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.”

Rebecca Goldberg first wrote “Curbside Diamonds” seven years ago. It was during a particularly low moment in her life, when after a night out celebrating a high moment in her father’s life, she stumbled across a broken diamond watch. That was all it took to inspire the young artist.

In just one sitting, she wrote the entirety of the song. Zero changes, zero need to challenge what had transpired. Little did she know it would be a moment of evolution within herself.

“That moment - from finding the watch to hustling to write it all down - actually changed me,” she said. “I took this story and made something sparkly, rhythmic and beautiful out of what was a difficult time. It ignited the drive to keep going. Now, when I listen back, I’m thankful for all that I’ve been through. For all that led me to that moment: needing that sign, receiving it and channeling it into writing.”

The challenge wasn’t writing or recording “Curbside Diamonds”; it was her life that was the challenge. She said that this was a time where she felt that she was of no value. However, it was the spark she needed. The lyrics proved her wrong. The process kept her grounded and hopeful. Now that she has released the song under her moniker, Mechanical Woman, several years after its inception, she sees it more as an archive. She has lived so many lives since then, yet she can finally share a particular story that she has held onto for so long.

“It's always rewarding to have a story come to life,” she said. “But the discovery of the watch, writing the song, grabbing the guitar and having a melody coming out of nowhere like a 90s movie - that moment was rewarding. It was so random and so meant to be. A moment I’ll never forget.”

“Curbside Diamonds” is the second single from her upcoming album. The first, titled “Mechanical Woman”, showcases a sense of bravery and the idea of taking back one’s own power. It’s the song that best represents her, and became the perfect introduction to the project.

“If I were to give them one word, the first song is about starting, and the second is about evolving,” she said.

Songwriting has given Goldberg lessons in worth. Even in her darkest moments, she has learned that she is of value. Sharing stories, no matter their medium, can be truly powerful. Especially for “Curbside Diamonds”, a damaged accessory can become a treasure.

Graphic created by Hard Pass Creative

2016 was a memorable year for Molly Hudelson. Her music publication, Circles & Soundwaves, was celebrating its fifth year. It was the first year she took on the role of Senior Tour Crew for animal rights nonprofit organization PETA, where she spent her summer traveling with the Vans Warped Tour. She got to see her favorite band since 2003, Good Charlotte, perform numerous times. She introduced her audience to The Time I Cried At A Show, a guest blog where music industry professionals shared a story about a concert that left an impression.

It was also the year Molly and I met.

I had spent the majority of the Milwaukee date of Vans Warped Tour on the third floor behind the stage of the then-Marcus Amphitheater interviewing artists for a different publication. I had finished my work day minutes before Good Charlotte took the Left Foot stage, and watched them from a balcony while Molly was in the photo pit. Hours later, we were introduced.

Around the same time that Black is the New AP Style debuted, Molly announced The Time I Cried At A Show. She was inspired by a recent editorial she wrote about her love for Walk The Moon.

“This piece came to me when I realized that despite Walk the Moon being my most-listened to artist on Spotify over the past two years, I’ve never written anything about them for C&S,” she said in the original post announcing the feature. “I realized I had no reason not to write about this band that I loved, and when I did write about them, it felt good.”

Artists, venue staff, publicists, photographers and more contributed to The Time I Cried At A Show for a year and half, including the time Molly cried at a Good Charlotte show and the time I cried at a Motion City Soundtrack show.

After seeing them every date that they played Warped Tour, she saw Good Charlotte twice later that year in New York and New Jersey. She attended the show as a member of the press in New Jersey, and after writing her review, she knew she needed to write an additional piece that wasn’t so objective.

“I felt like I still had something to say about the show and how significant that was for me,” she said. “In a way it felt really full circle.”

A year and a half after introducing The Time I Cried At A Show, she decided to end Circles & Soundwaves. I felt so strongly about the feature that I did not want to see it end, and reached out to ask if Black is the New AP Style could continue its story. Initially I was not the only person to ask about the feature, but with Molly’s blessing, I have been receiving submissions ever since.

“Any would have done it justice, but knowing the piece that you wrote made me feel like you were the right person to trust with that series,” she said.

