Hello, my name is Kiva. I play in Washed with Foster and he has asked me to write a review of Febuary’s debut album, February, that dropped earlier this year. Fair warning: I am not true-blood emo by any stretch. You could not find someone lacking more musical context than me to write about this. So, instead of critiquing my shitty writing and infantile/repetitive takes, let it be a testament to the power of Febuary–album so good, a post-hardcore-pilled rube just had to talk about it.
The guitars open IDGAF, toeing the line between twinkly and dragging. Abby’s clicking rhythm and Steph’s echoing bass make sure you’re tuned in enough to pay proper attention to the vocals. Rila’s spoken word section on this song is one of my absolute favorite moments on the entire album. Her clear yet still desperate words feel like a punch to the gut, painting a picture of a scorned child. The helpless and pleading state I imagine when I hear her words put me somewhere I think we’ve all been before, no matter how different it looks from the outside. This is the true triumph of their lyricism: everyone can see themselves in it, whether they want to or not. Febuary lets the song fall and erupt again into what feels like an emotional snap. At this point, their highest energy moments don’t feel like something they’re doing for the listener, but something they can’t help but to do. Every slow moment is an attempt to keep their emotions at bay, though they can’t help but break into that chaos everytime. Abby’s drums push every part of this song–of this album. Every song she one-ups herself and confirms how sure I am that she is absolutely my favorite drummer.
Brand New Shoes opens into a steady melody, reminiscent of a lot of old school emo. Febuary’s best attribute, though, is that even with recognizable elements, they keep shit so much more interesting than pretty much anyone. I think the way the guitars and bass all interact with each other on this song is my favorite display of this dynamic across the whole album. All three of them refrain from getting too comfortable either in what they’re playing or their interaction. They challenge and compliment each other in a way that never gives you a second to think about anything else. It enthralls you in the truest sense of the word. The closing voicemail is such a refreshing and humanizing aspect that I was not expecting. Everytime I hear it, I feel the urge to call my dad.
The way the vocals open No Way... is very unexpected. The layers of singing are so beautiful–and then through the choir, screams start seeping out. Abby’s tom hits in this song are so perfectly jarring, yet she remains the definition of “in the pocket.” Abby works hand in hand with Airon’s steady bass to pull you down from the guitars and high pitched screaming. Rila and Steph’s twangy riffs here are truly their best work on the album. The opening with them alone is enough to make me the most heartbroken I’ve ever been–but also the most seen I’ve ever felt. When you throw Airon and Abby into it (not to mention the suffering vocals), this song establishes itself as a true epitome of emotion, whatever that may be to you.
Bitches Love My White Belt dances between a classic emo pulse and an almost salsa-type breakdown–which exactly proves my point that Febuary makes music for everyone, and is so much more interesting than every other emo band doing it right now. I’m probably sounding like a broken record now, but the guitar riff that comes out of the breakdown into the last section is some of the most attention-grabbing guitar playing I’ve heard in such a long time. It’s so groovy my dad would be bumping it. Once again, the vocals sit in the exact right spot in this song–always making you work for it just enough that it’s rewarding to finally get a full grasp on it all.
Kill Yourself If You Have Tinder. Finally, music with a message I can get behind. Once again, Rila’s spoken word vocals put me on my ass. The way she reintroduces the line, “pin me down to this adult sized bed,” from earlier is such an incredible full circle moment on this album. When I heard this song for the first time, I was so elated to hear them talk about what they get into: the struggle of begging for the people around you to see the human in you, and the worse struggle of not knowing how to talk about it–all of it being a product of an oversexualized culture that gamifies connection and demeans the value of relationships. It meant a lot for me to hear Abby and Rila get into this, as they are both women I look up to so much in the scene. The screams embedded in this song brought me the feeling of being seen and understood, like meeting another girl who’s had similar experiences and finally feeling comfortable enough to talk about it. The line, “I couldn't fully explain it to you even if I wanted to / the feeling of everything and nothing,” is going to be stuck in my mind for a long time. Musically, this one feels much darker and heavier than what came before it. The way a gloomy haze descends upon this song and the vocals sit on your chest, make this a perfect place to hide away with your emotions.
