Chasing Fridays: All American Rejects live at Sheetz, Unmoved, Jobber Q&A, more

By the time you're reading this, I'll be elbowing through the stinky, scabies-spreading masses at Skull Fest, Pittsburgh's annual crust-punk convention. Friend of the blog Hugo Reyes is visiting from Chicago, and we'll be seeing bands like Negative Approach, Illiterates, Iron Lung, Demonstrate, and dozens more across the four-day punk/hardcore marathon. I prepared for the impending weekend by specifically avoiding fast punk/hardcore during this week's intake. Instead, I saw The All American Rejects play a gas station, fell into an ambient/shoegaze/cloud-pop trance, and listened to some brutally heavy hardcore. Read about all that down below, including a fun Q&A with Brooklyn fuzz-rock torchbearers Jobber.

Various Artists - Satellite

If someone asked me to explain what "indie music" sounded like in 2025, I might play them this comp. To me, the most contemporary locales for left-field "pop" are where ambient, bedroom-pop, shoegaze, trip-hop, and various strains of electronica are being whisked together into one murky solution. The lineup for this year's And Always Forever fest is the perfect snapshot of this nebulous zeitgeist: a time when shoegaze OGs Drop Nineteens, ambient techno icon Locust, and cloud-rap drifter Marjorie W.C. Sinclair can logically coexist on the same bill. It's like 1993 all over again (the Seefeel/Aphex Twin split, for example) except now the sub-genres that were nascent then are both rigidly defined from decades of codification, and also more malleable than ever due to the open-source nature of how young people digest and create music on today's 'net.

Satellite captures this exciting moment while it's still gestating. The 19-track compilation was assembled by the inadvertent.index label, best known for issuing Horse Vision's debut Another Life earlier this year. Swedish ambient-pop notable Merely and Horse Vision collaborator Tiffi M (as well as HV themselves) are the only names I recognized on the tracklist, but I was enamored by several standout songs. innerinnerlife and dpe0's digi-gaze smooch "hold me, kiss me" is like Pains of Being Pure at Heart for the age of Parannoul. Cleaver Blue and Ossian Flavin each constructed gorgeous dream-pop temples from shards of acoustic guitar, spiritual synth ambience, and wordless falsetto coos. pbeatgirl's liminal dream 'n' bass balm "Cloudmeter" and TONTO's heartbeating drone geyser "Sparks" are sudsy and restorative. However, the coolest aspect of Satellite is that it's just one bright speck in a new constellation of celestial indie.

Joon Gloom - "Joker"

Not to be confused with my favorite Camila Cabello song, Joon Gloom is an L.A. avant-pop singer who's spent 2025 servicing the dancefloor after her muggy, sluggish 2024 missive, Ballads for Da Bizness. Her February single "Jinx" is a resplendent disco strut that offers Caroline Polachek fans the same thing Destroy Lonely provides Playboi Carti stans: empty calories to munch on in between album cycles. Joon Gloom's latest drop, "Joker," is more enduring. There's laser beam synths that pew at a "L'Amour Toujours" frequency, and I like how the electroclash garishness blurs with the vacuum-sealed cleanliness of 2010s PC Music. This would've been called "hyperpop" in 2020 or 2021, but today it feels of a piece with Bassvictim, fakemink, The Hellp, and other metropolitan electro-pop with a snotty edge.

Unmoved - Demonstration

I've written about all my other favorite (and lesser favorite) Daze drops of the year, so I figured I might as well complete the circuit. Though I'm becoming more amenable to angular hardcore the older I get (early Converge hits different at 30) I'm still very particular when it comes to dissonant metalcore (ex: I love Starkweather but shrug at Deadguy). This demo from Vancouver's Unmoved is the sort of release that's causing me to do some serious reflection on the music I'm interested in hearing. It's taking a sound that I was formerly reluctant to enjoy and casting it in a light that's both agreeable with and challenging to my current sensibilities.

