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Just four nights before the release of Maya Hawke’s fourth album, MAITREYA CORSO, a sold-out audience wrapped around the Romanesque Revival building that is Chicago’s Thalia Hall. The historic landmark was the ideal stage to share most of these songs for the first time. In fact, Hawke even mentioned that the venue was a dream of hers to play.

“It’s everything I thought it was cracked up to be,” she said.

The intimate evening included Christian Lee Hutson on guitar and Odessa Jorgensen on violin, whose harmonies paired beautifully with Hawke. The trio sat center stage adorned with a vibrant red rug and alongside a handful of acoustic guitars. Instead of a stereotypical grand entrance filled with epic drums and flashing lights, they quietly took their seats before making an important announcement to Chicago locals: Hawke had her first shot of Jeppson's Malört the previous evening.

After comparing the rite of passage to grapefruit and rubber bands, it was clear that the evening would not just include music but also storytelling. Nearly every song from MAITREYA CORSO was performed, although not in track listing order, and accompanied by a behind-the-scenes look into each song’s inspiration. She described the album as a “Love of My Life” to “Dream House” journey, explaining that the first and last tracks of the album are the perfect bookends to an album that was meant to be about work/life balance and turned into an album about falling in love.

In addition to sharing the personal elements of the new songs, she also shared some of the inspiration she found along the way. Creativity sparked from Leonard Cohen’s “How To Speak Poetry”. She wanted to write a song that made her feel the same way she feels about Paul Simon’s “Still Crazy After All These Years”. A line from “Terms of Estrangement” came from Hutson’s therapist. The more she shared, the more the evening shied away from being a conventional live performance.

Earlier in the night she explained her technique for calming her nerves as well as confessed that she was conquering her fear of playing guitar on tour for the first time. The audience gave her an unspoken permission to be as vulnerable as she wished, and in turn she gave them a part of her heart.

The crowd felt that connection. Mobile devices mostly stayed tucked away in pockets and purses. Families familiar with her acting work looked on in awe. Groups of friends shouted back the lyrics of the encore songs, “Luna Moth” and “Thérèse”, from her 2022 album, MOSS. A mother smiled as she watched her young daughter, with glitter-covered cheeks and dip-dyed blue-green hair, experience the magic of her first concert.

It’s clear that Hawke felt that connection too. There was always a hint of a smile, which grew as she sang directly to Hutson. Her most radiant smile took over as she sang the first words of “Thérèse”, as the harmonies of three turned into the harmonies of hundreds.

“Thank you for your joy and interest in listening to new songs,” she said. “I just think you rock.”

When Arden Alexa began writing the songs that would make up her debut album, HOPE YOU’RE WATCHING, there was initially no intention to create an album at all. The intention was focused on what she was writing, and the more songs she wrote, the more she felt something began to take shape.

It was important to her that authenticity be at the forefront of her songwriting. As a self-professed “control freak (in the best way)”, she writes all of her material and stays closely involved in its production to ensure every element supports her overall vision. She said that authenticity unintentionally became a foundational pillar of this album as each song was written as honestly as possible.

“Songwriting for me has always been an outlet, a form of therapy, and each of these songs was just that - an emotion or experience I needed to process,” she said. “As the creative process progressed and the album began taking [shape], I focused even more on maintaining authenticity in hopes of giving the listeners something truly raw and real.”

In a way, her authentic songwriting comes from her theater kid background. The storytelling aspect of theater stuck with her the most, and clearly still impacts her today. The other aspect of theater that she enjoys bringing into her music is the drama. The second track on the album, “BREAK MY HEART”, opens with the line, “I live for the drama, for the fun.” It’s one of her favorite songs she’s written thus far, and gives a nod to her roots.

“Growing up on stage and being influenced by classical music as well as pop artists created a deep love of theatricality in me, a desire to hold nothing back and express everything fully,” she said. “This album has been a true realization of that; a chance for me to let go of any fear and just allow myself to feel, to have fun with every emotion and story.”

Some of her favorite musicians created albums that she can listen to without skipping a track. For Alexa, these master storytellers used carefully crafted melodies, lyrics and motifs across their songs to convey the emotions of their stories. Because of this, she keeps the listener in mind just as much as herself when it comes to her music.

“With every project, even as my sound continues to evolve and change, I strive to express my feelings in a way that immerses the listener and allows them to feel like a part of the story as well,” she said.

