The debut single of my music project Euphemia Rise is also the story of two collaborations. The first between me and Mel Benedichuk, who provided the extra vocals for this track. And secondly the collaboration with visual artist Itzel Bernal for the official video of the single.
The Terminally Well are an independent American rock band conceived of and formed by Rob Runkle – who has previously released several album’s worth of music as Intense “The Bohemian Pimp” from Philadelphia hip-hop group Schoolz of Thought (having worked with Questlove of The Roots, 88-Keys, Pink, Scratch, Zap Mama and Illmind, among others).
by Alex Panait
I started recording my own music about seven years ago, when I was 14, by myself in my bedroom – like a lot of people do. I haven’t formally released anything over this period of time, but I still organized my songs into albums and made artworks for each of them. I’ve got about 11 of these ‘albums’ which I’ll probably never release, but they are certainly a good way to document my evolution as a singer-songwriter.
That being said, this first LP Postponed Arrivals means a lot to me – not only because it’s the first one, but it’s also the most uncomfortably personal thing I ever wrote.
My name is Kaine Harington, and I am the sole instrumentalist of the post-rock band American French Fries based in Dunedin, New Zealand. My latest album Bigger Things To Worry About wears its influences on its sleeves. Quite literally, the major influencing factors behind the album and its long-winded production is displayed clearly on the record sleeve. The image is of myself and my daughter (3 weeks old at the time) cuddled together and falling asleep. The longer I sit with the album as a finished product, the more I realize her influence is far greater than just a cutesy cover image. Every single track was shaped by the huge impact she has made on my life.
Gas stations have always been a cornerstone of exploration. A glimpse into a different world every time you enter those doors lathered in other peoples fingerprints and rust from the hinges. We want to give you that feeling of going head first into a place that has room for exploration, where the possibilities never cease and the road always winding. But the first place every great trip starts and all good travelers go to share their tales is the gas station.
The Sun looked like a prison break. I woke up in a suburb of Seattle and stared drowsily out of a stranger’s bedroom window. My wife was talking to an admirer of hers around the scattered ashes of a campfire from the night before. There was a mysterious text message from an unknown number on the blue screen of a broken iPhone. It was clear that the veils to what folks call the spirit world were perceptibly thin. Little hints of future memory flickered with mischievous honesty through the cracked wallpaper in the shadows of the room.
by David Nenner
When I was in High School, I dated a girl who introduced me to her friend Fred. Fred and I hit it off nicely and eventually started writing music together, both heavier rock and metal styles, as well as some acoustic-based compositions. We shared a very similar approach as far as how we wrote melodies and put chords together, but it was not yet as refined as it would end up being years later; we were younger then. In 2006, we began to go our separate ways in life, me with finishing my Bachelor’s in Music Education, Fred with his career and a new relationship.