rock

Nits: The Most European Pop Band There Is

Posted on by patrickdonders

The Nits have been one of the most innovative Dutch pop bands since the late seventies. Innovative not because they have spent nearly five decades chasing novelty, but because they have never stopped reinventing themselves. What began as a sound with strong echoes of Kraftwerk moved through New Wave and Art Pop and has, by now, arrived somewhere in a landscape of ambient storytelling.

In terms of creativity and carefully directed spontaneity, I sometimes think of Talking Heads and David Byrne, only without the funk. There is a similar refusal to settle into a recognizable formula, a similar sense that every album should somehow create its own little world. I could also point to Joe Jackson and his restless drive to explore new musical territory, but comparisons ultimately miss the point. Because what makes Nits so interesting is precisely that they don’t really sound like anybody else.

And perhaps that is because they may be the most European pop band there is.

Their music doesn’t have its roots primarily in American blues, jazz or rock & roll. Its foundations lie just as much in the European avant-garde, classical and art music, and, inevitably, The Beatles and The Kinks are part of the equation too, as they are the inspiration for all good pop bands. But even more than in the music, their European identity reveals itself in the lyrics. Nits songs are populated by people going to a play in Helsinki, taking a train to Switzerland, living behind the Dutch dikes, or discovering that in the Netherlands every little boy is expected to join a football club, including the ones who would rather not.

Those are just a few of the subjects that appear on In the Dutch Mountains, the 1987 album that marked the band’s commercial peak, at least here in the Netherlands, and perhaps its artistic peak as well. Because as much as I love many of their songs, I don’t think they ever made a better one than the album’s title track. Not necessarily because it is their most ambitious or adventurous song, but because everything that makes Nits unique seems to come together in those few minutes: the melody, the melancholy, the strangeness, the humour, the unmistakably European imagery and that peculiar ability to turn something very ordinary into something almost mythical.

This blog isn’t meant to be a complete history of Nits. There are plenty of places to find one, and after almost fifty years there would be far too much ground to cover anyway. I mainly want to share my enthusiasm for a band that, I am convinced, could appeal to a much larger audience than the one that currently knows them.

And I want to do that through three of my favourite Nits albums.

They are not necessarily the three albums I would recommend as an introduction to the band. If you don’t know Nits at all and have become curious, there is the excellent compilation Nits Hits. Better still, there is Urk, their magnificent 1989 live album. Start there and you get something close to a map of the Nits universe as it existed at the end of their most celebrated decade.

But my own route leads somewhere else.

TENT is the 1979 debut, and on it you hear a very different Nits to how they sound today, a band much more inspired by Kraftwerk than by the Sex Pistols. A few years ago, Nits decided to revisit their earliest records and perform the first few albums live in their entirety. During rehearsals they made an amusing discovery: it had seemed like a great idea, until they realised that the songs were considerably more complicated to play than they remembered.

And perhaps that tells you something important about TENT. The New Wave you hear on the surface may sound angular, immediate and relatively simple, but underneath it is music that is surprisingly intricate and layered. Nits were already thinking like arrangers rather than simply like a New Wave band. In that sense, TENT belongs alongside the records by those more ambitious bands that, while the seventies were still coming to an end, were already busy inventing the sound of the eighties.

And then, then comes Ting.

Released in 1992, Ting feels like the moment when Nits decided to remove almost everything that wasn’t absolutely necessary. Even the title sounds like the record. Ting: the sound of a raindrop, perhaps, or a bicycle passing by, but above all the sound of a piano key being struck.

The piano on this album is extraordinarily clear. On a first listen, its sound may occasionally bring to mind Keith Jarrett’s The Köln Concert or Philip Glass’s solo piano music. I don’t mean that Ting resembles either of them musically in any straightforward sense. It is the physical quality of the piano that creates the association: the touch of the keys, the space around the notes, the way every tone seems to exist for a moment on its own before disappearing.

And that space is essential to Ting. Where other bands might have filled it, Nits use it as an instrument. Songs seem to emerge from silence and retreat into it again. Small sounds suddenly matter. A note, a voice, a piece of percussion, a pause: everything has weight precisely because there is so little competing for your attention.

It is a remarkably restrained record made by a band that, by then, had already proved how much it could do. Ting is interesting because Nits chose instead to show how much they could leave out.

dA dA dA, from 1994, is probably Nits’ most solid album. And by solid, I mean solid in the way Crowded House’s songs and albums are solid: always good, always distinctive, seemingly effortless and built to last. If you stretch that comparison a little further, then Whales of Tadoussac is the album’s Don’t Dream It’s Over. But the difference between those two titles already tells you how limited the shelf life of that comparison is. Crowded House may be a useful reference point for the craftsmanship, but Nits remain far too peculiar to stay inside it for long.

That becomes increasingly clear in the album’s second half, where the band’s more adventurous, artistic side gradually takes over. The songs become less straightforward, the atmosphere stranger, and the record starts moving into territory that could only really belong to Nits. It is also here that Day and the Night, my personal favourite, appears, tucked away in the second half of what I consider one of the high points of their entire oeuvre.

For those of you who have somehow remained unaware of Nits until now, I wish you a very happy journey of discovery.
There is almost fifty years of wonderful, strange and unmistakably European music waiting for you.

