I know I said I wasn't handing out awards, but if I were, I'd give "Best Record to Get Stoned To in a Loveseat" to Tender Meat. My advice to anyone feeling a little stressed by the world is to smoke 'em if you got 'em or pour yourself a glass of something nice, light a candle, put on "Blessed AF" and let Ivamae ease you back. I'm not picking albums or songs of the year for 2021 (though some of Burlington's best artists will do it for me in our year-end issue on December 29), but I can't think of another Vermont-made record I listened to as many times as Tender Meat.Īfter months of streaming shows and DIY home-recording efforts, listening to an album crafted with such love and recorded with such uncompromising vision was incredibly affecting. The Burlington-based singer-songwriter released Tender Meat in June, a record of songs simmering with longing, love and loss.
So did listening to the debut LP from indie-pop and neo-soul artist Brittany Mae, aka Ivamae. To experience those sensations my first night back filled me with hope. It was bizarre and magical, two things I associate with the best Burlington shows. I don't think I'll ever forget the sight of Bill Mullins shredding the "Free Bird" solo while Junktiques Collective owner Phinneus Sonin danced in nothing but a pair of tight shorts, slowly immersing himself in a giant wraparound balloon. The good vibes were so prevalent that when someone inevitably screamed out "Free Bird," the band actually obliged by tearing into an instrumental version of the Lynyrd Skynyrd classic. Perhaps I hadn't fully grasped just how much I'd missed seeing live music, but within 15 minutes of arriving, I was fighting back happy tears.īy the time Barbacoa ripped into an epic, high-powered set, the energy of the crowd was overflowing into that most perfect kind of show - the kind where performers and audience feed off one another in an endless loop. The massive, tatted-up bouncer, the smell of weed and cigarettes, the line by the beer tent, the sound of a tech hitting the kick drum over and over. The moment I walked into the parking lot/venue with my ticket in hand, the sensation hit me. And as I headed down to the South End that night, I wondered whether I was a little too excited about catching a local act. In normal times, the idea of walking across the city and forking over $20 to see Barbacoa, as good as they are, would have seemed sort of nuts. The Burlington surf rockers are a fixture of the local scene and not shy about playing shows. Now, I've seen Barbacoa more times than I can honestly count.
#Btv solo fre series#
The series debuted with a set from DJ Disco Phantom, but the Barbacoa show a few weeks later - my first show since March 2020 - was where I had a real moment. The Backside 405 series from Higher Ground was a real lifesaver this summer. When I look back at 2021, I think of moments, whether they were shows or albums or just announcements, that highlighted a difficult year. I'm inspired and grateful that this disparate collection of oddballs, old-timers, kids, professionals, first-timers, prodigies and virtuosos all channeled whatever the hell they were going through this year and gave us back some very necessary art. To say I'm proud of our music scene is an understatement.
They kept writing, kept playing, and kept using ingenuity and determination to perform live music. That was 2021, though: The year that music persevered.īecause, through it all, Vermont musicians kept working. For every show successfully staged, another was canceled. Musically, it felt like a series of one-step-forward, two-steps-back moments as artists navigated the post-quarantine landscape and tried to reignite their careers. But compared with its predecessor, it had some bright spots. Taken on its own, 2021 was no easygoing good time. In a world where one person's villain is another person's patriot, it just felt good to all be on the same page about 2020. Think Joffrey in "Game of Thrones" or tech bro Martin Shkreli after he bought the secret Wu-Tang album. It's like when there's a villain so loathsome, so despised, that everyone agrees they're the worst. There was something so comforting about how much everyone hated 2020.
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