On sale Friday, 5/29 at 10am ! $23 ADV | $25 WEEK OF SHOW | $30 DAY OF SHOW Doors 7 pm | Show 8 pm Chanel Beads Website | Instagram | YouTube | Spotify First things first: yes, Chanel Beads’ second album, Your Day Will Come, has the same title as the experimental project’s 2024 breakthrough debut. But this is a completely new body of work, not a “part two,” a rehash or a re-do. If his initial impulse was to poke fun at the apparatus that divides music into chapters, as the songs developed, Shane Lavers found the phrase carried deeper nuance, evoking the duel between certainty and doubt that preoccupied his psyche. Though the phrase unfurls with conviction, a slight shift in emphasis can inspire unsettling ambiguities: Will your day come? What will it be like? How can you be sure? Raised in the suburbs of Minnesota, Lavers began making music under the name Chanel Beads while living in Seattle back in 2016. When he wasn’t working at a library for the blind, he was collaging synthetic sounds and real instruments into beguiling songs fundamentally averse to genre. He was living in New York by 2022, as tracks like “Ef” and “True Altruism” captivated certain online circles with their androgynous vocals, uncanny artifice, and stirring intimacy. In the years since Chanel Beads’ entrancing introduction, the project has gone from playing house shows and illegal abandoned train tunnel shows, all the way up to supporting Lorde on her recent North American arena tour. Though the stages have grown larger, the spirit of Chanel Beads remains steadfastly underground. Lavers made Your Day Will Come at his small and sparsely furnished Brooklyn studio, with the speakers positioned so close to his face that he could feel air emit from every thump of the kick drum. He embraces the attitude of “if it works, leave it be,” recording into whatever microphone is around and going off that version. “We start the recording before the song is written, and then you work the song into the recording,” Lavers says. “We don’t make demos, that's a hard and fast rule. Which we’ll break eventually.” Lavers’ fragmented lyrics are full of open-ended questions, exploring the dichotomies that inform our reality. He was particularly consumed by the coexistence of nihilism and love, saying, “It feels as if one should obliterate the other, but they don't.” Emotional sublimation is central to Chanel Beads, as if you can white-knuckle something so hard that it becomes transcendent. Drawing from Lavers’ own experiences, Your Day Will Come uses dream logic to delve into liminality and precarious remembrance. It’s colored by the spectres of specific losses, but also how you can haunt yourself by falling back into old habits. Horse Vision Instagram | Bandcamp urika's bedroom Website | Instagram | Facebook | YouTube | Spotify The bones and performance of a urika’s bedroom song are, approached from afar, certainly recognizable as rock music. Eagle-eyed genre-spotters might see it as slowcore, shoegaze, dreampop, emo-adjacent bedroom pop, mumblecore, or any other heavily hyphenated amalgamation of melodically-inclined indie or alternative rock. But the true character of these songs reveals itself in their transmission. Coated in digital gauze, urika’s bedroom’s near-whispered exhortations are cast against spindling and silvery guitar lines, transmogrified vocal layers, fascinating artifacts of malfunctioning audio interfaces, and intrusive textural figures that hit like ambulance sirens bleeding into one’s private headphone symphony. The sound design is idiosyncratic and immaculate, a cryptic and modern rock idiom birthed from a diplomatic sonic union between Billy Corgan and Christian Fennesz. On Big Smile, Black Mire — the full length debut due out November 1, 2024 on True Panther — urika’s bedroom presents this unique vision in full, rendering a shadowed yet lucid depiction of longing, alienation, and multivalent emotional experience with an assured command of avant-garde gesture. It’s a marvel of scene-setting, a showcase for urika’s bedroom’s instinctive understanding of what makes for an evocative and devastating arrangement. “A lot of it is pulling from this point of emotional juxtaposition, the ability to feel multiple emotions at once, internally as well as externally,” urika elaborates. “You’re never 100% sad or 100% happy. On this album, I’m subconsciously tapping into that conflict, of feeling one way and being another.” Big Smile, Black Mire is the culmination of several years of artistic growth and refinement for urika’s bedroom. After a warm reception to early singles “Junkie” and “XTC” — both of which appear on bsbm — the LA-based artist brought the project’s insular sound into the real world, touring with the likes of Youth Lagoon, Nourished By Time, and Chanel Beads while also collaborating as a producer and co-writer with untitled (halo) and Ded Hyatt. Self-produced and engineered by urika’s bedroom with additional mixing by Chris Coady (Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Beach House, DIIV), Big Smile, Black Mire is built upon the modern art of guitar processing and recontextualization. By and large eschewing synthesizers, urika’s bedroom — with contributions from ub touring guitarist Silas Johnson, who otherwise records as Tracy — sculpts an expansive universe of timbres and tones, ranging from trashy and lived-in skronks to tremulous and liquid beams of melody. For instance, “XTC” is a grime and glitter daydream, while “Video Music” is a collision of glitchy percussion and surreal imagery, scrambling to make sense of a romantic preoccupation: “how to keep you out my head / today, don’t you think it’s all the same? / racing through this bloodswept cage / today, it tastes like lithium and rain.” Meanwhile, “Circle Games” is ominous and industrial, a rattling meditation on societal decay and “post-war everything.” However, any solipsistic dread is cut with a steadfast sense of hope — as on the swirling devotional “Metalhead” — and a resounding empathy for the struggles of others. The spoken interlude of “bsbm,” one of several tracks featuring vocals from multidisciplinary artist Vivian Buenrostro, works through word association to grasp for pure humanity amid the technological ennui. “Lately when I see somebody encountering challenges, I still recognize the innocent child they once were,” says urika. “On a social or individual level, life is always about growth or collapse. But even in that collapse, there’s a capability to find light and darkness.” Big Smile, Black Mire is an adept and artful expression of that duality — as urika puts it, “taking a selfie in front of a burning building.”