A Final Word On The Band Called Snowing

(or, A Brief History Of My Experience With Punk)

I’m currently sitting in a basement in Wilmington, Delaware, about thirty miles outside of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. In a matter of hours, Pennsylvanian emo punks Snowing will play their final show ever, or, as Dan Bassini put it on his facebook page, “until they have a reunion show a year from now”. Like Bassini, many people seem to be taking this breakup rather lightly, perhaps no one more than the band members themselves. In a statement posted on their last.fm page, a representative from the band wrote, ”Snowing has come to an end at the ripe old age of 3 and a half (that’s over 90 in emo years!).” On their facebook page, the band has been similarly humorous and deadpan. In response to one fan’s mournful question as to why they broke up, the group replied “We certainly did this only to punish you.”

But all joking aside, Snowing’s breakup deals a significant blow to the emo revival movement and the overall wellbeing of the northeast underground. When Snowing rose out of the ashes of Street Smart Cyclist in 2008, the band was poised to take Street Smart’s emo revival vision beyond the Pennsylvania valley. With the surprisingly successful Fuck Your Emotional Bullshit 7”, released on Count Your Lucky Stars and Square of Opposition in 2009, Snowing did just that, stimulating the genre with a lo-fi mix of twinkly guitars, rough vocals, and bitingly self-deprecating lyrics. The scene’s momentum arguably peaked in early 2011, with the vinyl release of Snowing’s I Could Do Whatever I Wanted If I Wanted, but has been stalled in recent months by a series of unfortunate breakups. Between May and October of this year, such underground powerhouses as My Heart To Joy and Grown Ups have disbanded due to creative differences or internal conflicts. Announced in September, Snowing’s demise was the worst news yet.

The band had spent much of the past year touring behind I Could Do Whatever I Wanted…, which had been warmly received. It placed at #8 on my top 10 list for last year, and when it was issued on vinyl in the subsequent months after its digital release, the group’s fan base broadened considerably. As they gained blog notoriety, their last.fm play count inched towards 1 million plays, a landmark reached by only one of their immediate peers, fellow Pennsylvania punks Algernon Cadwallader. 860,000 plays is an impressive number, considering that Snowing’s official discography amounts to only seventeen songs. As a band at the forefront of an underground movement, Snowing’s breakup could yield unfortunate consequences for the already unstable scene.

Although I recognize the negative cultural impact of Snowing’s breakup, my personal feelings regarding the matter are more mixed. Snowing is a band that has been very important to me for a long time, but with whom I have not always had a consistently good relationship. The group first entered my life in the early autumn of 2010, when I was first getting into emotive hardcore. I had gone through Cap’n Jazz and Sunny Day Real Estate in the June, explored The Promise Ring in July, and obsessed over American Football as the summer faded in August, but by September I had neglected to even consider modern emo. My vision of emo in the 21st century was still informed by what I had seen in the malls of my home state of Connecticut: scene girls and boys wearing My Chemical Romance hoodies and neon colored Chuck Taylor’s, whining and complaining about their incredibly privileged suburban lives while perpetuating the played-out, childish notion that the world doesn’t understand.

I came across Snowing by chance on a certain online music forum, and downloaded their demo largely because of its enticing name. By name, Fuck Your Emotional Bullshit seemed to be a rejection of the vision of emo that those scene kids had projected. Little did I know that in the years after mall-core “emo” faded from the mainstream, bands like Snowing had effectively re-appropriated the term and restored dignity to the near-universally maligned word. By the time I realized this, it was October or November, and the word had gotten out that Snowing would be releasing a full-length follow up to their 5 song demo. I Could Do Whatever I Wanted If I Wanted was released digitally in late November 2010. Its release made for a late-year highlight, and prompted the first album review that I wrote for this blog that I remain incredibly proud of. 

