Neighbors of Mike Chick are quite used to - and encouraging of - the noises coming from his garage studio. Alongside bandmates Biff Swenson, Dana Yurcisin, Nicole Scorsone and Rudy Meier, their home base for writing and recording the latest release from Yawn Mower was consistently occupied with sound.

I Just Can’t Wait To Die is their first group effort as a five-piece, which started with a Google Drive full of late-night voice memos and loose concepts for melodies. An entire tour was spent combing through it all, working out each idea until 10 tangible songs presented themselves. They brought those 10 songs to Chicago, playing a week’s worth of shows to test out the material.

“It was cool because you also got early crowd reactions,” Meier said. “We would play and we could see the ones that everyone seemed to like [or] maybe we got to work on this one a little more.”

Even when Chick was out of town, the band was using the studio space. In fact, a demo he had written years prior was fully fleshed out by the time he returned. Another time, he left the room and heard them jamming what eventually became the bridge of another song that made the album. Although he is the primary songwriter, this creative process was equal. Collaboration was encouraged, resulting in taking a few left turns that original members Chick and Swenson probably would not have taken on their own. It wasn’t without its disagreements, but in a more lighthearted than hostile way.

“We got out the other side of all of that with something that everyone is hyped on,” Swenson said. “No one’s looking back in anger. No important idea was scrapped.”

The drums were first to be recorded, followed by three days of Scorsone’s parts. Vocals were knocked out in a day. The majority of production was completed by Yurcisin and Meier. There was no need for hiring studio musicians as they intentionally wanted everyone represented throughout each song.

“We were actively trying to write the thing that pleased us as the player while serving the song,” Swenson said. “Which is why it was a year-long process of trying to figure out how to maneuver being a five-piece band as opposed to Mike and I just throwing shit at a wall and telling everyone this is it.”

They honestly enjoyed the recording process because they got to both highlight their skills and improve them at the same time. Each member plays multiple instruments, and Meier said that was helpful for brainstorming as they could easily comprehend what the other person was trying to do.

“You want to [always] show up with your best foot forward, but it’s nice that if you don’t there’s four other people who are equally, if not more, talented,” Swenson said.

Choosing the first three singles was a no-brainer. “Rascal” was the perfect introduction to their current sound. “Geothermal Springs” was the most diverse when it came to their collective talents. “New Years at the Airport” felt the most like it was worthy of becoming a single.

Another song that Yurcisin believes really demonstrates their range is “$12 & A Winepress”, which was written about Chick’s grandparents. The song’s lyrics are where the album title comes from, which was a struggle to decide if that was the right choice. Yurcisin swears that was his choice from day one, while the others took turns going back and forth on their vote for a while. Scorsone remembers laughing when she first received the text suggesting that title, thinking it perfectly highlighted the humor sprinkled into the album. At a certain point, it was clear that I Just Can’t Wait To Die was the only choice.

The videos that have been released alongside the singles showcase their talents outside of music. With members who also work as illustrators, designers and editors, their DIY approach to the band allows their fans to understand them better.

“There’s no way you’re going to watch one of these videos one time and catch it all,” Swenson said. “I feel like the videos do a really good job of showing not only did the band grow in numbers, not only did the songwriters quadruple, but the videos are the same way. If you’ve seen our old videos, they’re just as fun and loose and they paint a picture of what it’s like hanging out with us. This time it’s as overstimulating as an actual conversation [with us] would be.”

The ten songs are not meant to tell a single story or send a certain message. If there is a theme, it is that life exists. The listener may hear inside jokes amongst the band, observations from walking their dogs or unbelievable sights from tour. Chick said that he used to think he needed to have an entire story - complete with beginning, middle and end - in order to complete a song. These days, each line in a verse can be a different story.

“That’s what I like the most about [Chick’s] songwriting,” Yurcisin said. “I couldn’t possibly tell anyone else what a theme for this record is, but depending on the listener, you can have 40 different takeaways from even some real, literal, basic descriptions.”

