Turnstile

From the moment they hit the ground a decade ago, TURNSTILE have never stopped moving forward — and they’re sure as hell not about to look back. The Baltimore band, comprised of singer Brendan Yates, guitarists Brady Ebert and Pat McCrory, bassist Franz Lyons, and drummer Daniel Fang, immediately distinguished themselves from the pack with their infectious, aggressive punk fusion; their welcoming, satisfying live shows; and most importantly, their willingness to experiment, as seen by the steady evolution from their early demos to 2018’s Roadrunner ambitious debut Time & Space, the latter of which earned renown from The New York Times, NPR, The FADER, and others. The only constant in the TURNSTILE universe, aside from love, is progression.

Having laid the foundations for their new album, GLOW ON, in the before times of summer 2019, the band took quarantine and the resultant tour cancellations as an opportunity to buckle down and devote their full and undivided attention to the album-making process. As Yates puts it, the stars aligned: “It turned off any potential for us to get distracted by traveling, and let us focus on these ideas we had.” Finding a studio housed inside a barn, tucked away in an isolated corner of rural Tennessee, only affirmed their aims: creating a self-contained universe of pure, united, unfiltered energy created entirely on their own terms, sustained as always by empathy and spirit.

If Time & Space marked the sound of TURNSTILE charting new ground for hardcore, expanding stylistic boundaries and celebrating new possibilities, then GLOW ON is that utopic vision fully realized; 15 tracks devoid of boundaries, only abundant imagination, heart, and grooves plucked from all corners of the musical spectrum. Hardcore remains the heart of TURNSTILE’s sound — songs like “BLACKOUT” and “T.L.C. (TURNSTILE LOVE CONNECTION)” are guaranteed to stir up that heavy energy — but it moves to a more alien pulse this time around, an incessant arrhythmia that consistently keeps you guessing minute to minute, track to track.

In this album’s mixtape-esque flow, each song offers its own unique, ephemeral take on sensory overload — and every listen brings something new. Less a song than a two-minute roller coaster ride, “DON’T PLAY” veers from a fast and manic intro to a top-heavy, ultra-rhythmic verse, followed by an anxious chorus draped in distorted vocal effects and pirouetting piano leads, and then back again. “FLY AGAIN” and “NEW HEART DESIGN” offset the band’s aggression with swathes of waterlogged new-wave guitars, which are played up for mournful effect on “UNDERWATER BOI” (a spiritual successor of sorts to “Blue by You,” off 2015’s Nonstop Feeling). And in yet another departure from hardcore norms, the band even link up with Blood Orange for two tracks, “ALIEN LOVE CALL” and “LONELY DEZIRES,” the band’s most melodic and soulful material to date.

Never before have TURNSTILE focused so intensely on the details — and clearly, it’s paid off with GLOW ON. “Working to figure out what you want from a song and how to capture it is always a huge learning experience.” says Yates, who co-produced the record alongside producer Mike Elizondo. “A live show environment shared with others, I think, is the true essence of the band and music; but when recording an album, you’re given a lot of opportunity. You want to breathe as much imagination into it as possible.”

Yates, like many songwriters, isn’t one for providing hard-and-fast interpretations of his lyrics, but he can agree to this: despite our best attempts to convey them through music and words, most emotions are just too complex to be summed up in a simple, digestible manner, least of all in a punk song. To that end, GLOW ON, with its free-wheeling approach and ambiguous lyrics, represents an attempt to subvert these roadblocks and embrace the human condition for what it is — a mess. “Humans are complex,” says Yates. “Feelings are complex. Sometimes, it’s hard to get those dimensions of feelings into songs.” Thus, rippers like “HOLIDAY” are built like Rorschach tests, the lyrics blurring the line between steadfast and somber. Depending on your perspective, the thought of “sailing with no direction” could be an untethered celebration, or the loneliest tale of a meaningless quest through life without purpose.

TURNSTILE aren’t seeking to provide any answers to life’s big questions, of course: at the end of the day, they’re here to spread love, and hopefully get you dancing. The band’s short film TURNSTILE LOVE CONNECTION (a companion piece to July’s EP of the same name, and by extension, GLOW ON Itself) underscores this mission again and again across its 11-minute runtime. The film begins with the band aimlessly roaming the grounds of a deserted stadium before transitioning to an extended, dreamlike sequence resembling a life cycle in their beloved hometown of Baltimore, starring their family and peers. We close with Yates riding on the back of a dirt bike, holding on for dear life, quiet bliss lighting up his face. The sound fades out as the pair speeds into the horizon, approaching the point of no return, or perhaps a new beginning. Of course, the end destination doesn’t matter; TURNSTILE have always been about the journey; roadmaps, itineraries, and speed limits be damned. We’re all immensely lucky to be along for the ride.