Her debut full-length album charts her growth from teenager to young adult. Particularly on the title track, she expresses the biggest lesson she’s learned so far: not letting the opinions of others define her. The song was written at a time where she found herself unwilling to let go of grudges she held towards people who judged her, and by doing so she let them have power over her life. It wasn’t until she was able to let go of those feelings of insecurity that she was able to write the lyrics that would ultimately free herself from trying to please others.

“HOPE YOU’RE WATCHING” held the most emotional weight for Alexa, making the recording process feel long and difficult at certain points. The message behind the song was too important for her not to get every detail, every instrument and every note exactly right. By putting in the time and energy, it ended up becoming one of her favorite songs on the album, and subsequently, the song she is most proud of.

The album as a whole pushed her to be the most vulnerable she’s ever been in the studio, which was exciting and new but also uncomfortable. Thankfully, she had the right people to enjoy the journey with.

“Because of the wonderfully safe and warm environment created by my producers, Simon Jay and Luke Shrestha, I felt comfortable enough to explore new sounds, new feelings and new aspects of my songwriting,” she said.

I don’t think there was one perfectly cinematic moment where I suddenly knew I wanted to make music. It was more like a slow invasion. Music got into everything until it became impossible to separate it from who I was.

In the late 80s, I was obsessed with early hip-hop like Public Enemy, De La Soul, N.W.A and Doug E. Fresh. At the same time, we were smashing out Appetite for Destruction by Guns N’ Roses and getting just as fired up by that. My brother and I would take a boombox down to our den, blast all this music and imagine one day doing something just as powerful ourselves.

Then I went deeper. I got obsessed with The Beatles and The Beach Boys and learned every song I could on guitar and bass. Then Queen got me with Freddie Mercury’s insane vocal power and pure frontman energy. The Red Hot Chili Peppers cracked something open in me. Blood Sugar Sex Magik still feels like one of the greatest albums ever made to me. Then I discovered Soundgarden, Nirvana, punk, grunge, skating, rebellion and that whole beautiful mess of energy and attitude.

Music was never just sound to me. It was the full package. The records, the artwork, the style, the danger, the fashion, the posters, the feeling. I was making zines as a kid, designing tapes and CDs, making posters for live shows, obsessing over the worlds that bands built around their songs. Looking back now, that was the start of everything I still do, whether that’s making music with Bleed Electric or running RIOT, the New York creative agency I built. It all comes from the same place - sound and image hit hardest when they collide.

Music became personal when I learned to play my first song on guitar. It was “Wild Thing” by The Troggs, and it probably took me a couple of weeks as a kid to get it right. Learning guitar is hard. Your fingers hurt, it’s frustrating and that’s where a lot of people quit. I didn’t. Once I got those chords and that rhythm down, something shifted. Music stopped feeling like this magical thing other people did and started feeling like something I could do too.

A lot of it started in my bedroom as a kid. I had the big room in the house, but I also had to share it with my younger brother, so I’d be in there surrounded by possibility: a desk, a ZX Spectrum where we programmed simple music, a stereo with two inputs so we could record clean left-and-right tracks to tape, my dad’s acoustic guitar, instrumentals from B-sides and whatever strange idea we felt like chasing that day. I’d sample voices, play guitar, sing, rap over instrumentals, experiment constantly. That room was my first laboratory.

Even now, that’s how I approach music. It’s one of the reasons Bleed Electric doesn’t feel like a traditional band. For us, it’s never just been about writing songs. It’s about building worlds through sound, visuals, mythology and mood. We recently released our second EP, Let The Invasion Begin, in reverse as part of a bigger idea: rolling the Bleed Electric catalogue out backwards, peeling the story back layer by layer. In the next couple of weeks, we’re also dropping the music video for “Gravity”, which feels right because that track carries a sense of release - breaking free from whatever was holding you down.

That part matters to me. The best music shows people that creativity doesn’t have to stay in one lane. A song can be a feeling, a visual, a philosophy, a film, a statement, a world. That’s how I’ve always approached it. It’s also what I bring into RIOT. Our work as a creative agency is shaped by that same belief that sound is never secondary. Audio changes how people feel. It changes how they remember.

I’ve always related to the world through being an artist.

A while ago, I found an old school project from 1st grade. “When I grow up, I want to study bugs and be an artist.” I’ve found that it’s important for an artist to listen to their inner child.

I chose the double bass as a 12-year-old. To put it simply, I felt a calling towards it. Some along the way have guided me, while others have shamed me for not being x, y or z.

I don’t believe in making anyone feel like they’re not enough. Noble mothers don’t rank or judge their creations. They nurture. There is so much sound to take in as a musician, but along the way, I’ve found the importance of filtering out the noise.