Demonstration is the most technical hardcore release I've heard this year, with kalishnakov Meshuggah chugs and all sorts of sideways riffing. Bands like Turmoil and Racetraitor might be the foundational reference points, but where a group from the late 90s would root around the outskirts of crossover thrash and jazzy grind for fresh inspo, Unmoved scavenge from this century, affixing the songs with melodeath leads, quasi-deathcore palm-mutes, and seething rap-core flows that owe more to Emmure than the surrounding sophistication lets on. This is weirdo hardcore that's palatable enough for the regulars. ​

Snuggle - "Playthings"

Speaking of Horse Vision, Snuggle will be touring the U.K. with them later this fall. The Copenhagen duo are about to release their debut LP on Escho, the label boasting Smerz, Fine, Astrid Sonne, and many other European indie-pop adventurists. Snuggle's newest single, "Playthings," sounds like the Fine material I've been obsessed with by way of Norman Fucking Rockwell!. It's a woozy, misty waltz with a Lana-like vocal melody that ascends and descends with a circular repetition, one that's as kinetically soothing as gurgling hot tub jets. "Playthings" is about a situationship that's continuing beyond its expiration date. "You'd think we'd know better now/better than to keep it up," Andrea Thuesen sings with a resigned emptiness. You can hear in her voice that the taboo thrill of going back against her better judgement is gone. Now it just hurts. But hey, at least she got this sexy little song out of it.

The All American Rejects live @ Sheetz

Yes, that's correct. I saw the All American Rejects play the parking lot of a Sheetz gas station in an outer borough of Pittsburgh last week. Record scratch "how did I get here?" ​​

A little while back, I made a couple people on Twitter sour by scoffing at some of the gung-ho responses to The Rejects' recent run of "house party" shows. A gimmick where the current Jonas Brothers tourmates turn up at a random frat party, parking lot, or, in this case, corporate gas station/fast food chain, and play a free, hastily promoted "DIY" show for people who'd otherwise never pay actual money to see the radio pop-punk stalwarts. One person in my replies was pedaling the naïve theory that it's actually a boon for DIY communities to have the band with Bionicle money cosplaying as punk-rock scamps, the idea being that it'll introduce a whole gaggle of normies and Elder Emos to the local scenes they'd otherwise never find through their strict diets of Spotify Daily Mixes and Myspace Music dance nights. Remember kids, there's nothing more punk-rock than onboarding a legion of 32-year-old Airbnb owners into your local DIY scene.

Whatever, though, I'm not above a fun, silly time. The All American Rejects have at least four genuinely great songs (you know the ones), and the sheer absurdity of seeing a band I used to thumb along to on Tap-Tap Revolution play a suburban gas station was enough to pique my interest. However, what made the show fun to me was just how inorganic AAR's attempts at Punk Rock authenticity were. The dissonance between the well-oiled major label machine the band have functioned as for two decades, and the spontaneous rascals they harmlessly yet ignorantly fancy themselves to be.

Everything about this show felt like a satire about the corporatization of pop-punk. The headliners for this backyard affair rolling up in twin tour busses that were guarded by fencing and a gaggle of security. ​AAR adhering to a precise 30-minute changeover time for literally no reason. The band requiring a five-man tech crew and a different guitar for each song to accomplish the type of spartan performance that generations of drunk dumbasses have pulled off in musty basements with twice the efficiency. The faux-spray painted bedsheet of the band's logo ​​– and Sheetz's – draped behind their makeshift stage. The arrangement of living room lamps and fake grass that provided a homey atmosphere and, even more crucially, ample lighting for the pro videographer filming every one of singer Tyson Ritter's craaaAAaazyy punk rock stunts.

To his credit, Ritter is a true weirdo, and it was particularly beguiling to see someone as fundamentally cuckoo as him wriggling within the safe, sanitized pop-rock format that the The All American Rejects embody. The 41-year-old father and recent Onlyfans laborer never stopped twirling, jumping, climbing, kneeling, and rolling throughout the 45-minute set. At several points, he dashed up to the camera to spit mouthfuls of mineral water inches from the lens, ignoring the 1000-strong crowd in front of him to vamp for the viewers at home who'll be getting their daily doses of DIY during their morning IG Reels scroll.

