Photo courtesy of Joey Wharton

Before Whitney Caroline writes a new song for her current project, burwell, she will usually save concepts to help spark ideas. Recently, the common theme she has been focusing on is coping through grief.

Right before the world experienced the beginning stages of the COVID-19 pandemic, her mother passed away. Writing about how she has been coping has been incredibly healing during her writing sessions, and she has seen her songs evolve because of that.

Her latest single, “can’t stop”, was written before 2020 took a turn for the worst.

“It was a happy song I wanted to work on when things got hard because it was a mood-lifter,” she said. “It’s been a good reminder for me that we can go through hard times, but still experience joy and light-heartedness.”

“can’t stop” was challenging not in its creation, but in terms of whether or not she was even going to release it. She has been focused on an upcoming EP and has been finding it difficult to determine which songs will make the final track listing. It was one of the songs, however, that she had been able to share with her mom before she passed. She always seemed to enjoy her daughter’s happier songs, and danced around to “can’t stop” when she played it for her.

The inspiration for the music video started with the daily walks she took during lockdown. First she started to notice teddy bears displayed in her neighbor’s windows. Then she got inspired to incorporate a dance routine that came about as she was listening back to the track. She reached out to a local hip-hop instructor, Gregg Whitlock Jr., who included his students from Spotlight Studio of Dance and their stuffed animals, as well as burwell’s faithful, fuzzy friend, Mr. Dot.

Photo courtesy of Shervin Lainez

Alternative rock band They Might Be Giants have spent nearly 40 years experimenting with genre-blending tactics to create a unique experience for their audience. They have pushed those boundaries yet again with BOOK, a collection of 15 songs and a 144-page art book.

The idea to make BOOK stemmed from John Flansburgh’s conversations with frequent collaborator and celebrated graphic designer Paul Sahre.

“Paul and I had talked to a publisher about a visual history of They Might Be Giants in a big coffee-table format,” Flansburgh said in a press release. “It seemed daunting, so I suggested breaking it into smaller, more doable parts. I’ve always been a fan of street photography like Helen Levitt and Robert Frank. That style can complement lyrics very well.”

Through Sahre came Brooklyn street photographer Brian Karlsson. They wanted a single photographer to tell this story, and each song truly comes to life with his input.

“Brian’s work seemed transcendent and in sync with what we were doing,” Flansburgh said. “It was important to me that the project was consistent visually. Too many visual efforts from musicians have a catch-all quality.”

The music from BOOK is bursting with the same energy, melody and inventive songcraft that They Might Be Giants is known for, but this latest effort goes even further, introducing an immersive album experience that blends photography, design and text with music.

This isn’t meant to be a ‘concept project’, but rather an accompanying piece to the album. Flansburgh compared it to an extension of album artwork in a recent interview with Forbes, giving an entirely new perspective on how artists can create different types of art within a single object.

“Nowadays, albums are often just a collection of ones and zeroes,” John Linnell said in a press release. “With BOOK we’re looking to make a more interesting object.”

Another unique piece of BOOK is how they created a story behind the words. Sahre used an IBM Selectric typewriter from the 1970s to create artistic layouts that add a striking new dimension to the reading experience. The lyrics are displayed in various shapes and forms on their respective pages, giving the reader a new way to interpret each song.

The words are raining heavy on my parade. This is the worst waiting game I’ve ever played. These are the loneliest nights and the longest days.

Even though most people don’t see me as one, I am a pretty big introvert. Being a performing artist is something that I love, but it also takes a lot for me to get on stage and showcase my talents. The pandemic took it to the next level for me though - at first, I was thriving to a certain degree and enjoying “me” time because LA is a constant hustle. Having a moment of reprieve was actually something that my mind and body needed more than I realized. However, after a month or so of forced lockdown and not being alone on my own terms, I found that I deeply missed human interaction. I think that no matter how introverted we are, humans are not meant to be completely solitary creatures.

“The Loneliest Nights” is a song that I wrote during the height of the pandemic when I was feeling the most lonely, but I also knew that this was a universal experience happening worldwide. Even though I was physically isolated and alone, I wasn’t alone in my experience. We all went through and handled the waves of emotions in different ways - for myself, I spent a lot of time on my yoga mat and doing contortion training. I took lots of hot baths and had time for more meditation and self reflection. I went on long hikes and enjoyed bike rides on empty LA streets. I tried to keep myself active as much as possible in order to keep my mind calm despite feeling many moments of panic due to what was happening in our world.

