Review: Oso Oso, ‘Real Stories Of True People, Who Kind Of Looked Like Monsters’
Written by Mike Moger Edited by Caitlin Kohn
If the band name looks foreign to you (which I would be pleasantly surprised by), it’s simply a name change. If the record title seems long, it’s because it is. If you don’t know who to call... well, listen to “Track One, Side A”, which is probably one of the best songs of 2015. His name is Jade Lilitri (or, if you’re familiar with the band State Lines, Jonathan Dimitri), guitarist/vocalist of the band formerly known as osoosooso, now known as the slightly more grammatical Oso Oso. Either way, there’s two or three bears involved, it just depends who you’re talking to. Now I’m not going to claim an ultimate music hipster status and say that I’ve known the promise of Oso Oso since the beginning, because that’s not true. Luckily for me and my eardrums, I happened to receive an email from Soft Speak’s press contact in late April with a promo of this album and I immediately fell in love with it.
Jade Lilitri’s writing persona may be encased in mystery, but it is quite obvious from the songs on ‘Real Stories of True People Who Kind of Looked Like Monsters’ that he is a genius when it comes to pop-influenced songwriting. If State Lines focuses on the edgier side of Jon, then Oso Oso sure wavers over into clearer waters inside of Jade. I love this tactic, as it allows for each band to own their personal identity, even with the same physical person handling the songwriting duties. That being said, the latter is no stranger to crafting absolute punk-bangers such as the late bloomer of “This Must Be an Entrance”, one of my favorites on the record. So which side do I prefer? From the play counts in my iTunes, Oso Oso is definitely winning due to their ability to embrace the absolute best parts of pop and punk without succumbing to the pitfalls that each suffer from all-too-easily.
It all starts with a single, lightly crunched, reverberated guitar. Then silence, and more palm mutes. Starts again. And finally, blossoms into a rhythm of marching-band drum beats and perfectly syncopated bass notes. Jade delivers the first words of the album: “your hands were cold, sitting on the but you never felt so...so alone, so out of touch, so far from home. We could all recollect, go somewhere they forget and you don’t know. How to guide the highs and lows. And when it all falls in on itself, you’ve gotta cushion the fall. Well when it all falls in on itself, you know who to call.” And then it happens; an explosion into a wonderfully lush and vibrant chorus, or so you would think. It’s all facade, you see, because Oso Oso have snuck in an even bigger chorus and ending into the masterful album opener that is “Track One, Side A.” Ever since the announcement of the record, I have been waiting for this track to be upgraded to a full-fledged single, but with only one week until release, Jade and company have seemingly held their trump close to the chest. I say kudos to this strategy, as it further surrounds the mystery around a band that is way too talented at the execution of astounding songwriting to not be more well-known.
Among the singles that were released (”Another Night”, “Josephine”, and “Where You’ve Been Hiding”), the stand-out has to be the slow brooding “Where You’ve Been Hiding” which starts slow with a bending and palm-muted guitar riff and Jade’s croons amidst the mix. The song doesn’t reveal its quite clever chorus until about halfway through the song, but it’s well worth it after the build up: “Well I know where you’ve been hiding / all those secrets you’ve been writing down / in that diary you keep, underneath where we sleep / it’s just like dying, but the words won’t come out.” Of the stories on this record, my favorite - and one I’d love to hear more insight about - is the one from “Josephine” which has, presumably, Jade interacting with the titular character: “Josephine, seven years older; was caught off guard when you asked me to come over. Not really sure what we’re hanging out for, but you’re talking in the hall, so I’ll listen through the door.” Again in a brilliant method storytelling and songwriting, the narrative flows beautifully over the almost 4-minute song. Musically, the best part comes about a minute before the close, and interlude of sorts with alternating guitar and a break before the ending riff while gang vocals deliver the chilling line in “and it crawls awayyyy.” It’s just so good, damn.
Maybe it’s my affinity towards similar looking song titles, or my ever-faithful devotion to multi-parters (see Dance Gavin Dance’s “The Robot With Human Hair” series for the best example), but I really enjoy the wordplay going on with the trio of “This Must Be’s” that close out the record. Stylistically they’re individual efforts with personalities as different as night and day; you have the quintessential motif about always ending up at parties even though you hate them in “This Must Be a Place”, the 59-second banger filled with bass slides, overly distorted guitars, and gang vocals of “This Must Be an Entrance”, and finally the acoustic and highly personal ending of “This Must Be My Exit”, but together they’re the success story of the album due to just how talented Oso Oso are at telling a story through clever songwriting. These closing tracks certainly prove that the dual-dynamic of both pop and punk influences, given the right lyricist, can be ultimately more enjoyable than a simple pick-and-choose approach of the genres. If ‘Self-titled’ was a more experimental gesture, then ‘Real Stories’ is its antithesis and counterpart; this is an album crafted with careful expertise and it will definitely pay off in the long run.