Bleu: Finding Joy in the Shadow of Loss

Posted on by patrickdonders

On Sargeant Pepper Grinder, Bleu turns grief into something bright, melodic and deeply human. The album is both a tribute to friends who are no longer here and a celebration of the people, memories and small moments that remain. Wrapped in the kind of irresistible melodies and harmonies that have long defined his songwriting, these are songs that don’t shy away from loss, but refuse to surrender to it either.

We spoke with Bleu about writing through grief, the strange kinship between sadness and power pop, obsessing over songcraft, and why Sargeant Pepper Grinder has ultimately become a memorial to friendship.

Sargeant Pepper Grinder feels like a very personal record. You describe it as an upbeat meditation on death and a celebration of friends who are no longer here. Was making the album a way of dealing with those losses, or did the songs simply become the place where those feelings naturally ended up?

Making this album was definitely a way of “dealing with” (processing, mourning, etc.) several very deep losses. Writing songs for my own artist project has always been a form of therapy for me, but many of these songs were a particularly palpable example of that. The recording process then became a way to commiserate, heal, and deepen connections with my friends who are still here, many of whom were also very close to Ducky and/or Alex “Scootch” Scutro.

Power Pop has always had this wonderful ability to hide sadness inside bright melodies and beautiful harmonies. On this album, though, the emotions feel particularly close to the surface. How do you find the balance between making something musically joyful and allowing the lyrics to be genuinely painful or vulnerable?

That seeming dichotomy is a hallmark of some power-pop that I’ve always loved. Just as humor helps many of us get through painful experiences, exuberant and tuneful music can help lift us from the valleys of crushing loss. I’ve also learned through therapy that two conflicting feelings can legitimately exist at the same time, and I think that juxtaposition brings a deeper meaning to life. But the main reason this album contains so much of that kind of thing is because I wanted to write music that Ducky and Scootch would’ve liked, and neither gravitated to sad-sack songs!

You’ve always been an incredibly melodic songwriter, but on this album the melodies sometimes seem almost deliberately at odds with what you’re singing about. Do you ever start with the emotional weight of a lyric and then look for a melody that gives it some lightness, or does the music usually come first?

When I write for “BLEU” (“me songs”) I almost always start with lyrics, usually a title with a concept, starting with the hook and moving on from there. In the case of this record though, that was obviously in service of conveying some pretty heavy emotions. I think “melodic songwriting” is just part of my DNA, but there’s certainly plenty thought (craft) that goes into melodic shape and in particular melodic-rhythm, and these songs were no exception. Even when I’m writing something heavy and the emotions are flowing, I can’t help but work the songcraft.

You produced and mixed the entire album yourself. Did keeping that process largely in your own hands matter to you, especially with material this personal?

Yes and no. I’m very open to collaboration, and worked with many talented songwriters, musicians, engineers, and Atmos mixers on this album, most of whom I think would agree that they weren’t particularly “over-produced.” But there was no way I wasn’t going to obsess over these songs, and producing and mixing it myself meant I wasn’t unnecessarily bothering other people (haAa!)

Looking across the songs on Sargeant Pepper Grinder, there’s a real sense of finding joy in people, memories and small moments. Did writing these songs change the way you look at those things, or perhaps make you appreciate them differently?

I look at this record now as a memorial. I truly wanted to create a tangible and (hopefully) long lasting tribute to Ducky and Scootch, as well as a heartfelt and healing expression of grief for myself and others. But yes, working on this record was very much a path to creating joy, memories, and small-moments – with my friends and family who are still around.

Little Windows — The Corner Laughers on Concerns of Wasp and Willow

Posted on by patrickdonders


A Chiming Back interview, finding its new home at Sweet Sweet Music Blog.

Karla Kane describes her songs as windows. Small ones, carefully made — you look through them and find yourself inside a world that is unmistakably hers: botanical, seasonal, slightly haunted, and shot through with an unexpected warmth. On Concerns of Wasp and Willow, the sixth album by Northern California’s The Corner Laughers, that world feels more fully realized than ever. Released on Big Stir Records on March 27, 2026, it is a record that begins in a small detail and pulls slowly outward — like a camera finding its frame.

The band — Kane (vocals, ukulele), Khoi Huynh (bass, piano, guitars), KC Bowman (guitars, keyboards) and Charlie Crabtree (drums) — have been crafting their literate, handcrafted folk pop together since the early 2000s. Concerns of Wasp and Willow arrives five years after their pandemic-era Temescal Telegraph, and finds them doing something quietly courageous: releasing something tender and precise into a world that seems to reward neither.

We spoke to Karla Kane about windows, details, and what it means to let a record go.

Your songs feel built from very small, precise details — both lyrically and in the instrumentation. Is it a way of writing, or a way of seeing the world?

I suppose songwriting is a reflection of a way of seeing the world — songs are like little windows. Often my songs seem to start from a small detail and then expand outward, like a camera pulling to a wider shot I guess. We definitely do try to put care into the details.

Listening to Concerns of Wasp and Willow while the world around me seems to be getting louder and cruder — I wonder, how does it feel to release something this tender and precise?

