AJJ

AJJ frontman Sean Bonnette can summarize the band’s new album, Good Luck Everybody, in a single sentence: “Sonically, it’s our least punk record, and lyrically, it’s our most punk record.” And indeed, Good Luck Everybody (January 17, 2020), the Arizona band’s seventh album, stands out in their already diverse catalog. While still rooted in the folk-punk sound AJJ has become known for, the album is unafraid to delve into new territories that test the limits of what the band is capable of. “I think it explores some of the weirder sides of AJJ, the more experimental leanings that we’ve had in the past,” says bassist Ben Gallaty. Good Luck Everybody draws from a wealth of sonic inspirations, from Laurel Canyon folk-rock of the 60s and 70s to avant garde artists like Suicide, as well as some orchestral pop. There is even a piano ballad, the tragic “No Justice, No Peace, No Hope.” Lyrically, Good Luck Everybody is a change of pace from the idiosyncratic songwriting style Bonnette has honed over more than 15 years fronting AJJ. It still features his wonderfully weird turns of phrase and oddball word pairings, but this time, his thematic lens is more directly focused on the inescapable atrocities of the world around him. Longtime fans will recognize the album’s social commentary as a return to their 2011 release, Knife Man, but this time it’s fueled by a more radical urgency.

Oceanator

“The cars break. Everything goes slow motion. There’s disaster and fire,” foretells Elise Okusami, describing her cinematic vision of the end of the world. Apocalypse is a subject she mined in acute detail and to critical acclaim on 2020’s Things I Never Said, her debut full-length as Oceanator. But in her most recent cataclysmic telling, she keeps the camera focused on the people who survive and need to keep on living. A couple escapes the wreckage in a classic pickup truck, their dog riding in the back. They find a new home in the woods and consider how to start over. “It could either be hopeful or negative,” Okusami explains of the tale’s ambiguous ending. “You’re either walking off into a nice sunset or going off into a black hole. For me, it depends on the mood; it can be both ways.”
Those speculative vignettes inspired polymathic Okusami to begin writing a short film—one she ultimately scrapped in favor of putting those themes to music. These vividly imagined scenes comprise the sunrise-to-sunset arc of her resplendent new record Nothing’s Ever Fine, the first Oceanator has recorded for Polyvinyl and the already-shredding project’s heaviest collection yet. This narrative of doom and hope told over the span of a single day is reinforced by a thrice-recurring leitmotif—appearing on the tracks “Morning,” “Post Meridian,” and “Evening”—composed on Okusami’s newly beloved Reverend baritone guitar. She used it to write several of the songs’ knottiest riffs, lending a gut-punching low register (perhaps indebted to her past experiences playing in thrash and hardcore bands). But like on previous Oceanator recordings, Okusami’s characteristic ease with bright hooks still shines, and the wide-ranging influences of ‘80s power pop, ‘90s melodic punk, Americana, film scores and Civil Rights-era vocal groups lend textured complexity to the collection. Okusami uses these sounds to explore anxious nightmares, nostalgia for late night adventure, the fog of depression, climate catastrophe and cautious optimism for the future. It’s material ripe for an end-of-days flick, sure; but it’s also the reality of living with the noise in your own brain in America’s 2020s.
Though Nothing’s Ever Fine’s earliest song dates back to 2014, and several others were written on or after tours in the intervening years, Okusami reconfigured and demoed these songs alone at home between 2019 and 2020. Thanks to the covers recording, live streaming, and documentary scoring she partook in over the past few years, as well as wisdom gained from running the record label Plastic Miracles, Okusami brought a leveled-up ear for production to this album. She also found herself reinvigorated on the guitar, unafraid to tackle some of Oceanator’s most ambitious and masterful playing yet. On the album itself, in addition to performing guitars, synths, bass, keys, and vocals, she serves as co-producer. That role is shared with her brother and longtime bandmate Mike Okusami, as well as her friend Bartees Strange. Working at Falls Church, VA’s 38 North and at Mike’s space in Maryland, the trio eschewed traditional live tracking in favor of recording parts separately as overdubs. They focused on sonic exploration and worldbuilding, dialing in sounds and experimenting with a Wurlitzer, B3, Leslie, and mellotron, among other synths and boutique effects. While the Okusami siblings have decades of collaboration and trust built up between them, which informs Mike’s seamless contributions on bass, drums, and piano, Bartees proved to be a trusted third partner, matching Mike’s excitement on the technical side and working closely with Okusami to find the dream guitar tones she sought—equal parts crystalline and crushing.

Gladie