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“I felt awkward and weird most of the time because I didn't know shit, but now I know shit,” Ryan Olcott tells me, referring to how much has changed since he and his band, 12 Rods, last released new music. “My Year (This is Going to Be)”, came as a happy surprise to a devout, yet ever-growing fan base upon its release back in April; being the first new 12 Rods single in over 20 years.  I had the opportunity to talk with the Minneapolis musician, producer, singer, and lyricist over what lapsed into a two-hour phone call to inquire about his latest album If We Stayed Alive, releasing July 7.

The last anyone heard from 12 Rods was back in 2017 with Accident’s Waiting to Happen, a documentary chronicling everything from the band’s formation, the years they spent churning out some of the sickest, genre-defying music of the ‘90s, and regrettably to their disbandment; alongside the band’s commentary with the perspective of little more than a decade later on all that transpired. The end of the documentary sees a crestfallen Ryan, clearly in pain over the disbandment: what he then believed was 12 Rod’s fate.

Though before there were gnawing feelings of failure that would deter Ryan and the band from releasing new music for decades, there were the ‘90s. There were small punk bands scorning big labels, and then signing with them—there was feeling invincible. And so in 1992 when Ryan (vocals, guitar, synthesizer) joined his brother Evan Olcott (vox, synthesizers, guitar), Matt Flynn (bass), and Christopher Mcguire (drums), they would form 12 Rods; and within the next eight years, things would look up for the band. They would go on to self-release Bliss (1993) and then be the first American band to sign with V2 Records, with whom they’d release their first EP, gay? (1996) and their debut LP, Split Personalities (1998). All works would be met with positive acclaim.

Ryan recalls back to a moment in the late ‘90s when his friend Ryan Shreiber, the founder of Pitchfork, “had just started this online music thing and opened up his first generation laptop right in [his] room, and showed [him] that someone just rated [gay?] and gave it a ten.” There’s a telling silence that Ryan is back in time, being shown that review all over again. “How was anyone going to see any sort of credibility out of that? Even I brushed it off.” He continues,“we’re the reason people start picking on Pitchfork, because there was this period when they got corporate and big. It was the specific moment when they dropped us and people thought that was a low blow.” To the extent that even strangers would freely share their Pitchfork contempt with him, regaling me of the story where he was once “cornered in a club when a journalist nearly yelled in [his] face about how 12 Rods is the reason why Pitchfork sucks.” This was the moment when 12 Rods’ stature began to dawn on him, having realized “that [the 10-star review] had gone way deeper than [he] thought [12 Rods] dug.”

Within seemingly a blink of an eye, the new millennium reared its uncertain head. "All of the sudden there's Napster and the internet, and the major labels are freaking the hell out”, Ryan tells me. “They were starting to ask stuff of us that was way beyond our job descriptions, like how we would make the V2 website, or they’d ask us to figure out how to do merchandise sales on the internet”; artists even then weren’t sufficiently supported. “When they were asking us those sorts of favours we thought ‘yep it’s over, they have no idea what the future holds.’”

It was during this time Pitchfork would write about 12 Rods again since retracting the first 10-star review. Their 2000 release, Separation Anxieties, was not so much reviewed but disparaged with a rating of 2 stars and some petulant similes. The Accidents Waiting to Happen documentary gives fans a glimpse into the band’s faltering, hinting it was partly due to a lack of adequate support. Despite investing in the help of renowned producer Todd Rundgren (who has worked with names such as The New York Dolls, Patti Smith, and The Psychedelic Furs), the production for Separation Anxieties was left in the band’s hands instead. “We had to teach him how to work Pro Tools and we had to sneak in [the studio] on the off hours to do the editing ourselves because he didn’t know how,” Ryan reveals, despite knowing “no one will ever really believe [him].” All factors combined would lead to V2 Records dropping 12 Rods, to instead sign more palatable acts such as The White Stripes and Moby. The documentary also gleans how at only 25 years old he had to bear the brunt of 12 Rods’ fallout and lack of commercial success; of his “life and dreams [feeling] shot to shit, that all hope [was] gone.” Moreover, he had to take responsibility for the bankruptcy all on his own as the rest of the band had already bowed out. No one can point fingers at Ryan for his disheartened disposition, but only sympathize with his hardships of being left to clean the mess of bankruptcy and of the shattering, hopelessness that ensued from the fallout; a mess that would take him decades to sift through.