His banter was also deranged. At one point, Ritter was rambling about how subversive it is for the band to be playing what was transparently a PR stunt – both for AAR and Sheetz, who recently launched a controversial Cryptocurrency discount initiative – that was organized in cooperation with the local police department. "We got the man protecting you tonight," Ritter raved about the squad cars surrounding the premises. "That's how fucking flip banana, mind banana this shit is." In between shouting out strange rhymes that sounded like half-remembered Red Hot Chili Peppers lyrics ("How ya'll doin in the cheap Sheetz? How ya'll doin' in the freak Sheetz?") most of his orations consisted of blurting "fuck" or "shit" with the "yeah, that's right, I can SAY IT" gusto of a substitute teacher who's still a little drunk from the night before.

In between all of that, The All American Rejects played some songs. They opened with "Dirty Little Secret," dropped "Move Along" into the middle, and closed with "Gives You Hell," which remains a legitimate anthem armed with a gang-chant bridge that's well-suited for a parking lot sing-along. People crowd-surfed and moshed while the band of improbably handsome 40-year-old men strummed orderly to the abundant backing tracks. It was fun if not a little stilted and tame. The songs could've been louder. The people I was standing among upfront could've been less statuesque. I'm glad Ritter at least thought it was flip banana mind banana, though.

Chasing Down

KATE MEIZNER
of
Jobber

Chasing Down is a Q&A series with artists, friends, and others of good taste.

Jobber are a Brooklyn fuzz-rock band who sing songs about professional wrestling. I don't give a fuck about wrestling, but I sure give a fuck about Jobber. Their 2022 EP, Hell in a Cell, wooed me with five punches of primo riffsmanship and sugary hooks. On August 22nd, Jobber will at long last drop their debut LP, Jobber to the Stars, via Exploding in Sound – a label pairing that makes total sense given that Jobber's members have played in so many other EIS groups over the years (Speedy Ortiz, Ovlov, Hellrazor, Leapling). Jobber to the Stars was well worth the wait. It's equal parts tuneful and bludgeoning, stringing together brawny power chords, sludgy solos, and whistle-worthy choruses with a shades-down, scowl-on finesse.

For this week's Chasing Down Q&A, I asked Jobber frontperson Kate Meizner about NYHC classics, her favorite riff-meisters, peerless live bands, and the influences that bled into Jobber to the Stars. Read the full interview below.

What was the last live band you saw who were so good that they lowkey sparked a competitive spirit in you to practice harder and get better? 

Without a doubt or second thought, my answer is emphatically: The Tubs. I’ve been following singer/guitar Owen Williams’ musical trajectory since he was in Joanna Gruesome, and became obsessed with The Tubs when I heard their record Dead Meat. And man, it is tough to do what they do well. When I saw them at Music Hall of Williamsburg back in May their performance made me appreciate the songs I already knew even more, and get deeper into some of the material I was less familiar with.

They are also funny as fuck – their drummer was riffing in his thick Scottish accent about all the fast food they’ve had throughout their tour of the States and the crowd was just eating it up. Watching their guitarist play these intricate and interesting Johnny Marr-inspired licks made me want to go home, crank the treble on my amp, and figure out how to play jangly shit (which is not my forté) without sounding like garbage.

I know you're a classic NYHC fan. If you were to introduce an indie-rocker with very little hardcore knowledge to one NYHC staple, what do you think is the best starting point and why? 

Cro-Mags - Age of Quarrel. Cro-Mags feel like More Than Hardcore to me, I think because they came a little sooner than the 90s cohort of NYHC bands and incorporate a lot of thrash. For a hardcore album from this era, Age of Quarrel in particular has a lot of variety. There are downtempo tracks and riffs that don’t immediately read as hardcore. But most importantly, the songs aren’t same-y…they feel distinct and memorable. It’s a good gateway. Some real earworms on there, made even more impactful by John Joseph’s vocals, which unfortunately rock. I’m a Harley guy like the best of em, but come on…