Yawn Mower’s five-piece lineup means five different voices coming through each track of I Just Can’t Wait To Die. They challenged one another to make an album that was equally their own and succeeded.

“I think this record is a really good way to hear all of our personalities very clearly,” Chick said. “Maybe it’s just because I’m so close to it. When I listen I can clearly hear Biff’s influence, I clearly hear Dana, Rudy, Nicole… and everything melts with our personalities too. It’s cool to hear on a record because we were playing for two years together before that but they were all older songs. We had all this open space so now with everybody just putting their ideas together I think it came out pretty good.”

Photo courtesy of Tracy Conoboy

For Bridget Stiebris, experiencing creativity comes in waves. Months can be spent in songwriting mode, swapping ideas with OK Cool bandmate Haley Blomquist Waller and prepping for recording sessions. Other months become more administrative, booking tours or creating flyers to promote shows. It seems like just yesterday but also a lifetime ago that they went into songwriting mode for their debut LP, Chit Chat.

The intention wasn’t necessarily to have enough material for a full-length album, but this time around they planned on challenging their songwriting capabilities. They agreed that with some experience under their belt, it was time to try something new.

“I was intentionally trying to make the songs longer as a challenge to myself,” Stiebris said. “I felt that the more I listened to other people’s music, I [thought], ‘Well, I like theirs when it goes on for a little bit longer. So maybe someone will like if ours went on a little longer.’”

Right before they planned to record the eight songs they had ready, two other partially written songs came together. Those last minute ideas turned into full concepts just in time to hit record. The 10-track LP was entirely written, performed and produced by Blomquist Waller and Stiebris, with engineering support from fellow Chicago musicians Avery Black, Brad Harvey and Wesley Reno.

Having two people to coordinate the time and attention needed to create music can be equal parts simple and testing. Once one of them has an initial idea, the rest seems to flow easily. Setting one’s own deadlines and sticking to them, without the influence or persuasion of others, can become complicated. The final product makes it all the more rewarding.

They describe their storytelling as organic. In the moment, they focus on getting their point across. They never intend to have songs connect, but once the track list starts to come together, they recognize shared themes that help drive those points home.

“What you’re going through turns into the themes of the record over time,” Blomquist Waller said. “We’ll notice themes that Bridget has in her songs that I have similar themes in my songs or vice versa. It is fun to see how it all comes together just from being similar people.”

They agree that their songwriting capabilities have improved in the last few years. They are more comfortable with admitting that something isn’t working or making last minute pivots. For Chit Chat, Blomquist Waller said that they were better at bouncing off each other’s ideas and taking snippets that planned on being scrapped and working with them until they became full songs.

Their first single from the album, “Waawooweewaa”, was one of the first songs written for Chit Chat, and after sharing the demo with a few trusted confidants, they knew it was the perfect way to showcase their current sound. They debuted the track at their live shows, alongside other singles “Safety Car” and “Last”, but are most looking forward to playing the album in full at their upcoming album release show.

Photo courtesy of Alyssa Ann Dueck

I didn’t have a very strong musical upbringing. I didn’t grow up in a musical household or anything like that. We listened to music and had CDs, of course, but no more than the average household if I had to guess. I had more of an athletic background and I played any sport I was allowed. For the longest time, I wanted to be an NHL player when I grew up.

I did have a few people in my life that were involved with music, though. A couple of really close friends that all played instruments. My older cousins and older sister did some musical theatre. Being the youngest of all of them, I always thought it was super cool watching them go on stage and perform in front of a crowd of people. Those were really the only impressions of music I had growing up, though.

It wasn’t until maybe grade 7 or 8 though that something changed. My friends that played instruments performed a song at our school talent show and I remember thinking, “I want to be up there with them.” I’m sure some of it was just FOMO, but I remember thinking how fun it looked.

I was mainly drawn to drums because my best friend, Aidan, played drums and of course I wanted to be just like him. His dad played guitar and had been in bands for a long time so Aidan had a drum kit and a bunch of other music gear at his house. One day we were hanging out at his place and he wanted to show me a song he was practicing. So he goes over to the computer and searches up a video on YouTube, cranks the speakers as loud as they’ll go, hits play and then runs back to the drum set. “Sweetness” by Jimmy Eat World starts blasting and Aidan starts drumming along to it.