Interlude consists of the sound of someone walking, keys jingling, accompanied by dark and melodic guitar riffs then joined by Steph’s complimentary bassline. It ends on a screech of feedback that bleeds perfectly into Just Wait Til I Blow Up… It’s impossible for me to hear this and not be immediately transported to night time walks alone, hugging myself for warmth and begging the cool air to bring clarity.
Just Wait Til I Blow Up... shows that all the flirting they’ve been doing with the dark, heavy, and nasty was just a taste of what was to come. The way Abby switches from harsh and blasting percussion to rolling turmoil, mixed with the surging accented guitars, topped with Steph’s pulsing bass, physically forces you to close your eyes and rock back and forth until it’s over. The steady flow eventually falls away with desperate moans into a simple riff joined by a rolling tom section with hits of bells, only to swiftly plunge full force back into the main section once more–an ending that has me banging on the walls and pulling out my hair.
This is, by far, one of the best releases this year, and Febuary is one of the best and most interesting bands out now. I do not lightly call this album a whole 10/10. Follow Febuary on Instagram, if you’re lucky enough see them play, jump at the chance to go. Seeing Febuary live is not like any other show–it is an interactive, devastating, and uplifting experience I have been lucky to have. Huge shout out to Dylan who is now playing bass for them. I got to see him play with them in Lake Havasu City, and the match is as seamless and perfect as it could possibly be. True rockers, they own my soul. Thanks for reading if you did.
10/10 (Foster here. I concur with this rating).
Stream February.
-Kiva
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| photos courtesy of Febuary. |
Markiplier Saved My Life!!! opens to a heart wrenching symphony of guttural screams. While it may be shocking, there's no better way to cue the listener into what they’re about to experience. There’s also nothing more fitting than the first actual words we hear being “Is that the bite of '87?” Thank you, Markiplier, for giving us Febuary.
Abby introduces I'd Rather Burn Than Fall with her signature energetic and punching drums, everyone else following shortly behind into a fast groove. Airon’s screaming vocals offer a line for listeners to hold on to through a song that feels like you’re being slapped in the face. After a moment, chaos falls. The guitar picks the pieces up first, and they all come back together as they did before, their instruments dancing with and around each other. This time, the build is still a break in and of itself, just not as chaotic as before. We sit in a pit of desperation with Febuary as they weave in and out of energy, still never leaving the emotional distress that drives every part of this song. Steph’s bassline takes lead next, her groovy and melodic playing keeping the pulse of the song alive as we’re given one final release with strumming guitars, wailing layers of vocals, and Abby dancing across the kit, never failing to hit the perfect thing we didn’t know we were waiting for until she hits it. The vocals on this album are truly something special. The way all of them toe the line of echoing and overlapping make it hard to tell if they’re arguing or commiserating. All I’m sure of is that they are some of the most interesting and impactful vocals I’ve ever heard. Airon’s stand out particularly on this song–sometimes he’s speaking, others screaming, others wailing. He’s perfectly matched in Rila’s guttural style, in which it sounds like her words claw out of her without permission.
Slow Dance Tune For Abigail starts out particularly melodic. It feels like the comfort one finds in sadness; acknowledging the horrific pain but being so familiar with it that it starts to feel beautiful. Steph’s bassline cuts beautifully through the guitars before melody dissipates once again into fury. Abby’s thudding kick drum, accompanied with the powerful strumming of the guitars, forces you to cave in on yourself time and time again. The one thing Febuary seems to refuse to do is let listeners get comfortable being in one place. Just as you’ve recognized where you are sonically and emotionally, they rip you back out and confront you with more than you thought possible in a single song. The guitars impressively never fail to lose edge–whether it’s adding an unexpected dissonance, flipping between seven different strumming patterns, or the way they interact with each other, they force you to stay alert the entire time. One of my favorite things is the way they recorded their vocals. They feel just far away enough that they never sit on the instruments and close enough to give everything the biggest sound possible, like they’re right there screaming into your ears.