With so much going on in the world, and so many important issues, sometimes it feels a bit silly to even spend time on something like this, or to hope it reaches anyone. But on the other hand, in terms of a louder and cruder world, we’re proud to release something more gentle and thoughtful, too. It might not get much attention but we hope those it does reach will feel it is worthwhile.


The artwork has such a distinctive, immediately recognizable language — it feels like it inhabits the same world as the songs. Is that unity between music and image something you consciously pursue? Or is it more that you tend to draw people around you who feel the same things?

The artwork was created by our dear and brilliant friend Jennifer Rae Atkins, who is currently based in the Netherlands, and I’m so glad you see it as inhabiting the same world as the songs.

I called the songs windows earlier on and I think of the album cover as a visual window into the sonic world of the album, absolutely.

It is something we consciously pursue — I shared not only some of the songs themselves with Jennifer as she was working on the art but also some ideas and imagery that I felt were key.

And then she worked her magic to bring it all to visual life!

Your songs feel like glimpses into the way you see the world. And then you bring them to the rest of the band. How does it go from there?

Yes, whichever of us is the songwriter (me in most of the cases on this album, but there is also a song by Khoi written with our friend Helen Luker and one written by KC) has a demo with the music, lyrics and any production ideas.

Once it’s in the studio with the band, it is further refined and evolves into something more, with all of our fingerprints on it.

The first reviews are coming in. Do they still reach you — or does a record feel finished and separate from you by the time it’s out in the world?

They often do reach us. We’re very thankful for the folks who take time to review and share our work and to Big Stir Records for doing so much to build community! It doesn’t feel separate from us at this point — later on we will get some distance from it, perhaps, but for now I feel very closely connected to it.

Warm Baths & Wide Eyes: Icecream Hands on Songs, Survival, and the Joy of Making Music

Posted on by patrickdonders

As published on the Chiming Back blog on December 1st, 2025.



For this interview with Australian power-pop treasures Icecream Hands, all five members — Marcus, Smiley, Doug, Dave, and Charles — joined in, each taking on one question. The result is a warm, funny, thoughtful conversation about songwriting, survival in a shifting music industry, and the stories behind their latest album Giant Fox Pineapple Tree.

Listening to Giant Fox Pineapple Tree feels like stepping into a warm bath — absolutely wonderful. How challenging is it to stay true to that sound and never compromise on the quality of the songs, the very thing that keeps the bathwater at just the right temperature?

MARCUS: To be honest, it’s no challenge at all really, because the song is everything to us. As a band we are remarkably agreeable about what makes a great song, and with the good fortune to have such incredible songwriters as Charles and Doug, we always have a stack of solid material to choose from and work with. Having played together for so many years now, we just naturally work to our strengths as a band. It’s fair to say the songs always come first, and then we build the sound around them. The sounds and details of production are also very important of course, and we do put a lot of time and thought into that part of the process. But there’s not much point in doing that if the songs are second-rate — that would be like lukewarm bathwater.

You’ve seen the music industry transform completely since the early days of the band. What’s the biggest change you’ve had to navigate — and successfully overcome — in recent years?

SMILEY: The biggest change has been the way music is consumed today. There was a time when you could realistically hope to make a living from record sales, and touring was mainly a way to promote your music — a way to get in front of people rather than your primary income stream. But with the arrival of music-sharing platforms and, ultimately, streaming services, the whole dynamic shifted.

Napster landed in 1999 and introduced the idea of getting music for free — or close to it — through MP3 peer-to-peer downloading. That changed consumer behaviour forever. What grew out of that is today’s streaming landscape. Services like Spotify offer little to no return to the artists whose music they rely on; that, and their unethical support of military AI, is why you won’t find Giant Fox Pineapple Tree on Spotify.

These days, if we want to keep making music, we need to sell out our shows and encourage our fans to buy vinyl, CDs, and digital downloads directly from us or through Bandcamp. We also now handle our own distribution, including international releases. The traditional record-store pathway has fallen back onto the artists themselves — it’s become a bit of a cottage industry.

That said, we’ve moved with the times, and the proof is in the pudding: our recent chart success, cracking the ARIA Top 40 Albums and the Top 10 Australian Albums charts. If I’m not mistaken, we were the only truly independent release in there. Sweet as!





“Now I hear the baby crying” in “Do Ya Feel It” is such a powerful line; it pulls you straight into the story. When you first write a line like that, do you immediately know it can carry the narrative, or does it not work that way?

DOUG: Thanks Patrick. Songs always arrive in different ways for me. It’s usually a melody or a chord pattern that comes along first, and I need to try to get a feeling or an idea into the music. I do tend to struggle to find lyrics that I think are good enough to carry a narrative.

I do tend to want to write words that sound good when they fall out of the mouth, and don’t worry too much about what they mean, as long as they can evoke a feeling.

Funnily enough, that particular line was the only real thing I had. It just kinda popped into my head and it felt good, but it kinda begged the question: “Whose baby is this anyway? And why is it crying?”

I often defer to Charles on these things and asked him if it was a dumb line — I didn’t really know what it meant — and he said, “No, it’s the best line in the song!” So it stayed, and I just had to imagine some kind of scenario in which it could make a little bit of sense.

At the end of the day the song is quite nonsensical really — it’s just about finding a bit of light in the struggle and knowing that better days can come.