Aidan and I grew up a few houses down from each other and did practically everything together. We hung out almost every day; we both played hockey, loved video games, etc. One of the video games we grew up playing together was NHL 2003. Now ask anyone who has played any of the NHL games over the years which game has the best soundtrack, and I can almost guarantee they’ll say NHL 2003. My favourite song from that game: “Sweetness” by Jimmy Eat World.

I can’t say for certain that seeing Aidan play drums that day was the exact moment I knew I wanted to make music, but it was 100% the reason behind me begging my parents for a drum kit for the next three years. Combine that with our friends, Tyler and Cam, who played guitar, my sister and cousins singing for musical theatre… they all influenced me to pick up those instruments in one way or another.

I can’t blame my parents for waiting so long to get me a drum set either. Kids change their minds on a whim and there was no way of knowing if I was actually going to stick with it. Plus, drum sets are not cheap! But thank God they ended up taking that chance because damn we’ve come a long way.

Photo courtesy of Dana Gorab

For anyone who doesn’t know about the legendary 1991 Monsters of Rock festival in Tushino, Moscow, the Soviet Union had just collapsed and the post-Soviet space was feeling the wind of change. At that moment, about half a million people gathered at the Tushino airfield, according to unverified data. Legends such as Metallica, AC/DC and Pantera were performing in front of an absolutely unsophisticated audience, consisting of citizens of yesterday's Evil Empire. It is clear that all this was a celebration of life, an imprint of light from another universe…

In July 1992, Welcome to Dead House, the first book in the original Goosebumps series, was published. The cover, featuring a dilapidated house with a glowing red interior, would go on to become one of 60 iconic illustrations created for the series by Tim Jacobus.

He recalls the days of traveling to book stores and signing copies for eager children; some shyly pressed against the arms of a parent, others loudly declaring their favorite character. These days, he not only meets a new generation of Goosebumps fans but is reacquainted with old ones.

“[Events at book stores] were all very nice, but you - the fan - were 10 years old,” he said. “When we talked, we didn’t really talk to each other… Now everybody’s grown up. I get some real heartfelt stories of what it was like to be 10 back then and how the Goosebumps books played a part of their life. The fact that it’s 2025 and we’re still talking about this, it’s amazing. It’s really amazing.”

He refers to himself as a latecomer to the comic convention circuit, first getting a taste of it at the New Jersey horror convention Chiller Theatre Expo. He was invited by horror punk band The Undead as they promoted their EP, Having An Undead Summer, with cover art designed by Jacobus. The Undead mentioned that they had room for him at their booth and suggested he tag along to sign copies of the album and his art. He agreed to attend and told his girlfriend as he was leaving the house, “If only people I know come up to the table, I’m never doing this again.”

He believed that being an illustrator was not the target audience for comic conventions, but was pleasantly surprised at the turnout. Despite the booth being in an area that could have hindered his appearance, he got to learn and revel in the subcultures that gather to celebrate one another. He has been attending conventions across the country ever since.

In the quiet moments of these weekends, Jacobus may take the opportunity to peruse the aisles in search for unique treasures to gift his loved ones. He also enjoys watching convention goers interact with their heroes.

“I like when I see people go out of their way to be extra cool to the fans,” he said. “Where I can tell they are turning up all the dials to make sure that person gets everything they want.”

For those who have yet to experience the wonder of a comic convention, especially amongst his friend group, Jacobus relates it to a Grateful Dead concert. For the longest time, he never attended a show because it wasn’t the type of music he listened to. Once he attended one, he understood that it is more than the music. Conventions may not be something they are necessarily interested in, or their idea of it doesn’t seem worthwhile, but the experience can be life-changing.

