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Margaret Chavez’s new folk-rock opus, Into An Atmosphere, is a headphone masterpiece. From the very first track, it’s clear why Consequence of Sound, Mojo and Uncut have all been extolling the many virtues of project mastermind Marcus William Striplin—the music is undeniably ambitious, mixing latin freak-folk rhythms with a topicality the microgenre has never dared to approach, even in its heyday. But to call this record “folk” or “even folk rock” would be to curtail its progressive ethos, as Striplin weaves reverb-soaked guitars, undulating synths and effervescent acoustic plucks to create what Uncut calls “a mark of excellence in Americana.”

Striplin’s barbed wit rises to the forefront, riding his gentle croon and lilting sonics past the kind of cliches that often accompany albums of such deep pathos and political awareness. Moving effortlessly from a scathing indictment of Immigration and Customs Enforcement and the government stooges who enable it (“The Croupier’s Unite I.C.E.”) to a poignant narrative in which he assumes his mother’s point-of-view during her most harrowing moments (“Honeysuckles”), Striplin deftly balances his heartbreaking stories’ jarring content with dense sounds and creeping earworms. 

Mixing elements of modern indie rock, psychedelia, mid-2000s alt-country and folk, Striplin croons over layers of chiming acoustics and burbling electronics, building his songs from comforting lullabies into the kind of cathartic anthems upon which Echo & the Bunnymen and The Cure built their careers. “H O R A,” arguably the album’s most rousing moment, demonstrates the best of Striplin’s capabilities: building a Spector-like wall of dissonance, kept at bay only by his voice’s coiled urgency. 

In the studio, helping to nurture Margaret Chavez’s ambition, was Striplin’s longtime recording partner Stuart Sikes (Cat Power, Loretta Lynn, The White Stripes, Phosphorescent), and mastering genius Greg Calbi (John Lennon, Tame Impala, The Strokes, Iggy Pop, David Bowie), as well as Paul Williams and Don Cento—all of whom brought a clarity and ceaseless energy to the recording process. In tandem with Striplin’s songcraft, the efforts of this cadre of engineers are felt most powerfully on “Honeysuckles” and “The Croupiers Unite I.C.E.” The former opens with a stark and harrowing vision of death—“a snapped neck, a snapped neck in a truck / I watched my daddy die”—as Striplin narrates from his young mother’s perspective, detailing the horrific experience of watching her father die as she remained stuck upside down in the truck for two full hours, eyes locked on her dying father. Gentle acoustic guitar cascades through the song as synths zip in and out of focus, like a U.F.O. observing some desert-road horror show. Meanwhile the pitter-patter percussion works double time, cementing one of the album’s most breathtaking moments. “Honeysuckles” acts as not only a showcase for Striplin’s voice and songwriting, but also the album’s attention to sonic detail. Synths buzz and whir, guitars moan, strings yearn, and not a decibel is underserved by the mix, an emphatic credit to the bevy of talent and expertise Margaret Chavez assembled in the studio.

Similarly, the scathing “The Croupiers Unite I.C.E.” stabs directly at the jugular of America’s corrupt brigade: “Their hands are forged in gold and their hearts are as cold.” Striplin himself pointedly admits that the song “is a ‘fuck you’ to I.C.E.,” and you can hear every inch of his middle finger rising in the way he holds the sibilance while singing “I.C.E.,” his clenched teeth barely holding an avalanche of epithets from pouring out onto the tape. But even songs bursting with ideas, like “Croupiers”—with its brilliant marriage of classic Roy Orbison rhythms and Will Oldham’s lonely campfire devotionals—can’t contain Margaret Chavez’s multitudes as Striplin touches on pulsating Gas-like ambience (“The Cheap River & The Broken Mirror”), stirring alt-country (“I Virgo”), and even throws in some undeniable indie-rock jams, replete with crushing linear drums, like the anthemic Broken Social Scene-indebted “H O R A.”

Born and raised in Texas, Striplin was fascinated with music from a young age, but had to keep his distance due to an abusive father. Fortunately, his mother Margaret—the namesake of this recording project—noticed her son’s interest and bought him a small tape recorder from RadioShack. Using this cheap little device, young Striplin was able to record his favorite songs off the radio and then, tucked into his bed at night, listen quietly with his ear resting against the tiny built-in speaker. The tape recorder was strategically placed under his pillow, so his father couldn’t hear it. 

