It’s been 5 years since Pete Shelley, lead singer and songwriter of trailblazing
protopunk UK band the Buzzcocks, passed away at 63 from a suspected heart attack. The love
from inspired musicians and fans alike poured out, noting his brutally honest songwriting genius
often condensed into catchy, repeatable, 3-minute songs that lamented of adolescent love,
frustrated sexuality, and desire. When you hear a Buzzcocks song from the album “Singles
Going Steady”, for example, you can’t help but notice how influential it was on modern music
today, with artists like Olivia Rodrigo rehashing its longing, emotional lyrics and guitar-driven
power pop sensibilities.

Buzzcocks at the Electric Circus, Manchester, 10th November 1976, (c) Linder Sterling

Take It magazine labels Shelley “the eternal loser in love”, complete with a high, whining voice to match (Kirsch 1978). “I was so tired of being upset/Always wanting something I never could get/Life’s an illusion, love is a dream/But I don’t know what it is/Everybody’s happy nowadays” croons Shelley over loud, driving guitar riffs, a driving baseline, and catchy, fast drum fills. The balance of musical chaos and order successfully reflects a young generation’s apprehension towards conforming, questioning the false sense of security provided by the rapid development of 1970’s Britain. “Everyone’s saying things to me/ But I know it’s ok, ok!” This questioning of reality carries into other songs such as “Why Can’t I
Touch It?”, a standout track complete with an unforgettable bassline and lyrics that bring you
into Shelley’s world. “Well, it seems so real/ I can see it/And it seems so real/I can feel it/And it
seems so real/I can taste it/And it seems so real/I can hear it/So why can’t I touch it?”

Although all his senses play a role, Shelley can’t seem to fully grasp, literally and figuratively, what’s right
there in front of him. Isn’t that how we all feel? In a world of simulacra and repetition, it’s easy
to get caught up in the illusion of modern life. Copies of copies of copies, all supposedly
representative of the real thing. Frozen meals replacing fresh foods, tv screens in lieu of real
experiences. These are the externalities of economic and technological development. Billie
Eilish’s album “When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go?” takes a page from Shelley’s
playbook and expands this use of the hyperreal with her incredibly intimate vocals, soul bearing
lyrics, and immersive production (Nair 2020).

Shelley sublimated the growing pains of a whole generation into some of the catchiest, most memorable songs of the 70s, perhaps even the 20th century. Before Shelley, no one critiqued consumerism in such a catchy way, let alone in such short, sweet songs. He leaves behind a legacy much greater than himself- he bore his emotions onto pen

Pete Shelley performing with the Buzzcocks in Manchester, 1977, by KevinCummins.

References
Dass, K. (2018, December 9). Rip Pete Shelley: Punk, lover, homosapien. The Spinoff. Retrieved
October 25, 2022, from https://thespinoff.co.nz/pop-culture/09-12-2018/rip-pete-shelley-
punk-lover-homosapien

Kirsch, M. (1978). Ever Fallen In Love? TakeIt! Magazine, (B), 13.

Nair, N. (2020, June 22). Hyperreality in Billie Eilish’s ‘When We All Fall Asleep Where Do We
Go’. Medium. Retrieved November 28, 2022, from
https://medium.com/@nicarina98/hyperreality-in-billie-eilishs-when-we-all-fall-asleep-
where-do-we-go-fb65f20de476

Starkey, A. (2021, December 6). The groundbreaking influence of Buzzcocks’ Pete Shelley on
alternative music. Far Out Magazine. Retrieved October 25, 2022, from
https://faroutmagazine.co.uk/the-groundbreaking-influence-of-buzzcocks-pete-shelley-on-
alternative-music/

Written by Alicia Lanides, Photographed by Liv Foltiny

The weather in Philadelphia on June 25, 2023, was moody and temperamental, swiftly switching from blue skies and sunshine to dark clouds and a heavy downpour, on and off, throughout the day and night. The sky was painted with a misty sunset palette and the breeze teemed with humidity and anticipation as I entered The Foundry in Fishtown. The reason I go into such flowery detail about the weather is that it perfectly matched the energy of indie folk songwriter Billie Marten‘s performance, supported by Olivia Kaplan—all-powerful but not without poise, melancholic, and oddly nostalgic. Lyrics that make you reminisce about summers past, chock-full of love, yearning, and lifelong reflection. This performance made for a perfect date night or perhaps a soothing celebration of the summer solstice. As I made my way up the stairs, I passed by the various heavyweight names on the wall, demonstrating The Foundry’s capability to launch artists into superstardom. I felt grateful to witness another metaphorical liftoff here tonight. 

