Indie Pop

Favorites of 2025: The Cords – The Cords

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The Cords: how a band turns pop instincts into craft

If rock and roll really is dead, then The Cords clearly missed the memo, because their new self-titled record kicks the coffin lid open, steals the eulogy notes, and sets the funeral pyre dancing like it’s 1979 again and tomorrow doesn’t exist. This thing isn’t just a debut—it’s a declaration, a sugar-buzzed jolt of pop-bright indie rock that doesn’t pretend to be cool, doesn’t hide behind irony, and doesn’t give a damn about whatever trend some influencer is spoon-feeding their followers this week. It’s melody as oxygen, chorus as lifeline, guitars strummed like they’re trying to shake loose every last excuse you’ve ever had for not feeling something. And thank God for that—because in a year drowning in algorithmic uselessness, The Cord showed up with color, conviction, and the kind of hooks that tattoo themselves on your spine: refreshingly infectious, all-ages indie-pop and jangle pop collection with bright, melodic hooks and irresistible harmonies.

When a band chooses to release a self-titled record deep into a career or at a moment of reinvention, it’s rarely an accident. A self-title asks listeners to pay attention: this is who we are, for better or worse. On The Cords, that gesture reads less like self-importance and more like quiet confidence. The album crystallizes a group whose greatest gift is the paradox of seeming easy: songs that land as immediate, catchy pop but reveal, on repeat listens, careful craftsmanship — arrangements that balance lift and restraint, choruses that stick without shouting, and lyrics that prize specificity over cliché.

This review explores why The Cords has quickly emerged as one of 2025’s most beloved releases (or at least for us at Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative), examining how the record was made, what each musician brings to its radiant clarity, and how the band’s sound fits squarely—and confidently—within contemporary indie-pop and power-pop currents. Reviewers have praised the album’s effervescent hooks, bright harmonies, and early-Beatles-meets-C86 charm, calling it a reminder that joy, immediacy, and craft can still feel revelatory. By looking closely at the songs and the meticulous yet exuberant musicianship behind them, this piece makes the case echoed by critics across the board: The Cords proves that in an era of over-processed noise, genuine craftsmanship not only still matters—it stands out.

Who are The Cords?

Asking “Who are The Cords?” is entirely reasonable, especially given how quickly the duo seemed to burst onto the 2025 music landscape with a fully formed sound and a debut record that feels more like the work of seasoned veterans than newcomers. Their name appeared almost overnight in reviews, playlists, and year-end lists, prompting curious listeners to wonder how a band this polished could arrive with so little advance fanfare. The question reflects both genuine intrigue and the natural impulse to understand the people behind a record that has connected so widely, so suddenly. Ok, ok… let’s answer the question directly: The Cords are a rising Scottish indie-pop sister duo, Eva (guitar, vocals) and Grace (drums and percussion) Tedeschi, known for their catchy, jangle-pop sound reminiscent of ’80s/90s C86 indie, featuring loud guitars, drums, and infectious melodies. They gained buzz in the UK indie scene, playing with major bands like Belle and Sebastian, and released their self-titled debut album this year, solidifying their place as exciting new musicians with a fresh take on classic indie pop.

So, sure, The Cords are a rising indie rock band whose self-titled debut has pushed them from regional curiosity to one of the year’s most talked-about new acts. That love comes honestly. It is built around a shared love of sharp pop melodies, jangling guitars, and choruses designed to ignite rooms both small and large. The band blends classic power-pop instincts with the earnest shimmer of modern indie. While each member brings a distinct musical background to the project—ranging from DIY home-recording scenes to more polished studio work—they come together with a unity of purpose: to make songs that feel immediate, heartfelt, and boldly melodic. Their chemistry is unmistakable, the kind of collaborative spark that makes a first record sound less like a beginning and more like a band arriving fully formed.

A band in the room, not a solo project on a laptop

One of the first things you notice about The Cords is its sense of feel. The record breathes the way a live band breathes: near-mic’d guitars trade phrases, the bass doesn’t merely hold down the root but sings counterlines, and the drums are both precise and human — they click when they should and push when the song needs momentum. That sonic chemistry suggests an actual group in a room rather than a single songwriter piling tracks onto a click-track.

On this record, the players are careful taste-makers: a lead vocalist who carries the melody with an effortless honesty; a guitar riff is economical but unforgettable; bass lines that anchor and color in equal measure; a drummer who doubles as a dynamic architect; and occasional keys and backing vocals that thicken textures without smothering them. The album’s production is shaped in large part by Jonny Scott and Simon Liddell, who not only handled the recording and overall sonic direction but also contributed additional bass and keyboard parts. Their involvement adds depth, texture, and subtle melodic detail, helping the songs land with a clarity and fullness that elevate the duo’s core ideas. That production leans toward warm melody rather than slick overprocessing — vocals swirl, the guitars ring, and harmonies bloom in native stereo. The effect is immediate and intimate, like a favorite radio station that somehow still surprises you with classic Scottish indie pop, bringing energy and authenticity to the genre.

Classic hooks, modern precision

Musically, The Cords live at the intersection of indie-pop and modern indie rock. If power-pop is the art of building irresistible choruses around smart songcraft, this record nods to that lineage while keeping its feet in the present. The guitars often prefer jangle and concise counter-motifs over endless studio tinkering with reverb; the drum sounds favor snap and presence within the mix; the bass is melodic. Production choices keep the songs forward and communicative.