Ever accessible and relatable, Oso Oso have strung together a batch of 11 killer emo/punk songs which function as strongly on their own as they do when sequenced together. The narrative ebbs in a third person omniscient, with Jade as their collective voice backed by some stellar and clever vocals to fill out a little more. Perhaps my favorite of these moments is during the chorus of “How It Happened”, where the backing vocals repeat “oh no, oh so” just as Jade croons “I’ve tried it all and I’m oh so tired of everything”, creating the immaculate experience that is the utterance of a band name in their own song. Sure it may seem a tad gimmicky, but you can’t help but be really proud at them for this feat and smile when you realize it, I know I did. The storyteller narrator is definitely something which Jade has mastered in his arsenal of songwriting tactics, and it’s not the typical tropes you see in most washed-up pop punk lyric booklets, they’re real stories...of true people, who probably did kind of look like monsters. (C’mon that was a good one!!). Pay attention to Oso Oso, this record is 2015′s ‘Home, Like Noplace Is There.’ 5/5
Writer’s note: It was my pleasure to conduct an interview with Jade as well, in which I asked him a few questions to key into the writing process and exactly what some of the concepts and lyrics mean on ‘Real Stories of True People Who Kind of Looked Like Monsters.’ For this reason and a few others (the sad fact that Oso Oso aren’t as well known as I would hope so lyrics aren’t available online and my pre-order hasn’t come yet), I cannot do a full lyrical analysis at the time of this writing, nor would it do justice without hearing from the storyteller himself.. So I'll leave you, the reader, to explore the many stories hidden within this record.
RE: Wishing I could just stop wishing I was punk rock
Written by Joel Funk Edited By Caitlin Kohn
I’ve seen a lot of people in the scene that are either my age or just a little older that have seemed to (quite literally) fall back at shows. The blame is assigned to bad backs, weak knees, adult responsibilities, or any other myriad of completely logical culprits. Sure, I understand it. Hell, I even gave it a shot pretty recently. On Friday, May 22nd, I saw You Me and Everyone We Know, Daisyhead, and Future Crooks in Poughkeepsie and decided to give this thing a go.
I’ll even go so far as to admit that watching from the back of a venue as small as The Loft doesn’t make a tremendous literal difference, but a difference is still made. I was able to enjoy Future Crooks from the back end of a venue, sing along to the songs in the set list that I did know, and actually talk to the people I came with. It was a different experience than I was used to for sure...and I didn’t hate it. So, I let it continue through most of Daisyhead’s set.
I watched Daisyhead perform from the merch tables. I was half paying attention while eyeing the merch I knew I would be leaving with. They were great, but lacked a lot of crowd interaction besides asking about how to pronounce Poughkeepsie (Puh-Kip-See) at the beginning of their set. This adopted mindset worked out well for me here, because I can’t imagine how I would have felt being pressed against the stage for a set that I wasn’t totally invested in.
In the back of my head, I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to watch You Me and Everyone We Know play from the back of the venue. I meandered to the front of the stage as kids shifted from the stage to merch. I’m sure that the same people I see praising this back of the venue shift have similar exceptions. I had to be at the front so that I could pour my heart out to these guys and sing/yell back every single word to every single song until I could feel my voice start to fade.
I didn’t care about having to work the next day or that my ears were still ringing when I clocked in. What I cared about was the set, the band, and making sure they were clear that they mean the world to me. I mean, that is the point of it all, right?
When I left the show, the people I went with teased (as expected) about just how into the set I was. Like I said, I can only imagine what a jackass I must have looked like during the set. If the way I felt was any indication of how I looked, I’m glad I could put on a show for them. The thing is: as Ben [Liebsch, vocalist]’s energy just seemed to increase, I subconsciously felt the need to match it. The crazier he got, the louder I sang and the more I just let go.
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that he performed from the crowd and made the whole experience feel incredibly intimate, but this was without a doubt the best show of my life.
So, will I be re-visiting the back of the venue in the near future? Absolutely. It allows for me to enjoy the bands I came to see without having to compete with kids or be held against the stage for bands that I don’t care for. I can pay attention when I want to and socialize when I don’t. It’s a great place to view the show as an adult, but it will never replace being right in the front of things and getting crazy with a band that you love.