On her 2018 debut album Lush, seventeen-year-old Lindsey Jordan sang “I’m in full control / I’m not lost / Even when it’s love / Even when it’s not”. Her natural ability to be many things at once resonated with a lot of people. The contradiction of confidence and vulnerability, power and delicacy, had the impact of a wrecking ball when put to tape. It was an impressive and unequivocal career-making moment for Jordan.

On Valentine, her sophomore album out November 5th on Matador, Lindsey solidifies and defines this trajectory in a blaze of glory. In 10 songs, written over 2019-2020 by Jordan alone, we are taken on an adrenalizing odyssey of genuine originality in an era in which “indie” music has been reduced to gentle, homogenous pop composed mostly by ghost writers. Made with careful precision, Valentine shows an artist who has chosen to take her time. The reference points are broad and psychically stirring, while the lyrics build masterfully on the foundation set by Jordan’s first record to deliver a deeper understanding of heartbreak.

On “Ben Franklin”, the second single of the album, Jordan sings “Moved on, but nothing feels true / Sometimes I hate her just for not being you / Post rehab I’ve been feeling so small / I miss your attention, I wish I could call”. It’s here that she mourns a lost love, conceding the true nature of a fleeting romantic tie-up and ultimately, referencing a stay in a recovery facility in Arizona. This 45-day interlude followed issues stemming from a young life colliding with sudden fame and success. Since she was not allowed to bring her instruments or recording equipment, Jordan began tabulating the new album arrangements on paper solely out of memory and imagination. It was after this choice to take radical action that Valentine really took its unique shape.

Jordan took her newfound sense of clarity and calm to Durham, North Carolina, along with the bones of a new album. Here she worked with Brad Cook (Bon Iver, Waxahatchee). For all the album’s vastness and gravity, it was in this small home studio that Jordan and Cook chipped away over the winter of early 2021 at co-producing a dynamic collection of genre-melding new songs, finishing it triumphantly in the spring. They were assisted by longtime bandmates Ray Brown and Alex Bass, as well as engineer Alex Farrar, with a live string section added later at Spacebomb Studios in Richmond.

Leaning more heavily into samples and synthesizers, the album hinges on a handful of remarkably untraditional pop songs. The first few seconds of opener and title track ‘Valentine’ see whispered voice and eerie sci-fi synth erupt into a stadium-sized, endorphin-rush of a chorus that is an overwhelming statement of intent. “Ben Franklin”, “Forever (Sailing)” and “Madonna” take imaginative routes to the highest peaks of catchiness. Jordan has always sung with a depth of intensity and conviction, and the climactic pop moments on Valentine are delivered with such a tenet and a darkness and a beauty that’s noisy and guttural, taking on the singularity that usually comes from a veteran artist.

As captivating as the synth-driven songs are, it’s the more delicate moments like “Light Blue”, “c.et. al.” and “Mia” that distill the albums range and depth. “Baby blue, I’m so behind / Can’t make sense of the faces in and out of my life / Whirling above our daily routines / Both buried in problems, baby, honestly” Jordan sings on “c. et. al.” with a devastating certainty. These more ethereal, dextrously finger-picked folk songs peppered in throughout the album are nuanced in their vocal delivery and confident in their intricate arrangement. They come in like a breath of air, a moment to let the mind wander, but quickly drown the listener in their melodic alchemy and lyrical punch.

The album is rounded out radiantly by guitar-driven rock songs like “Automate”, “Glory” and “Headlock”. Reminiscent of Lush but with a marked tonal shift, Jordan again shows her prowess as a guitar player with chorus-y leads and rhythmic, wall-of-sound riffs. “Headlock” highlights this pivot with high-pitched dissonance and celestially affected lead parts – “Can’t go out I’m tethered to / Another world where we’re together / Are you lost in it too?”, she sings with grit and fatigue, building so poignantly on her sturdy foundation of out-and-out melancholy. On Valentine, we are taken 100 miles deeper into the world Jordan created with Lush, led through passageways and around dark corners, landing somewhere we never dreamed existed.

Today, in the wake of recording Valentine, Jordan is focused on trying to continue healing without slowing down. The album comes in the midst of so much growth, in the fertile soil of a harrowing bottom-out. On the heels of life-altering success, a painful breakup and 6 weeks in treatment, Jordan appears vibrant and sharp. “Mia, don’t cry / I love you forever / But I gotta grow up now / No I can’t keep holding onto you anymore” she sings on the album closer “Mia”. She sings softly but her voice cuts through like a hacksaw. The song is lamenting a lost love, saying a somber goodbye, and it closes the door on a bitter cold season for Jordan. Leaving room for a long and storied path, Valentine is somehow a jolt and a lovebuzz all at once.