What’s clever about the album is how it uses contrast. A sleek, hummable chorus might follow a verse that’s rhythmically skittish or harmonically unusual; a bright hook will sit atop an unexpectedly rueful lyric. That push-and-pull keeps songs from flattening into mere earworms. The band knows how to write a chorus that hooks on first listen, but they’re more interested in building shoulders for those hooks to stand on so the singer can mean what she has to say within the sway of the song.

Ordinary detail, emotional honesty

Lyric writing on The Cords resists broad platitudes. Instead of grand pronouncements, these songs live in particulars: a lit street outside an apartment window, the wrong song playing on a cheap jukebox, saying goodbye, not knowing what to say. Those details anchor the songs emotionally; they make choruses feel earned rather than handed to the listener.

Themes recur — the ache of imperfect relationships, the friction between wanting to leave and wanting to belong, the peculiar loneliness of modern urban life — but the band treats these themes as lived experience, not albums’ worth of slogans. There’s tenderness here, an ability to hold both humor and regret in the same line. When the chorus opens up into sing-along clarity, the words are often small but direct, the kind that a listener can latch onto and repeat in daily life.

Rather than a list of titles, the album’s architecture is worth noting: it opens with a confident, urgent cut, “Fabulist” that announces the band’s melodic ambitions; it centers itself with a pair of mid-album songs that reveal its lyrical depth while stilling rocking (“You” and “I’m Not Sad”); and it closes with a return to the jangle with a reflective piece that leaves more questions than answers, “When You Said Goodbye” — a satisfying structure that mirrors human experience rather than manufactured catharsis.

The opener works as a thesis statement: brisk tempo, jangly guitars, a pre-chorus that sets up the payoff, and a chorus that lands like a bright bruise — it’s immediate and impossible to ignore. The arrangement focuses on guitar and drums, yet leaves space for letting the lyric breathe before swelling into a harmony-rich chorus. That dynamic — economy vs. abundance — is where the record’s emotional intelligence shows. The listener feels tugged along rather than pushed.

Musicianship: pop instincts, instrumental care

One of the pleasures of The Cords is hearing instrumentalists who understand restraint within the landscape of Scottish indie pop. The lead guitar rarely indulges in long solos; instead, short melodic figures become hooks in themselves. The bass often carries melodic interest in places a secondary vocal might have; the drums use space and silence as effectively as fills and cymbal swells. These are not instrumental showpieces; they are choices made to serve the song.

Backing vocals are used sparingly but to great effect: stacked parts in choruses heighten the sense of communal voice, whereas single harmony lines in bridges add emotional nuance. Keys and synths make tasteful cameos — a pad here, a tuned key there — supporting rather than competing. The overall musicianship communicates a band comfortable with pop’s mechanics yet allergic to disposable glitz.

Production plays a crucial role in a record like this. The engineers and producers behind The Cords opt for a live-room warmth; you can hear the string of the guitar and the breath before the vocal. The mix privileges midrange clarity so the melodies cut through without overwhelming the low end. Transients on percussion are preserved to give the drums snap, and the stereo image is used to place instruments in space rather than to dazzle with effects. That sonic philosophy — preserve the room, let the song guide the mix — keeps the album feeling human. It’s pop music with a pulse rather than sterilized pop.

For whom this record is made

The Cords will appeal to listeners who prize tunes that reward attention. Fans of classic power-pop and jangly indie rock will find the hooks irresistible, but casual listeners will also appreciate the plainspoken choruses and immediate melodies. The record sits comfortably between the worlds of radio friendliness and indie credibility: radio programmers get singable choruses; critics get craft and nuance.

Younger listeners who grew up with playlist culture may be surprised by how an album built around consistent melodic logic can still create small shocks of recognition — the kind of “I know this” feeling that a succinct chorus can produce. Older listeners will appreciate the band’s affinity for tradition without nostalgia.

This record matters

In a popular music moment dominated by hyper-production, viral singles, and an ever-shortening attention span, a record like The Cords is quietly radical. It insists on songcraft: beginning, middle, and end; it assumes the listener will return; it foregrounds human voices and real instruments. The album’s lack of pretense is, paradoxically, its statement. It shows how pop can be both pleasurable and thoughtful, how choruses can be cathartic without being manipulative.

For a listener who wants immediacy without cheapness — a hook that doesn’t insult intelligence — The Cords offers reassurance: good songs still matter, and a band playing together still sounds like something worth cherishing.

A self-titled album is a claim. The Cords lay claim to that title gently but firmly: here is a band confident in its pop instincts and literate in its emotional choices. The record’s charm rests on the marriage of classic pop construction with modern precision, the musicians’ disciplined instincts, and songwriting that values detail over slogan. It isn’t a manifesto; it’s a practice. And in an era of flash, there’s a particular pleasure in watching a band quietly do the work of making songs that last.

Video of The Day: The Beths – Mother, Pray For Me

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“Mother, Pray for Me” finds The Beths doing what they do best: wrapping emotional unease in bright, tensile power-pop. It’s a song that feels instantly familiar if you know their catalog—those interlocking guitar lines, the melodic immediacy, Liz Stokes’ unmistakable vocal clarity—but it also pushes toward something rawer and more pleading than their usual wry self-interrogations.