Abby introduces I'd Rather Burn Than Fall with her signature energetic and punching drums, everyone else following shortly behind into a fast groove. Airon’s screaming vocals offer a line for listeners to hold on to through a song that feels like you’re being slapped in the face. After a moment, chaos falls. The guitar picks the pieces up first, and they all come back together as they did before, their instruments dancing with and around each other. This time, the build is still a break in and of itself, just not as chaotic as before. We sit in a pit of desperation with Febuary as they weave in and out of energy, still never leaving the emotional distress that drives every part of this song. Steph’s bassline takes lead next, her groovy and melodic playing keeping the pulse of the song alive as we’re given one final release with strumming guitars, wailing layers of vocals, and Abby dancing across the kit, never failing to hit the perfect thing we didn’t know we were waiting for until she hits it. The vocals on this album are truly something special. The way all of them toe the line of echoing and overlapping make it hard to tell if they’re arguing or commiserating. All I’m sure of is that they are some of the most interesting and impactful vocals I’ve ever heard. Airon’s stand out particularly on this song–sometimes he’s speaking, others screaming, others wailing. He’s perfectly matched in Rila’s guttural style, in which it sounds like her words claw out of her without permission.
Slow Dance Tune For Abigail starts out particularly melodic. It feels like the comfort one finds in sadness; acknowledging the horrific pain but being so familiar with it that it starts to feel beautiful. Steph’s bassline cuts beautifully through the guitars before melody dissipates once again into fury. Abby’s thudding kick drum, accompanied with the powerful strumming of the guitars, forces you to cave in on yourself time and time again. The one thing Febuary seems to refuse to do is let listeners get comfortable being in one place. Just as you’ve recognized where you are sonically and emotionally, they rip you back out and confront you with more than you thought possible in a single song. The guitars impressively never fail to lose edge–whether it’s adding an unexpected dissonance, flipping between seven different strumming patterns, or the way they interact with each other, they force you to stay alert the entire time. One of my favorite things is the way they recorded their vocals. They feel just far away enough that they never sit on the instruments and close enough to give everything the biggest sound possible, like they’re right there screaming into your ears.
The guitars open IDGAF, toeing the line between twinkly and dragging. Abby’s clicking rhythm and Steph’s echoing bass make sure you’re tuned in enough to pay proper attention to the vocals. Rila’s spoken word section on this song is one of my absolute favorite moments on the entire album. Her clear yet still desperate words feel like a punch to the gut, painting a picture of a scorned child. The helpless and pleading state I imagine when I hear her words put me somewhere I think we’ve all been before, no matter how different it looks from the outside. This is the true triumph of their lyricism: everyone can see themselves in it, whether they want to or not. Febuary lets the song fall and erupt again into what feels like an emotional snap. At this point, their highest energy moments don’t feel like something they’re doing for the listener, but something they can’t help but to do. Every slow moment is an attempt to keep their emotions at bay, though they can’t help but break into that chaos everytime. Abby’s drums push every part of this song–of this album. Every song she one-ups herself and confirms how sure I am that she is absolutely my favorite drummer.
Brand New Shoes opens into a steady melody, reminiscent of a lot of old school emo. Febuary’s best attribute, though, is that even with recognizable elements, they keep shit so much more interesting than pretty much anyone. I think the way the guitars and bass all interact with each other on this song is my favorite display of this dynamic across the whole album. All three of them refrain from getting too comfortable either in what they’re playing or their interaction. They challenge and compliment each other in a way that never gives you a second to think about anything else. It enthralls you in the truest sense of the word. The closing voicemail is such a refreshing and humanizing aspect that I was not expecting. Everytime I hear it, I feel the urge to call my dad.
