{"id":56663,"date":"2024-09-04T08:00:00","date_gmt":"2024-09-04T13:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/beintheloopchicago.com\/?p=56663"},"modified":"2024-09-05T21:15:00","modified_gmt":"2024-09-06T02:15:00","slug":"chicagos-own-dancepunks-beastii-release-first-new-album-in-7-years","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/beintheloopchicago.com\/?p=56663","title":{"rendered":"Chicago\u2019s Own: Dancepunks, BEASTII, Release First New Album In 7 Years"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

By Kyle Decker<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Some scholars of popular culture have written about \u201cThe 20-Year Rule,\u201d which suggests exactly what it sounds like it suggests. That styles of fashion and music tend to return in twenty-year cycles. I don\u2019t see this as problematic, myself. It makes a lot of sense when you think about it. We enjoy things in our youth and fifteen to twenty-five years later, we become old enough, mature enough, and artistically honed enough to make things ourselves. Naturally, we\u2019re going to be influenced by the things we\u2019ve enjoyed our whole lives.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Twenty years ago there was a post-punk revival going on. Think The Strokes, Bloc Party, or Franz Ferdinand, to name a few. Other bands took influences from 90s techno. Le Tigre, The Rapture, The Faint, Death From Above 1979\u2026 the list goes on (and should include Ireland\u2019s The Chalets, who were underrated). All of this, and more, fell under the umbrella that would come to be known as dance-punk<\/em>. Punk rock in its attitude and song structure, yet danceable in more ways than the slamming variety. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

For me, this was college. And dance-punk was \u201cmy shit.\u201d I\u2019d walk to parties, smoking Lucky Strikes while strutting to \u201cTake Me Out,\u201d make a complete ass of myself while drunkenly dancing to \u201cOut of the Races and Onto the Tracks,\u201d and finally stumble home alone and broken-hearted to \u201cThis Modern Love\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            Y\u2019know\u2026. college.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            And because time\u2019s arrow neither stands still nor reverses, it\u2019s dance-punk\u2019s turn for a revival.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Enter BEASTII. Founded in Chicago in 2016 by author and Swimsuit Addition alum Jen Dot (otherwise known as Jen B. Larson) as a lo-fi, darkwave, bedroom pop band. After recording some tracks and having Chris Lee master them, they started to get offers for shows and evolved into a four-piece. They eventually released their first LP, Can\u2019t Wait<\/em>, in 2017. Of course, the pandemic screwed things up for everybody. But all things pass and Larson and Lee got back to work with a new lineup, reforming as a five-piece. And on September 6th they shall unleash their follow-up which is called, well, Follower.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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When I got an email requesting a review of Follower<\/em> I was stoked. Not just because I was familiar with Larson\u2019s work as an author (her book Hit Girls: Women of Punk in the USA 1975-1983<\/em> is required reading for anyone who wants to learn about women\u2019s involvement in punk-rock beyond the obvious names), but because the email had \u201cChicago\u201d and \u201cdance-punk\u201d in the subject heading. Both of those things are right where I live.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 Let me tell you when I punched in the promotional code for the advanced listening files, I time-traveled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0Follower<\/em> is a great album title. It\u2019s a word that contains a smorgasbord of connotations. Especially in the era of social media and the new circle of our capitalist hellscape it helped form. The songs take on the perspectives of both followers and followed. We are all \u201cfollowers\u201d in at least one of the many senses of the word. Whether we follow a person, belief, or ideal, or merely paths to or away from things both good and evil. Or even looking at what came before and paying respect or giving it the middle finger. And like the Pac-Man-<\/em>inspired art suggests, we can chase and be chased. It also helps the Chicago cred that Brian Fox, a protege of the late great Steve Albini, mastered the album.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The band also draws some clear inspiration from 60\u2019s garage rock, which is very apparent in the guitar riffs of opener \u201cJustine.\u201d The crunchy groove would get the Davies brothers to give a respectful nod. The playful synths give the song fun energy, and its lyrics about a woman who is cool, assured, and maybe a little dangerous give off Bikini Kill vibes in the best ways.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 As with any well-thought-out track order, track two brings the energy up a notch. \u201cThe Limit\u201d gives off the type of frustrated defiance one might feel on a Friday night after a shitty work week. It\u2019s got a great shout-along hook with \u201cWe live at the limit\u201d and is definitely the type of song that would be great to dance off some nervous energy. It\u2019s pure catharsis.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 \u201cCosmic Bummer\u201d shows off BEASTII\u2019s surf rock influences in the dreamy warbbling bass distortions. It\u2019s slower-paced than the first two tracks. It\u2019s a strutter. Something that might be the soundtrack to walking down the street. And given its lyrics about being a \u201cthrowaway lover\u201d and a \u201cnotch in your belt,\u201d that walk might just be the walk of shame.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The surf-rock side of the band continues with \u201cSpilt Milk\u201d. It\u2019s apparent from the jump. The riff between verses reminded me more than a little of Black Lips, who were equally inspired by tunes from the 1960s. Lines like \u201cTo me it\u2019s nothing to cry about\/Let me spill the milk\/Then we\u2019ll see you dry your eyes out\u201d go right along with one of the album’s themes of leaving shit in the past and moving on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The band\u2019s bio also mentions that the band had origins in a darkwave sound. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the song \u201cEvil Eye.\u201d It\u2019s gothy as hell.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDouble-Sided Cigarette\u201d is where the album slows down a bit. Not \u201cslows down\u201d in a bad way. \u201cSlows down\u201d in the sense it becomes a little more low-key. It has a sadness to it. Listening to it now, I\u2019m having flashbacks to wistfully blowing cigarette smoke out my open dorm room window because I was too lazy and full of ennui to go outside. The weight of the world comes through in the bassline, and the opening lines shifting between speakers feel like an argument between those shoulder-dwelling angels and devils from cartoons.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSell Out\u201d continues the sad surfer vibes. Although, the chorus bits swell with early-aughts indie influence. There\u2019s a haziness to the song and the line \u2018You call yourself<\/em> a sell-out\u201d speaks to me of someone going through imposter syndrome. But then again, I might be projecting. Because I\u2019m such a fucking failure. Wait, sorry. What was I talking about? Right. If you ever need background music for total dissociation, BEASTII has your back with \u201cSell Out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Acid surfer vibes run throughout the album, but are perhaps no more apparent than on \u201cButch Beach.\u201d The heavy basslines chugging along behind Jen Dot\u2019s raspy and breathy vocals give the tune an aggressive sexuality. It feels, to me, like a piss-take on macho surfers. I have to imagine the \u201cButch Beach\u201d play on words is intentional.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGhost Follower\u201d also shows off more of the band\u2019s darkwave side. Granted, the surfer riffs still abound. But it\u2019s more haunting. I mean, it does have \u201cghost\u201d in the title. This is an interesting song lyrically. The opening stanza goes<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNow when I\u2019m running on the right track<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