From its opening measures, the song pulses with a kind of restless confession. Stokes delivers the title phrase not as a dramatic flourish but as a weary admission, a reaching-out from someone who’s been holding it together for too long. The Beths specialize in songs about the gap between who we want to be and who we are on our worst days; here, that gap takes on a spiritual edge. There’s a sense of hitting bottom—not catastrophically, but in the quieter, more believable ways people actually unravel.

The arrangement mirrors that emotional arc. The guitars shimmer and dart; the rhythm section plays with an almost anxious tightness, as if trying to keep the song from slipping out of its own grip. Harmonies, one of The Beths’ signature strengths, arrive like little reinforcements—friends showing up, steadying a shoulder. When the chorus lands, it’s both a release and a recognition: the pop sheen doesn’t lighten the weight of the plea so much as hold it with tenderness.

Lyrically, the song walks that Beths tightrope between self-reproach and self-awareness. The narrator isn’t blaming the world or asking for absolution; they’re simply acknowledging the moments when coping feels like an act of faith. The invocation of a mother’s prayer is less religious than relational—an admission that sometimes we need someone else’s hope to borrow.

“Mother, Pray for Me” ultimately stands out because it expands the band’s emotional vocabulary without abandoning their sonic DNA. It’s catchy, it’s cutting, and it lingers, an anthem for anyone who’s ever felt a little lost and dared to ask for help, even quietly.

Favorite of 2025: The Beths – Straight Line Was A Lie

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Introduction: Why The Beths Matter

The New Zealand indie‑pop quartet The Beths have long stood out for their sharp songwriting, earworm melodies, and the emotional honesty that pulses through their lyrics. With their 2025 album Straight Line Was a Lie, they arrive at a new peak — refined in sound yet deeply raw in sentiment. It’s a record that doesn’t just reaffirm what makes them special; it feels like a rebirth: more considered, more textured, and more vulnerable than ever. As the band enters this next chapter, it’s become increasingly clear that The Beths aren’t just good at what they do — they’re extraordinary.

I want to take a moment and explore how each member’s musical contributions blend to form the band’s signature sound, and how the lyrics on Straight Line Was a Lie carve out an intimate, unsettling, yet hopeful portrait of life, growth, and mental health.

First, a quick refresher on the lineup. The Beths consist of:

  • Elizabeth Stokes – lead vocals, rhythm guitar, main songwriter
  • Jonathan Pearce – lead guitar, backing vocals, producer/engineer (on this record)
  • Benjamin Sinclair – bass guitar, backing vocals
  • Tristan Deck – drums, cymbals and percussion, backing vocals

In past releases, The Beths were already celebrated for their “jangly” guitar pop, shimmering harmonies, and driving rhythm section.  On Straight Line Was a Lie, each member seems to lean more deeply into their strengths, and — crucially — into experimentation.

Elizabeth Stokes remains the heart of the band. Her voice — often conversational, sometimes aching — carries the emotional weight; her lyrical voice is sharper, more introspective, grappling frankly with themes of mental health, existential anxiety, familial ties, self-doubt, and the paradoxes of healing. The songs come from a place of personal upheaval, shaped by her experiences with health struggles, medication, and self‑reflection.

Jonathan Pearce wears dual hats on this record: lead guitarist and producer / engineer / mixer (on most tracks). That shift seems to have given the album a more cohesive, textured sonic palette: guitars (both his lead and Stokes’s rhythm) shimmer, sizzle, crash — sometimes jangly, sometimes atmospheric, sometimes dissonant. On songs like “Take,” the guitar solos ring with a fresh urgency; on “Ark of the Covenant,” guitar lines meld with subtle ambient touches to build something cinematic and haunting.

Benjamin Sinclair’s bass underpins the album with steady, often driving low‑end that grounds even the most introspective or experimental moments. While bass can be underappreciated in guitar‑heavy pop, here it anchors songs like “Take” with a muscular backbone that gives weight to the emotional landscape, and in upbeat numbers it drives the momentum forward, pushing choruses into sing‑along territory. The result is a rhythm section that feels both steady and alive.

Tristan Deck’s drumming and percussion complete the engine. On Straight Line Was a Lie, the drums don’t just keep time — they accentuate mood, shake loose tension, and steer transitions between jubilation and melancholy. Whether it’s propulsive beats on faster tracks or minimal, contemplative rhythms on the quieter ones, Deck’s playing adapts to the emotional terrain without overshadowing it. Backing vocals from Deck and Sinclair add subtle harmonic depth, reinforcing what has always been The Beths’ hallmark: layered vocal harmonies that linger.

Together, these four don’t just play instruments — they channel mood, memory, and meaning. On this record, the result feels less like a “band playing songs” and more like four people collaboratively mapping emotional terrain.

The sound of Straight Line Was a Lie: More than “jangly” pop

One of the defining qualities of The Beths’ earlier albums was that “jangly guitar + power‑pop hooks + emotional honesty” formula — and it worked beautifully. On Straight Line Was a Lie, they keep the hooks, but deepen the textures. The production (led by Pearce) emphasizes space, layering, contrast; songs can shift from bright, chiming pop to darker, atmospheric, even gritty territory. Critics note this album as “bigger, better and more complicated than they’ve ever been.”

