It’s been 33 years since the 1991 release of My Bloody Valentine’s “Loveless,” a quintessential (if not overplayed) album within indie rock’s least understood subgenre, shoegaze. For many Americans, that’s exactly where shoegaze remains — within the collective cultural consciousness, in the ’90s. For those of us who have been paying attention, we have bands like Julie to remind us that this music is not a passing fancy, but a timeless and still resonant sound. I remember a friend of mine showing me their EP “Pushing Daisies” in the back of a classroom in 2022, and it hasn’t really left my mind since. Since 2020, the LA-based trio has released four singles and one EP, with plenty of grainy YouTube videos to showcase their explosive live shows. And after two years of listening and relistening to their available media with some amount of consistency, myself and many others are ecstatic to enjoy their first full-length album, “my anti-aircraft friend” (hereon referred to as MAAF).
A thought I always have after finishing one of their live videos or EP is simply “I wish I had more of this.” That’s exactly what MAAF delivers: more of Julie’s distinctive timbre. As the band puts it in a Dork magazine interview on the album, “We weren’t consciously attempting to do anything different besides just evolving the notion of what we were already trying to do, evolving our understanding of songwriting and getting better at capturing satisfying moments and dynamics.” Although this might be a turn-off for many listeners —and indeed, a lack of variety is a frequent criticism of the band — upon closer listening, there are some big distinctions to make between MAAF and Julie’s previous repertoire. The band takes a far less ambient approach to their tones, with guitars and vocals sounding less washed-out and far more focused. This is a big departure not only from the swirling waves of noise found within “Pushing Daisies,” but the pulsing soundscapes of the shoegaze genre as a whole. What the band does not compromise on is the intensity found in all aspects of their performance. The album opens simply with driving quarter notes on guitar and drums, a sound that benefits greatly from the drier tones. This intensity does not let up for the first half of this album, with the distorted and dissonant strings creating a palpable contrast with the relaxed, almost tired sounding vocals.
To be clear, by “intensity” I don’t mean “volume.” There are plenty of more quiet sections to be found within these songs, primarily found in the second half of this album and especially with the fifth track “knob,” which opens with an exposed duo of guitar and vocals. Yet, even within these more intimate sections, a certain emotional stress persists throughout the album. The distorted tone of strings create a lack of clarity in the harmony, creating harmonies that sound succinctly un-resolute. For nearly all of the chord progressions, there is really no point of rest; there is always some amount of dissonance. The same can be said for the tempo of the songs; tracks such as “ill cook my own meals” have a dragging quality, like you’re being pulled into mud. Other tracks such as “piano instrumental” feel like they’re spinning out of control, with the tempo climbing upward with ferocity before finally crashing back down. Not to mention the bands wide and often dramatic dynamic range, with explosions of volume in tracks like “catalog” or “knob,” and unexpected drops in volume in the tracks “tenebrist” and “feminine adornments.” The end result of all this uneasy musical ground is a general feeling of restlessness and an emotional palette that remains obscured and hazy. This album exudes a fog of in-between feelings: all of the things we feel deeply in our gut in moments both mundane and unusual, yet often go unrecognized and nameless. If one were to try and put the sentiments of this album into words, they might be fervor, disappointment, or longing.
Mixed in with all the unease found on this album is a genuine element of humor. The personnel of Julie are really very funny people, something a trip to their Instagram account makes clear. There are points in this album where it almost feeling like the band is screwing with you, such as the bewildering hits at the end of “claiborne practice,” or the cutting exclamations of noise on “ill cook my own meals” that I found genuinely startling (and while listening with headphones, somewhat painful). These moments serve merely as fun for the band to make, and they contribute to the overall authenticity of the band’s image and music. All of the tracks on this album elude any sort of perfectionism in the performance, or overcomplication in the writing. The riffs are straightforward and powerful, the vocals are raw in the most charming ways, and the drums are not occupied with chops or virtuosity but rather pure character and energy. This amateur-ish quality is something the band is both aware of and takes full advantage of, stating in the aforementioned Dork interview, “Sometimes, lack of experience can translate to the purest form of authenticity.” This childlike approach to creation allows MAAF a certain intimacy not often found in other rock music. It has the same closeness of a song your friend performs for you, within the confines of their own room. It’s something that stays with you — memorable not because of anything particularly impressive or inventive, but because of just how potent its mood is. Despite their indescribable quality, the feelings found in this album undeniably exist all around us, and, personally, Julie’s music makes me want to look more closely for them.
Julie – “my anti aircraft friend”
8.5/10
For fans of: Sonic Youth, The Swirlies, LSD and the Search for God