Giant Fox Pineapple Tree has just been released and the first reactions are coming in. Do listeners still surprise you with the way they receive the songs — or do you surprise yourself when you revisit the record?

DAVE: You know that wide-eyed, joyous expression people get when you say “Here, try this” and they take their first mouthful of something absolutely delicious that you’ve spent a long time in the kitchen preparing? It’s a lot like that!

The reactions I’ve had from friends, fans, and countrymen have all been really positive and enthusiastically wide-eyed and joyous. One always hopes that everybody will enjoy the fruits of one’s labour, so the responses I’ve encountered to Giant Fox Pineapple Tree have been very satisfying indeed.

I can’t exactly say I’m “surprised” when I listen to this remarkable body of work, as I’ve known each of these songs since they were pups. And honestly, even the home demos sounded bloody fantastic to me! Having said that — Icecream Hands always keep the element of surprise up their sleeve. You just never know what’s coming next!!

I think “Don’t Let the Party Fade Out” has a touch of Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel’s “Make Me Smile” — and I mean that as a genuine compliment. Is that kind of comparison easy to accept, or does it get frustrating when journalists try to put you in a box or reference world-famous hits just to show off their own taste?

CHARLES: I love it when journalists talk about me! And you, Patrick, can show off all you want if you mention “Make Me Smile” and a song of ours in the same sentence. I love that Steve Harley song and the recording of it — as a kid that song had such an exciting “quick, drop everything and race to the radio and turn me up” quality about it. The intro, the pauses, the bup bup bup bup backing vocals, the guitar solo, the Dylanesque delivery — so I love the comparison. I think our recording is also exciting — the drumming, the chord progressions, the lyric, the piano and bass parts, the harmony vocals, and then the guitar stings at the very end. So, many thanks for the compliment; keep them coming, please.

“It Still Rings Completely True” — Rob Bonfiglio on The Over Under.

Posted on by patrickdonders


Rob Bonfiglio’s The Over Under has been out for a while now. I liked it immediately, but after listening to it for a few months, it has become one of those go-to records I return to when I need to recalibrate or reset. It’s the kind of album that reveals more of itself with time.

What makes it particularly striking is how personal it feels: Bonfiglio wrote, recorded and mixed the record largely on his own, following the songs that carried the most weight and trusting his instincts along the way. Months after its release, he remains remarkably close to the album and proud of how faithfully it captures what he wanted to say.

We spoke about the vulnerability of “Need You Know,” the sharper edge of “More Pure Than Gold,” the decision to make the record mostly by himself, and why connecting with listeners ultimately matters more than recognition.

How does The Over Under feel to you now that it has been out for a while and you’ve had some distance from making it?

I felt from the beginning that this record reached a lot deeper than my previous releases. I went into the recording process with maybe 20 or so tunes, and it became clear which ones carried the most gravity.

My recording and mixing process happened concurrently. I’d go on a hike or a drive and listen back to a day’s work to determine where to go next. It all added up to literally thousands of listens.

Even after completing the album, I can still listen through from beginning to end and feel a sense of cohesion. I can honestly say there are very few things I’d have done differently with this album. It still rings completely true to me. I’m really proud of the way it turned out.

“Need You Know” feels like the emotional heart of the album to me. It’s a beautiful, very vulnerable song. Do you remember where that song came from, and did you know while writing it that it could become such a special song on the record?

Thank you so much. “Vulnerable” is a great descriptive. My writing cycles happen in waves and usually bear five or six or more songs at a time. This came out of one of those batches. I don’t recall the initial inspiration beyond the riff that repeats throughout, which always had a Fleetwood Mac-ish vibe to me.

I do recall being satisfied with the simplicity of the form. The lyrics happened pretty quickly and seemed to really get to the point of how I was feeling.


“More Pure Than Gold” feels like the musical and lyrical opposite of “Need You Know” — it’s sharp, angry and quite political. What was your state of mind when you wrote that song? Was it something that came more from the heart, or more from the head?

Without expressly saying so, I think the sentiment of this song is pretty obvious. I like to think all good songs come from the heart, with the head to guide them along. Much of the lyrical content of this song came out in a free flow, and much still stands true, unfortunately.

You made The Over Under largely on your own, even though you have friends and family around you who are, to put it mildly, pop royalty and could probably have helped you make the record. What made you want to do this one by yourself?

I’m a textbook introvert. I really considered doing this album with a larger ensemble of players, but one thing led to another and I just ended up doing it all myself. It was easier to get from point A to point B quickly, and things just sort of snowballed from there. All creative decisions started and ended in my head.

That said, I did have a little help from my daughter Lola on “Blame This” and a great pedal steel player named Xandy Chelmis on “Fade Away.”

I’ve read some really nice reactions and reviews of The Over Under, and I’m sure you have too. Recognition must be nice, especially after putting so much of yourself into a record. Or is there something else that matters more to you when you look at how the album has been received?

I’m incredibly grateful for the kind words and genuine reactions to this record. Yes, recognition is important for sure, but maybe less so for the ego nudge and more for the acknowledgement of being able to share something that resonates on a human level.