Southern Californian Olivia Kaplan opened the set, solo onstage, equipped with her hollow-bodied electric guitar, clad in all black, emphasizing her copper red locks. Her soothing voice provided the audience with a feeling of comfort and familiarity, a perfect way to establish the intimate nature of the set. Kaplan’s style of plucking and crafty chords pleasantly reminded me of Joni Mitchell‘s guitar-driven album Hejira, an all-time favorite of mine. Her lyrics are confessional and soul-bearing, especially on “Still Strangers,” which comes from the album Tonight Turns to Nothing (which turned two years old that day). “I’m Not Asking You to Love Me / I’m Just Talking About Some Company” she laments in a smoky voice. She also performed her new single “American Air”, which discusses the transient state of driving to Montreal and watching America “dwindle.” I was quite impressed with Kaplan’s gusto and songwriting chops, only to be pleasantly surprised by the fact that she performed in Billie Marten’s band. Her commitment to her craft was incredibly admirable and got me excited for what was next. 

Before Billie Marten arrived, her band, consisting of Kaplan and percussionist Andrew Maguire, quietly set up on the unlit stage, camouflaged by the crowd’s chatter. When the Northern English native finally made her way onto the stage, she was met with roaring applause from dedicated fans, one of whom was gently resting her latest release, Drop Cherries, upon the front row barricade. Her long flowing blonde hair was illuminated by violet stage lights, casually dressed in a tank top and jeans. Billie’s vocals were truly ethereal and can effortlessly tug on your heartstrings. Songs such as “This Is How We Move” and the popular “La Lune”, are sentimentally crafted indie folk tunes that remind you of a cool, dewy breeze on a warm summer morning.  

 I thoroughly enjoyed Billie’s cherry wood acoustic guitar fashioned with steely, twangy, heavy gauge strings, a lovely contrast to her airy, dreamlike melodies (buoyed by Kaplan’s soaring harmonies and skillful subtlety on the electric guitar). The trio was completed by Andrew Maguire, whose virtuosity on the drums was elevated by various accouterments, such as brushes, mallets, chimes, and a woodblock. It fit Billie’s sound perfectly, added quirk without becoming an overdone gimmick, and made the overall performance that much more dynamic and enthralling. Billie heavily engaged with her audience throughout the night, asking which songs they’d like to hear as well as what Philly activities she should experience – cue the audience’s frustration when she announces her first baseball game will be the Mets and not the Phillies.

Interestingly, one of my favorite moments of the night was when Billie froze up, forgetting the lyrics to “She Dances,” cracking a joke about having played these songs for three months straight, before giggling and moving on. It was a refreshingly honest moment that seamlessly revealed her humility. To get the whole set perfectly right would seem almost too calculated, too rehearsed, but this honest slip-up gave me (and the audience) a glimpse into the artist herself, a human amidst the spectacle of lights and cameras. In between sips of her Guinness from a paper coffee cup, she asks the audience if anyone is in love “with someone who is very far away,” which stimulates a soft cheer from the crowd. She then plays “Willow” off of her new album, a sweet and confessional tune about wishing how your lover was “under the same star.”  This song was a perfect example of what I view as Billie’s modus operandi- a confessional that is just as jagged as it is graceful, as passionate as it is soothing.    

I had a prime view of the front row saturated with die-hard Billie Marten aficionados, filming on their cell phones in attempts to capture this cherished moment, and possibly to relive the moment without the inhibitor of tears in their eyes. They sang along to every word as if it had come straight out of their diary, exhibiting Marten’s refined yet relatable songwriting skills. Despite the passion I witnessed, the crowd was anything but rowdy, rather putting their attentiveness on display, hanging onto every word uttered by Marten while swaying gently in unison.  

Towards the end of the show, a stagehand made his way to Olivia Kaplan, in his hands a mini birthday cake topped with a glowing candle, all to celebrate the aforementioned second birthday of her album Tonight Turns to Nothing. A rousing chorus of Happy Birthday was certainly in store. I was delighted that Billie had taken this moment to highlight the successes of a dear friend, and it created a real sense of camaraderie between the band members themselves as well as the audience in tow. 

Sometimes, opening acts are often glazed over by the headliners, there only to provide a point of entry to the audience. Such was not the case on that night. Olivia’s solo set not only perfectly matched the aesthetics of Billie’s music, but her participation in the band as well as the celebration of her album release anniversary proved to me that there was a sense of care and respect among the two artists. I enjoyed this set tremendously, and if you have a chance to see one (or both) of these artists, I highly recommend your attendance.

Billie’s new album Drop Cherries is available everywhere now, as well as Olivia Kaplan’s new single “American Air.” 

Billie Marten 

Website丨Facebook 丨Instagram 丨Twitter丨Tik Tok 丨YouTube 丨 Spotify丨Apple Music

Olivia Kaplan 

Website丨Facebook 丨Instagram 丨Twitter丨Tik Tok 丨YouTube 丨 Spotify丨Apple Music

By Alicia Lanides / 

A few nights ago, The Foundry effectively functioned as a 50-year time capsule. One containing vintage three-piece suits, patent leather shoes, shag haircuts, glamorous shades, and of course, good old-fashioned rock and roll. Amidst a diverse crowd, with ages ranging from teenage to Gen X, both opening act Billy Tibbals and headliner Mac Saturn effectively catered to the flower-crowned hippie masses, blending the timeless energy of classic rock with a youthful charm, giving them unmistakable star power on the Philadelphia stage.  

