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Grubby Little Hands “Surf Lullaby”
/ As a long-time Philly friend of Donnie Felton, I swear I don’t just post it because we’re bud buds. He’s always ripping out this kind of mellow space jams for years. So proud of him for keeping them fresh and flowing with musical color. Ltd 7", y'all!
// Letters to YVYNYL //
Moon Sand Land “New Matters”
/ I’ve been listening to the new record from New Jersey’s indie musician Jason Ross this past week. It’s been slip-sliding into this single about “obsessions and habits” and it makes me swing into a shake. I appreciate that he wrote this song for his big brother Alex who has brought challenges and love to his family’s life. He sounds like he’s a special person, indeed.
Dear Mark,
Words cannot express how grateful I am that you would take the time to read about my own musical journey. While anticipating the release of my single on May 14th, “New Matters”, I have reflected on the deeply personal connections in my music and how I can share my influences with the world.
I grew up in Cresskill, New Jersey alongside my older brother Alex and my two parents. Alex was diagnosed with low-functioning Autism at the age of two, depriving him of the ability to speak or live independently. His presence brought us a whirlwind of turbulence and stress, but the joys have always outweighed the difficulties. His smile is infectious beyond compare and he carries a sense of wonder with him that captives any room he enters.
We call him “The Moon,” always lighting up our lives during times of darkness. After years of working on various music projects, I felt The Moon’s guidance when struggling to determine my musical identity and embark on my first solo project. After reflecting on words with great personal meaning, Moon Sand Land was born.
During the pandemic, music has continued to function as the lifeline I need to feel a sense of purpose. “New Matters” is my personal take on those midnight moments trapped in thought. From late-August anxiety to mid-winter depression, this song portrays the continuing absence from reality throughout the seasons. This song reflects my longing for connection, desperation to embrace The Moon, my long-distance girlfriend, and my friends.
Like many other seniors in college, the pandemic shattered all of the structures that I had built a life around. Wearing a mask in my own home and maintaining a six-foot distance from my parents while I was working in person added another level of distance. However, the distance I had to maintain from The Moon was the hardest.
My family and I were lucky that the caregivers at his group home provided him with a safe and secure environment, but we still were barred from physical contact for months on end. It’s not like we could hop on FaceTime with him and catch up; our bond was entirely built on physical contact. I will never know how that separation made him feel or how he made sense of the situation at hand, but it was painful to know that I couldn’t simply give The Moon a hug.
The greatest sense of hope, the magical full moon, was when my brother received his second vaccine dose. Not having to worry about him being at-risk of catching this virus lifted my family and I from an unspeakable emotional burden.
It didn’t matter how long it would take for us to be vaccinated, as long as he was able to get his doses first. Since then, my family and I have been fortunate enough to get vaccinated as well and he has even been allowed to stay in our home for the night. And every single hug from him seems to last an eternity as if we’re simply making up for lost time.
What once was new matters have now begun to fade to old matters. The time has come to turn the page.
All the best,
Jason
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Support independent, international music communities by linking, liking, and sharing hand-crafted projects like YVYNYL 🎧 …and always buy the t-shirt.
// Interview //
White Bike “I Like You”
As a long-time fan of Oregon’s Tango Alpha Tango, I was pretty stoked to speak with Nathan Trueb and Mirabai Carter-Trueb about the new project they’ve built with some friends over the course of the time since the pandemic. It’s bigger and, dare I say, louder than their name-sake songs. They’ve added more people into the mix such as singer Arianna Anchustegui, Justin Chase from Pure Bathing Culture, and Robin Levy from Yardsss to create something a bit louder but not entirely different than the sweet movements of their original work. While you listen to the newest single coming out tomorrow, Friday, May 14th, have a read of a short interview I had with them the other day.
Mark Schoneveld:
😎 Hi, guys. Mark from @yvynyl 🎧 here. How’s Portland today?
Mirabai Carter-Trueb:
Hi Mark!
Nathan Trueb:
Hey, Mark! Portland is good, finally starting to get some great weather around here.
Mark:
I love Portland in the summer. I’ve spent time there in the summer (awesome) and winter (awesome in a different, wetter way).
Arianna Anchustegui:
Hey Mark! Yeah, Portland is great & bloomed, and beautiful.
Nathan:
The winters are long-feeling, so spring is always a relief
// Letters to YVYNYL //
Paragon Cause “Lost Cause”
/ All of us have been going through this covid shit for a year, but Jamie and Michelle have seen some of the darkest parts of it. Nova Scotia is a pretty peaceful place, I reckon, but apparently, that’s not always the case.
Hi Mark,
I wanted to write a quick story for you as well as a pitch for our new album. I’m one half of the duo Paragon Cause. Prior to 2020, I kept my personal life separate from my music. I’ve been lucky to have now recorded 3 albums, two of them with Sune Rose Wagner of The Raveonettes. The story behind meeting Sune Rose and recording in our basement studio is a whole other topic, but I digress. We recorded our current album, What We Started as a bit of a concept album. It was about the culture of abuse, domestic violence, and the lack of action in many cases, on the part of the justice system. Never did we realize what would happen in 2020 around our release date.