Free improvisation was my greatest teacher and I learned to connect to others through deep listening and making space for all vibrations. I sometimes have a hard time talking to people, but I don’t have any difficulty feeling for them.

My imagination goes to many places and as I’ve gotten older, I’ve indulged deeper darkness and deeper fantasy.

Ironically, I’ve been cruel to myself in the name of music. I forget that there is only love. I’ve learned music transforms suffering into compassion.

There was no single moment in time where I knew I wanted to make music, and sometimes, I don’t want to make music. Sometimes, I hate the music I make. Sometimes, I hate myself.

But I have accepted my role of being a creator and creative. Whenever I have any doubt about “how it’ll go”, I remind myself that I’ll be creating as long as I am alive.

I try to purge the desire to achieve status as much as I can, but the society we live in doesn’t seem to give much of a shit about equity. I recently heard actor Josh Radnor on Rainn Wilson’s podcast talk about the spotlight - not as a prize, but as a tool to expose what’s hidden in the dark. This resonated with me. Maybe art can reflect principles beyond the aesthetic. Maybe we create and collaborate to remind each other to listen and to love.

Pursuing an answer to these questions inspires me to be an artist and make music.

My feature here will end with a cliche, but it doesn’t mean it’s not true: it’s all an ongoing process.

I know my calling and I know who I am.

Keith R.A. DeCandido was a self-proclaimed fantasy nerd before he was born. His parents were fans of science fiction, particularly Star Trek, and passed that admiration down to their son. Before long, he would be immersed in several sci-fi and fantasy series as more than just a fan.

His primary reading material growing up was sci-fi and fantasy novels, with four authors in his rotation: Ursula K. Le Guin, Robert A. Heinlein, P.G. Wodehouse and J.R.R. Tolkien. Their contributions to the genre became inspiration for DeCandido’s own writing career. His first original novel, Dragon Precinct, became a series that has spanned over two decades. He has also published novels in dozens of popular sci-fi and fantasy series including Star Trek, Doctor Who, Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Supernatural and many more.

If he wasn’t reading novels, he was engrossed in superhero comics. As early as high school, DeCandido would spend weekends in Manhattan attending comic conventions and adding to his collection. In college he found I-CON, a convention held on college campuses in Long Island. The public access cable television show he co-hosted and co-produced, The Chronic Rift, also attended several conventions to promote the show and interview comic creators.

These days, DeCandido isn’t much of a collector (“I collect debt, like most proper American adults.”) other than collecting an insane amount of writing credits. HIs latest series, Supernatural Crimes Unit: NYPD is an urban fantasy series about a division of the New York Police Department that handles crimes involving magic and monsters. His other series, The Adventures of Bram Gold, was based on his time working for the New York Census Bureau. He spent time visiting areas of his hometown that he never knew existed, which led to deep dives into research that he is still trying to figure out how to write about.

As his writing career progressed, he began attending conventions as an author. He currently does upwards of 20 shows a year, including stops this year at C2E2 and a convention he has attended almost every year since 1988, Dragon Con.

“I’ve given up on such outdated concepts such as sleep,” he joked. “Sleep is for wimps. Happy, well-adjusted wimps, but wimps nonetheless.”

Thanks to his career path, he has had many chances to work with and meet people he admired during his youth, much like convention goers get to do each weekend. One moment in particular stands out to him as equal parts legendary and embarrassing: an interaction with one of his literary idols, Ursula K. Le Guin. He said the one and only time they met he made a total ass out of himself, chuckling as he recalled just how hard he fanned out over her.

Interaction amongst convention goers is something he thoroughly enjoys. When someone walks past his table, recognizing one of the displayed books and stopping in their tracks, he looks forward to the exclamations of “I’ve read this book!” or “I had no idea you’d be here this weekend!” It feels almost like catching up with an old friend.

From high school attendee to literary guest, Keith R.A. DeCandido knows a thing or two about a comic convention. The books that line his table are full of familiar characters, enticing passerby to stop and get to know the author himself. Conversations will be had, books will be purchased; a love for science fiction will be continued.

Their voices were the soundtrack of our summers, and to celebrate the songs that defined those summers, Boys Like Girls took their first two albums on the road to play in their entirety. The Soundtrack of Your Life Tour commemorates the 20th anniversary of their self-titled debut album and the 17th anniversary of their sophomore album, Love Drunk.

On a cool night in Chicago, the band played in the Spanish courtyard that is the Aragon Ballroom. Underneath the twinkling lights and clear sky painted along the domed ceiling, the audience was transported back to the nights that felt so important yet so inconsequential.