With I Could Do Whatever I Wanted, Snowing provided one of the first great underground punk albums released under my watch. The next month, they also provided me with one of my first great underground punk shows, effectively indoctrinating me into a scene that I hadn’t before known the existence of, or at least the scope of. The band played a now legendary show (pictured above) in New Haven, Connecticut, on December 30th, with Castevet, Stay Ahead Of The Weather, Midi & The Modern Dance, and a then-fledgling band from Willimantic called The World Is A Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid To Die. The show took place at a then-new house venue called The Cookie Jar, which was home to a group of Connecticut punks including the late, great Mitchell Dubey, who was tragically murdered there just three months later. It amazed me that such a thriving and lively musical community existed in my own back yard, and was welcoming me like an old friend. Along with Mitch, Andy, Emily, Greg, and Katie, I absolutely have to thank Snowing for opening that world up to me. 

But just as the emo revival movement as a whole reached a peak and eventually began to implode in the subsequent months, my relationship with Snowing peaked and deteriorated in a similar way. When Mitch was killed, the punk community was dealt a huge blow on the local, regional, and even national levels. I don’t want to assert that it was entirely responsible for the deterioration of emo revival in the Northeast, but I can absolutely say that Mitch’s murder left the scene much more vulnerable than it was when I entered it. Although I would say that the scene has rallied in the months since that horrible night in March, it has come out looking and sounding very different. In the months afterwards, an unprecedented misery overhung every local show I attended. Just one month earlier, Mitch’s friends and one of his favorite bands My Heart To Joy announced their breakup with a cryptic and, in retrospect, chilling message on their tumblr page: “Everything comes with an expiration date.”

Their final show, which was scheduled for a May 14th date in Madison, was refitted as a Mitch Dubey benefit show, with all proceeds going towards his family. The show featured a stellar lineup that included a who’s who of Northeast and Midwest punk, including Into It. Over It., Algernon Cadwallader, and, more to the point, Snowing. Although the show itself reaffirmed my faith in the resilience of the punk community, I left it with something of a sour taste in my mouth. I came in to that show more excited to see Snowing than any other group on the lineup, having poured over the I Could Do Whatever I Wanted If I Wanted lyric sheet and prepared myself for a night of crowd surfing and rowdiness. I shouted and screamed along to their excellent live set, rejoicing as they pulled out older songs and threw in a cover of Guided By Voices excellent “Game Of Pricks”. After the set, I bought two records, stickers, and a t-shirt. I felt accepted and validated, and I felt solidarity in the support of all the other people at the show. 

As I approached singer/bassist John Galm after the band’s set to introduce myself and thank him for all of the things that I undoubtedly owe to his band, he seemed a little caught off guard, but was otherwise easy to talk to and seemed rather happy. As my friend and I continued to talk to him, we found it surprising how open he was with us. In retrospect, our surprise was not unfounded. I woke up the following day with a lengthy and confusing facebook message from Galm himself, whom I had friended and messaged the previous night saying that it was nice meeting him at the show. I’ve long since deleted the message from my folder, but I still think about it a lot. It was a very reactionary and self-conscious message, which claimed that I had invaded his personal space and made him feel extremely uncomfortable and potentially terrible. I found this hugely unfair and incredibly disparaging, considering that he hadn’t given me that impression at all when we were actually talking, and for a while I couldn’t bring myself to listen at all to the same music which I had been playing nearly constantly for the past six months. I felt very alienated, bitter, and confused by our subsequent online exchange, and in some ways I still am. 

I’ve thought a lot about that night, and what I could have done differently, but I can’t bring myself to identify any major faults of my own. For a long time during my period of bitterness, I wrote John Galm off as a self-important asshole — a victim to the anti-rockstar image that punk thrives on. But through a number of enlightening conversations, I eventually came to a different conclusion. Ironically, in spite of all of the time I had spent listening to and memorizing the lyrics of Snowing’s songs, I had neglected to consider where those lyrics were coming from. There is a lot of resentment, bitterness, anger, depression, and self-hate pressed into both of Snowing’s records. In Snowing’s music, Galm’s pain is displayed at face value, but when I met him, it was almost completely hidden. I now feel regret and guilt for not recognizing this prior to our meeting. Although someone’s actions can’t be justified or excused by their problems, no matter how deep-seeded they may be, they can be understood. I can’t claim to understand John Galm any more than anyone else he met on tour once, but I can understand why he acted the way he did to me. This is a truth that I haven’t been able to properly articulate until right now, sitting alone in this basement listening to those Snowing records.