I knew I wanted to create a video that visually reflected my own experience of what I was feeling during the height of lockdown. Essentially, it is my expression through movement art of what loneliness and isolation can feel like; moments of beauty and calm interlaced with moments of panic and intensity. My favorite aspect of this video is the use of the mirror. I knew I wanted it incorporated somehow to illustrate the idea of self reflection and going inward when forced into extreme isolation. The director, Tonya Kay, had the idea to have me looking at different versions of myself, which I think came across so beautifully.

Humans are complicated creatures, and I believe that this pandemic has given many people an opportunity to deeply connect with themselves, find extreme gratitude for things that might have been taken for granted before and discover what they really want out of life. We’re not completely out of it yet, but I know that I feel grateful to be able to hug others again and share my art in person.

Becky Crosby decided at the ripe old age of 10 years old that she wanted to pursue a professional career in music.

It started with piano lessons, grew into writing her own songs, and eventually brought her to studying at both a performing arts high school and college. She’s dipped her toes into contemporary music, classical voice, and is currently in her last year of studying jazz.

“With every different genre I've learned or trained in, I just bring more of that into my songwriting,” she said.

Much of her current songwriting will be reflected in her upcoming EP, Laugh It Off. While many of the songs were first written in 2018, her newest single, “Can We Pretend”, was written at the beginning of 2020. She calls the single an “unrequited love song with a jazz flair” and shares that the other tracks reflect on personal experiences from the last few years.

Despite some of these tracks being written almost three years ago, her songwriting process usually brings her back to the arsenal of songs she’s been holding onto.

“I'll write a song or half a song and I'll keep it somewhere and I won't touch it for a while until I have that idea again,” she said. “I’ll bring it to my band or the people I'm working with at the time and we’ll talk about it, and that usually revamps it in my head too because it just feels like something different that I can work on and just adding to it to make it better for release.”

Her band typically consists of the same people, most of them fellow jazz majors that she’s been studying with for the last four years.

“We’re able to write really well [together], and even though pop or pop funk isn't always their thing, they get it and they know what I'm looking for usually when we’re playing live,” she said.

She has come a long way since her freshman year of college, where she remembers adjusting from a strict classical environment to breaking all the rules in jazz. It was a rough adjustment period, but it helped her realize that incorporating all elements of her background was what made her stand out.

“I'm going to do my best; I'm going to work on my own music and I'm going to perform the best that I can with my own flair and style,” she said. “I think that's probably one of my most rewarding life things in college - just realizing that I can do these different genres with my own spin on it.”

Becky Crosby has so much to look forward to in the next year: releasing her EP, graduating college and discovering what she wants to do next. She isn’t bound by genres, but instead free to create as her heart desires.

Music historian, critically acclaimed author and regular Wall Street Journal contributor Marc Myers takes on the task of sharing the stories of those who made rock music what it is today in his latest book, Rock Concert: An Oral History as Told by the Artists, Backstage Insiders, and Fans Who Were There.

Decades after the rise of rock music in the 1950s, the rock concert retains its allure and power as a unifying generational experience - and as an influential multi-billion dollar industry. Rock Concert presents a 360-degree account of live rock’s emergence by weaving together groundbreaking stories from those who were on stage, in the wings, behind the scenes and in the audience.

Rock Concert begins with the blossoming of R&B concert circuits in the 1950s. From Los Angeles auditoriums to Memphis fairs, industry veterans share where they played their music and the importance of radio.

The hippie gatherings of the 1960s brought less rock ‘n’ roll and more folk and pop. The emergence of FM radio majorly impacted how musicians found their audience while musicians also used their voices for political activism. Concert promoters, sound system engineers and music festivals were born, with a lot of trial and error to follow.

Growing arena tours in the 1970s was exactly the kind of overhaul that the rock concert needed. After the violent events of The Altamont Free Concert on December 6, 1969, it took a while for arenas to ease resistance on letting rock artists perform at their venues. Image, media and branding became essential to promoting music, inspiring the cover of The Beatles’ Let It Be, Chicago’s first nine studio albums and the iconic Hot Lips logo for The Rolling Stones.

The 1980s is where visual branding reached its peak. MTV began broadcasting on cable TV on August 1, 1981. For the first time, audiences could see artists on their television playing their music live or in the form of a music video. It encouraged album and concert ticket purchases, the latter becoming computerized for the first time.

Throughout the book, readers get to hear first-hand accounts of Elvis Presley’s superstardom, Beatlemania, the Grateful Dead’s free-flowing psychedelic jams and Pink Floyd’s operatic, live production of The Wall. Drawn from his original, in-depth interviews with 94 wide-ranging sources, Myers combines tales from iconic performers like Joan Baez, Bob Weir, Alice Cooper, Steve Miller and Angus Young; stories about disc jockeys who first began playing rock on the radio such as Alan Freed; audio innovators who developed new technologies to accommodate ever-growing rock audiences and venues; music journalists such as Cameron Crowe, who went on to create Rolling Stone magazine; and the roadies, tour managers, regional promoters and festival organizers who orchestrated concerts to create a rounded and vivid account of live rock’s stratospheric rise from 1950 to 1985.