Talking with me on the phone now, however, is a much more optimistic Ryan. When I bring up the 360 degree change in mindset within the last few years from when the documentary was released up until now, he chuckles in a slightly embarrassed acknowledgment of his past reservations. From cursing life, fans, and 12 Rods as a whole, he states, “the documentary stopped so abruptly and it had this tight framework of what people perceive us as and there’s a lot more to the story.” The impassioned sentiments fans saw in the documentary are a candid glimpse into the reality of being utterly disheartened, and how visceral feelings of shame and failure can be. 

But now Ryan tells me, “[he’s] shutting all that old stuff out.” That “[he] still [has] issues, but they come out more colorful in songs and in different metaphors without sounding like ‘where I grew up’”; he says referring to the second track off of gay? and fan-favourite, “Make Out Music.” On it he sings, “I wish I didn't grow up / In the town that I grew up in / It kept me silent / It kept me stupid / Never fought back”; the consequences and isolation that stems from being unaccepted among one’s peers.  Or off of the same ep, take the song gaymo for instance, the western-influenced unrequited love song where in a somehow self-loathing yet simultaneously self-pityingly way he repeatedly sings, “everyone is cool except for me.” But luckily Ryan isn’t worried about any of that. “Lyrically, I don’t think the audience is going to miss that angst-y negativity that I was singing about at all, nor will they compare and contrast what I’m doing,” he asserts. “I think what they’re going to hear on the new album will supplement that void.”

And “My Year (This is Going to Be)” succeeds in doing just that. The song begins with lyrics questioning, “where did the last few years go?” The ensuing lyrics resolve, “they just disappeared into the candlelight”; the burning flame of hope he didn’t even realize was within himself all along.  “What I’ve been through has been tortuous,” Ryan says, “a kind of fucking living hell at times.” Except one would never have gleaned his past hardships from listening to the track, as they’re awash in rhythms deliquescent from their emanating warmth; the kind that elicit the absoluteness of a summer’s day and makes one realize the feeling is forevermore within every one of us. Although more than 20 years have passed since the last 12 Rods release, the song proves Ryan’s vocal delivery is as defiant and unrelenting as ever; making the gap of twenty years’ time nonexistent.

[“If We Stayed Alive”] is a literal statement of ‘this is what the record would have sounded like if 12 Rod’s did stay alive.’” Even if Ryan did the record himself, he tells me, “it’s exactly how [he] think[s] a 12 Rods record should’ve sound like to begin with.” Back then, “we wanted synths, we wanted samples, and all this production value for a reason that made more sense back then that doesn’t make any sense today to me.” He continues, “there were a lot of bands we wanted to model ourselves to sound like because we were just kids who liked certain bands and wanted to sound like them, but we’re so past that point.” Now, however, Ryan is writing for the music rather than writing for an aesthetic; being free from the impositions of the ‘90s. Back then, “it was just layering for the sake of layering because we didn’t know that our parts we’re bad. You could bury your vocals, you could pull some My Bloody Valentine tricks and it was in vogue to mumble your way through music because you didn't know what you were saying anyways.” With that, “vocals are much more present now and parts are simple. It’s not very messy, it’s very straightforward without being minimal.”