“I don’t know if you love Chicago, but I love Chicago enough for the both of us,” lead vocalist Martin Johnson said to the crowd. “It’s good to be back at the Aragon.”

The stage was lined with dozens of CRT television sets, displaying anything from lyrics and countdowns to music videos and static noise. The lighting made for a vibrant atmosphere, and the maple floors shook as thousands of people bounced along to the beat.

Slowing it down for songs like “Two Is Better Than One” or “Holiday” gave the audience a chance to feel the emotion as much as the energy of the night. Both records were written when the band was in their late teens to early twenties, and basking in the moments of them two decades later must have felt surreal.

Johnson told the crowd, “I love my life. I love my best friends. I love this band. I love you guys the most.”

Listening to an album front to back for the first time is an experience unlike anything else. It becomes something deeper, allowing the listener not only the chance to understand the artist but to also give their own interpretation. From physically holding an album and reading the liner notes to downloading a not-so-perfect file via copyright infringement (“How many people stole this record?” Johnson asked in between playing songs from Boys Like Girls.), it was hardly ever just a single song that made such an impact. Hearing that same album, in a live setting surrounded by others who felt the exact same way the first time they heard these songs, has become something beyond words.

A generation of music lovers took hold of artists like Boys Like Girls and gave them zero chance of fading into obscurity. Instead, they’ve introduced the music to a new generation; sharing how and why they loved this music so much.

“As long as you show up, we’ll keep doing this,” Johnson said at the end of the night.

After one last chance to sing “The Great Escape” and “Love Drunk” at the top of their lungs, thousands of people made their way down the grand staircase and into the chilly night. It’s nowhere near summer yet, but for two hours it was. For two hours, it was 2006 again, and everything felt alright.

Graphic created by Hard Pass Creative

Angela Tyler has always believed in the power of words, story and strategy. She established Muddy Paw PR in 2014, five years after the inception of her journalist endeavors as Infectious Magazine. Little by little, she wanted to make a difference in the music industry.

Sometime in 2016, she reached out to a journalist looking for coverage for a Texas-based rock band she was representing. They would continue to work together a few more times with a few different artists that year, establishing a working relationship that felt genuine.

That’s why, when I first decided to create Black is the New AP Style, Angela was one of the first people I reached out to.

I was unsure of how publicists in the music industry would react to yet another online publication. It felt like an oversaturated corner of the internet. It was intimidating to ask people if they would continue to work with me in a capacity much smaller than what I used to be able to offer. Despite that uncertainty, Angela (and everyone else I asked) said yes. And here we are 10 years later.

2016 is a time that both of us seem to be nostalgic for as we discussed where we were back then. Physically, she was spending a lot of time in Toronto, making connections and building communities among artists. She wanted to pack in as much as possible and would take on six to eight clients at a time, providing placements in top outlets, playlists and more. By juggling a public relations company and music blog, she was able to introduce clients in multiple formats. Muddy Paw PR clients could get a feature in Infectious Magazine, and artists looking to be featured on the blog could hire her to boost their campaign strategies.

“In 2016, blogs moved the needle in such a powerful way, and the people writing for blogs moved the needle,” she said. “It’s still certainly part of my outreach but it is so much different now.”

Social media was just as prevalent then, but it has transformed in a way that feels more disposable. Gone are the days of low effort, high passion content or long-form media. A comeback is surely on the horizon, but influencer-style content is what garners the most traction currently. She still prefers to connect and build relationships, but feels that the foundation that worked so well 10 years ago has crumbled more than anticipated.

“In 2016 I felt like I was on solid ground,” she said. “I didn’t know what I was doing but I felt like I understood the landscape and would understand it for at least a couple of years to come.”

Although Infectious Magazine ended in 2019, Muddy Paw PR continues to offer services for publicity including Spotify Playlisting, Release Strategy, Influencer Marketing and Fanbase Building. Empowering indie artists still sparks an eagerness in her that she has had since day one, and she still stands by her approach to make the most out of a promotion strategy.

“All of the rules are the same,” she said. “You should still be consistent, still be networking; those things haven’t changed.”

From starting out in the music industry to engaging a fan base, Muddy Paw PR shares over a decade of experience through the power of words, story and strategy. This may sound like I am publicizing a publicist, and I absolutely am. After 10 years of working with Angela and her clients, I can tell you that she is an important piece of the music industry puzzle.

Photo courtesy of Carly Boomer

I don’t think I really got into music until I was a little bit older.