It’s interesting the way things come full circle. When I originally set out to write this piece, which I will admit has turned out to be rather formless, I was not particularly upset that I will not be attending the band’s final show tonight. Now that I’ve finished it, I almost wish I could drive to Philadelphia right now only to reintroduce myself to the band for one last, fresh start. And yet, if I could have attended the show, I probably would not have been able to articulate these thoughts the way I now can. I suppose it’s too late to entertain such thoughts anyway. Honestly, maybe it’s better this way. I mean, what could be a better way to pay tribute to an emo band breaking up than sitting alone in my basement listening to their records and writing a lengthy, overwrought, and emotional piece about what they mean to me? It’s not very fun, but neither is Snowing’s music. At least it’s probably better than spending time with my family. 

Oh god, look what you’ve done to me now, Snowing. If there is anything that emo bands have failed to teach me, it’s how to write a good ending. Just as I imagine the members of Snowing will feel some degree of uncertainty tomorrow about what to do next, I’m met with the same lack of closure and uncertainty of purpose. Rest in peace to the band that always mattered to me more than I gave them credit for. See you in hell (or at some venue in Philadelphia when you reunite next year). 

I guess I’ll end with some lyrics. I’m not as destroyed by this breakup as some others undoubtedly are, but I can certainly imagine that there are people identifying with this particular song from Fuck Your Emotional Bullshit right now.

“And what did you think I would do after you left? Would I stay sober? I think it’d be much worse. I’d cut my arms off. No regeneration”

R.I.P. Mikey Welsh

I always wondered who the guy on the far left of Weezer’s 2001 self-titled album cover was. I knew it couldn’t be former bassist Matt Sharp, who left the band after touring behind 1996’s Pinkerton, and it certainly didn’t look like their current bassist Scott Shriner. Well apparently his name is Mikey Welsh, and he died last night at the age of 40.

Welsh joined the band after their late-90s hiatus, and played bass on The Green Album. He suffered a nervous breakdown after the album’s release, and quit the band in August 2001. He retired from music in 2002, and pursued a new career as a visual artist. A drug overdose is suspected as the cause of his death. 

Check out a video of Weezer performing “Hash Pipe” with Welsh at the 2001 MTV Movie Awards below. Welsh provides a powerful bassline and backing harmonies. 

R.I.P. R.E.M. (1980-2011)

This one hit me hard. College rock progenitors R.E.M. have just announced on their website and facebook page that they have “decided to call it a day as a band.” This news comes after a busy year for the group, which included the release of a new (and final) studio album Collapse Into Now in March, and the unveiling of a series of music videos for every song on the record.

While this decision makes sense from the band’s perspective, it still feels like it’s coming from out of left field. For many people, R.E.M. has been an institution that has soldiered on for over thirty years through bouts of massive popularity and stylistic change, always keeping their artistic integrity preserved and intact. Personally, they’ve been my favorite band for as long as I can remember listening to music. My first journey into music writing was actually an ambitious R.E.M. discography review over at the forum Musicbanter which was never completed. Feel free to check it out HERE to see what my writing style was like as a fourteen year old. It makes me really nostalgic to look back on that and remember the connections that I made with this band’s music at that age. 

To date, I consider their first four records to be essentially perfect, in addition to their dark, mid-career masterpiece Automatic For The People, and I have found something to appreciate in all of their work. With fifteen full-length studio albums to their name, R.E.M. will undoubtedly be remembered by many as one of the great indie rock bands of all time, both for their supremacy over the 80s underground scene, and for their graceful transition to superstardom. 