Ryan and the labels are finally “seeing eye to eye and making calls every day.” He knew deep down that it was time to release the album, as “everything fell into place really quick.” After finishing the record, it only took him six hours before he was signed to two labels. “It was much more exciting of a period than any other record I’ve released,” the catharsis in his voice speaking for itself. He’s hoping that he with the new album, he can live off music again; and surely after all he’s endured, he’s earned the right. “I don't want the castle on the hill, or the luxury sports cars,” like any other artist, he “just want[s] to eat daily and not have to worry about [his] rent.”

“I’m really aiming to get to that this time around, I’ve had a lot of situations where I do a certain project and I hit rock bottom back to zero because something wasn’t right and it's usually some price tag of a manager I couldn't afford, or some PR stunt agent of sorts that would’ve helped me but I couldn't afford that.” He continues, “but now I do have the support again, and there's enough of it for me to go ‘You know what? Why won't it happen this time?’” The sepia hues of nostalgia tint his words ever-so-faintly as he explains, “it’s unlike the old days when we didn't have the internet and we’d have to call the manager and the label on payphones on the side of the road—it was that long ago.” But he’s careful in not fully being swept away in what once was, appreciating how there is now “a whole new era of communication where [he] really feel[s] like [he] can level with all the staff and everyone involved all the time.” He fully returns to the present and exasperates, “it’s a world of difference.”

Ironically enough this early internet, Pitchfork history 12 Rods made—the same thing that may have played a part deepening the impact of their unravelling, is also the same thing that brings a lot of the youths to 12 Rods’ music. “There were a lot of people out of nowhere that became interested in 12 Rods over the past few years and it’s really wild to see because we haven’t played in years.” Among these people Ryan tells me, are “the kids [who] are reading up on all this stuff, writing about it and listening to it”, who came out of the woodwork sometime after 12 Rod’s Lost Time reissue in 2015. “It doesn’t feel weird but it just feels like ‘wow either these kids are really catching up and evolving or it’s just I don’t know…,” the shock that 12 Rods’ music lives on in the harbingers of the future, still seizing him.  Except these younglings don’t solely listen to 12 Rods just because of a 10-star review, they stay for the music. “When people write to me and tell me their experiences through [my] music of who they are and what they feel,” he says, “it blows my mind.” He continues, “the things they come up with, it’s very profound information and it feels like I’ve saved a lot of lives— it feels like I’ve changed people’s lives.”

Throughout our conversation, Ryan realizes that all of his projects begin because he subconsciously feels an obligation to his communities. “I'm always trying to write for someone or something else,” remarking how even 12 Rods is the product of the same ethos, never forming in the first place if it weren’t for their friend needing a band to play at a party. “I’m given this strange task to make a musical project to make something for an event and it ends up being the next thing I’m doing for the next 8 years.” I think he quips when he says, “if someone wants me to write a bossa nova song, or they want me to write a string arrangement I’ll learn how to do it in a couple days.” Except his solemnity speaks for itself when he insists he’ll go beyond their expectations.  “It’s fun to approach making music like that because I have a reason,” he says; highlighting how people and our relationships with and to others is what makes life meaningful, and worth living. 

Now Ryan knows he can do this right; not solely for his own redemption, but to make the former 12 Rods lineup, and the ever-growing fan base proud. Confident in his abilities as a musician, producer, and lyricist more than ever these days, he’s able to show up for all the other communities that believe in him; knowing there are others who do believe in him. For instance, “LGBTQ+ communities, and all these other communities really identify with 12 Rods”, he ruminates.  “I’ve only heard this and I’ve seen things online but some furries—,” he begins, cutting himself off to ask whether or not I know who furries are. Chuckling, I reassure him I am aware of furries. He continues, “I don’t believe it but I’ve had a couple of furries tell me that 12 Rods is the first official ‘furries band’ or something like that”, due to the Lost Time album cover prominently featuring the head of a dog. “This community in their minds, all probably think we’re furries too but that culture has embraced us, and that's dope!” Even if Ryan and the rest of the band aren’t furries, the invaluable power of support and what it means to feel connected with others is evinced. He continues, “whatever culture it may be, as long as it’s a loving, positive culture and not hate related, fuck yeah!” It really does take a village.