The opening track and title song begins with a false start — a spoken “sorry I was thinking about something else” — a move that feels deliberate: it sets the tone for an album preoccupied with interruption, derailment, and return. The lyric “I thought I was getting better / But I’m back to where I started / And the straight line was a circle / Yeah the straight line was a lie” resounds as a central thesis. Life, the record suggests, is not a linear progression but a messy, looping, often contradictory journey.

Meanwhile, tracks like “No Joy” jolt with nervy urgency — the upbeat melody and driving beat bely lyrics that speak to anhedonia and existential stasis: “All my pleasures, guilty / Clean slate looking filthy / This year’s gonna kill me … Spirit should be crushing / But I don’t feel sad, I feel nothing.”

On “Metal,” they give form to something beautiful and strange: a metaphor about being alive as a “collaboration of bacteria, carbon and light,” needing “the metal in your blood to keep you alive.” It’s biological, cosmic, grounded, and dreamlike all at once — marrying emotion, science, and wonder in a simple but powerful package.

There’s also room for quiet minimalism. “Mother, Pray for Me” strips things back: gentle picking, soft vocals, aching longing. It’s a song about complicated family, grief, and generational wounds — and it lands not through bombast but through tender reserve.

Even the album’s final moments — on “Best Laid Plans” — feel bittersweet: jangly guitars and a buoyant rhythm, but implicit in the instrumentation and tone is a sense of unresolved longing, of “unfinished business.” It’s the sound of hope, but also of memory’s weight.

In sum: Straight Line Was a Lie isn’t simply “jangly indie pop with hooks” — it’s more ambitious: emotionally deeper, texturally richer, and willing to lean into shadows as much as light.

Lyrical worlds: Mental health, Memory, and the Myth of Progress

If the musical side is about textures, the lyrical work is about truth. On this record, The Beths — primarily through Stokes’s pen — interrogate themes of mental health, healing, identity, memory, and the uneasy breaks in between. The album’s title succinctly captures its philosophical impulse: that “linear progression is an illusion.” Life doesn’t follow a neat arc; healing does not happen on a straight line.

Much of that perspective comes from Stokes’s own life. In recent years she’s navigated serious health challenges (including a diagnosis with Graves’ disease), anxiety, and the disorienting effects of starting antidepressants for the first time. That upheaval forced a radical shift in how she writes: among other changes, she turned to stream‑of‑consciousness writing on a typewriter, exploring memories and feelings she’d avoided, and forcing herself to reckon with difficult emotions.

That kind of emotional honesty shows up throughout. On “Mosquitoes,” she wanders a creek near her home — a haven when “my house felt like a locked room” — only to find devastation: the same creek turned into a “raging sea” after floods. The song becomes quietly terrifying: an elegy to disappearance, impermanence, and the fragility of refuge.

In “Til My Heart Stops,” there’s a longing for simple embodied pleasures — riding a bike in the rain, flying a kite, dancing — even as the world feels heavy and weightless at once. According to one review, the song, with its unsettling distortion and ghostly atmosphere, “charts the fragility of life itself,” its abrupt ending like a heart’s final beat.

Elsewhere, “Ark of the Covenant” and “Best Laid Plans” explore inner excavation: digging through memory, confronting “fossilised nightmares,” searching for meaning — or closure — in the negative space of the self.

But it’s not purely despair or existential weight. There’s still wry humour, sharp imagery, and defiant tenderness. The need for “metal in your blood” in “Metal” — a call for grounding, resilience, a kind of elemental insistence on life — turns the personal and biological into something poetic and universal.

Taken together, the lyrics on Straight Line Was a Lie don’t just reflect mental health struggles or personal trauma — they interrogate the myth of constant improvement. They suggest healing is messy; growth is circular; humanity is fragile, often contradictory — but still worthy of wonder.

What this album means: Growth, Maturation, and a New Chapter for The Beths

For longtime fans, Straight Line Was a Lie may at first sound familiar: The Beths still write songs that stick in your brain. But this time, there’s a sense of expansion, of maturity, of ambition being reframed with nuance. Production is richer, the emotional stakes higher, and nothing feels simply disposable or background music. This is an album that rewards — demands — close listening.

Critically, the record has been widely praised. On aggregators it earns a strong Metascore, reflecting generally favorable to enthusiastic reviews. Reviewers note the band is “bigger, better and more complicated than they’ve ever been.” Others call it perhaps their “most incisive” album yet, one where existential anxieties and lyrical ambition meet pop hooks and evocative soundscapes.

Moreover, Straight Line Was a Lie feels like a milestone — not just in their discography, but in their artistic evolution. The move to have guitarist Jonathan Pearce handle production and engineering gives the album a more unified sonic identity. The decision by Stokes to overhaul her songwriting method — to face trauma, memory, and illness head‑on — brings a weight and vulnerability previously only hinted at. The whole band seems aligned: playing not just with precision and popcraft, but with emotional honesty.

For listeners, this album offers more than catchy choruses: it offers fellowship. It whispers that you are not alone if you’ve felt lost, stuck, or numb. It suggests that healing is not always about triumphs or tallies of progress, but about maintenance — about showing up, living, feeling, enduring. And it does all that while giving you songs you can dance to, or cry to, or sing loud at a concert.

Conclusion: The Beths as Emotional Architects

In a world that often feels driven by optimization, forward momentum, and constant productivity, Straight Line Was a Lie comes as a quiet, necessary reckoning. It refuses the idea that healing, growth, or life itself must follow a neat, linear trajectory. Instead, The Beths propose a different metaphor: life as cyclical, messy, and ongoing — something to be maintained, revisited, reflected upon, not “completed.”