Regarding the breakup and the relationship between the band members, guitarist Peter Buck said it best:

“Mike, Michael, Bill, Bertis, and I walk away as great friends. I know I will be seeing them in the future, just as I know I will be seeing everyone who has followed us and supported us through the years. Even if it’s only in the vinyl aisle of your local record store, or standing at the back of the club: watching a group of 19 year olds trying to change the world.”

Perhaps it’s appropriate, then, to look back on the group’s own roots, when R.E.M.’s members themselves were those “19 year olds trying to change the world.” Here’s a clip of the band from their first televised performance in 1983, playing their 1981 debut single “Radio Free Europe” on the David Letterman show.

Snowing Announce Break Up (Sort of)

The official word is not out yet, but according to a pretty credible source, a.k.a. singer John Galm himself, apparently the Pennsylvania-based emo revival band Snowing has just broken up. This is a shame, because Snowing was one of the first bands in the modern emo scene that I ever got into, and I have a lot of memories associated with their music. Some of you might remember that their 2010 album I Could Do Whatever I Wanted If I Wanted was one of my favorite albums of last year, and their 2009 Fuck Your Emotional Bullshit demo was pretty excellent too. I got to see them live twice in the past year: once at The Cookie Jar (which is where I took the above photo) in December, and once at My Heart To Joy’s final show in March.

So anyway, R.I.P. Snowing. John Galm is still kind of a dick.

Amy Winehouse - Back To Black (2006)

Like I’m sure countless others have done across the globe in light of her death today, I pulled out my copy of Amy Winehouse’s multi-platinum selling album Back To Black earlier today and spun it for the first time in at least a year. I suppose that in a way, it’s kind of screwed up that it took Amy Winehouse’s death for me to give this album a fresh listen. Although I’d heard bits of the record everywhere from my parents’ friends houses (ironically, the 40-somethings I know seem to think that it works perfectly as a soundtrack to their suburban dinner parties) to the supermarket, my opinion of Back To Black and Amy Winehouse herself was still largely based on the impressions that I had listening to this album as a child back in 2006, when my father first became obsessed with it. Listening to it now as a more mature individual, appreciative of its cultural significance and aware of its context in the global pop lexicon of the past decade, I think that I understand it (and again, Winehouse herself) a lot more. 

Hindsight is also particularly enlightening in the case of Back To Black. As the last official release before her death, and certainly the definitive example of her commercial and critical success, Back To Black will inextricably be tied to her death, not to mention the tumultuous series of events that invariably lead up to it, regardless of what the official cause of death ends up being. Sex, all those drugs, the countless parties, rejected “Rehab”, and yes, love — or whatever her highly publicized marital struggles amounted to — it’s all represented here, sitting squarely in the mix on top of those squawking vintage horns. That absolutely golden soul voice. It’s no wonder why it all sounded so genuine.

But authenticity would be nothing without good tunes to convey it. Most importantly, this record is really, really good. Tragically — although this tragedy is not quite as tragic as her death, but perhaps more surprising — I never appreciated the genius behind the album until today. I’m sure I’m reiterating some 5-Star Rolling Stone review or whatever from back when they first got to feast on this record five years ago, but now is probably as good a time as ever to do so. Certainly, Back To Black would be nothing without the Winehouse character, but it wouldn’t be half the record it ended up being had it not been for the contributions of producer Mark Ronson. Full-sounding and more than a little dirty, the post-modern production perfectly contrasts with the harshly modernistic tone of Winehouse’s lyrics. 

Perhaps from another perspective, the production and the lyrics don’t contrast at all. Although the musical sounds and the lyrical references on this album seem to come from different eras, the sentiment that they both express is universal. For instance, the palpable punch of the piano chords that open album’s title track conveys the same unsubtle vulgarity as the song’s first line — “He left no time to regret / Kept his dick wet”. Elsewhere on Back To Black, musical inflections further corroborate lyrical themes. The “humph” of the bass saxophone on “You Know I’m No Good” is particularly notable, as it seems to support the song’s titular statement and the subsequent evidence for it the way a backup singer would never be able to.