As I roamed around the venue before the show began, I took note of the merchandise that adorned the exposed brick walls. The designs were reminiscent of classic Stooges or Ramones album covers.  As I was leaving the venue, the merch line was out the door, proving the overwhelming popularity of these nostalgic designs that further bring audiences back to a simpler time. Before I knew it, the show was about to begin, as a gaggle of audience members crowded the barricade upon which they hung their winter coats. 

Singer, songwriter, guitarist, and London expatriate Billy Tibbals opened the show, alongside his LA-based band, which comprised drummer Reza Matin, bassist Darby O’Mahony, and lead guitarist Tristan Dean. Dressing sharp and playing tight, songs like “Hollywood Baby” and “I Just Want To Have Some Fun” showcased their extensive knowledge of glam rock icons like Sweet or T Rex, the latter of which bears a striking resemblance to Tibbals himself. 

Certain melodic and catchy riffs reminded me of the underrated 70s pop-rock group the Raspberries or perhaps a lost track by the Rolling Stones; other tunes recalled the Darkness’ debut album Permission to Land. There’s no doubt in my mind that Billy Tibbals and his band set the precedent for a night of nostalgia and feel-good rock and roll.

Detroit natives Mac Saturn kept the ball rolling and the audience howling. All adorned in dark shades and dressed in a variety of vintage attire ranging from snappy suits to captain’s hats to blouses that seemed like they were straight out of Robert Plant’s closet, I knew from the moment they walked on stage the exact aesthetic they were gunning for. Lead singer Carson Macc, rocking a feathered shag and a super wide tie, made a fabulously late entrance, much to the delight of his superfans in the front row. His mic stand ornamented by a cluster of plush dice at its base, Macc’s exhilarating stage presence was undeniable. It had me recalling the sheer electricity of iconic frontmen such as Mick Jagger or Jim Morrison. 

The band opened with “Diamonds”, a groovy rock cut off of their self-released EP titled Until the Money Runs Out. After hyping up the crowd with tunes such as “Paradiso”, “Persian Rugs”, and “Boxcutter”, the band played more sensual grooves such as “Get on the Phone”, in which Macc intimately begs the audience to give him a call, atop seductive riffs played by guitarists Mike Moody and Nick Barone, whose harmonies echo Joe Walsh and Don Felder of Eagles fame. I was pleasantly surprised by how much groove and ambiance came from keyboardist Evan Mercer, especially on songs like “Ain’t Like You” and the unreleased jam “Sleep”.

The band is well aware of how to get a crowd amped up, vying for audience participation as Macc props the mic towards the crowd. Despite these being newly released songs, most fans sang every word with a distinctive passion that made me reconsider the true camaraderie of a concert, something we weren’t able to experience for a few years. Now fans are back, and with a natural vigor about them. One of my favorite songs, “Law Machine” critiques the American dream, as Macc croons about the “pledge of allegiance” all while “kneeling on the great divide”. The song is buoyed by pounding drums and a driving baseline, courtesy of drummer Angelo Coppola and bassist Jive Moses, respectively. 

Their anthemic hit song “Mr. Cadillac”, with over 2 million streams on Spotify alone, sounded like a classic rock deep cut you’d find crate digging in your cool uncle’s record collection. The violin synths add an essential dance element to the track, perfectly topping off the sing-along nature of the chorus. The show ended with the crowd-pleasing song “Plain Clothes Gentlemen”, with Macc writhing around on the floor to the audience’s enchantment.

As he runs off stage for a brief moment, the remaining band members demonstrate their impressive improvisational skills. When Macc returns, he is equipped with a camcorder, filming the audience, and essentially making them the stars of the night. As the show came to a close, the air was indisputably electric, and I heard hordes of fans praising the band for an unforgettable night. Most Mac Saturn songs are quite simple in their chord progression, which is beneficial in a multitude of ways, as it gives each member a chance to shine as they solo and satisfies both the casual listener and the hardcore Mac Saturn devotee. And believe me, some fans are extraordinarily enthusiastic. I heard someone in the audience tell a member that they drove an astonishing four hours just for this concert, and subsequently freaked out when receiving band members’ bracelets or guitar picks. 

When Carson Macc teasingly pretended to throw his jacket into the audience, you should have seen the sheer chaos in the crowd. For a band arguably on the come up, Mac Saturn has cemented a spot for themselves in the classic rock revival genre. 

Their vintage sound is only bolstered by their modern flare, musical talent, and immaculate stage presence. Regardless of your age, if you’re looking for a night of pure entertainment and 70’s nostalgia, you can find it at a Mac Saturn/Billy Tibbals show. The two bands are currently on the Until the Money Runs Out Tour, traveling across North America before returning to Mac Saturn’s home state of Michigan on March 31.

Mac Saturn

Billy Tibbals Band