As a band, The Beths have always been more than the sum of their catchy hooks or jangly guitars. On this album, they feel less like a pop act and more like emotional architects — sculptors of feeling, memory, and existential wonder. Each band member’s contribution is essential — from Stokes’s wrenching lyrics to Pearce’s layered production, from Sinclair’s grounding bass to Deck’s subtle but powerful rhythms.

Straight Line Was a Lie may end up being a soundtrack for an era — an album for when the world feels too fast, too forward, too relentlessly optimistic. It offers instead a different rhythm: patience, honesty, acceptance, and defiance.

If you haven’t listened to it yet — or haven’t listened closely — this is the moment: sit back, headphones on, and let The Beths guide you down the crooked, beautiful trail.

How We Choose Music for YTAA

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As we celebrate 20 years of Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative, we thought we would ruminate for a moment or two on how music is selected for the show. It is never easy. There is always more that we want to play than we have the time to fit onto a show setlist. Curating a compelling playlist for any radio show is an art form that goes beyond just picking popular tracks or personal favorites. For an indie DJ, like myself, especially one focusing on alternative or non-mainstream genres, the process involves a balance of passion, research, intuition, and a non-ending effort to understand an audience. So, many listeners have asked how we choose music for Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative, I thought I would create a list of key points and explain how we have been picking music over our 20 year history.

So, take a drink, and let’s jump in. Here’s a personal deep dive into the sometimes chaotic journey of how we select music for this radio show.

1. Understanding the Show’s Identity

The starting point for any DJ is a clear vision of the show’s identity. Being an indie DJ means that here at YTAA we strive to avoid the known names and focus on artists who are making incredible music but are overlooked for oh-so-many damn reasons. We typically try to craft a unique niche to stand out amidst the sea of mainstream programming. Whether the focus is alternative, indie-folk, dream pop, lo-fi beats, underground electronic, or indie rock, this identity serves as a guiding principle for music selection. When we say that we play “Music in all Directions!” this is what we mean.

  • Theme: Does the show explore specific themes, like nostalgia, indie holidays, memorial shows for those artists that we lost in the previous year, or emerging artists? We often decide to spotlight unsigned musicians or dedicate episodes to genres like shoegaze or post-punk revival.
  • Mood: We often prioritize mood over rigid genre boundaries. Whether the vibe is mellow, energetic, or experimental, the music should align with the emotional tone they aim to create. We might let more than the usual four songs and then radio break pattern because we don’t want to interfere with the groove, flow, or vibe.

2. Know the YTAA Audience

Understanding the audience is pivotal in crafting a playlist that resonates. While we often play music and artists we love, it is not exclusively about us. An indie DJ often caters to listeners who are adventurous, open to discovering new sounds, and appreciative of diversity. This is a critical piece of song selection for us at Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative.

  • Demographics: Who is tuning in? College students might appreciate indie pop and fresh remixes, while an older audience might gravitate toward timeless indie rock or alt classics from the 80s and 90s alternative scenes.
  • Engagement Patterns: Over the years, we have tried to find ways to interact with the audience through social media, email requests, or live call-ins. Feedback from listeners helps shape future playlists, as we gain insights into what resonates and why those sounds or those artists mean something to the listener.

By understanding an audience, hopefully, we strike a balance between challenging listeners with fresh sounds and offering comfort through familiar tracks. Adventure and comfort may sound like contradictions, and perhaps that is not a problem.

3. Endlessly Scouting for New Music

Fear of missing out on an exciting song is something that drives Dr. J. One of the most exciting yet challenging aspects of being an indie DJ is the constant search for new music. Indie/Alternative music thrives on discovery, and looking for hidden gems means we may listen to hundreds of songs in the week before the show airs.

  • Digital Platforms: Streaming services like Spotify, Bandcamp, and SoundCloud are goldmines for discovering up-and-coming artists, even though those services have serious problems and refuse to compensate artists for the art they create. Playlists curated by other indie enthusiasts, labels, and blogs often serve as inspiration for YTAA.
  • Music Blogs and Reviews: Sites like Pitchfork, Stereogum, and Consequence of Sound provide reviews and spotlights on emerging indie artists. Niche blogs that focus on specific genres are especially valuable. Writers in local city papers can be worth their weight in gold in helping us find new artists and new music.
  • Live Performances: Attending local shows, festivals, and open mic nights allows us to experience new music firsthand and connect with artists in the Dayton community. This direct interaction often results in exclusive tracks or insider knowledge that we can share about the artists.
  • Labels and Press Kits: Indie labels like Rough Trade, Carpark Records, Gas Daddy Go, Sub Pop, 4AD, Sofaburn Records, Poptek Records, and Matador Records regularly send promotional material to DJs. Receiving press kits with unreleased tracks gives DJs access to fresh music before it hits mainstream platforms.

4. Balancing Familiarity with Discovery

One of the hallmarks of a great indie radio show is its ability to introduce listeners to new music while maintaining a sense of familiarity. That balance is always a challenge – we like to think of it as familiar without being too familiar.