By the time he was 13, his mother bought him a guitar by paying a local bus boy at her serving job to bring back a guitar from his next trip to Mexico. Armed with an authentic mariachi guitar and newly free to indulge his fascination with music in the wake of his parents’ divorce, Striplin began forming bands immediately, eventually culminating in Pleasant Grove, which brought him his first taste of success as a musician. Since the creation of Margaret Chavez, Striplin has kept busy writing, recording, playing live, and personally and emotionally cleaning house, vehemently crediting therapy and sobriety before reassuringly insisting ”I’m not clean and sober, but I’m also not a mess anymore.” 

Now that Striplin has finally put some of his demons to rest, he’s been able to channel that catharsis into this new album, a work of focused anger and empathetic heart. Borne of internal conflict and depicting America’s analogous struggles, Into An Atmosphere speaks of hope, something the songwriter himself bashfully cops to: “I think it’s no coincidence it’s being released in an election year. Maybe there are people who are still on the fence, and they hear it and are like, ‘Oh, man—absolutely!’ It’s most certainly gonna gel with my circle, but I really hope it touches people who are lost.” 

Into An Atmosphere is due out 7/31 via We Know Better Records.

Harnessing the new-wave sensibilities of golden-era Blondie while keeping their feet firmly planted the alternative unpredictability of early Pixies, Atlanta’s Lesibu Grand (pronounced Le-SEE-boo Grand) brings their songwriting chops to the world with the release of their latest single and video “Jennifer, My Girl.” Comprised of duo Tyler-Simone Molton & John Renaud, this Atlanta-based band prides itself on its melting pot of musical styles & cultures, pivoting from grungy punk rock one minute (early single “Miranda”) to smoky latin blues (“Mi Sueno”), the strength of their vision and restless creative spark propels them through genre after genre without ever losing an ounce of their singular identity, much like their hometown. Their affinity for and identification with Atlanta likely is to blame for gifting a band with the ability to write as infectious a song as “Jennifer, My Girl,” all while revealing heartfelt emotional stakes. To hear the band tell it, it’s these unique juxtapositions that define them: “Our special sauce comes from our relationship, both the obvious differences – age, race, and sex – and the musical ones.” Ultimately, they admit, “we are striving to fill a large gap, and which gives us ample room to explore the human condition.”

“Jennifer, My Girl,” mixed by Dan Dixon and inspired by Molton’s own relationship with her sister, exercises the band’s core alchemy and love of genre-defying music, all of which can be heard working within the first thirty seconds. The track opens with ethereal keyboards cascading through a soundscape that approximates the sweetly free-flowing vibes of the Soulquarians. Never content to be pigeonholed, the band uses this juxtaposition to launch into the track in earnest, creating a buoyant piece of indie-pop bathing in sun-baked organs as Molton’s assertive vocals rise above a chorus of decaying harmonies. Simultaneously, lush guitars reverberate throughout, suggesting alt-rock by-way-of Roy Orbison, while Renaud’s prominent descending bass line punctuates the hook. Despite the song’s poppiness, its core is steeped in empathy as Molton sings to a sister troubled by the modern age “Jennifer, my girl, you are my world/I know you might be afraid/Don’t know what’s coming your way/Why not breath g’on and let tomorrow worry ‘bout tomorrow, tomorrow/And today, today.” 

Coming off of their last EP, The Legend of Miranda, in 2019 and a rush of glowing press from the likes of American Songwriter, Immersive Atlanta and Audiofemme, the band began to get the itch to share their music with the world. Luckily, “Jennifer, My Girl,” a song originally penned for the Miranda sessions, in being set apart as a single, gets the spotlight it deserves with a brand new music video. 

Shot in collaboration with East Atlanta’s Sailorface, the video is bathed in somber blues, reflecting the strife of their hometown as Molton reassuringly sings into a fractured mirror. The video also serves to expand the scope of the band’s seemingly personal narratives to include comments and questions on national identity, escapism, and the extremely prescient topic of anxiety in America. 

All of which couldn’t be more appropriate for a band steeped in Atlanta’s culture, a place that, as the years have progressed,beckons as a new American cultural hub. Given Altanta’s burgeoning time in the limelight, now is the perfect moment for a band like Lesibu Grand, a band whose urgency, melting pot of influences, and songcraft has never felt more timely.