When I was a kid, I started doing piano lessons and my brother did guitar. I remember having a very strict teacher and I was always a little scared going into lessons, so I quit early on, same as my brother. I currently teach music now and I think about that all the time. I try to give my students as much grace as I can, making sure they feel encouraged rather than intimidated.

When I was in grade 8, my mom took my brother's old guitar, got it fixed up and gave it to me for Christmas. From there, I started learning on my own with help from YouTube. The first song I remember learning was “Swing Life Away” by Rise Against, and I’d play it all the time, over and over again, trying to get it just right.

Near the end of grade 8, I started going to a youth group and they were starting a youth worship band so I joined that. I am very grateful for that time in my life because it taught me how to play with other musicians and I was able to learn from actual people and not just YouTube, which made a huge difference in my growth.

Grade 9 came along, and I was playing lots of covers and doing the youth band. My friend came over one day and tried to show me the song “Coming Home” by Skylar Grey, but ended up putting on “Coming Home” by City and Colour, and we both instantly fell in love. Later that night, I listened to all his music and became such a fan. I think from that moment I was like, “This is what I wanna do.”

From there, I started writing my own songs and posting on YouTube. That summer I was offered one of my first gigs for Art in the Park in Toronto, which felt like a huge moment for me. I ended up going to school for music and learned a bunch of stuff, met a bunch of people and started up a band called We Wander. That was the first time I had actually put music out into the world, started booking shows and touring. I learned so much from that experience.

As much as I loved We Wander, I wanted to try something a little different. I had written this song, “Six Feet Under”, and it had so much meaning to me. I tried recording it on my own and that’s what started this solo project. I am so happy with how everything has turned out since then, and I still have so much love for We Wander and everything it taught me.

It isn’t much of a surprise that concerts celebrating a milestone anniversary of an album’s release date have received a continued interest within their audience. Studies show that our brains process and store music from our adolescent years in a way that is uniquely its own. Listening to music from that time in life activates several regions in the brain and can release dopamine and serotonin, so hearing those songs in a live atmosphere only adds to the emotional connection.

Musicians of all genres have spotlighted a particular album that resonated with fans, but none have done it quite the same way Wheatus has. When we spoke to the band in 2023, lead vocalist Brendan B. Brown was in the process of digitally mixing and mastering the band’s self-titled debut album to celebrate its 20th anniversary - a process that became delayed due to the global pandemic in 2020. Just in time for its 25th anniversary, the band has been celebrating the re-release for the last year with tours across the country as well as Canada, Australia and the U.K.

Although the tour is a celebration of their self-titled album and is played in full each night, it is not performed in the order of the track list. In fact, there is no setlist at all. Each night, the band encourages the audience to participate by shouting out requests. They might play the song in its entirety, a few verses or just the chorus. At their last show of the U.S. leg of the tour in St. Charles, Ill., they were even stumped by a request of “Scotty Doesn’t Know” from the 2004 film EuroTrip.

In between songs, Brown shared stories about the recording process of Wheatus, which was done in his mother’s basement. Before playing “Punk Ass Bitch”, he shared that it was the only song former bassist Rich Liegey wrote and during the recording process Liegey sent Brown home. Today, Brown credits that moment for the reason why he was able to record “Teenage Dirtbag” the next day with such an impressive falsetto.

Another unique aspect to their anniversary shows is the stage layout. Brown stands stage right, atop a blue and yellow checkered rug that pays homage to the album cover. Diagonally behind him is keyboardist Brandon Ticer, with backing vocalists Joey Slater and Gabrielle Sterbenz positioned to his left. Drummer Gui Fuentes and his one-of-a-kind blue and yellow drumset sit in the front of stage left while bassist Matthew Milligan can usually be seen nearby but often roams to other areas of the stage to interact with the audience and his bandmates.

“Matthew is like the North Star of the band,” Brown said after noticing Milligan had briefly walked off the stage. “When he leaves the stage, everything starts to disintegrate.”

The audience itself also provided an atmosphere unlike previous shows. If they weren’t calling out obscure song requests such as the band’s theme song for the animated series Jackie Chan Adventures, they were taking notice of guitar distortions or complimenting the performance.

“I’m going to miss you when we leave, St. Charles,” Brown said. “This is a good crowd. Everybody get in the bus.”

The crowd may not have taken up the offer to accompany them back home, but they did leave for their own homes with the memories of a performance unlike any other. Wheatus took the concept of an anniversary tour and made it their own. They gave their audience a chance to be part of something 25 years in the making.