“I'm getting closer now to people and community than I ever have before because of [this new album], and what's more important than that?” Ryan ponders. “I don't know. It’s pretty beautiful, I guess. And I never thought it’d happen through 12 Rods.”

Pre-order If We Stayed Alive on 12 Rod's Bandcamp here!

Beach House surprised the world by releasing a new EP Become, on April 22, 2023. The collection being the second EP in the American dream-pop duo’s discography, follows their 2022 album Once Twice Melody. Victoria Legrand (vocals, keyboard) and Alex Scally (guitar, keyboard, backing vocals) have been making music together since they formed the band in 2004. By October 2006, they had marked their place in the music industry with their self-titled debut album, Beach House, which immediately received critical acclaim. 

Fast forward 17 years, following the band’s nine other albums and their first EP, iTunes Session (2010); Beach Houses’s Become consists of “American Daughter,” “Devil’s Pool,” “Holiday House,” “Black Magic,” and “Become.” These five tracks serve as a sort-of sequel to Once Twice Melody, the duo’s eighth studio album , a double album featuring 18 songs presented in four separate chapters. Fans were teased with each chapter release, balancing at the edge of their seats in excited anticipation until the album was complete, or so they thought. 

Become is not to be mistaken as a fifth chapter in the Once Twice Melody story. Legrand and Scully describe it as “a collection of 5 songs from the Once Twice Melody sessions. We didn’t think they fit in the world of OTM, but later realized they all fit in a little world of their own. To us, they are all kind of scuzzy and spacious, and live in the spirit realm. It’s not really where we are currently going, but it’s definitely somewhere we have been.”

Become is an excellent place for unfamiliar Beach House listeners to delve into the band’s discography. The EP delivers 24 minutes and 29 seconds of classic Beach House sounds. Dreamy lyrics are delivered by Legrand’s soft singing with support from the steady drawl of synthesizers and Scully’s signature guitar arpeggios. The band often seems to enter into another dimension, slightly out of touch with reality, giving listeners the sensation of having their head-in-the-clouds. 

“American Daughter” serves Lana Del Rey-esque lyrics on a typical Beach House instrumental. The band tackles darker themes in the song fittingly called “Devil’s Pool,” setting the tone with eerie echoing vocals and orchestral instrumentation. Take a trip down memory lane in “Holiday House,” a merry-go-round-sounding track that describes childlike fantasies at a familiar getaway; certainly suitable for driving to a cottage in the summer. Return to the city and fantasies continue to run wild in “Black Magic,” which bewitches listeners with lyrics describing “a certain fascination with the dark side of the street,” accompanied by layers of lilting guitars. The EP’s title track builds slowly, much like OTM’s final track, “Modern Love Stories.” A starry synthesizer dances on top of the bass, pulsing like a heartbeat, by far the most obscure-sounding song of the collection.  

Beach House originally released Become in honor of Record Store Day. First conceived in 2007, this event occurs annually on the third Saturday of April and every Black Friday in November. Participating stores in 14 countries, including Canada and the United States “celebrate the unique culture” of independent, “real, live, physical, indie record stores,” according to their official website. LP collectors lucky enough to visit American record stores this year would have had the chance to own one of the limited 8,000 copies of the RSD-exclusive Become edition on crystal clear vinyl. For those who missed out, digital copies of the EP were made available for streaming on April 28. As of Friday, May 19, physical copies of cassettes, CDs, and LPs became within easy reach again, with websites like MegaMart shipping internationally.

Many fans agreed that Become isn’t Beach House’s best work, but they’re happy to listen to anything the duo releases. Fans also commented that much of the compilation sounds abstract and somewhat aimless, undoubtedly a collection of album scraps. Critics echoed the fans’ neutral stance. Pitchfork’s Marc Hogan says, “more of the same is not always unwelcome. If you’re unfamiliar, Become might even be a decent place to start.” Beach House enjoyers alike are undoubtedly excited to see what will follow this EP in the band’s never-ending legacy of stardom.

