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.

Over the course of four years, Sari Jordan became immersed in the culture of New Orleans. They chose Tulane University to study political science and environmental studies but found themselves just as interested in music clubs and events on campus. A degree in music wasn’t exactly in their cards, so when it became their reason to stay in the city, they wanted to explore it as much as possible.

Music was always a love but never considered an avenue for Jordan. Singing around the house was one thing, but singing around campus became something bigger. The more open mics and reception dinners they found to perform at, the more of a community they found.

“Music is just celebrated culturally here in a way that is super different from where I grew up,” they said. “I just wanted to sing anywhere that would let me sing.”

At a house show in the last month of their freshman year of college, they were also introduced to Tulane University BAM Ensemble. Joining not only brought them new opportunities, but encouraged them to engage outside of a classroom.

“That is where my brain and ears got cracked open,” they said. “Studying the Great American Songbook tradition and learning about harmony and keeping the form in a song really allowed me to blossom in my musicality.”

They felt an obligation to complete their degree but also wanted to continue their passion. For a long time, they held up this illusion that they would do anything other than music. Just after graduation, Tulane sent Jordan and other members of the ensemble to Switzerland to play three-hour quintet gigs for nearly two weeks. It was a transformative experience that made them realize that a music career was closer than they thought.

“That trip really put into perspective not only that I could do it but that I already was,” they said. “I didn’t really accept myself as a musician for so long, and I had to stop looking for validation in other people and really take charge of my music journey.”

They found a job their first year out of college that leaned more towards their degree, but after getting laid off they recognized it as their chance to focus on music. Their first EP, Sing to the Moon, was released in October 2023 and became a powerful teaching moment. Songs written about interpersonal issues became incredibly political; that week felt so semantically dangerous for those lyrics that they look back at that moment and realize how hard they were being on themselves.

This time around, their focus is having fun and making art with their friends. Jordan has released two singles this year, “FREAK” and “TABLE OF ANGELS”, with the intention of releasing their debut album, PERFECT BE THE ENEMY, on May 15, 2026.

The releases have been partially planned around the New Orleans calendar, which they called “a living organism that lives among us”. Taking into account the tourism and the climate has brought a certain type of energy into the music and the celebrations of their releases.

“Releasing music feels best when I feel the support of my immediate community and the people around me,” they said. “I just feel really lucky to have a robust music community in New Orleans. It’s huge and deep and colorful and supportive and diverse; I wanted my community to be there for me and with me as I did it.”

“FREAK” and “TABLE OF ANGELS” felt like the perfect bridge between their last body of work and this upcoming piece. One song about killing off and finding compassion for older versions of one’s self; the other about experiencing intense joy amidst intense political activation. The subject matter does a great job of addressing the personal elements they were experiencing while expanding their musical horizons.

This time around, they want their new music to be more of a casual listen. “TABLE OF ANGELS” in particular is meant to be danceable - something they learned from spending several years living in New Orleans. Finding joy, even among the most damning of circumstances, is a distinctly New Orleanian skill set that Jordan wants their music to represent. For them, this city changed their life. It’s only fair that their music pays homage to that.

“There’s no untangling New Orleans from my wires. I’m permanently altered.”

Daniel Kraus was gearing up for the release of his novel, Whalefall, when he decided to take an entire month off from writing. There was going to be a lot of press revolving around the book and he thought that was the perfect time to take a well-deserved break. Instead, he found himself with gaps of time with nothing on his schedule.

His first thought was to pen an essay dedicated to the film that changed his life, Night of the Living Dead. It would be something simple to send to anyone subscribed to his newsletter, nothing more. He pulled up an online copy of the film and pressed play without any set intentions. He paused it after five seconds, took some notes about those five seconds and continued that way for less than one minute into the film. He already had 20 pages written.

Kraus realized he had a lot to say, and wondered how long it would take before he ran out of commentary. (Spoiler alert: he already has a list of things he wants to add to a new edition.) Not only was he taking notes in seconds-long increments, he was adding personal touches as he had originally intended. From mentioning his hometown in the first paragraph to detailing the loss of his sister in its final pages, he had no idea Partially Devoured: How Night of the Living Dead Saved My Life and Changed the World would get as deeply personal as it did.

“I thought it would come on rare occasions,” he said. “Or there would be something humorous that I could tell about my own version that I made when I was a kid. I didn’t expect it to become so serious…I feel like this book was the equivalent of years of therapy. In a way, it really directed me to some answers.”

He also didn’t expect to learn so much from a film he had seen hundreds of times. The first draft went entirely off of facts he already knew and was seeing in real-time as he watched it. The deeper he got into it, however, the more unfinished thoughts would grace the page. He found himself chasing down an 8-track tape (and player!), counting how many times a cigarette was smoked and detailing each and every piece of art that carried on the film’s name.

The most important bit of research that became a personal passion was learning as much as he could about lead actor Duane Jones. HIs role as Ben marked the first time a Black actor was the star and hero of a horror film, and Kraus felt he had not been properly recognized for it. Chasing down leads and investigating student newspapers became one step closer to understanding the impact the film had on Jones.

He had to trust his instincts when it came to the first draft as this wasn’t something he could necessarily outline. He was aware of how impactful the balance between personal and factual could be, and subsequent drafts became a little easier once the shape of it formed.

“For my novels I’ve done a lot of research but this was very different,” he said. “I would just have a random thought while writing one day and realize I want to chase that down. That led to absolute insanity when it came to rewatching the movie because I’d keep finding reasons to rewatch it.”

He said he never tired of watching it, though. He even still enjoyed it, whether it was a colorized version or semi-pixelated upload on YouTube. “Its hold on me is unique,” he wrote.

He never knew how to answer the question, ‘Why are you interested in horror?’ and finally found the answer during this writing process. Now he had another question: Are there other admirers of the film out there who feel the same?

More than anything, readers can relate to the passion because they too have a passion for something. Another film, television show, album, song… their fandom can relate.

“There are definitely people who for them this movie is just as important as it is to me,” he said. “I’ve been really surprised by how many people who are reading and enjoying it have never seen the movie. I think that’s because there’s something universal about it even though it’s extremely specific. There’s something universal about this kind of feeling and people can mentally substitute in whatever they’ve always been obsessed with.”