing else, it’s a color or just one little scene in my head,” he says. “In my head, I was envisioning a lot of these small towns, like a railroad town or a farm town where people don’t want to farm anymore. And it just goes to shit, and then you have the opioids come in and everyone becomes a zombie.”

When they arrived at lead single “Voices,” a graceful balance of light and shade, the band instantly knew they’d written one of their best—a feeling cemented by their mutual celebration. “Once we had it all laid out and had a rough demo,” says Hamler, “we listened back to the first time, and we all looked at each other and busted out laughing, like, ‘Fuck yeah!'”

“It’s one of those things that wrote itself,” adds Hunt. “It needed an anthemic hum-along vibe. Everybody saw that song, which is pretty rare.”

Though they ultimately found their momentum, some of the darkness from this era wound up informing their lyrics—though often indirectly. Breakup song “Flatline” documents an unspecified doomed relationship that, Hunt says, “just keeps on corroding” past its natural shelf life. “Wishing Well,” the “epic of the record,” zeroes in on the “predatory” and manipulative nature of some men. The band’s own creative challenges even added to the overcast themes—”Just the frustrations of trying to make a record,” Hunt notes with a laugh, “when the universe did not want you to make a record.”

Shaman’s Harvest persevered, of course, and wound up with their richest, most well-rounded album to date—a natural progression from Red Hands Black Deeds, 2014’s Smokin’ Hearts & Broken Guns and 2009’s Shine, which featured the breakout single “Dragonfly.”

In keeping with the spirit of those last three albums, the band aimed to, in Hunt’s words, “de-genre-fy” their music—aiming beyond the rote contemporary rock-metal formula to add sublet arrangement quirks.

The loose yet professional atmosphere in St. Louis’ Sawhorse Studios, where they hunkered down for a month with house engineer Jason McEntyre, helped them in that quest for experimentation.

“We were able to stretch our legs a little bit,” says Hunt. “That’s kind of a dying thing: people renting out whole studios, because it’s expensive as fuck. The piano was [featured on an] Ike and Tina Turner record, and we were able to pick up on the vibes from that. Jason knew all the tricks of that room to experiment, Like using the talkback mic on the drums or using old tape machines.”

A good example of their trial and error is “Lilith,” a sonic jigsaw puzzle that pairs an Allman Brothers-style slide guitar with a distorted, drop-tuning riff and a tender piano outro.

“That song in particular has a Southern rock vibe in the slide, but there’s also an industrial electronic feel in the percussion,” Hunt says. “There’s the acoustic vibe at the end with the piano. There’s a lot of weird warbles going on. Especially in rock and roll, people seem to be afraid to add a fucking banjo or a mandolin under there. But when you think about the mix when it’s done, those are the things that pop out. I think it’s important that we de-genre-fy the rock culture and sound.”

“We don’t want to feel limited when we’re in the studio,” Hamler interjects. “We want to try things or take something that’s out of the ordinary and find a way to make it work.”

“Otherwise, how are you going to get anyone to pay attention these days?” Hunt adds. “Or even get yourself to pay attention? We’re all artists, and nothing destroys art like monotony.”

ABOUT CROBOT

Riff-monsters Crobot conjures up the kind of rock ‘n’ roll that has grooves so powerful they throw you around the room and hooks high enough to shake the heavens. They take the sweet-sounding nectar of the gods and pour it down your throat until you’re wailing along like a banshee.

With tens of millions of streams, countless shows and acclaim from the likes of Metal Hammer, Classic Rock, Kerrang, BBC Radio, SiriusXM Octane, Loudwire, Guitar World and more, Brandon Yeagley [vocals], Chris Bishop
[guitar], Tim Peugh [bass], and Dan Ryan [drums] realize their vision like never before on their fifth full-length, Feel This [Released June 3 via Mascot Records].

Feel This is the follow-up to 2019s Top 10 Heatseekers album Motherbrain – whose cumulative streams have surpassed 30 million. 20 million of which were for the goliath single “Low Life” – a US Top 10 at active rock radio on the Billboard Mainstream with a 29-week run.

“This is the record we’ve been wanting to do ever since we started,” exclaims Brandon. “We’ve always thought of ourselves as a live act,” he continues. “When Jay Ruston described his process of recording, we were beyond excited about getting in and getting our hands dirty. It involved performing live as a unit and finishing all instruments on a song before moving on to the next. We recorded 16 songs in 21 days, which is a feat in itself.”

Feel This is a tale of perseverance. “Through constant struggles, we learn more what it’s like to be human. Our shortcomings and strengths alike make us a unique species,” Brandon reflects. “Feel This very well may point to our biggest strength of all, our ability to feel emotion (for better or worse).”

Human nature is threaded throughout the album, from volatile relationships [“Dizzy”] to imperfections and learning from mistakes on “Holy Ghost.” Its warbling harmony wraps around the wah-drenched guitar straight out of Seattle; Brandon’s grunge-y wail rings out on the hook, “I am not the holy ghost. I won’t ever save your soul.” There’s “believing in something so much” on “Set You Free,” which spirals towards a seismic crescendo and emotionally charged guitar lead from Bishop.

Around the psyche-digging lyrics, they are never far away from thunderous rock ‘n’ roll. “Electrified” kickstarts the album as a rip-roaring livewire anthem. “It’s your classic rock ‘n’ roll tune about Frankenstein boots and being invincible!” Brandon says. There’s an epic anti-hero tale on “Without Wings,” and then there’s “Dance with the Dead.” Forgetting your troubles over an irresistible groove, the song struts with high-register harmonies and the infectious chant of “Let’s go dance with the dead. They know how to kill it!”

“Golden” is a soaring homage to a god-gone-too soon. “When it came to the lyrics, we collectively wanted it to be a tribute to Chris Cornell,” says Brandon. “We’re so influenced by everything he and Soundgarden have done. We ran with the song in honor of his legacy.”

They made waves with Legend of the Spaceborne Killer [2012], Something Supernatural [2014], and Welcome To Fat City [2016]. However, Motherbrain [2019] represented a high watermark. They’ve crisscrossed the US and the world in road-warrior style, playing with the likes of Anthrax, Black Label Society, Chevelle, Clutch, Volbeat and more. They’ve lit up festival bills and the annual Shiprocked! Cruise. “We tour the pockets off of our pants and sleep in our van for half of the year. To some, that may seem like misery, but to us – it’s Heaven baby!” the frontman says. Something they highlight on the new song, “Livin’ on the Streets”.

2019 ended with a US tour supporting Steel Panther, and then Covid19 punched the world in the face. As the Global Pandemic descended upon us, Chris and Dan hunkered down in Austin to jam and cut demos, sending ideas to Brandon back in Pennsylvania. 2021 saw the boys enter Orb Studios in Austin with producer Ruston [Stone Sour, Anthrax, Steel Panther]. Since the world has begun to open up, the band have not stood still. Rat Child EP was released last summer and featured a mighty cast of Frank Bello [Anthrax], Howard Jones [Light The Torch/ex-Killswitch Engage] and Stix Zadinia [Steel Panther]. They’ve also headed out on headline tours, played ass-kicking performances at festivals such as Rocklahoma, Aftershock, the Jericho Cruise and supported Halestorm.

You’ll feel rock ‘n’ roll comes to life in Crobot’s hands. “We never want to make the same album twice,” Brandon leaves off. “There is something for every Crobot fan out there as well as newcomers. At the same time, we’re having fun. We want to be taken seriously, but not too seriously—because this is monkey hour after all.” “That’s the fucking line right there,” agrees Bishop. “We want you to walk away smiling. If I can make you smile, I’ve done my job.”

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