  • Anchor Tracks: These are well-loved songs by established indie artists that help ground the playlist. For example, including tracks from artists like Tame Impala, The National, or Phoebe Bridgers can provide a touchstone for listeners.
  • Deep Cuts and Rarities: We often dig into back catalogs of popular bands to find lesser-known tracks, giving fans a deeper appreciation of their favorite artists.
  • Spotlighting the Unknown: The thrill of indie radio lies in the discovery of fresh talent. By including tracks from unsigned bands or debut singles, hopefully, we contribute, in some small way to creating an air of excitement and exclusivity.

Balancing these elements ensures the show is approachable while staying true to the indie ethos of exploration.

5. Crafting an Authentic Narrative or Flow

Great playlists tell a story or create a sonic journey. We carefully consider the sequence of songs to maintain engagement and evoke a range of emotions. Not too many fast songs in a row, not too many slow songs. We think of it as creating a wave and movement — ups and downs, fits and starts — that keeps the audience engaged and interested.

  • Opening and Closing Tracks: The first song sets the tone, grabbing the listener’s attention immediately. Over 20 years we usually start with a rocking driving tune. The closing track often leaves a lasting impression, so we choose something memorable or reflective, something that feels like it matters. Something that has the effect of a closer.
  • Transitions: Songs are placed in an order that feels natural, with smooth transitions in tempo, key, or mood. For instance, an upbeat indie-pop track might flow into a mid-tempo electronic piece before tapering into a dreamy ballad.
  • Themes: Some shows revolve around specific themes, like a “Summer Nostalgia” episode or a “Women in Music” feature. Thematic playlists require careful curation to ensure cohesiveness.

6. Incorporating Listener Input

Interactive elements often play a significant role across many of our radio shows. We incorporate song requests or dedicate segments to listener suggestions.

  • Requests: Allowing listeners to request songs fosters a sense of community and makes the show more dynamic. This is a sacred duty. It is important for us to do this to ensure these requests fit the show’s overall vibe.
  • Shoutouts: Listeners often feel a deeper connection to the show when their recommendations or dedications are acknowledged on air and in social media.

7. Staying True to Personal Taste

Any indie DJ’s personal taste is often the driving force behind their show. And we hope that is true for us. Passion for music is infectious, and when we share tracks we genuinely love, hopefully, it resonates with listeners. Our deep respect and love for local music is a critical hallmark to Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative.

  • Signature Style: Do we have a style? Hmmm… this is an interesting question. We often try to develop a signature style that makes the YTAA show distinctive. This could be an affinity for quirky lo-fi sounds, obscure indie, or lush dreamscapes. We love it all.
  • Experimentation: We might take risks by featuring avant-garde or unconventional tracks, and it does not always work. While not every experiment will succeed, these moments often create the most memorable radio experiences.

8. Navigating Practical Constraints

Despite their creative freedom, we operate within certain boundaries that influence our choices. Yeah, left to our own devices, we would probably play songs with the occasional swear but we can’t. Or more correctly, we shouldn’t because there are consequences if we do so. Does anyone have a spare $25,000 to cover us for a song… right? Yeah, let’s not do that.

  • Time Limits: A radio hour typically includes advertisements, station IDs, and announcements, leaving about 40-50 minutes for music. We must prioritize tracks that fit the allotted time. This is why we rarely play long songs (five minutes or more is our definition here).
  • Licensing and Permissions: We often face restrictions on what we can play, depending on the station’s licensing agreements. This can limit access to certain tracks, especially from major or regional labels.
  • Technical Considerations: Some tracks may require editing for length, explicit content, or spoken elements in the beginning or ending of songs. Again, we have to ensure every song fits seamlessly into the show’s format.

9. Highlighting Diversity and Inclusivity

This matters. We often champion diversity by including music from a wide range of backgrounds, genres, and cultures.

  • Global Sounds: Many indie DJs explore music scenes from around the world, introducing listeners to genres like Afrobeat, K-indie, or Latinx dream pop.
  • Underrepresented Voices: Highlighting female artists, queer voices, or musicians of color can enrich the playlist and provide representation often missing in mainstream radio.

10. Staying Current While Embracing Timelessness

Balancing the latest trends with timeless classics is a delicate dance. While we pride ourselves on staying ahead of the curve (if we are lucky), we also appreciate the value of songs that transcend time.

  • New Releases: Every Tuesday afternoon we regularly update the station libraries with the latest tracks, ensuring YTAA shows feel fresh and relevant.
  • Evergreens: Some indie songs never lose their charm. Revisiting tracks from influential artists like The Replacements, R.E.M., or Uncle Tupelo can add depth to a playlist.

Conclusion: We are doing our best but wish we could play more.

Choosing music for an indie radio show is both an art and a science. It requires personal dedication, creativity, and a deep connection to the music. For us, every playlist is a reflection of our identity, a bridge to an audience, and a celebration of the vibrant, ever-evolving world of indie music. By blending passion with thoughtful curation, we hope to craft shows that are not just entertaining but deeply meaningful experiences for listeners. Thank you for sharing your valuable time with us over these 20 years. It means the world to us here.

11 Questions with… Given Names

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Happy New Year to everyone! Welcome to 2024!

The new year opens with the return of our 11 Questions with… column. Given Names is an exciting new project from Dr. J’s home state of Minnesota. That state has always been home to thrilling music such as The Replacements, Husker Du, Soul Asylum, Prince, Semisonic, Babe in Toyland, The Jayhawks, The Suburbs, and many more.