They don\u2019t know I fight back<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

They don\u2019t know that I\u2019m winning\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Which suggests a level of blind confidence that can only be described as \u201cCharlie Sheenian.\u201d But then stanza two references \u201cHeading to a dead end.\u201d By the third stanza, the speaker wonders \u201cWhy should I fight\/ when they\u2019re always right.\u201d The confidence is quickly thwarted and the speaker confines themselves to being a \u201cghost follower.\u201d Naive optimism quickly turning into depression and defeat and following others as an anonymous ghost? Hmmm. Sounds a lot like posting on social media to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 \u201cSubliminal\u201d is downright sinister. News sources are another thing people follow<\/em> and BEASTII shows their Chicago roots by name-checking the Sun-Times<\/em>. The song implores listeners to \u201cThink about what you read\/ In the Sun-Times or on your newsfeed\u201d and reminds them \u201cTruth is not guaranteed\/Integrity is the price you pay.\u201d The track calls out those who \u201cSay anything\u201d and \u201cwater down all meaning.\u201d On an album rife with social commentary, this is an apt criticism of the decline of journalistic integrity. (I blame the instantaneous 24-cycle where it\u2019s \u201cbetter\u201d to report something first than to report it accurately, but that\u2019s a whole different article).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 Considering track 11 is called \u201cInto the Ground\u201d it should come as no surprise it\u2019s one of the more melancholy tracks on the album. It\u2019s got post-rock swells, and guitar flourishes with surf-rock distortion. As someone who has studied film, I can see this track being used in a movie as a character has their reflective moment at the end of act two.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 Once again considering a proper album structure, the penultimate track needs to bring the energy back up. \u201cTrusted Mystic\u201d does exactly that. It\u2019s also the track that, I would say, most exemplifies what I think of when I hear \u201cdance-punk.\u201d It\u2019s immensely danceable. I can easily see it having an extended club remix.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

BEASTII ends Follower<\/em> on an ostensibly optimistic note with \u201cBe Sweet.\u201d It\u2019s upbeat and the lyrics reference the complexities of healthy relationships.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            You say I talk in circles<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

            That don\u2019t go anywhere<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

            But you admit you adore<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

            My castles in the air<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

This stanza reminds me of conversations with my wife. Lines like \u201csometimes I hate you for your certainty\u201d are countered later with \u201csometimes I love you for your suspicions.\u201d I love that. I truly believe that love involves acceptance and even admiration of certain imperfections.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Given my musical proclivities, it\u2019s surprising that BEASTII had flown under my radar. Then again their last release was 7 years ago and I wasn\u2019t even living on this continent then. That said, after having had the opportunity to review this album, BEASTII has gained a new\u2026 follower<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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            Sorry\u2026 I\u2019ll show myself out\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Follower <\/em>releases 9\/6\/2024<\/p>\n\n\n\n

BEASTII <\/a>Follower <\/em><\/a>LP Listening Party & Music Video Premiere<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

w\/ The Cell Phones, Orisun, Dusty Turrets<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hosted by Jill Hopkins<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Friday, September 13, 2024 at 9pm CT<\/p>\n\n\n\n

at Liar’s Club (1665 W Fullerton Ave, Chicago, IL 60614)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

21+. $5<\/p>\n\n\n\n

BEASTII is\u2026.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jen Dot – vocals, guitar, keys, electronic drums<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jesse Fevvers – vocals, guitar, electronic drums<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chris Lee – drums, backing vocals<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Asha Adisa – vocals, keys Kai Black – bass, keys<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maureen Neer – vocals, bass<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Follow<\/em> BEASTII on the various socials:
https:\/\/beastii.bandcamp.com\/<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\nhttps:\/\/www.instagram.com\/beastii_rips\n<\/div><\/figure>\n\n\n\n
\nhttps:\/\/www.facebook.com\/beastiirips\n<\/div><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

And for those under the age of 30, here\u2019s TikTok:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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@beastii_follower<\/a> <\/section> <\/blockquote>