Too Much Is the Point: The Cowboys on Captain Easy’s Downfall

Posted on by patrickdonders



There’s a glorious sense of excess running through Captain Easy’s Downfall, the new album by The Cowboys. Across 19 songs, the band brings together the extravagance of glam, the sharp melodic instincts of power pop and the restless experimentation of adventurous indie pop. It’s playful, unpredictable and occasionally chaotic, but beneath all that excess lies an impressive attention to melody, atmosphere and detail.

We spoke with The Cowboys’ Keith Harman about the band’s return, the creative process behind Captain Easy’s Downfall, embracing “too much,” and what might come next.

The Cowboys and Captain Easy’s Downfall

The Cowboys are a new band to me, so I’d love to start by going back a little. You’ve been doing this since 2013 — what has brought the band from where you started to where you are now with Captain Easy’s Downfall? And do you feel that you’re reaching a new audience with this record? I’m discovering The Cowboys through this album, and I’m wondering if you’re noticing that the record is opening the door to new listeners for you as well.

The chief element that has carried the band all these years is a combination of our friendship and my inability to stop writing songs. We never achieved any great success in our journey, so there is no demand or multi-album contract to fulfill. I wrote a large number of songs in a year or two and just asked the band if they felt it was time to get back together. They said yes, so we started working on a new album.

I wouldn’t say this new record has really opened any new doors or garnered many new listeners. I haven’t noticed that. But I think we are all very proud of this record and the work we were able to accomplish.

The creative process

When you started working on Captain Easy’s Downfall, was the excess itself part of the goal — 19 songs, all those layers, the unexpected turns and disruptions — or did it simply become a creative flow that kept giving you new ideas and you just kept following it? Or was it closer to the culmination of the sound the band has developed over the years?

It was definitely my goal to have an album of these more layered, technicolor songs. I didn’t expect the album to be 19 songs, and I didn’t anticipate Mark’s (guitarist, producer) long-gestating production being a part of the workflow. He kept adding and tinkering to great effect; he obsessed over the production.

As for the writing of the album, I was in a very good creative headspace at that time. I was tapping into a good flow and kept adding songs to the recording schedule. It was a nice experience.

Was there ever a moment when you thought, “Okay, this is too much,” or was “too much” actually the point?

There was definitely a point of “this is too much,” but that happens on almost every album. It was the point. There are moments on this record that can put me in a giggle fit. Just the music and arrangements, not even the lyrics.

When I listen to the album, I hear this kind of unique creative chaos — all these ideas, unexpected turns and disruptions — but at the same time, I hear an incredible amount of care underneath it. The sound, the atmosphere, the melodies and especially the lyrics all feel very deliberate. For me, that combination is actually what makes the album so exciting and ultimately such a great record. Was that something you were conscious of while making it — finding that balance between unique creative chaos and care? Or does the term “unique creative chaos” not resonate with you at all?

Unique creative chaos definitely resonates with me. It was always my goal to get there, but even on some of the wackier songs on this record (“Donzell’s Crystal Ball” or “Michelle Fleischmann,” for example), I followed my muse in regard to the writing and arrangement and never looked back.

Looking ahead

And finally, what does the rest of the year look like for The Cowboys? Are you hoping to take Captain Easy’s Downfall on the road, or are there already new ideas and projects taking shape?

We did a short tour of the American Midwest and East Coast in the summer of 2026 in support of Captain Easy’s Downfall, and it was a good time. I would like to do more touring next year, but it’s hard as the band is so spread out across different cities. I keep threatening a European tour, but it’s proven very difficult to make happen.

As for new recordings, it doesn’t seem likely that anything will happen anytime soon. I’ve got an album written that’s not very “Cowboys”-appropriate, and I’m trying to figure out what to do with it. The wish from the band seems to be not to recreate the creative approach of Captain Easy’s Downfall for whatever happens next. So it’s a mystery what happens next, even for me.

Fuzz, Hooks & Prescriptions: An Interview with Ram Vela

Posted on by patrickdonders

There’s plenty of ’90s alternative rock and power pop running through the music of Ram Vela & the Easy Targets. You can hear echoes of Weezer, Fountains of Wayne and The Replacements, alongside the loud, melodic guitar attack of Sugar and Bob Mould. But on their new EP RX, those influences are only part of the story.

Built around the theme of prescription medication and mental health, RX finds Vela writing from a very personal place. Anxiety, depression, medication and therapy all enter the conversation; subjects that can still feel uncomfortable or even taboo to talk about openly. We spoke with Ram about putting those experiences into songs, keeping the recordings rough around the edges, his love for a great Power Pop chorus, and where the Easy Targets go from here.





RX has a really rough-around-the-edges sound that I really like. How did that become such an important part of the Easy Targets’ sound, and how do you balance that rawness with the catchy side of the songs?

That’s awesome you think the EP sounds a little rough-around-the-edges, because I am self-conscious of our recordings sounding TOO polished. While working with Matt Parmenter at Ice Cream Factory Studios, we took a live-band feel approach to tracking these tunes and overdubbing additional instruments later. Personally, I like incorporating additional guitar feedback in some spots to give songs some extra depth and hearing what sounds best/makes sense for each individual track. A song like “Alprazolamania” comes to mind (especially during the verses). Writing a catchy melody to an uptempo song or lyrics you can shout/sing-a-along to has always been important to me. Taking that songwriting philosophy(?) and combining it with what Dan, Nathan and Rachel (aka the band) bring and “Baby, you’ve got a stew going!” (RIP Carl Weathers)

RX tells a concept story about using prescription medication to treat mental health. Is there a personal story behind the EP, and if so, what made you feel that this was a story you needed to tell through music?

