Review by Kat Harmon<\/p>\n
“Mother Mother” and “Cavetown” are not commonly mentioned in the same sentence. The punky, noisy rock of “Mother Mother” starkly contrasts “Cavetown\u2019s” mellow bedroom pop. I don\u2019t find the lineup as surprising as some, but only because I found the bands simultaneously. I know the double act wasn\u2019t just created based on a snapshot of my eighth-grade music taste; there\u2019s another reason the two have decided to tour together, but I haven\u2019t been able to put words to it yet. I found my question for the evening and intend to leave with an answer.<\/span><\/p>\n “Mother Mother\u2019s” set is electric from the moment it starts with an echoing spoken line from the bridge of their song \u201cLife:” \u201cSometimes I hate myself with such intensity, I have no choice but to bark back.\u201d There\u2019s no better way to describe their performance- Mother Mother looks the cruelty of normal life in the eyes and barks back. With strobing lights and deep bass, the band shocks the crowd to life, putting their entire collective heart into each song. \u201cWe don\u2019t know a lot about life and death and all that,\u201d lead singer Ryan Guldemond says after the first few songs, \u201cbut we know that this is good. This heals something.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n “Mother Mother” is a nearly 20-year-old Canadian band that has received more than a few shocks of virality on various social media platforms. Specific lyrics or riffs caught on in fan spaces and online art communities throughout the years, and the band\u2019s general popularity in queer microcosms of the Internet helped confirm their position as an online zeitgeist. Painting stories of jilted lovers or “Mother Mother\u2019s” lyrics are headstrong and morbid, daring listeners to shy away or surrender to the sound.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n They are surprisingly gentle with their fans, gushing with gratitude and belief. Despite the roaring and wailing on stage, the band reveres for their audience. When I thought I couldn\u2019t get more choked up, the band moved to the front of the stage with a portable drum set and acoustic guitar. They play a quick mashup of hits from \u201cO My Heart\u201d and \u201cTouch Up,\u201d the albums that took off during the band\u2019s first spike of virality around 2017. The band channels their uncanny melancholy even more effectively live- \u201cGhosting\u201d takes on an untethered, lonely air, while \u201cIt\u2019s Alright\u201d washes over the crowd like a lullaby. If I cry, that\u2019s between me and the parents beside me, sharing a confused look at my weepiness.<\/span><\/p>\n If “Mother Mother” is a moonlit night right before the break of dawn, “Cavetown” is a bright sunny day on the brink of a rainstorm. They exude joy and energy, but their vulnerable lyrics reveal a painful, self-aware sorrow. “Cavetown” has never been shy about their struggles with mental health. They mix songs from their newer albums with their classics from older records with the same enthusiasm. He claps and jumps and flails and shakes through every song, a grin plastered on his face, encouraging the same enthusiasm in his audience. Like “Mother Mother,” “Cavetown” is gentle with his audience- he checks in with them often and replies to every affirmative cheer with a giddy \u201cyippee!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n “Cavetown,” or Robbie Skinner, is a 25-year-old British solo act releasing music online since 2012. The themes in his songs have usually stuck to boyhood, grief, young love, insecurity, and insects, showing an inescapable compassion for the little things in life and a methodical inspection of the big things. As a trans artist, his identity and struggles with understanding it often shine through in his lyrics, drawing a primarily LGBTQ+ audience. Over the years, the span of “Cavetown\u2019s” music-making offers a path of growth for younger fans unsure of their own identity, an assurance that things might be bad for a while but will eventually get better. I even stand beside a married queer couple who look to be in their 50s, smiling and swaying. Personally, coming from a less-than-queer-friendly community, it\u2019s often hard to remind myself that there are queer people of all ages having the same experiences I am, feeling the same loneliness I do. That loneliness melts away in this crowd, blooming into a belonging as warm as sunlight.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n During “Cavetown\u2019s” last few songs, I finally compare him and “Mother Mother. He dedicates his most popular song, \u201cThis is Home,\u201d to anyone uncomfortable in their body or mind. \u201cIt\u2019s hard! It sucks!\u201d he laughs as the crowd cheers in agreement. The two bands are staples of queer culture, but more specifically, genderqueer culture- which, given the general state of transgender rights across the globe, explains the extra gentleness both bands show their audience. But both bands don\u2019t ignore or sand down their discomfort with their bodies- they dissect and defy it. They surpass their own physical forms, creating a new world that reflects the comfort they yearn for, whether it\u2019s the gothic aesthetic of “Mother Mother” or the earthy etherealism of “Cavetown.” They open their world to their fans and invite them to make it a home. It\u2019s both escapism and acceptance, mourning and celebrating. As a former and current chronically online, queer, weird kid, I immediately realize why they\u2019re so similar to me- because in the face of doubt, confusion, and loneliness, “Mother Mother” and “Cavetown” <\/span>understand<\/span><\/i>.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Review by Kat Harmon “Mother Mother” and “Cavetown” are not commonly mentioned in the same sentence. The punky, noisy rock of “Mother Mother” starkly contrasts “Cavetown\u2019s” mellow bedroom pop. I don\u2019t find the lineup as surprising as some, but only because I found the bands simultaneously. 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