First, Covid. I am a surgeon in Canada, a head and neck surgery (ENT) which has one of the highest death rates and infection rates in all specialties. I had to make the decision, do I continue to work on my music during this incredibly stressful time or put it off? Michelle and I both agreed, the world needs music and we decided to push forward. Even though my work life has changed dramatically, I still find the time to promote and get our music out there.
Just this week, a shocking occurrence happened in my home province of Nova Scotia here in Canada. An individual dressed up as a police officer, with a fake car and uniform and proceed to kill his ex-wife, partner, neighbors then drive over the province of Nova Scotia pulling people over and killing them in their cars. Nova Scotia is a paradise in Canada and it sent chills through my bones, particularly considering the themes of our new album.
This year has been difficult for us all, but we hope that our music may help. Thanks again, hope you take the time to listen and consider for a post/review.
Jamie and Michelle of Paragon Cause
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Support YVYNYL, an independent music project here! Got a story to tell? Submit it to Letters to YVYNYL.
// Letters to YVYNYL //
Kennedy Shaw “Heaven”
/ Sometimes I get letters from right here in my hometown. Kennedy sent this one over and I think it perfectly encapsulates the feeling a lot of my readers are going through. Those of you who are struggling to make their music despite all odds, to make a life of music, to grasp on to the love they get from putting it out there. We are all in this together, our weirdo crew of misfits and hooligans who’d rather make a song that rips out our hearts and lay it out on the table for all to hear than just ‘be normal.’ We hear you. We hear you. Keep it going, friends.
Hi Mark,
When I think of music, I think of my grandmother singing me a song titled “don’t fence me in.” There's a home video of us singing it somewhere. Music to me feels no separate from myself. My mom used to listen to Tori Amos when she was pregnant with me and always told me that's why I started playing piano the minute I could.
My name is Kennedy, I’m a 21-year-old songwriter in Philly - or was in Philly - until a global pandemic interrupted my second year of college.
I’m only 21, but as far as coffeehouse music goes, I’ve probably seen it all. My parents used to take me to perform once or twice every weekend. They critiqued every show and were extremely supportive of how loud and passionate I was. Because of this, I know every jam band and bluegrass cover group that plays in the bookstores of the East Coast. I know which ones have AC and which ones make you pay for a meal after you perform. I have the stories of men telling me I’m “mature for my age” and taking photos of my 14-year-old legs while at the piano bench.
After I went to University, I knew a lot about basement scenes, too. I got too drunk while performing a few times, I kissed audience members during the choruses and band members during the verses. I drove off in the wrong uber twice. When the residence hall elevators shut down, I carried the keyboard, amp, stands, and book bag down 9 flights of stairs, and carried them back up at 2 or 3 AM less tired than before.
During this pandemic, and being back home in NJ, I’ve been asking myself why I continue pursuing music as a career, even though I never feel entirely validated or see financial gain from it. If anything actually, I see loss.
I switched my major from Music to English just before the pandemic broke in the U.S. I decided it was time to focus on a 'real career’. Then, I listened to some rough mixes of mine and decided to use all of my savings, every penny, to buy recording equipment and finish my EP in my bedroom. Clearly, I don’t have any answers on why, or what’s logical, or what's smart. I’m literally a crazy 21-year old girl-woman doing vocal takes in my parent’s shower when they let me and finding the personal information of music bloggers and emailing demos to small labels like I’m their musical messiah. I’ve never filmed anything for anyone, and yet I’ve been dressing in vintage clothes and setting up “sets” (a bedsheet usually, chair, flowers) and recording them on my iPhone.
Even when I want to move on, the feeling of working on my music creatively is something so close to my core I don’t think I can ever stop. Not because I think my music is worth listening to, or even good, I just can’t stop making it. When I think of music I think of waking up from a dream and jotting down words. My dad saying to 'turn it down,’ and then 'close your door’. I think of every love I had in high school giving me mixtapes, my best friend passing out on the train ride home with my amp in their lap. I think of watching strangers cry while I sing to them, basements of sweaty chances moshing, and my bandmates cans of beer. Every car ride with my parents I took for granted then, oblivious to the cost of gas and how many hours it took to get to the record shop where one person listened to half my set. I think of my younger sister listening to music to avoid new driver anxiety, and I think of my grandmother singing me songs, telling me to sing my own. I think of pausing the youtube tutorial, running from the desktop and to the piano upstairs. I'd make this hike a million times a night but never felt tired, and when I think of these things I don’t have to wonder why.
Music is by far not the smartest choice as far as a career- maybe if I was smart I’d choose doctor, or scientist, or engineer, but feeling “smart” doesn’t feel half as good as these memories music has given to me. “Heaven” is the first song I finished when I decided to work on rough mixes I had in my back pocket. It sounds haunting and compares heaven to a first love- the romanticization of first relationships is something that still pulls me in lyrically. I wrote it on bass, alone in my dorm room, probably crying. I hope you like it.
- Kennedy
…
Support YVYNYL, an independent music project here! Got a story to tell? Submit it to Letters to YVYNYL.
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