Yes, this EP is loosely based on my own personal experiences taking prescription drugs to treat my anxiety and depression. In 2022, I started Zoloft and it has really helped me navigate the stresses of day-to-day life ever since. While I’m grateful to have access to these types of medications, I know there are so many out there that don’t have that same privilege. I didn’t take all of the medications listed in the song titles, but know several friends who have, and thought it was important to tell these stories in a creative way to continue normalizing mental health.



“Buspirone” is one of my favorites on the EP. The staccato guitar and punk energy give it this incredibly catchy Power Pop feel. Did you realize while writing or recording it that you had something special with that song?

First off, thank you so much. Secondly, this was an extremely difficult song to write because 1.) it’s very personal to me and 2.) delicate subject matter. I remember it starting with that guitar riff and just building from there. During the recording of this song, I was worried that the more sections we added, the more it would potentially drag. I am thankful we didn’t cut anything, because it flows so well! The outro is the sentimental cherry on top leading to the automated phone message.

How did Ram Vela & the Easy Targets come about, and did you know from the beginning what kind of band you wanted it to be and what you wanted the music to sound like?

Yes, we definitely had an idea of what we wanted to sound like. I’ve been playing in bands in Austin for 20+ years and with Dan and Nathan for 10 now, but it took a while to realize what style of songs I was comfortable writing and performing. I love bands like Cheap Trick, Marshall Crenshaw and The Replacements but wanted to add some 90’s alt-rock madness to the mix (Weezer’s “Blue Album,” Fountains of Wayne, Harvey Danger’s “Flagpole Sitta”). I think our band is a solid representation of those styles of rock/power-pop. Also, I just love choruses you can sing-along to, dammit!

Now that RX is out, what does the future look like for Ram Vela & the Easy Targets? Are you already thinking about where you want to take the sound and the story next?

Writing new music! It’s funny that I shared a voice memo of a new song on Instagram stories today and somebody already messaged asking if this next album is gonna be about therapy. As someone who sees a therapist regularly, I’m definitely not opposed to it! As for the future of the band, I would like to continue making music and collaborating more as a group. It helps that we’re close friends, so rehearsing/creating new material comes naturally and isn’t a stressful process. But yea, the future is still terrifying. In the words of Garth Algar, “Live in the Now!”

Radio Days: Still Chasing the Perfect Chorus

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For more than two decades, Milan’s Radio Days have remained devoted to the timeless pleasures of Power Pop: sharp melodies, ringing guitars, big harmonies and choruses that refuse to leave your head. With their fifth album, Off The Record, arriving on September 4, the band sound as energized as ever, connecting their love of ’60s melody and late-’70s Power Pop with the renewed enthusiasm surrounding the genre today.

We caught up with Radio Days singer, guitarist and songwriter Dario Persi to talk about the making of Off The Record, how he knows when a song is really working, the band’s upcoming touring plans and why, after more than twenty years, the search for the perfect Power Pop song continues.

You’ve been making Power Pop for more than two decades now, and the sound you love is rooted very much in the late ’70s and early ’80s. What is it about that particular sound that has kept you inspired for so many years? Has your idea of what makes great Power Pop changed over time?

It’s true, time flies when you’re having fun! Haha!

Joking aside, we’ve always loved this music, and even though there have been some stylistic differences from record to record, we’ve kept playing it because it’s the music we love and the music we would want to listen to ourselves.

I think that, fundamentally, Power Pop is all about the songs. Without great songs, you can’t really go anywhere. So, for us, it’s about having a great, catchy but intelligent melody, some beautiful ’60s-style harmonies, and the energy and attitude of the late ’70s. That combination still feels perfect to us today.

How did Off The Record actually begin? At what point do you realize that you have enough new material to start thinking, “Okay, this is going to be a new Radio Days album”?

It was actually quite a planned and structured process. In mid-2023, we finished the tour for Rave On!, our previous album, and decided to take a break from touring to focus on writing a new record.

It took us about a year and a half, between writing the songs — which I mainly do at home with an acoustic guitar — and arranging them, which we do all together in our rehearsal room.

We wrote around 20 new songs and recorded pre-production demos of all of them. Then we selected 15 to officially record in the studio.

From those 15, we eventually chose the 10 that would make it onto Off The Record. The other five will be B-sides for some of the singles or will be released in the future!

Off The Record is coming out soon. When is the release date, and what are your plans for the rest of the year? Are there concerts, touring or other Radio Days activities we can look forward to?

Yes, we’re almost there! Our final single, “Another Lonely Night,” will be released on August 21st, and then Off The Record will be out on September 4th.

We already have a few shows booked in Italy, and at the end of October and beginning of November we’ll be doing a 10-date tour in Spain. We’ll be announcing those dates in the next few days.

After that, we’re working on a tour of Japan for April/May 2027 — exactly ten years after our first time in the Land of the Rising Sun!