Given Names is a group of friends who create music that combines elements of indie, rock, dream pop, and power pop, with hints of synth and dance. The group is an exciting indie pop quartet based in Mankato and Minneapolis, featuring Laura Schultz (lead vocals, rhythm guitar), Meghan Irwin (synth, backing vocals), Michelle Roche (drums, backing vocals), and Mandy Wirig (lead guitar, backing vocals). In 2023, they released their debut single, “Makin’ Eyes’ last year. It is a song that channels their influences while incorporating their distinctive musical vision. It is also one of our favorite singles from this past year.

Given Names creates a swirling yet solid indie dream pop that encapsulates the ethereal essence of dreams through a distinctly feminine lens. It is a musical realm where the boundaries between reality and imagination blur, and emotions cascade in a surreal mix of sound. The musicians collaborate to craft a sonic dreamscape that is both otherworldly and intimately connected to the intricacies of experience. It is real.

Dream pop is often characterized by its atmospheric soundscapes and lush melodies, sound becomes a canvas for these artistic collaborations to explore themes of loss, love, empowerment, and self-discovery. The almost ethereal vocals, layered and harmonized, transport listeners into a transcendent-like state where time seems to slow down, and emotions are amplified. The dreamy quality of the music is a manifestation of the artists’ collective desire to create a space that reflects the intricacies of the psyche.

Lyrically, ‘Makin Eyes’ delves into introspective narratives that navigate the complexities of relationships, self-realization, connection, and the pursuit of one’s dreams. Themes of resilience and empowerment seem to subtly weave through the verses, creating a tapestry of emotions that resonate with listeners on a deeply personal level.

The collaborative nature of Given Names fosters a bond among the artists involved, each contributing a unique perspective to the collective soundscape. This collaboration extends beyond the music itself, influencing the visuals, single art, and live performances. The result is a holistic artistic expression that celebrates the diversity of artists’ voices and experiences. As dreamy all-women-created power pop continues to evolve, it not only pushes the boundaries of musical exploration but also challenges preconceived notions about femininity in the music industry. It remembers and celebrates the creative prowess of women in shaping the sonic landscapes of sonic dreams and emotions, inviting listeners to immerse themselves in a world where the line between reality and reverie is beautifully blurred.

We contacted the band and Laura and Mandy kindly answered our questions for this column (LS: Laura Schultz; MW: Mandy Wirig).

Dr. J: What can you share with us about when and how you started writing music?

LS: I started writing music with a good friend, Laura MacDonald, in high school. She and I wrote songs about strange dreams we had or our World History Teacher, (some lyrics were “Mr. Schnieder, you’re a really cool guy. In World History, you taught us to ask why”). I started doing it more seriously in undergrad in Oshkosh, WI, where I played with some absolutely amazing musicians and friends.

MW: I started writing music in high school. I began playing guitar at thirteen and was in my first band, a punk band, at 16-17. I’ve always been influenced by singer/songwriters and the very melody-driven sounds of the sixties, particularly The Beatles and McCartney, and that influence can be found in almost all of my guitar parts.

Dr. J: What first led to your recording music? How do you approach production?

LS: I see recording as a snapshot of a song in a moment. It may not be how we always perform the song, but it is representative of that moment, with those players and resources that we had at the time. I think of a producer as an editor, someone who can look more objectively at the song and make suggestions, or provide an outside perspective that we might not have been able to access, since we are closer to the song itself.

Dr. J: ‘Makin Eyes’ is your most recent music, what led to the making of that song? What were the main influences on your recording this song?

LS: From the writing perspective, almost all of my songs are written the same way I wrote them with my high school friend, Laura. I free-write a full page of words, careful not to judge them as they come out, not thinking of them as lyrics but just as phrases or strings of words, then I go back and circle words or phrases I like, then I figure out how they all make sense together. The music comes last for me, but it comes easiest for me after I have lyrics.

MW: My love of melody is what inspired the main guitar riff in the song. I’ve always loved how “hummable” George Harrison’s guitar solos are, and how prominent melodic guitar work is in so much of the British Invasion and Power Pop songs that I love. I wanted a lead guitar part that could stand on its own as a melody while still incorporating that shimmery, jangly sound.

Dr. J: The song ‘Makin Eyes’ seems to capture a remarkable constellation of musical influences. The song seems to have an ‘80s pop feel. Is that a correct interpretation? If that is correct, did you intend to create a song that connects to that style? If that is not correct, how would you describe the feeling of the song?

LS: Well thank you! I think you can interpret the song however you like! ’80s pop feel sounds good to me! I try not to think about what style I’m writing songs in, just kind of letting the song ask for what it needs.

MW: I think it definitely hearkens back to bands like The Go-Gos and The Bangles, who themselves were influenced by a lot of Power Pop and earlier styles of music, and I love that you’ve grouped “Makin Eyes” in that category.

Dr. J: How did the song ‘Makin Eyes’ come together musically for you?

MW: Laura is our principal songwriter, and she brought the lyrics and chords to us shortly after I joined the band, so this is one of the first songs that was a true full-band collaboration for us. Within two weeks of our first rehearsal, I had brought the song home and developed what became the signature guitar riff, and the song has really fleshed out during the last couple of years as we’ve continued to perform it live. To see how it’s evolved into the multi-tracked studio version with all of its jangle and shimmer has been really gratifying.

Dr. J: Where do you often derive inspiration to make music?