Photo courtesy of Amanda Valentine

Shayfer James knew he had a new album in him. The frozen oceanside of New Brunswick, Canada, is where he spent a month off the grid, compiling 10 tracks that would ultimately become his latest album, Summoning.

Being alone and being somewhere “beautifully cold” were his two requirements when it came to working on the album. Spending time in nature gave him the opportunity to reflect, and to be completely open with himself.

“I had a feeling the album would just come out if it wanted to, and my goal was to foster a space for it each day I was away,” he said.

As the album began to take shape, a blend of dark humor and vulnerability made its way to the surface. It wasn’t until the mixing phase, however, that James noticed a central theme had come through in each of the 10 songs. By recognizing a message of self-acceptance in those tracks, it made the order in which the songs would appear on the album all the more significant.

He did refine the humorous aspects of songs such as “Make a Wish” and “Hell of a Dream” by reworking some of the lyrics, but other than minor tweaks, the songs seemed to balance each other out once a track listing was finalized.

The closing track, “Winter Hymn”, was the most rewarding song to write. It is one of two tracks that delve into the concept of letting go, whether of a relationship or personal burdens, offering a calming epilogue of resilience and hope. For James, recording the lyrics felt like publishing a journal entry.

In addition to being his most vulnerable album to date, Summoning also showcases his evolution as a songwriter. Poetic narratives, playful melodies and cinematic arrangements bring each song to life.

“Songwriting has definitely become more organic for me,” he said. “Over the years it’s become a part of my background work and I think I’m kind of always in the process of writing in one way or another; like it’s involuntary until it isn’t.”

Photo courtesy of Sandra Lee Layden

As someone who has not only watched close family and friends struggle with mental illness, but also struggled with mental illness themselves, Excuses Excuses guitarist and vocalist Kyle C. Wilton understood the importance and challenges of creating a song that accurately represented those realities.

“Paralysis” took shape as those around Wilton dealt with the harsh realities of loss and self-understanding. His grandfather, coping with the loss of his grandmother while also beginning to develop memory issues, and his friend, navigating a new ADHD diagnosis. Watching it happen in real time stirred up a multitude of emotions, so he put pen to paper.

“Though both situations were quite different from one another, they both shared many debilitating qualities and the most noticeable to me was the feeling of mental paralysis they both experienced,” Wilton said. “For some reason noticing this similarity struck a chord within me, and I instantly knew that I needed to write a song about it to bring these emotions to light and to help encourage others to be their best selves and not let their illnesses define who they are as people.”

It was essential to create a song that was as authentic as possible. He relied on his own experiences in addition to his loved ones’ to give an accurate portrayal of how it affected them. Everyone’s situation is unique; which is why “Paralysis”, although based on certain situations, does not dive into specifics.

“I think it is extremely important to understand that mental battles can look very different from person to person and they should never be painted with the same brush,” Wilton said. “Since I wanted to write a song that wasn’t too specific or situational and really could speak to many peoples’ realities; I dove deep into my past experiences, discussed with peers what their experiences looked like and analyzed the commonalities that lie between them.”

Not only was it important for the lyrics to tell a story, but Excuses Excuses wanted the instruments to do the same. Wilton said that he felt it was important to try to capture the intensity that can come with mental illness - the high highs and the low lows. Instruments carry emotion just as powerfully as lyrics, and he was determined to make each individual emotion heard.

He used a more reserved guitar line in the verses than he normally would, wanting the focus to be on the honest and visual lyricism. The choruses brought a drastic change - a nod to the drastic change of emotions that can stem from mental illness - while the bridge brings encouragement to complement happier sounds. A few versions were created as they tried to figure out a structure that made the most sense, with the help of producer Brian Moncarz. The end goal was to further enhance the message of the song, and it worked in their favor.

Overall, the creation process of “Paralysis” was rewarding. Wilton enjoys writing songs steeped in honesty and this song was no exception.

“This was one of the first times I truly felt that I had accomplished that in a very profound sort of way,” he said. “I think taking the time to actually be critical about what I was writing in this song is really what helped it be so honest and powerful.”