“Flying High” sounds like the ultimate Power Pop song to me — immediate, melodic and incredibly catchy. When you write a song, how do you know when you’ve got something really special? Is there a moment when you realize, “This one is better than the rest”?

Thanks, I’m really glad you like it! It was actually the first song out of the 20 or so that we wrote for Off The Record.

Usually, I can tell pretty quickly if something is working when I come up with a good chorus or a good verse. I record it right away and send it to the others, and if they don’t shoot it down and everyone likes it, then I know we’ve got something!

It’s a strange process. Sometimes I can’t come up with anything for months, and other times I manage to write two or three good songs in a single week. It really depends on my mental state, my mood, my motivation… It’s not easy to figure out!

There seems to be a renewed interest in catchy, melodic guitar Pop at the moment, with bands like The Lemon Twigs, Mod Lang and others attracting a lot of attention. Do you feel that this new enthusiasm for Power Pop and ’70s-inspired Pop has reached Italy as well? And do you feel part of a new wave, or do you see Radio Days as continuing something you’ve been doing all along?

It’s great to see these younger bands getting into the genre. The Lemon Twigs have changed quite a bit compared to their early days and have become more Power Pop and ’60s-influenced, and I absolutely loved that change. Mod Lang have also made a fantastic record.

There has never really been a big scene for this kind of music in Italy, but I’ve definitely noticed more people becoming interested in it over the last few years.

I’d say we’re probably too old to be part of this new wave, haha! But we’re also really happy to see a bit more interest in a genre that we’ve been carrying on for so many years. I think it’s good for everyone.

Kiwi Jr., Without Overthinking It

Posted on by patrickdonders

Four years after Chopper, Kiwi Jr. return with Blowin’ Up, an album that finds the Toronto band moving forward without losing the restless charm that made them so appealing in the first place. Their familiar mix of jangly guitars, scrappy garage pop and sharp-edged rock is still there, but this time the songs feel more open, confident and lived-in.

That change didn’t happen overnight. After years of moving quickly from one record to the next, Kiwi Jr. allowed themselves time to stop, write, discard ideas and eventually rediscover what excited them about making music together. The result is a record shaped by ten years as a band, but also by the willingness to try something different without overthinking it.

Ahead of the August 14 release of Blowin’ Up, we spoke with singer and guitarist Jeremy Gaudet about that four-year gap, getting the band tight before heading to Detroit to record, the evolution of his songwriting, putting Kiwi Jr. themselves on an album cover for the first time, and why sometimes the best way forward is simply to trust what works.

When I saw Kiwi Jr. on the Chopper tour at EKKO in Utrecht, and now looking at the artwork and presentation around Blowin’ Up, I get the feeling that the band is entering a new chapter. Even the choice to feature the band itself on the cover feels like a different statement. Is that something you recognize yourselves, and does it reflect a change in how you see Kiwi Jr. as a band?

It’s been 4 years since our last album and ya some things have changed. With every new album we try to put a slightly different flavor forward. Cooler Returns had a particular garage rock fidelity, Chopper introduced the moog, Blowin’ Up I think provides a freshness and open-air quality that the band hasn’t explored that much in the past. For this album cover, I wanted the band to be photographed on the front cover because all of the great bands have at least one album where they are on the cover. It seemed liked the old school way to do it – photograph the artist for the cover and don’t think about it too much. We tried to approach the recording of the album the same way – get the band tight, hire a good engineer, and don’t over think it.

Listening to Blowin’ Up, it feels like Kiwi Jr. has taken the foundation you built with your previous albums and started exploring it with more confidence and a greater sense of adventure. I hear a change in sound and storytelling, but maybe that is just my impression. Do you recognize that, and if so, where do you think that change comes from?

We are older now and I think that comes across in certain ways. We took a few years between albums and I think we were wary of certain traps we maybe would have fallen into had we tried to make an album immediately after Chopper. We’ve been a band for ten years and we know what works and what doesn’t work. We know each other’s strengths and weaknesses and this allows us to steer the ship with greater confidence. There are some new things we’ve tried to do on this album, with time signatures, and bringing in an outside mixing engineer etc. But overall the process is sort of familiar to us now.

Four years is a long time. During that period, not only can a band change, but your view of the world, yourself, and your place in it can change as well. Has that period influenced the way you write songs? Are there different subjects or ideas that play a role on Blowin’ Up?

I try not to look too closely at my songwriting process and subjects with a lot of scrutiny because creativity is a delicate thing for me. There are times I will go months without writing anything, and other times it comes pouring out. I’m afraid if I start to analyze it, I’ll become too aware of it and fumble it. Like when you’re trying to fall asleep, you can’t think about how you are trying to fall asleep. It will never happen like that. And of course I have to follow what gets me excited and what I’m interested in, otherwise it becomes work.

Every album has its own story behind it. Can you take us back to the beginning of Blowin’ Up? When did you realize that you were creating a new Kiwi Jr. album, and what was the process like from the first ideas to the finished record?