Currently, Molly is available for hire as a music photographer/videographer. Her byline can occasionally be found on sites such as Substream or LADYGUNN, but she prefers working with artists in a more direct, visual format. She is also the host of Generation GC, a deep-dive podcast on Good Charlotte’s discography. I was honored to be its first guest, discussing their debut single, “Little Things”.

To end our conversation, I asked Molly the question that seemed most fitting - when was the last time she cried at a show?

In another full circle moment, her answer was Good Charlotte. She saw lead vocalist Joel Madden and guitarist Benji Madden celebrate the release of their latest album, Motel Du Cap, with a performance at the GRAMMY Museum’s Ray Charles Rooftop Terrace in October 2025.

“Their newest record is so special to me,” she said. “In some ways it has that same energy of that first record that is so earnest… [it] made me really happy to think about how much that band means to me and how special that I can have a band that I can look to for that many years that still means so much to me.”

Thank you, Molly, for letting Black is the New AP Style continue the legacy of The Time I Cried At A Show.

Before stepping into the spotlight as an artist, Nian Tong built an impressive career behind the scenes of the music industry. He has worked with major Chinese artists, collaborated as a musical theatre orchestrator and composed original stage works before deciding to release his own music.

Tong is a self-described introvert, so he never imagined a scenario where he would be performing on a stage. In fact, he had never sung in front of an audience until last year. After moving to London in 2023, however, his outlook changed.

“I saw the openness and inclusiveness of the music and cultural scene,” he said. “So I decided to push myself and try an open mic. The reaction that night really surprised me and it made me aware of the uniqueness of both my music and my personality.”

He remembers thinking that night, ‘Oh… this is actually something I can do, and something I might even be good at.’ Something about London made him want to step outside his comfort zone.

Thankfully, he already understood music on a practical level. From the initial idea to the final release, he had already found his trusted collaborators and sense of songwriting. Creating music was something that he already felt comfortable with, and by having that sense of comfort, he brought a certain perspective to songwriting for himself.

“Having worked with a wide range of people, from hobbyists to label artists, I developed a more objective way of seeing myself,” he said. “I have a clearer understanding of my strengths, my weaknesses and what I can realistically expect as an artist.”

His move to London is documented in his single, “What’s On Your Mind”, inspired by a long-distance love that never quite materialized. Tong usually writes from personal experience, so documenting a particularly vulnerable moment is nothing new to him. Songwriting is his way to process his feelings and make sense of his experiences.

“Vulnerability is simply part of that honesty and I think listeners connect most when something feels genuine,” he said. “I hope the song feels comforting in an interesting way. It comes from a place of uncertainty and vulnerability that many people are experiencing today but musically it carries a sense of lightness. I like the idea that listeners can sit with those emotions while still feeling uplifted, maybe even smiling or laughing at something that once felt painful.”

“What’s On Your Mind” will be one of four songs off the upcoming EP, Gradually. Tong said the songs are incredibly different from one another but share a similar theme of love and emotion in the digital age. His creation process has grown and matured alongside him, and exploring a more modern palette has him excited to share this release.

From happily behind-the-scenes to happily preparing for his first headlining show, Nian Tong has found where he belongs thanks to that London move. He sees himself differently, both as an artist and as an individual, and that confidence won’t be wearing off anytime soon.

I think I always knew I wanted to sing.

When I was a kid, I went to see Céline Dion perform and something about that experience lodged itself deep inside me. I just remember the feeling. Watching her on stage, hearing her voice fill the room; I felt something click into place. It wasn’t admiration so much as recognition. I knew that I needed to sing too.

Music was always around me. My dad is a singer-songwriter, so songwriting and performance were part of the landscape of my childhood. I’d been writing songs for as long as I can remember, often without thinking too hard about where they might lead. Music was something I did because it felt natural, because it helped me process things, because it gave shape to emotions that didn’t always have clear words attached to them.

The moment I knew I wanted to take music seriously came much later.

In the fall of 2021, I quit drinking. That decision cracked something open in my life. Suddenly, I had a lot of space - mental, emotional, creative - that I didn’t quite know what to do with yet. I was looking for something to focus on, something that could help me make sense of the personal changes I was going through. I needed an outlet.