Photo courtesy of Dana Gorab

I grew up in southeastern Virginia, where there weren’t a lot of people who looked like me - a second-generation Asian American born to immigrant parents with accents. I was used to the teasing about my last name and my ethnic appearance, and I accepted the pressures my father’s culture imposed on me - study hard, get good grades and all that.

I did have a few Asian classmates, but they all seemed to play right into the stereotype of the model minority, with all their academic excellence, particularly in math and science. I tried really hard to fit into this mold too, but it was always a struggle.

While my parents put me in piano and violin lessons, I think they saw it as merely extracurricular activities that might later look good on a college application; another stepping stone toward becoming a doctor, engineer or scientist. I don’t think it ever crossed their minds that music could become a life-long passion or calling. To this day, I don’t think they know the role that music played in keeping me emotionally stable, even going so far as keeping me alive during my worst times.

I don’t remember seeing many prominent Asian Americans in the arts as a kid growing up. There were a few, but I’m happy to see there are so many now more than ever. And while I didn’t have many role models as a kid, I’m grateful that as an adult I can still be inspired by people who, by virtue of being Asian Americans with an affinity toward the arts, have a shared experience with me.

I’ve probably cried at more than one Kishi Bashi show. But this one was particularly emotional. The venue was tiny compared to places where I was accustomed to seeing him. It occurred to me later that he had chosen it on purpose, to create an intimate experience. This one was different. He had brought his parents with him to the show.

I could see how proud of him they were. He even had his father go on stage and play a traditional Japanese song on saxophone. It blew my mind that his parents, first generation Asian Americans, could be so supportive of their son’s artistic work. His parents, like mine, had started him in music as a young child, but they allowed him to pursue his creative calling, and even supported it! I did feel some pang of jealousy, wishing my parents had been like his. But the overwhelming feeling was one of joy, as his performances always elicit from me. Joy from being wrapped up in the enchanting musical experience he created by his performance, but also joy in knowing that he had not been afraid to take risks, so why should I?

As he stood on a chair in the middle of the audience, surrounded by fans with flashlights creating a warm glow around him, he led everyone to sing with him. The experience was beautiful and overwhelming and wonderful, and I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.

During the performance he spoke about how supportive his parents were and how grateful he was, and he even had a message for his audience. He talked about how he dropped out of engineering school and went to music school instead. He said, “I had the support of my parents. If you have any kids who really want to go into the arts, give them a chance. It’s important for humanity.” If I wasn’t already in tears from experiencing his music, that statement opened the floodgates.

Photo courtesy of Matt Kennedy

For the last year and a half, Cincinnati-based band Motherfolk have been hard at work on their latest EP, the flower.

This time around, they decided to entirely self-record and self-produce the seven-track EP. By doing so it gave them the opportunity to explore as much of the creative process as possible.

“Recording it ourselves was very rewarding because we could take as much time as we needed with each song,” vocalist/guitarist Nathan Dickerson said. “I would say the most challenging parts were figuring out which songs to put on this release, as we recorded so many.”

In addition to self-recording and self-producing, the band pushed themselves creatively to write more songs than ever before. In the past, they typically wrote the amount of songs that were needed for each album with maybe one or two to spare. By having this new creative freedom, they decided to explore different directions and songwriting techniques in order to find a sound that was authentically theirs. It helped them realize that the more songs they write, the better the songs get.

As they were putting the songs together for the flower, they knew they wanted to use “uncomfortable imagery” to represent it lyrically. It started with a lyric from one of the new songs:

“you are the flower, I am the bee, always taking and taking til I have what I need”

Not only did that line inspire the title of the EP, it gave them the idea to use bee imagery instead of floral. Research brought them to Emily Mueller, a beekeeper in nearby Akron. Between her kindness and willingness to let them step into her world, and the talent of photographer Matt Kennedy, they brought that imagery to life.

While the band hopes that listeners connect with and enjoy the flower, its theme is truly up to the listener.

“Our past albums have always had a really strong theme, and this one does too for us, but we've intentionally left it a little open-ended for interpretation,” Dickerson said. “The meaning that people take away from an album has always fascinated me because it can be so different from the original intention of the writer, so I'm really excited to see how people perceive this one.”

By taking a chance on trying something completely new, Motherfolk created an album that challenged them and gave them insight on how they wanted to tell their story. The message of the flower may be open to interpretation, but it speaks volumes on their growth as musicians.