The tl;dr version of this is as follows.
Enjoying the set from the back of the venue is fine and great. I completely understand why more and more of my peers have started this shift at this point in their lives, but don’t be afraid to let your love for the music take precedence every once in a while. The memories you make in that moment will outweigh the backaches. Believe me.
Spring is the timeframe in which everything starts to feel renewed. The harsh disparity of winter has finally been shed, and life is starting to be seen again. The warmth of the sun on our skin always feels better than we remember, and shakes us out of the tumultuous mindset that months of sheer cold tend to leave us in. We begin to pine for the feeling of ease and lightheartedness, and music is always an incredible place to begin that journey. Music has always been there for me in times of transition, and I know that it always will be. In terms of the changing of the seasons, the style of music I’m consuming usually changes.
I wouldn’t say that I hop between genres, so much as stylistic differences within the genres that I’m already consuming. For instance, every season has it’s go to album in my library. Winter has The Hotelier’s ‘Home Like Noplace Is There’, Fall has Moose Blood’s ‘I’ll Keep You In Mind, From Time to Time’, Summer has I Can See Mountains’ ‘Life On A Houseboat’, and until recently, Spring had been left empty. So, I won't go so far as to say that hearing Nai Harvest’s new album ‘Hairball’ when I did was fate, but it couldn’t have happened at a better time.
Last July, Nai Harvest released a split with Playlounge that featured a song called “Buttercups.” This wasn’t the first Nai Harvest song to hit my ears, but it was the one that made me want to start paying attention. The version of the song on the split sounds a little rougher than the album recording, but the effect is still very much there. This song just feels good and if the riffy backbone of the song doesn’t draw you in, hopefully the lyrics will. There’s just something about that chorus of “I just wanna know what it feels like/Take me to the place where it’s alright/Lend me a hand and watch me run/I don’t wanna feel like a lowlife/Stab me in the chest with your knife/Fill me up again with buttercups” that feels absolutely magical.
The vocals on this record are the best that I’ve heard from Nai Harvest, and that has played a huge role in why I keep coming back to this record. I keep describing their sound as “Oasis...but actually talented”, which has earned me just enough flack as it has agreeance. They both boast this nasally delivery that will either be hit or miss with a lot of listeners, but a lot of the songs on ‘Hairball’ could very easily win initial naysayers over. Album opener “Spin” is a great example. This is our first taste of the crisp production this record has, and then you’re hit with those vocals and everything just falls into place. If you’re not singing along on repeat listens, I feel for you, because you’re missing out on an incredible record.
There are songs on here that feel like bonafide radio hits. They feel like songs that you could turn all the way up, with the windows down, and drive aimlessly with friends while listening too. It’s a very specific feeling, but it exists on this album. The songs in question are “Melanie”, “Ocean of Madness”, and “Gimme Gimme.”
The first of the three is uptempo and feels chaotic at times as it begs for you to sing along. The chorus repeats the simple “You want it/You need it/You love it” that will be stuck in your head in a matter of seconds. Towards the middle of the song, we’ve got the stark and simple “Melanie, I want to be free” that practically begs for listeners to be yell/singing along too.
“Ocean of Madness” is the best song that Nai Harvest has ever written. The opening riff feels like a culmination of influences spanning the indie pop they now write, to the twinkly and well crafted stylings of modern emo. The verses feel bouncy and fun and lead you into the huge chorus of this song. It’s the easiest to sing along to, and with lines like “Don’t let me drown in an ocean of madness/I want to swim in an ocean of you” only help make the case for this band to explode. There’s no reason for this song to not hit airwaves. It’s huge, it’s catchy, and it’s written well enough that kids that love pop music would eat it up in a heartbeat.
“Gimme Gimme” is just fun. You don’t even need to pay attention to the rest of the lyrics, because once you realize that the “Gimme Gimme” is going to start almost every line of the song, you just surrender to the vibe. The song is carefree and fun. It feels just as full of life as those sunbeams that kiss your arms. ‘Hairball’ should see Nai Harvest being hailed as some of the best songwriters in their genre, because this album is just hit after hit after hit.