Around that time, I got my piano tuned.

I remember sitting down to play it, my hands on the keys, feeling another kind of click. It was like realizing I’d found my next creative home.

Making music wasn’t just something I enjoyed anymore; it was something I needed. It became a way to hold what I was carrying, to tell the truth about where I was and who I was becoming.

Since then, songwriting has been that home for me. A place where ideas can land, where emotions can be explored without needing to be resolved and where each new song feels like a marker of this chapter of my life.

Photo courtesy of David McDonald

Something that always stuck with us when we were younger was the Grateful Dead. They would have everyone around and some of the guys in the band were concerned with the company Jerry kept, like the Hell’s Angels. He would say everyone has a seat at the table, and if we deny someone a seat at the table now it’s going to create a growing problem. That’s what breeds hate; you divide, and if you divide the thing you hate, it’s coming back twice as hard.

When you look back on our parents' generation, they were in a much more rough circumstance so their outlooks are more binary and rough. This or that. Now it’s a whole new world. It’s not this or that; there’s a dimmer switch. There’s no on or off, there’s every increment in between that. We can go anywhere, it’s just waking up to the brilliance that is humanity.

We do find, as a whole, humanity is waking up to realize that we’re not categories. We’re waking up to realize that we aren’t just words. All these stories and this dumb stuff we’ve all done in the past were actually the cutting edge of consciousness in the universe. This is the cutting edge machine. We’re not pigeon holed and each individual human is a master artist, whatever that may be. It doesn't have to be drawing or music; we’re such complicated, sensitive and in-depth creatures. It’s not as if you’re good at piano you can’t be good at guitar. We have the capacity to be great at creation itself. To be great at everything.

It’s almost like we’re a baby about to be birthed into the new world; we don’t know what that new world is, so we might tend back to comfort. Unfortunately, our comfort right now as humans is war and hell and division. We were about to get into infinite creativity, and that’s just as terrifying, but there’s a whole lot less bloodshed and suffering. We don’t have to suffer as humans any longer. We feel shame and guilt about things. We’re trying to hide and deny that growth when we shove it down. It doesn’t go away, it grows bigger and eventually that little kitten now is a huge tiger.

There’s horrendous things that go on in this world, but if we were able to get the backstory of every single human and see what they went through - no matter how horrific their actions are - you would be able to understand and empathize why they’re in the position they’re in. That’s such a hard thing to do because we just want to say no and cut it off. Unfortunately that means ‘if I hate war so much I’m going to kill war’ and you could turn into war.

It’s not empathy or destruction; there’s so much more subtlety in between those poles. We almost feel like we’re just going through the trauma. If we don’t have empathy for each other, we’re in big trouble. Of course, there’s tons of things we don’t agree with, but we can’t just shoot it off and stuff it down. It’s going to create pressure. Forgiveness is big time. If someone is written off forever that means that you’re going to write yourself off forever too. You can’t hold yourself in the light and somebody else in darkness. You can’t do that and expect to be light when you’re holding somebody in darkness. That’s not how it works.

Everyone loves a redemption story. That’s the whole story of humanity, and it’s so hard to speak about this stuff without staking down a claim, but you’ve got to keep the dialogue open. It’s like tennis: you don’t just hit the ball over and it falls away. The person on the other side hits it back. You don’t necessarily want your point to win, you want to keep this interaction going so that we can understand each other. You realize if anyone spoke long enough and put down their belief system and all their defenses that you’re looking at yourself and every other human being. It’s just that they have different circumstances and different stories and different beliefs than you. That doesn’t mean it’s good, bad or otherwise; the best outcome for humanity is we all come together and share our strengths and weaknesses.

Mountain Head’s entire mission is creating what we think is missing out there musically. Our music is its own style; the way we sing, the way we play, it’s our own thing. All our songs are pointing to this present moment, being here now. The creativity shining a light on being yourself.

We did not come up with this, but we perform a symbolic ceremony that we call “Going Eagle”. We learned it through a calm nervous system, trial and error, and intense amounts of terror, fear and uncertainty. Have you ever noticed on totem poles that eagles are always at the top? We found out that the eagle supports the brain ascending up the totem pole to get to the eagle space. Now you have the full overview of everything that’s happening on the ground.

