PITTSBURGH – Taylor Swift’s recent whirlwind trip to the Steel City caused real estate prices to skyrocket by a shocking margin, locals currently dealing with rent hikes confirm.
“I have no fucking clue what happened. One day I was looking to buy a house, and the next the price had doubled. It’s in Mount Lebanon, for fuck’s sake. It didn’t dawn on me until later that the only thing that occurred in between my searches was Taylor Swift coming to town,” said prospective buyer Allison Harding. “I’ve been saving for a down payment for literally a decade, and now all of that is fucked just because several hundred-thousand Swfities trucked into the city and utterly boosted the economy. I’m doomed.”
Real estate agent Patti Sinford felt differently about the recent boom in her market.
“The Eras Tour has been the single best thing to ever hit the local market, from my perspective, and that includes the bubble prior to the 2008 crash that made me rich to begin with,” Sinford said while showing a shoddy South Side mansion to a millionaire. “Pittsburgh hasn’t seen this much economic activity in years. Suddenly the demand is through the roof for buyers in town, and I have to assume it’s all from the ‘rich effect’ emanating from Taylor’s very being. I wonder where she’s going next because I need to buy low and sell high ASAP.”
Tom Peterson, a representative from the Federal Reserve, weighed in on the phenomenon.
“We’ve been desperately trying to limit inflation for years now since the pandemic, and right when we started to get shit in line, Taylor comes in and tanks us,” Peterson said. “We’re going to have to raise rates again. We’re honestly thinking about serving Ms. Swift with papers, demanding that she limits touring, because this is getting completely out of hand. If she keeps this up, even houses in completely undesirable sections of Middle America will be half a million dollars. And even the rarest, wealthiest millennials will be locked out of home ownership.”
At press time, Sinford was seen buying every fixer-upper within a 50-mile radius of Detroit, the next stop on Swift’s tour.
Knowing now what we didn’t know back in 1999, it’s fair to say that although this album is not without its charm, it’s the weakest in the discography. If you’re familiar with the band’s canon, you’ll recognize Nate’s signature Telecaster shimmer, Stacy’s reliably crunchy and intricate bass work, and the other Nate’s expertly syncopated drums. This album came out when they were like 15 years old, so it evokes that feeling you get when you break curfew and your mom’s boyfriend keeps bumming your cigs. But still, this album has a charming aggression to it that only comes with youth.
“Possibilities and Maybes” is technically not canon, but it’s a memorable album of B-sides that comes with strong recommendation. There’s previously unheard of stuff from their first three albums. There are demos and remixes. They even do a faithful cover of “Synchronicity II” by The Police, which is actually easier to listen to than the original version because you don’t have to think about Sting edging himself into an explosive climax with a feather duster.
For a while it seemed like The Casket Lottery was done, but they surprised us with this banger ten years after the release of the career-defining “Survival is for Cowards.” We’re met with an older, and wiser Casket Lottery after everybody went off to play in Coalesce, Able Baker Fox, and the Appleseed Cast. In other words, there was room for growth and reformation. In 2002, we had The Casket Lottery. In 2012, we had The Casket Lottery, but with synth. It’s like having your existential dread cake, and eating it while listening to The Cure.
“Short Songs for End Times” picks up where “Real Fear” left off, but is an overall more consistent album. Though The Casket Lottery has been known to tread lightly into math-rock territory, this release is their most straight-forward album to date; the drums chop, the bass rips, and the guitars paint a rich tapestry of texture only to drape it over the entire backdrop. The expertly placed peaks and valleys on this album make for a solid front-to-back listen, and Nathan’s powerful vocal presence sounds like he finally found the right combination of antihistamines.
There’s a whole other band out there called Able Baker Fox, and they boast the same lineup that can be found on the “Small Brown Bike And The Casket Lottery” split-EP. This EP, and the two subsequent Able Baker Fox albums that were birthed by it, has members from both bands playing together in what could be described as the ultimate supergroup that nobody’s ever heard of. It’s hard to tell where The Casket Lottery ends and Small Brown Bike begins, but we promise you that you’ll look really sad while walking over the iced over grass as the underneath you breaks like glass, or something. You honestly can’t go wrong with this one.