The way the vocals open No Way... is very unexpected. The layers of singing are so beautiful–and then through the choir, screams start seeping out. Abby’s tom hits in this song are so perfectly jarring, yet she remains the definition of “in the pocket.” Abby works hand in hand with Airon’s steady bass to pull you down from the guitars and high pitched screaming. Rila and Steph’s twangy riffs here are truly their best work on the album. The opening with them alone is enough to make me the most heartbroken I’ve ever been–but also the most seen I’ve ever felt. When you throw Airon and Abby into it (not to mention the suffering vocals), this song establishes itself as a true epitome of emotion, whatever that may be to you.
Bitches Love My White Belt dances between a classic emo pulse and an almost salsa-type breakdown–which exactly proves my point that Febuary makes music for everyone, and is so much more interesting than every other emo band doing it right now. I’m probably sounding like a broken record now, but the guitar riff that comes out of the breakdown into the last section is some of the most attention-grabbing guitar playing I’ve heard in such a long time. It’s so groovy my dad would be bumping it. Once again, the vocals sit in the exact right spot in this song–always making you work for it just enough that it’s rewarding to finally get a full grasp on it all.
Kill Yourself If You Have Tinder. Finally, music with a message I can get behind. Once again, Rila’s spoken word vocals put me on my ass. The way she reintroduces the line, “pin me down to this adult sized bed,” from earlier is such an incredible full circle moment on this album. When I heard this song for the first time, I was so elated to hear them talk about what they get into: the struggle of begging for the people around you to see the human in you, and the worse struggle of not knowing how to talk about it–all of it being a product of an oversexualized culture that gamifies connection and demeans the value of relationships. It meant a lot for me to hear Abby and Rila get into this, as they are both women I look up to so much in the scene. The screams embedded in this song brought me the feeling of being seen and understood, like meeting another girl who’s had similar experiences and finally feeling comfortable enough to talk about it. The line, “I couldn't fully explain it to you even if I wanted to / the feeling of everything and nothing,” is going to be stuck in my mind for a long time. Musically, this one feels much darker and heavier than what came before it. The way a gloomy haze descends upon this song and the vocals sit on your chest, make this a perfect place to hide away with your emotions.
Interlude consists of the sound of someone walking, keys jingling, accompanied by dark and melodic guitar riffs then joined by Steph’s complimentary bassline. It ends on a screech of feedback that bleeds perfectly into Just Wait Til I Blow Up… It’s impossible for me to hear this and not be immediately transported to night time walks alone, hugging myself for warmth and begging the cool air to bring clarity.
Just Wait Til I Blow Up... shows that all the flirting they’ve been doing with the dark, heavy, and nasty was just a taste of what was to come. The way Abby switches from harsh and blasting percussion to rolling turmoil, mixed with the surging accented guitars, topped with Steph’s pulsing bass, physically forces you to close your eyes and rock back and forth until it’s over. The steady flow eventually falls away with desperate moans into a simple riff joined by a rolling tom section with hits of bells, only to swiftly plunge full force back into the main section once more–an ending that has me banging on the walls and pulling out my hair.
This is, by far, one of the best releases this year, and Febuary is one of the best and most interesting bands out now. I do not lightly call this album a whole 10/10. Follow Febuary on Instagram, if you’re lucky enough see them play, jump at the chance to go. Seeing Febuary live is not like any other show–it is an interactive, devastating, and uplifting experience I have been lucky to have. Huge shout out to Dylan who is now playing bass for them. I got to see him play with them in Lake Havasu City, and the match is as seamless and perfect as it could possibly be. True rockers, they own my soul. Thanks for reading if you did.
10/10 (Foster here. I concur with this rating).
Stream February.
-Kiva
See Febuary with King Fun, Spring Breeding, Sunday Mourning, and Pudgel on June 9th at Taverna Costera in Las Vegas, NV.
Also see them with Blaire, beforeyouleave, and The Difference Between Art and Design on June 24th at Genghis Cohen in Los Angeles, CA.
Also see them at Che Fest on an insane lineup on June 30th at The Che Cafe in San Diego, CA.
Also see them at California Kicks on another ultra-insane lineup on July 5th and 6th at Nine Lives Warehouse in Oakland, CA.
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