There’s too much animalism in humanity right now. When we came to Earth we started watching the animals and we started copying them. That’s not our job. We need to learn how to tame that beast in us so we can ascend up to the eagle. You can look at the overview and then you can come back to the ground and hunt, but you don’t want to do those out of order. You need to know that you can be that but you need to know how to reign it in.

In the blink of an eye, Anh Le had her world flipped upside down. It started the day she took the Law School Admission Test. A get-together to celebrate the completion of the test brought forth some unsavory news about the person she had been seeing for the last five years. Before she had time to fully deal with the breakup, her father became ill and required her to move from New York to Pennsylvania to assist her family. The only way for her to process her emotions was through songwriting.

She said it wasn’t really a choice for her to write songs about that moment in her life; the songs just came to her. Whether she was sitting in the hospital with her family or sitting alone in the replica of her Wisconsin childhood bedroom, she felt one with her pen. By the time each and every emotion made its way onto a page, she knew she had a full-length album in the works.

“I ended up finding out I was being very thoroughly misled about so many things,” she said. “It just shattered this illusion of this love story that I was so attached to, that really defined me for so long.”

At the time, she convinced herself that she was fully prepared to quickly release music. Was that thought partly based on the idea that this person that wronged her would surely hear it and know the damage they caused? Yes. Is that why she ultimately waited a year before slowly releasing each song? Also yes. Those feelings pushed her to complete the music, but as she sat in those feelings, she knew she needed the time to perfect them.

During that time, the song “Gut Feeling” presented itself. She was working through her emotions, having conversations with herself and searching for a clarity that led her to the lyrics. In the middle of writing it, everything about it felt like the first single. Eventually, she was honing in on the lyrics with the intention of sharing it with her audience first. “The Plot” and “Corrine” would follow, almost creating a trilogy to tell the beginning of her story.

“It feels like a hero’s journey, where the first three songs lay out who I thought that I was a couple of years ago,” she said. “The next three feel like it represents the thick of what will happen, and then the third three is everything that I’ve decided since then and how I’ve chosen to move on from that time; the person I’m meant to be coming out of it.”

In order to perfect the songs, she wanted to tackle production on her own. Initially she felt bad as she has worked with producers in the past that she loved working with and plans to do so again, but a newfound confidence from her time spent in Pennsylvania made her want to step out of her comfort zone.

It started with driving on the highway. The second time she had ever driven on the highway, in fact. Although she received her driver’s license as a teenager, she had never really driven anywhere far or without someone in the passenger seat. After moving to New York, driving wasn’t necessary, but when she found herself in Pennsylvania and taking care of her father, she had to conquer her fear.

“The only thing that stopped me was my own mind,” she said. “It had been such a big road block personally for me, and I think my relationship with producing and my own music shifted around then too.”

She started small - driving to the mall and back - and one day she felt like she could conquer anything. That included juggling law school and creating her album at the same time.

“It’s going to be really hard,” she said. “Challenging in many ways I can’t even imagine and predict now, but I think it just felt like this was where it was pulling me towards.”

Her journey thus far had been a musical one, but pre-ÊMIA she found passions in political science, speech and debate. An integral moment that made her want to pursue something outside of music came from watching the struggles of her non-verbal, autistic brother as he and their family took on the public school system. Le was a major advocate for his education, partly due to the language barrier between district officials and Le’s mother. They thankfully had assistance from advocates who knew laws and templates guaranteed to make a difference, and seeing their dedication make an impact on Le.

In a way, law school is another form of creativity for her. One side is logical while the other is ruleless. One is structured and one is chaotic. She sees creativity in both, and believes that in the end they will balance each other out.

Le believes that having a background in the music industry did prepare her for law school. Nothing comes as a surprise to her; she knows a thing or two about self-taught, independent, last-minute curriculums that may or may not impact her future. The last year challenged her in ways she couldn’t imagine, but being on the other side of it has made her all the more ambitious. To her, becoming a lawyer while writing, recording and producing her debut full-length are two sides of the same coin.