“Moving Mountains” is a younger, more experimental Casket Lottery in top form. The entire thing sounds the way it feels when you fall asleep on your arms until they get all tingly, but then you immediately pick up your guitar before you get the feeling back in your hands and try writing a song. That was supposed to be a compliment. Rhythmically, the staggering structure makes “Moving Mountains” sound disjointed in a way that’s intentional, and the whole album has a strange, yet infectious jiggle to it that’s hard to not be interested by.
“Survival Is for Cowards” is The Casket Lottery’s most straightforward pre-hiatus album, and shows you a clear logical progression in sound from the two albums that preceded it. Every song has its own subtle rhythmic complexity to it, but it’s also the most easily accessible iteration of The Casket Lottery, melodically speaking. Every song will vaguely remind you of really cold rain, and your dead uncle when you listen to that one song.
If Adam “Atom” Goren “And His Package” released this extremely unique and fun album as a split with former Long Island ska icon and current hipster messiah Dan Deacon six years after this came out, The Package’s irreverent brand of dork-punk would likely be headlining Coachella right now. But he didn’t. Stupid, stupid, stupid. “Redefining Music” may not contain Adam’s best song “Punk Rock Academy,” but what’s a more punk rock song title than “If You Own the Washington Redskins You’re a Cock”?
Most people who use the word “punk” in a non-condescending manner may not know this album, but a lot of their favorite aggressive bands that describe themselves with adjectives such as “gruff,” “crusty,” “grimey,” and “stinky” sure do! If you like saccharine melodies with offly rough yet sincerely endearing vocals, this thirteen-song Dillinger Four album clocking in at just under thirty-two minutes is for you! If not, why the hell are you here? Seriously. Get out.
Arizona is known more for not-so-casual racism than it is for the band Doll Skin, but we’d love to change that. The group released one lone album for Hopeless Records that likely got lost in the shuffle for whatever reason, and sadly, that’s what they call show business. Still, this talented group found a way to incorporate elements of nearly every single genre on Warped Tour in a tasteful fashion, but you messed everything up for the/your skin by not tuning in when the band was still around. Mark my words.
We still find it strange that this band just didn’t get a fair shake, and we’re not making the best of it. In the mid-2010s it seemed that Baltimore’s Have Mercy was a blogger nerd’s wet dream that he selfishly wanted to keep to himself and his perpetually soiled blanket. Gross. Despite the crazy buzz surrounding this band, they honestly walked so other more inferior acts could run. We’re not going to name names, but YOU can in the comments! Anyway, releasing three records for Hopeless, this 2017 effort seemed to stifle the band’s momentum despite being eleven stupendous songs front-to-back. Disagree?
Brain food: Fans of irritable bowel syndrome, Courtney Love’s gritty “Live Through This”-era Hole vocals, expansive and expensive veneers, and early-90s fuzzy distortion pedals would love, love, love England’s Milk Teeth and this particular LP’s blue and orange album cover. As you know, and this is admittedly low hanging fruit with a ‘orrible accent, the UK isn’t exactly known for dentistry, but it should be for this grungy powerhouse of a group. Innit. Like you did with Doll Skin and several acts yet to be mentioned below, you broke this band up too! Selfish! Check this one out and get a clue, vile child.
We hear that there’s a fourth wave of ska going on right now, but fuck that, let’s get back to the third one, which had a creatively solid yet super short run in the 1990s! (Miss) Michigan’s own Mustard Plug put out one of the best ska-punk records under the radar in 1997, and in a weird twist of fate got some public hate from the curiously and questionably tatted lead singer of the now and forever defunct Kara’s Flowers. Google. This LP rivals the Atom And His Package album above for the most smiley record listed in this piece regardless of whether or not you’re living in a box. Spin it and go, you!