Because of her death, Winehouse (and of course, this album) will be looked back on as a key figure in the 21st century pop scene, whether you like it or not. Although her contemporaries Adele and Duffy have been somewhat tight-lipped as to just how much credit they owe Winehouse for their respective successes, other megastars of pop have gone out on a limb in support of her. Most notable of all is Lady Gaga, who has pointedly praised Winehouse for proving that women with unconventional personas can make it big — and not just big, but really huge — in the pop landscape. If this is the legacy of the British soul revival singer, I have no qualms, but I think that’s only half the story.

While Winehouse herself was certainly a unique character in life, the unique nature of Back To Black is much more subtle. Like The White Stripes before her, Winehouse never intended to make a particularly nostalgic record in Back To Black, but invariably started a widespread “revival” movement solely on the sheer strength of the album. In a sense, she did not just prove that unconventional women could be successful in pop; she proved that something as played out and conventional-sounding as soul music could be as fresh and unique as it was in its heyday, as long as someone truly special is behind the mic. Love her or hate her, Amy Winehouse was that truly special someone. She will be missed, even if you don’t know it yet. 

8/10

Left of the Dial Radio Playlist - 3/25/11 (For Mitch)

I hosted my radio show last night on WNHU in West Haven in honor of Mitchell Dubey, who was tragically killed on Thursday night in his house in New Haven. Among many other things, was a vital member of the Connecticut underground music scene and an incredible person overall. If you would like to voice your thoughts about how Mitch affected you personally, or if you just want to find some closure in the midst of this terrible event, head over to Mitch’s facebook page HERE, which has become something of a memorial celebrating his life, and a virtual place for friends and family members to gather.

Although I have personally said a lot about Mitch and the ways in which he affected my life, I don’t think that words could ever really express what this man meant to so many people. For that reason, I played the following songs last night, interspersed with stories and commentary on Mitch’s life and the legacy that he has left behind, which will no doubt remain as Connecticut and the rest of the world begins to recover from this tragedy.

The playlist is below, complete with youtube links when available. You can download a mix of these songs, sans commentary, at a mediafire link HERE. It’s properly formatted with the right tags and everything. 

1. Low - “Words”
2. Cymbals Eat Guitars - “Cold Spring”
3. The National and Sharon Van Etten - “Think You Can Wait”
4. Panda Bear - “Surfer’s Hymn”
5. Ted Leo and the Pharmacists - “Under the Hedge”
6. By Surprise - “Motor Away” (Guided By Voices cover)
7. The World Is A Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die - “Walnut Street Is Dead (Long Live Walnut Street)”
8. Snowing - “Malk It”
9. Sirs - “Hand Check, No Hands”
10. Wingnut Dishwashers Union - “Proudhon In Manhattan”
11. The Mountain Goats - “Jenny”
12. Midi & The Modern Dance - “I’m Sure You’ll Call”
13. My Heart to Joy - “Giving My Hands Away”
14. Elliott Smith - “Rose Parade”
15. The Dismemberment Plan - “You Are Invited”
16. Sebadoh - “Willing to Wait”
17. The Replacements - “Androgynous”
18. Hour of the Star - “Rootbeer and Running Shoes”
19. American Football - “The Summer Ends”
20. Galaxie 500 - “Isn’t It A Pity” (George Harrison Cover)
21. Swear Jar - “…And Peanut Butter”
22. Sparklehorse - “Sad and Beautiful World”
23. Radiohead - “No Surpises”
24. Built to Spill - “Things Fall Apart”
25. Modest Mouse - “Bankrupt on Selling”
26. Red House Painters - “Take Me Out”
27. Eels - “P.S. You Rock My World”
28. Carissa’s Wierd - “They’ll Only Miss You When You Leave”

Download the mix HERE. Rest in Peace Mitch.