Photo courtesy of Luckyshot Photos

Shira Yevin, known among the music industry as Shiragirl, has long been an advocate for gender equality in music. It started with the Shiragirl Stage at Vans Warped Tour and blossomed into work for charities, women’s marches and more.

Lately, she and her Shiragirl band mates have been looking hard at the digital dystopia of the present day and asking whether this world of phones and computers is optimal, or even sustainable.

Shiragirl’s latest single, “Antisocial Media”, stems from a text message thread the band started to discuss the pros and cons of digital spaces. Yevin said the phrase, and bassist Alex Windsor replied that it was a perfect song title. After coming back with a solid guitar riff, it was a collaborative effort to finish the song.

“I just wanted to talk about how social media has impacted all of our mental health, even more so during the pandemic,” Yevin said. “This is how we had to stay connected; we hung out virtually and we put in a lot more screen time. I think that there are certain benefits for social media but I also think there are certain hazards and there can be some negative consequences of overuse and it can be addictive.”

The band wanted to portray the positive and negative effects of social media in the accompanying music video, directed by Heather Ballish. There's the glam world - a highlight reel of the happy, colorful moments. Then there's the grim world, full of emotions that are difficult to admit out loud. They wanted the yin and yang to demonstrate how endless hours of scrolling can damage anyone’s mental health.

“I think sometimes we’re just so sucked into it that it's hard to take a step back,” Yevin said. “Don’t feel like you don't exist if you don't post today. It’s about getting to a healthy place with it.”

One of the positive effects of social media has been seen as Yevin brought her female-led platform, Gritty in Pink, to an online community after three in-person shows in January, February and March of 2020.

Gritty in Pink’s mission is to achieve gender equality in the music industry by striving to empower women through music performance, partnerships and networking opportunities. After three successful events, they moved to livestreams to accommodate the ongoing pandemic.

“We started building the community and we were able to take that bond into the quarantine and build upon it virtually,” she said.

So far, Gritty in Pink has featured over 200 female, transgender and non-binary artists and raised thousands of dollars to charities such as Keep A Breast and ACLU. It has seen women come together to support other women - connecting, collaborating. Any aspect of the industry is invited to be part of this community and share their resources with one another to help achieve that gender equality.

Shiragirl and Gritty in Pink are shining examples of giving voices to those who struggle to be heard. Their missions continue to push boundaries in the music industry, and help bring equality to a community that so desperately needs it.

“I'm really proud that I've been able to continue on my mission of achieving gender equality in music,” Yevin said. “It has taken some unexpected turns, but it means a lot to me to be able to feel like I'm living my purpose.”

Photo courtesy of Tara Long Photography

As a full-time musician, with a wife working in the medical field, 2020 heavily impacted Micah Walk.

He watched his wife put herself at risk on a near-daily basis while his work all but disappeared due to the lack of live events. One of the silver linings, however, was the opportunity to create his latest album.

“I know songwriters say this all the time about their latest work, but I do think it’s my best work so far, and I think having lots of time to write and edit has a lot to do with that,” he said.

Among the Stars is filled with tracks about the stages of lockdown (“Stay With Me”) and the toll it took on Walk’s mental health (“In the Dark”). He recorded the album with acclaimed artists Sadler Vaden, Kai Welch and Fred Eltringham, and said working with them was the most rewarding aspect of its creation.

It took a crowdfunding campaign to get the project rolling, but its success gave Walk a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

“I’m beyond grateful to all the people who pledged,” he said. “Sadler and the band took all of these songs to another level and I’m thrilled with how this album sounds.”

In a time where many had lost their motivation or creativity, Walk was happy that his need for songwriting is more ingrained in his mind than motivated by a specific mood or instance.

“It may be more intense at certain times, but I haven’t ever felt an all-out loss of desire to do it,” he said. “To me, if it’s something that’s just in you, almost like it’s involuntary, it doesn’t really take motivation.”

A difference in his previous releases is that he spent more time in the editing process than he had in the past. He's thrilled with the outcome, saying that he thinks it's the leanest batch of songs he's had. Lyrically and musically, it doesn't feel like there's anything to trim down. He thanks Vaden for his take on edits to make and sections to extend, showing Walk ideas that he may not have come up with on his own.

“I always feel like the songs that sort of feel like they come out of nowhere tend to be the best, and that’s not different on this album,” Walk said. “But I think being able to dedicate a little more time to fine-tuning them helped a lot.”

Secular humanism is the theme that permeates throughout the whole album, meaning ethical consequences of human decisions do not go hand-in-hand with religion or a belief in a deity. It's more obvious in certain tracks (“Among the Stars”, “High on the High Road”), but plays a part in each one.