LS: I think of my lyrics as a sort of amalgamation of what is happening in my life, the way I am consciously or unconsciously feeling about things; the worries or thrills or boredoms of everyday life. I think of songs as a container for my present moment experience.

MW: I’m also a visual artist in addition to a musician, and each medium has always influenced the other. I also derive inspiration from surrounding myself with art of all types—the books I read, the music I listen to, the films I watch, the events I attend. And as cliche as it sounds, there’s nothing quite like a hot shower, a weird dream, or boredom to spark an idea that can be scribbled down for creation.

Dr. J: What is next for you musically? How would you describe your thoughts at this point for your next project or release?

MW: We’re currently in the process of finishing up our first album and getting ready to choose our second single for release. The plan is to get those squared away, and then to start performing more often, hopefully expanding the areas we’re booking shows in beyond our southern Minnesota roots.

Dr. J: How would you describe the music that you create? How has that process evolved or changed over time (especially as you think about your journey in the last few years)?

MW: We describe the music we create as Indie Pop, which is a pretty broad category in and of itself. We originally began as a four-piece with a synth player, and that synth-heavy ‘80s influence is still prevalent in our work, but we also include influences like the Velvet Underground, Low, and reverb-heavy guitar work from the mid- to late-‘60s.

Dr. J: What is your favorite song to perform live? What is your favorite song to perform in general? What makes that song a current favorite in your performances?

MW: My personal favorite is “Game Was Rigged.” It’s a story of love gone wrong set to a bouncy melody that’s impossible not to dance to when you’re playing it.

Dr. J: What is one message you would hope that listeners find in ‘Makin Eyes’?

LS: Honestly what first comes to mind is that I’m interested in narrowing the gap between performer and audience member. I want people to feel as though they could write a song too, they could perform it, they could record it! If it’s something that inspires you, please let it! Let’s all make things.

Dr. J: a musician, how are you adapting to the challenges of creating music? What are your biggest challenges to creating music?

MW: We’ve got a somewhat unique situation where we don’t all live in the same location anymore, with Laura and Michelle living in Mankato while I’ve moved almost an hour-and-a-half away to Minneapolis. Things like practices and recording sessions definitely need to be planned out pretty well in advance to
accommodate this. We’re also three very busy women juggling full-time careers in addition to the band—I’m an artist, teaching artist, and gallery owner, Laura is a social worker, and Michelle is a full-time musician and music teacher who plays in several groups—which can make it challenging to not only coordinate our schedules, but also to make time for things like social media and finding new venues to perform.

We want to extend our sincere gratitude to Given Names and especially Laura and Mandy for answering our questions and continuing to make some really excellent music! Click on the links below the article to visit their social media or to listen to the song that we discussed! If any musicians or artists would like to participate in future ’11 Questions with…’ columns, please feel free to email us at drjytaa@gmail.com. All photos and images courtesy of Given Names.

Bandcamp  Instagram  YouTube

Video of The Day: The Umbrellas – Three Cheers

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This fun video of ‘Three Cheers’ by The Umbrellas is from their forthcoming album “Fairweather Friend,” out January 26th, 2024 on Slumberland Records & Tough Love Records. you can pre-order the record!

When it comes to the indie pop scene, the San Francisco Bay Area jangle indie pop of The Umbrellas began fully formed in 2019 with the Maritime EP. This is a band that has been quietly making waves since they formed in 2018, and their forthcoming record “Fairweather Friend” on Slumberland Records is a tribute to their undeniable talent for writing melodic indie pop music. This album, drenched in the nostalgia of jangle-pop, captures the essence of indie rock’s golden era while offering a fresh and contemporary take on the genre. It is a nod and wink to twee, indie, powerpop, and more with a healthy dollop of the Paisley Underground.

“Three Cheers” opens with a slide into an undeniable bouncing bass instantly pulling you into a dreamy world of melodic guitars and whimsical lyrics. Throughout the song, The Umbrella’s signature sound shines through with jangly guitar riffs, catchy hooks, and shimmering harmonies, reminiscent of bands like The Smiths and The Stone Roses. The vocals, delivered with a perfect blend of longing and optimism, add a captivating emotional depth to the music.

The lyrics are introspective and relatable, making it easy for listeners to connect with the song’s themes of change and self-discovery. The Umbrellas demonstrate a knack for crafting songs that resonate with a broad audience, showing an ability to bridge the gap between the past and present in the indie pop realm. So, better line up for ‘Fairweather Friend’ now.

The song’s production quality is top-notch, with every instrument and vocal line given ample space to breathe. The song maintains a consistent, sun-soaked atmosphere, but brings something unique to the table, ensuring that “Three Cheers” never becomes monotonous.

While the song is an exploration of indie pop’s classic elements, The Umbrella also infuses it with a modern feel and sensibility, ensuring that it doesn’t sound like a mere throwback. This balance between nostalgia and innovation sets “Three Cheers” apart in the crowded indie music warehouse.

In a time when indie pop is experiencing a resurgence, The Umbrellas’ “Three Cheers” is a refreshing addition to the genre. It’s an album that will undoubtedly appeal to both longtime fans of jangle-pop and newcomers looking for a captivating musical journey. With its infectious melodies and genuine lyricism, this song will have you moving, swaying, and dancing just like the band in the video. “Three Cheers is an irresistible invitation to immerse yourself in its sonic daydream, and it’s an invitation that’s impossible to resist.