I’m still surprised at just how much I truly enjoy ‘Hairball.’ Nai Harvest wasn’t even a blip on the radar for me until this album cycle, and now, they’ve been welcomed into my seasonal rotation. This band is going to go places. Like I’ve already said, there’s no reason that at least one of these songs shouldn’t see the airwaves. Nai Harvest can write a mean pop song, and I hope the world is ready for them, because they show no signs of slowing down. 5/5
When I was first coming into playing in bands at about 14 years old, the first one I ended up in was a “post-hardcore” band, which I say lightly because we had no idea how to write a song, of any genre. I was told about bands like The Devil Wears Prada, Drop Dead, Gorgeous, From First to Last, and Attack Attack! These bands all had one thing I noticed about them; they were all signed to the same label, Rise Records. I remembered the name, and soon it became a household name for me. Rise Records always tends to get a bad rap for being the one stop shop for cookie-cutter, trend hopping acts, but Dance Gavin Dance is one of those bands that prove that how untrue that actually is.
The first time I ever caught Dance Gavin Dance live, I had already missed Jonny Craig leaving the band, Kurt Travis’ two-album journey, and Jonny Craig coming back to the band. It was 2011, and I was at the Buffalo date of Warped Tour. I was sunburnt, and the amphitheater had shade. So I sat and watched Dance Gavin Dance play. Damn, I had been missing out. Dance Gavin Dance’s mixture of post-hardcore, progressive, and soulful groove was something that I could get into. After that show, I listened to every Dance Gavin Dance album, finding different nuances I liked about every different combination of members they’ve had. Fast forward to 2015, Jonny Craig came and went again, and Tilian Pearson has taken the reigns of lead vocals. With already one new album under their belt, 2013’s Acceptance Speech, Dance Gavin Dance is here to show that Instant Gratification is what this band has become, and that they’re confident in what they do.
The album kicks off with “We Own the Night,” and immediately you can feel that the album is exactly what you wanted to hear from DGD. Tilian has really found where his voice fits in the band, and he starts right at minute one, painting a picture with help from Will Swan’s whimsical, but precise guitar work. Soon, you hear the grit of Jon Mess’ yells, and the frantic beating of Matt Mingus’ drums pounding away, and the picture of what the album is all about has taken shape. From there, the record continues to move forward through “Stroke God, Millionaire” and “Something New,” both great tracks, playing heavily on Dance Gavin Dance’s very sexual lyrical themes, much like twisted love songs. “On The Run,” the fourth track on the album, was the first one I actually heard when they released it as a single a few months back. It reminds me of a more thought out version of DGD’s last album, Acceptance Speech. Good to sing along to, good to get a crowd moving.
Now, the thing about this band is that they’ve always been able to seamlessly blend harsh, chaotic yelling with flowing, airy melodies that leave the listener feeling as though they’ve been thrown some of wild carnival ride. No track shows this better than “Shark Dad.” It starts off sounding like a warped love letter, or a relationship going astray, and quickly spirals down into a hectic, yet pinpointed attack of guitar and screams like a person realizing they have nothing left. When Jon Mess screams the lyrics, “She said I was something like a filler on her molar, a hibernating Siamese twin on her shoulder,” you can really feel the anguish of a love gone bad, and the anger of losing something you thought was special. In my opinion, this song is the best the record has to offer. It really showcases the spectrum of sounds this band can work flawlessly into one cohesive, yet freely moving swirl of emotion.
There’s one aspect of Dance Gavin Dance’s discography that I haven’t really touched on until now, and that’s the slight hip-hop feeling to it. I’d say closer to the way Gym Class Heroes utilizes hip-hop, rather than Run DMC or something like that. The thing about this is that it works, when you think about it. Jonny Craig, and now Tilian Pearson, always seemed to have a soulful, R&B vocal approach to me. It would pair perfectly to have some hip-hop blended into the mix. That’s the job of Will Swan, Dance Gavin Dance’s secret weapon. Swan handles the bulk of songwriting duties, and it shows in his particular way of writing guitar. On top of that, he also raps. In the past, we saw his rapping on tracks like “Powder to the People” and “Acceptance Speech.” This album showcases his skills in “Eagle vs Crows,” and it is probably the best he’s sounded rapping on any of their albums. I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw a Will Swan solo rap album in the future, so keep on the lookout for that, dropping on his label Blue Swan Records (yes, that exists, and you should probably check it out for a few amazing bands).
The album closes with the track “Lost,” which effectively sums up everything I feel when I listen to a Dance Gavin Dance album. 1) This band grooves like nobody’s business, 2) Will Swan writes some of the sexiest riffs and solos, 3) Tilian Pearson has amazing range, and 4) Jon Mess gets better with every album, seriously. Lastly, I realize that it is nearly impossible for Dance Gavin Dance to make a bad album. Sure, some albums are better than the others, and the fact that they’ve changed members like a baseball team can deter some listeners. Through all that, they just keep coming back and giving their best. I would strongly suggest you pick up this album. 5/5