The online chatter about this band was very strong with their self-released and all lowercase single “i’m gonna tell my therapist on you.” However, we wish that more people knew about this twelve-track debut album from the second of two Baltimore bands to be mentioned here, Pinkshift, which packs a punch so damn hard your shift will turn pink. Yeah. This is the most recent Hopeless Records release to be highlighted here, proving that we are current, cool, and hip. Here’s to the band’s next LP, dreamer!
It’s a strong, baller, and curious move to have the same album title as the Beatles but Queens is filled with weird, weird people; next stop Jamaica. Sylar’s “Help!” is the second of two records listed here with an exclamation point, and it makes sense given the fact that it contains a lot of yelling. In addition, the band has a nu-metal sound, aesthetic, vibe and a bright yellow jacket. If this record came out in 2000, Sylar may have been playing co-headlining gigs with (Hed)PE but sadly (or happily depending upon who is reading), nu-metal fashion is way more popular now than the modern bands who emulate such. Maintain closure.
Sometimes tried-and-true accessible radio rock isn’t actually on mainstream radio and that’s quite a shame for this Orlando five-piece, which executed catchiness and musicianship in an incredible fashion. However, the band achieved SOME mainstream success, as There For Tomorrow won an MTVU “Woodie” award, which is not a joke, form of hyperbole, or a monster fib about the actual juvenile word “woodie”; the fact that this was an award name is more appalling than a root canal procedure gone awry. Back to the band, TFT had a solid fan base but it wasn’t enough to keep ‘em around much more than yesterday, and certainly not today or tomorrow.
We’re going out with confidence for this tenth and last entry: You crazy, crazy non-conformists may have dismissed this band as just another pop-punk act when their debut 2016 album came out, but you goofed with confidence. This band may have released the best and most undeniable song you’ve never heard from the 2020s with its farewell self-titled LP’s opening track “What You Make It” with confidence. It’s a sugary and Weezer-y pop-rock jam that will infect your head for the better, and cause your post-Ozempic body to shake shake Senora with confidence. Honestly, this album would be listed here if it was that same infectious song repeated nine more times verbatim, but the remaining tracks deserve some public love or ANYTHING as well with confidence.
Born in Odessa, Texas, Diane Cranford was raised by local rodeo clowns “Slappy” and “Dr. Floppy Boots” for much of her early life. The skills she learned from these early influences would prove very useful after her relocation to the Austin scene.
Born and raised in Bozeman, Montana, Casper Rollard was an avid motorhead. Affectionately known to his close friends and family as “Van Humper,” he was legally prohibited from being within fifty feet of any Chevy Astro, which often made touring with his band The Four Wheelers difficult.
Folk-thrash band The Expulted was formed in Philadelphia by guitarist Went Silverman, washboard player Dale “Dead Toe” Polinchock, and a wiley kazoo player known to everyone only as “Skuzzles.” The band’s first gig was an illegal acoustic set in the back of that building where the city keeps the Liberty Bell.
Hands down one of the worst conceivable roommates of all time. BOB is an entity of The Black Lodge that possess people and forces them to commit the most horrific acts imaginable in order to harness pain and sorrow. Not exactly the kind of guy you can see doing the dishes all that frequently. Hard pass.
Nadine has two personas, and they both seem like an absolute nightmare to live with. One is a disturbed, violently tempered neurotic who thinks drapes are too loud, so I can only imagine what she would do when I blast music at 2 a.m. The other is a high-strung sex-crazed teenager with superhuman strength who doesn’t take no for an answer. I could see either one of them petting my cat to death.
On a show that features tulpas and demonic entities from a place called the black lodge, Leo, a human being, manages to be the scariest character. He’s sort of like a tough guy Bruce Mccullough character if Bruce McCullough was fully prepared to murder you at any second. I don’t need to get wrapped up in whatever BDSM/human trafficking/coke ring shenanigans this dude has going on.
