Revisionist Western

Okay, kids. History time. There was a point, back in the 90s, when a genre called "screamo" didn't exist and most bands that played what now gets called screamo actively rejected the label (because, let's be honest, it's an embarrassing term). Those bands (including bands I was in that sounded like that) typically thought of what they were doing as good old hardcore, albeit slightly outside the box hardcore. Then, somehow, the "screamo" label started to stick, and then later generations needed a whole new word (skramz) to differentiate original pretty good screamo from later much worse screamo. Which I get. If I were 22 I wouldn't want to admit I listen to a lot of "screamo" from the the last ten years, either. Anyway, where I'm going with this is that Lagrimas is a band from Los Angeles that sits right at this intersection in a way I really appreciate. What I think people responded to about the 90s hardcore that gets called sk

Heather Brown is, by her own words, a mom who makes boutique pedals. I'm not sure what else she's done besides this, but this is a ridiculously smooth overdrive pedal.  So first, let me start by pointing out that the lights on this thing make a halo and a heart, which is brilliant.  Second, what you're basically getting here is a pretty solid overdrive boost that ranges from just a little bit of extra push to some real crunch, with a nicely responsive treble/bass EQ. That knob to the bottom left is called the "immaculator" and it essentially makes the pedal more or less transparent, so you can dial in roughly the amount you want it to be shaping your tone, from having it just do a tiny bit to letting it take over. I find it most useful when stacked with a fuzz pedal, to give it a little extra warmth. Here's a short demo I made of the pedal so you can see the various knobs in action: Check out Heather Brown Electronicals here .

Prague-based solo black metal project Eerie Heir's first release, We Were Beautiful Once , is gloriously depressing in that way only spacey black metal can be. Alternating between dreamy, effects-drenched fog and sparse, clean strumming, the EP uses its relatively quick 18-minute running time to paint an impressionistic picture of pain and loneliness. The work is a genuine testament to how the aesthetics of an album, from the artwork to the song titles to the texture of the recording, can complement the music. From the decidedly not-very-metal-yet-perfectly-evocative cover, to the album title, to the distant, lo-fi sound on the album, the whole thing feels like a small, intimate diary of someone's quiet ruminations on sadness. When I listen to a sparse instrumental song called "I've Always Thought I had Time" or a slow-burn piece that builds from and an ambient introduction to a thick wall of distortion by the end titled "Never Worn Wedding Dress,"