South Asian Film Festival of Montreal (SAFFM) 2023, presented by Kabir Centre for Arts & Culture is back after a year of dormancy. The festival was screened with Bibliothèques de Saguenay and La Cinémathèque québécoise from April 28 to May 10. This year’s films were picked all the way from India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh, to Canada and the United States; aired in person and online.  Kabir Centre aims to unite communities through thought-provoking films from the Indian Sub-continent empowering the culture and the languages. 

I have had the great opportunity to witness and be part of the pluralism the centre aims to promote through this festival. Amongst the 58 films in this year’s roster, I watched two movies: Agam Darshi’s Donkeyhead and Bhaskar Maurya’s Muthayya.  

I booked the tickets for May 5, 2023, a Friday evening to watch the Donkeyhead and Four Nights screening together. Montreal constructions and road closures confused the pedestrian in me, and I wandered around La Cinémathèque québécoise on St. denis street for a solid 15 minutes before finding the main entrance. 

As I finally found my way to the theatre, I hushed through the dark to find a high raised seat at the very end. Before I could make sense of the movie that was already on the screen, I realised that it was Nepali-English movie Four Nights, directed by Deepak Rauniyar. 

The drama film revolves around Ram and Maya who moved to New York City from Nepal to earn fame, success and money. It was a 17 minute short film, of which I watched 2 solid minutes before the end credits. 

What followed next was a nearly two hour film that entertained, mesmerized, resonated, and also made me cry. Donkeyhead, which is also written by Agam Darshi, is a Canadian-made immigrant story revolving around failed careers, sibling angst, strict parenting, and family mayhem. 

Agam Darshi also plays the lead, Mona, a struggling writer who neglects her potential while caring for her sick father. The first few scenes unlock a hidden fear in me, which is to see your parents lying unresponsive on the bed. But with a twist of events, Mona’s Sikh father wakes up, scolds her and goes back to taking rest. Within a few minutes into this scene, Darshi’s characterization manages to induce anxiety in me and then alleviate said anxiety with comedic relief from Donkeyhead’s character. 

This drama film is filled with witty jabs at the typical Desi-aunty behaviours, of siblings one-upping each other while their father is in a coma, and of untimely appearances and demands of distant relatives while the children mourn their father’s demise. It took the writer 10 years to write this story, and throughout the course of the decade Dasrshi says, “[she] fell in love with it and fell out of love with it multiple times in the process.” 

“Everybody who watches it has a different interpretation. Some people say at the centre it’s a father-daughter story, some people say it’s about siblings, or it’s about what it is to be a woman in a South-Asian family…all of it is true,” continues Darshi, talking about how the story evolves  from being a broad spectrum story to something personalised and close to home. 

The monologue Mona recites at the end of the film focuses on her relationship with her father, how his inflated ego prompted her to rebel so she can make some space for herself. Her monologue also reveals how she wishes there was someone who could have told him that it was okay to fail, and that it was okay to mess up.

“I don’t think that anyone has ever told him that. He needed to hear that at least once in his life,” ends the monologue, which made me wail. The story didn’t end there, but went on to take a positive tone when Mona decides to leave home and pursue her passion. 

Muthayya is a small town based heart-touching movie by debut director and writer Bhaskar Maurya. The movie has won the Best Feature Film Award 2022 at Kolkata International Film Festival. Bhaskar Maurya won Best Debut Director 2022 at Dubai META Film Fest. 

Creative Producer Hemanth Kumar made sure that the movie reaches an art film loving audience through unconventional promotional methods of participating in as many film festivals as possible.

“Our world premiere was in May 2022, and it all started with the UK Asian Film Festival,” said Hemanth. 