Laura Palmer made some pretty questionable romantic choices in her short life but secretly dating bookhouse boy do-gooder James Hurley might have been the worst one. Inside James, there are two wolves, and they are both very sad and lame. I can’t watch a scene this dudes in without thinking “Get me the fuck out of here” so cohabitation is definitely off the table.
Margaret just seems really judgy, like a nosy cat-person shut-in only worse. She seems like she would be an incredibly stubborn roommate. Once she’s made up her mind that her log doesn’t like you, that’s it. I could also really easily see her being into Qanon.
I’ve been in love with Audrey since I was a teenager, but I don’t think I could ever live with her. She can be sort of needy like she always needs a ride somewhere or needs you to bail her out of a shady mob-run whore house she’s infiltrated, but if you need something you’re on your own. Plus she seems like she would be the sort of roommate who does a lot of passive-aggressive mind game-type stuff.
I bet Jerry is actually a pretty fun hang, in a once-in-a-while coke buddy type of way, but you never wanna live with someone like that. There would be way too much partying, crazy noise going on all hours of the night, but when it came time to pay the rent he would be a phantom.
Never mind the fact that she’s dead, wrapped in plastic. That’s like the least of this girl’s issues. Laura is two-faced and duplicitous. She likes hard drugs and she has awful taste in men. I don’t need someone bringing a rotating cast of coke dealers, skinwalkers, and drips like James Hurley into my house all the time. I’ve lived with a Laura or two in my day and I’m too old for that noise.
Dick is a pretentious blowhard, especially for someone who works in retail. Dick would be the sort of roommate that scoffs at you for eating something as low-brow as a hot dog, then try to argue his way out of paying cable because he doesn’t watch TV that much even though he totally does. Fuck this guy.
I think Albert is a good guy deep down, but he’s way too agro to deal with day-to-day. Plus he tried to narc on Harry Truman after he punched him in the face. Talk shit get hit Albert, it’s as simple as that.
Nicky has very little going for himself when it comes to being a roommate candidate. He’s a child, which sucks. Everyone who gets close to him seems to die tragically as if he is cursed or evil, and he brings all that Andy/Lucy/Dick drama with him. Sorry, little guy, that’s three strikes.
Benjamin is such a conniving bastard that even though he’s rich he would still find a way to fuck me over on rent. By the end of season 2, he tries to turn over a new leaf, but the back half of season 2 barely counts anyway, so I have a hard time believing it’s stuck. You don’t go from a cigar-toking villain who has sex with high school students to a good guy in one episode.
Catherine is a cold and ruthless soap opera stereotype. Not living with someone like that is the reason I moved out of my mom’s house in the first place. This would be a huge step back for me.
She’s an assassin who uses seduction and hallucinogenic drugs on her victims. I can respect that, but I wouldn’t want to live with it.
Johnny is just too much of a wild card. One minute he’s fine, the next he’s wailing and banging his head against the wall. The guy’s a deposit killer.
The only thing worse than someone who thinks they’re so attractive and charming that they can get away with anything is someone who actually is and can. If she wanted to, she could probably get me to float her on bills until I didn’t have a penny left to my name.
Bernard is the drug mule of the Renault family, making him the lowest man on the totem pole of one of the sketchiest families of all time. Needless to say, he would not make a trustworthy roommate.
I’m just gonna say it, Windom is vindictive. I feel like if I left my clothes in the dryer he would kidnap my girlfriend and engage me in a dangerous game of cat and mouse where he always has the upper hand.
All three of the Renault brothers are persona non grata in my apartment, especially Jean. There’s no villain like a bolo-tie white coat villain. If I lived with this dude it would only be a matter of time before the feds burst down the door and confiscated my hard drive.
It’s not that I don’t think sex work is real work, but this madame is a little too old school for my taste. Sex workers should be kept in your employ by safe working conditions and fair pay, not forced heroin dependency. She may add a touch of class to the living room, but at what cost? 