“Paralysis” is meant to allow the listener to feel. Whatever that feeling may be, this is the song to embrace it. It is a reminder that there is always a path through the darkness, and that path will lead to better days.

Photo courtesy of Libby Grey

Chris Vos spent his childhood on a dairy farm just outside of Burlington, Wis., where riding a bike to a friend’s house was impossible and a grade school classroom could be filled with four children total. That feeling of solitude led him to his first guitar, and his first real promise to himself: go nowhere unless his guitar took him.

He ventured into live concerts as a teenager, his parents driving him upstate to Milwaukee before he got his driver’s license and purchased his grandfather’s 1977 Pontiac Bonneville. That vehicle took him to his first music festival which ultimately played an important role in his musical career.

Summerfest is recognized as “The World’s Largest Music Festival” by the Guinness World Records. For more than 50 years, local and nationally known musicians of various genres have graced their 12 stages every summer. The day that Vos and a friend attended, he remembers watching local Milwaukee acts that were rock stars to him. They stood at the Uline Warehouse stage as Citizen King performed, and Vos thought to himself, “I want to do what they’re doing.”

Soon enough, his guitar would take him to all 50 states as a member of The Record Company alongside bandmates Alex Stiff and Marc Cazorla.

“It’s one of those crazy things you think at 14 and for whatever reason I held to it,” Vos said. “There was a long time where that crazy little dream seemed like, ‘you should abandon this idea, this is terrible,’ but the guitar did eventually take me there. That’s why I’m proud of that.”

Summerfest is a festival The Record Company is familiar with, having played it multiple times. For Vos, it feels like a mix between a family reunion and a wedding reception; family, friends and fans all under the same roof to celebrate the same night. This year, their performance was extra special for Vos as they played the same stage - at roughly the same time slot - as Citizen King all those years ago.

The Record Company at Summerfest, 2025. View the full gallery here.

Photo courtesy of Dana Gorab

I remember first seeing Bauhaus in the opening scenes of the iconic vampire film, The Hunger, starring Catherine Deneuve and David Bowie. Lead vocalist Peter Murphy appears in the opening scenes, lean frame silhouetted against a foggy backdrop. The song playing is “Bela Lugosi’s Dead”, unarguably one of the most important and memorable goth songs of all time.

I lived in New York at the time, attending film school at NYU, where I studied experimental film and classics. Years later, I lived in Vancouver; I was back in my home country. I had lived all over the world at that point, and some of those travels had landed me in San Francisco for eight years or so. I still kept in touch with the best friends I had made there, including my friend, Zach. I also still received emails about events in San Francisco, which I’d casually perused to keep an eye on the pulse of local culture.

I remember when Bauhaus tickets went on sale. Being one of my favourite bands since college, Zach and I excitedly chatted about how for me it was a can’t-miss. We bought tickets for the show along with another friend, Evie. I usually flew to San Francisco around my birthday, May 19, to spend time with the family I still had in the area, and the show was two days after.

I usually wear black, and it was no exception on the day of the show. I batwinged my eyeliner with the best of them and wore my chunkiest, gothiest boots. I showed up to see my friends similarly attired, swimming in the sea of goths milling out front of the SF Masonic Auditorium, a historic venue near downtown San Francisco.

I was shocked when Peter Murphy took the stage. He was still so hot! Way different vibes than when he appeared in The Hunger, he had gone from hot boy twink to sexy leather daddy, but the appeal remained. He had a magnetic stage presence that pulled your eye directly to him, and his growling, thick, low voice was as good as ever.

I’ve always found goth crowds to be the friendliest, most inclusive people at shows and clubs. I felt perfectly content in that room full of black leather, vinyl and chains. Everyone had a smile on their face and several people in the crowd had their eyes closed, listening to the pulsing music. My eyes were dry until the first strains of “Lagartija Nick” floated above the crowd. I had listened to the song on repeat for so many years that I knew each note by heart. I whipped my head around and observed the crowd of black-clothed bodies dancing and singing along to the music. My eyes welled with tears as I thought to myself that rare thought: I belong.