Lesibu Grand’s “Jennifer, My Girl” is due out June 5.

“Stephie tugs at the heart strings with her unique style of spring reverb-drenched heartache. These Days is awe-inspiring” – ANDRIJA TOKIC (Alabama Shakes // The Bomb Shelter).

“I came across Stephie James as a soft spoken young woman assisting in Dan Auerbach’s studio during the tail end of recording an album with him. Like many, she was in Nashville to pursue music. Her energy and determination to forge her path felt familiar and rejuvenating. Watching her voice and songwriting begin to bloom and evolve has been a pleasure. Her ability to harken back to the 60’s while maintaining a modern sensibility is effortless.  – NIKKI LANE

“Stephie James made a burning record that is beautiful
and uniquely her own.” BUDDY MILLER 

If I had to use just one word for my experience listening to Stephie, it would be “mesmerizing.” I could not stop listening … and still haven’t. There was something familiar, yet fresh, and also real, about her music. – AL MOSS (Founding member of AMA // promo for Neil Young, Fleetwood Mac, Willie Nelson, John Prine et. al)

?“Stephie James resurrects the heart-stirring soul of legacy artists that span the roots gamut. Summoning the melancholy melodies of Roy Orbison and the vigorous spirit of Billie Holiday.” – JONATHAN FRAHM (PopMatters, No Depression)

With each passing year, the city of Detroit’s once wearily languid posture manages to right itself. The forgotten neighborhoods, once filled with the promise of the American Dream, are now beginning to bustle with an energy not seen in decades. And just like the city itself, built on the hard work and resilience of the working class, its music lives on.

In walks Stephie James – like a smoky, dimly lit back-alley bar, the one that’s the best kept secret in town, her music stands as a sultry embodiment of the past, but also as a bracing reflection of the current culture. Embracing the grittiness of yesteryear’s garage rock productions and also the bittersweet timelessness of Roy Orbison, this is unmistakably the music of countless romantic fantasies and of widescreen Lynchian sensibility. Without compromising an ounce of style,  Stephie James has managed to not only craft an EP of beautiful, heart-on-its-sleeve classic melodies, but also imbue her music with the same sense of mystery and intrigue that makes the best Henry Mancini score somehow elevated and torrid. 

While James has yet to become a household name, her credits leading up to this release would make even the most seasoned musicians gulp dryly in jealousy: touring with Anita Baker and Nikki Lane, engineering for Dan Auerbach and Buddy Miller, sessions with John Bettis (songwriter for Whitney Houston, Michael Jackson, and The Carpenters, amongst others) and landing sync in Michael Bolton’s new film, to name a few. 

 Of course, all of this goes without even mentioning her ambition, which first reared its head at the age of 15, when she and her younger brother established a DIY coffee shop which doubled as a music venue.  The business not only helped bolster the emerging music scene in the Detroit burbs, but has grown into a prosperous chain of shops in the specialty coffee market.

After a career zigzagging in between the crevices of others’ careers, all the while building a body of work and experience of her own, Stephie James finally decided to step into the spotlight with a solo project by working with Andrija Tokic, who earned acclaim for producing Alabama Shakes groundbreaking first album.

The EP itself is a perfect distillation of the best elements Detroit rock has had to offer over the last two decades: timeless leather-cool, thanks to the resurgence of Iggy Pop and the omnipresence of Jack White- and, above all else, great songwriting. From the Americana rock churn of EP opener, “These Days,” the album puts your expectations on the backfoot immediately: one part Phil Spector crooner and one part howling-for-blood rock as James snidely intones “The tide is turning, but some things never change.” Only three songs later, the album closes its five track suite with “West of Juarez,” a lush, string-filled, western ballad, reminiscent of a bygone era, and the fearlessness of youth.

James’s credits ultimately stand as a dizzying fever dream, the type of opportunities only the luckiest are afforded and only the most capable and talented can maintain. A culmination of her life up until this point and undoubtedly the beginning of a rewarding career, James is not content to let this EP be the last redolent audiences will hear from her. For now though, Stephie James paradoxically gives us exactly what we want: enough to leave us yearning for more.

Stephie James’ These Days will be out July 10.