We had been moving very quickly from Football Money through Chopper and I think we just needed to sit down and breath for a bit. Even though Chopper was finished in 2022, I didn’t start to write the songs that ended up on this album until 2024. There were two years of failed attempts and distractions. The first two songs were Blowin Up and World Like Polly. Once we had those two, we essentially were starting work on a new album. We rehearsed a lot and spent a long time getting the arrangements and songs together before going into the studio. Lots of phone recordings, for example. We went to Detroit record the album in March 2025. So the songwriting and arranging process took a complete year pretty much.

When the recordings are finished, Blowin’ Up is still a very personal project of the band. By the time it is released, other people already have expectations about it. Is that a thrilling transition, or does it simply feel like the natural end of the process?

It feels good to release something we’re proud of. As I said, it’s been two years since we started to write the songs. I get a bit of a thrill releasing it now because we’ve been sitting on the songs for so long. I hope people take notice and respond to it. We’re excited to play the songs live too.

With Blowin’ Up being released on August 14, what does the rest of the year look like for Kiwi Jr.?

European/UK tour in November. Some North American dates sprinkled all around. One day at a time!

Scott Gagner on Sweet Tooth, Pop Music and Finding the Bright Side

Posted on by patrickdonders

With Sweet Tooth, Minneapolis songwriter Scott Gagner has delivered one of this summer’s most infectious pop albums. Across ten concise songs, he combines sunshine pop, power pop and psychedelia into a collection overflowing with irresistible melodies, rich harmonies and colorful arrangements. But beneath its candy-coated surface lies a clear message: choosing joy can be a powerful response to an increasingly troubled world.

We caught up with Scott to talk about the philosophy behind Sweet Tooth, the artists who inspired the album, how it came together in the studio, and whether, after releasing so many records, making a new album can still surprise him.

On Sweet Tooth, pleasure almost feels like an act of resistance. Do you think making joyful pop music in times like these can be an act of defiance? 

Indeed. Any act of creation is an act of good. If that creation can spread a little joy, positivity, and hope — when all evidence points to the contrary — then you are doing a tiny part to redress the balance. People have been bombarded by more than enough misery these days — we certainly got our share in Minnesota this past January. It somehow felt like the most radical and generous thing I could do was make Sweet Tooth an uplifting, earworm-rich pop record. 

You’ve said it would have been easy to make an album full of sad ballads. Why did you consciously choose not to? Was there a specific moment or event that inspired you to make a record filled with color, energy and hope? 

Truth be told, I love writing sad ballads. Maybe it’s the Ron Sexsmith fan in me. But I wrote so many that they started piling up in one corner of the studio. After a few months, they started to smell funny. Meanwhile, in the opposite corner, a pile of bright, shiny, candy-coated pop songs started piling up. They smelled sweet and delicious. Then I wrote “Sugar Rush.” That song seemed to embody everything that the “pop pile” was going for. In fact, it declared itself so strongly, that I decided to change the title of the album from “Technicolor Eyes” (a phrase from leadoff track “Beyond the Blue”) to “Sweet Tooth.”

Listening to Sweet Tooth, I hear touches of sunshine pop, power pop and psychedelia. Were there specific artists or records that inspired you while writing and recording the album, or did those influences emerge naturally? 

My daughter is a fellow Beatles freak like me, so that’s what we listen to in the car on the way to her swim practices. After witnessing an absolutely incendiary show in Minneapolis, I’ve been on an extended Guided by Voices kick. It certainly helps that they keep putting out incredible records every year. Other recent favorites include Mike Viola, Super Furry Animals (plus solo Gruff Rhys), Father John Misty, and Aimee Mann. For the more synth-based songs (“Purple Heart” and “Where Do We Go From Here”), I was influenced by some Norwegian Disco that my brother turned me on to (Todd Terje, Lindstrom), pre-1982 Devo, and Tubeway Army. I love the juxtaposition of live human drums with robotic synth arpeggios.

Can you walk me through the making of Sweet Tooth? How did you choose the musicians, the studio and the producer, and how much of the album’s sound was already mapped out before you started recording?

All the songs began in my home studio, often originating with a title phrase, and then brought to life while strumming my favorite nylon-string guitar. By the end of the initial writing day, I’ll have a pretty fleshed-out demo, including drums, bass, guitars, piano, synths, and vocals. That exact demo remains the basic foundation for what you hear on the final album, and I simply replace any instruments that need improving along the way. That way I can retain plenty of the initial inspiration and excitement of the demo. In the case of this album, I wanted to use my incredible rhythm section of Tim Zhorne (drums) and Sam Graber (bass) playing together. I also wanted to try a studio in Minneapolis called The Library. The owner/engineer, Matt Patrick, has created an incredible space — all the walls are lined with books for acoustic dampening. We replaced all the drum and bass tracks in one marathon day. I then took an additional studio day to replace some guitars that needed improving. Then I continued to polish at my home studio, overdubbing any final touches, and adding additional players, including Aaron McCabe on trumpet and Rachel Hunter on backing vocals. 


You’ve released quite a few records over the years. Does putting out a new album still bring surprises, either in the reviews or in the reactions from listeners? Were there any responses to Sweet Tooth that really stayed with you?

I’ve been pleased with the reactions thus far. The word “irresistable” has popped up in a few reviews, which is what I was going for. After all the bad news that has swirled around us in recent years, it seems like people were ready for something upbeat, positive, and hopeful.