The comedy feature film revolves around the main character Muthayya (Sudhakar Reddy), a 70-year-old man who dreams of acting in movies and to see himself on the big screen at least once, before he dies. The film is set in a remote village Chennuru, in Telangana in India. 

I always had a fascination towards small town movies as they feel so simple and raw. When the story begins with Muthayya and his 24-year-old mechanic best friend celebrating their weeknights by drinking ‘till late under the sky, without a worry in the world, I silently wish to have that peace in life. 

Maurya worked on this script for two years but it only took 15 days to shoot the movie when scheduled with well-rehearsed talented actors, and a great collaborative team.   “Our main concern with casting was finding the right one to play Muthayya. Bhaskar Maurya had watched Sudhakar Reddy, the man who played Muthayya in mind especially for the look, and talent for a 70-year-old passionate man,” said Hemanth. 

The film’s atmosphere results from spontaneous acting with minimal takes and consequently makes the audience celebrate the victories, smile in the happy moments, and dwell in the sorrows alongside small-town Muthayya. 

Montreal’s Kabir Centre recognizes arts from many cultures through events and festivals; some of which will enlighten you, encourage you, or even make you cry. 

Greek black metal legends Rotting Christ stormed through Montreal on March 7th, playing the newly refurbished Studio TD (formerly L’Astral) in the Quartier des Spectacles. Dubbed the “Under Our Black Cult” tour, the band were supported by three other ghoulish groups - Gaerea, UADA, and Carach Angren.

With a black metal roster like this, I was expecting atmosphere over energy. While death and thrash metal shows tend to empty beer kegs faster than barbacks can run, black metal shows are often low-tip nights for staff behind the counter. The subgenre caters towards more straight-edge folk who like to go on long walks soundtracked by their favourite white Norwegians. Black metal fans are outcasts in society, and even greater outcasts at black metal concerts, because they’re all trying to be cooler than the weirdo next to them. In short, these shows tend to suck vibe-wise.

Rotting Christ envangelists immediately proved me wrong when some surfin’ bird kicked me in the back of the skull like I was the last cross eyed furry in a sweaty game of whack-a-mole. As I was recovering from the crowdsurfer’s dissatisfaction with my head, fans continued to crawl over me in an effort to make it towards the stage. I really don’t blame them - have you seen the hunks in Rotting Christ? Those Athenians are top.

To be fair, opening acts Gaerea, UADA, and notably Carach Angren did do their best to bring enthusiasm out of the audience. My favourite were Carach Angren, Dutch symphonic black metallers with a fetish for spooky keyboards. Frontman Seregor put on an energetic performance as he commanded the stage. The best part of their performance however was keyboardist Ardek, brutalizing a stage piano like John Cale wearing corpse paint. Ardek also occasionally busted out this sweet keytar - the bastard child of a guitar and piano. Carach Angren were really a good time!

But whatever energy the opening acts could drum up was nothing compared to what would come. Apparently everyone was really just edging for Rotting Christ - and frontman Sakis Tolis’ opening power chord strum let everyone know it was time to go nuts. The band pushed ripper after ripper through the speakers and by consequence through the audience, whose centre crowd were now brawling to the pulse of blackened Hellenic chants, Mythos running smooth through their bloodstream.

I wasn’t kidding about the Hellenic chants. Rotting Christ do an amazing job of working anthemic aspects into their music, which translates wonderfully live, as the more symphonic elements to their sound mesh amazingly with the rawness of their heavier cuts. Their songs are also amazingly varied tempo-wise, transitioning from obnoxiously catchy grooves to blastbeat assaults. These aspects all point towards why Rotting Christ shows seem to hit so different than other black metal acts - Satan aside, their music is fun.

I was genuinely surprised at the energy Rotting Christ brought out of the audience. Even under the black metal moniker, the band were able to get the house moving more than some of the better hardcore acts I’ve seen. And the lack of karate was nice. This was a damn crazy show, proving that Rotting Christ are still a force to be reckoned with in the metal scene - even after 35 years in the business.