This week’s edition of Auxtra Weekly has us taking a look at a genre that dominates the modern soundscape: indie rock. The term has morphed and mutated beyond its initial definition, but there exist today several commonalities that can trace themselves back to the genre’s “formation,” so to speak.

Guitar-driven melodies, lyricism outside the status quo, jangly production with a DIY approach. While so many of today’s indie bands belong to a record label or record out of state-of-the-art studios, the genre is unmistakable. When you hear it, you know, and I feel like the following artists are the perfect example of today’s modern indie sound.
— Will Thomas

“Numerology” is a fast-paced, unhinged, jazz-soaked rock song by former black midi member Cameron Picton’s new project, My New Band Believe.

The second single released amid the wake of their upcoming eponymous debut album, “Numerology” is full of blaring horns, breakneck drumming, and a Latin-inspired central acoustic guitar riff that gives the song a certain danciness that’s nearly impossible to resist.

It’s a hectic ride from start to finish. Picton’s vocals jump back and forth from totally isolated to densely layered, creating an air of unpredictability that reaches fever pitch as the song reaches its well-earned crescendo, fit with dueling woodwinds and brass.

Picton analyzes life through numbers, keeping score of nights out and pending opportunities. Time is dilated from one singular night to years on end. There exists a constant feel of anticipation. Picton urges whoever he’s speaking with to continue their waiting, with “one night, it’ll happen to you.” 

This anticipatory sensation is only heightened by the restless nature of the song’s instrumentation, but I find it shockingly comforting. There’s chaos, there’s unanswered questions, but the pandemonium of waiting is framed as the journey itself rather than the precursor to anything larger. Its presence it’s vital–without the wait, the reveal is never worth it.

For fans of: Geordie Greep; Dry Cleaning; Black Country, New Road

When I first saw Fat, Evil Children’s name splashed across my phonescreen, I was under the impression their music would align quite scrupulously with their title. But, to my surprise, Fat, Evil Children is not a hardnosed, in-your-face gang of ragtag punk rockers.

To the contrary, FEC’s music is warm and wistful, like hugging a loved one before they return to their home far from yours. There’s a fleeting nature to their sound, as if the stories are being shared in retrospect, long detached from their happening.

With only one album under their belt, the quite congruently titled, “Fat Evil Dogs, Fat Evil Cats, Fat Evil Bears, Fat Evil Rats,” it may be somewhat of a reach to call them genre mainstays, but you’d be hard pressed to find a band whose melodic, dreamy acoustic sound better captures the musical zeitgeist of the early 2020s.

I expect the only direction for FEC is up, as their 2024 album and handfuls of shorter releases have surely whetted the appetite of many indie lovers who’ve yearned for the reemergence of a slower, stripped back sound.

For fans of: This Is Lorelei; Wednesday; Cameron Winter; The Microphones

Chores released their first album, “Tender As A Wound,” in 2024, and while commercial success has yet to follow, I can’t imagine it will be much longer before the Rochester trio’s high-energy, garage rock sound starts to raise eyebrows everywhere.

The band is incredible at crafting melodies that, while repeated, never overstay their welcome. There’s a certain resigned nature to their songs, but instead of dwelling in its misfortune, Chores crafts a sort of “happy anxiety” from the adversities. The presence of their anxiety indicates that, at one point, there existed something to care about.

Chores operates in that gray area between total loss and complete possession. They don’t necessarily desire to return to the days past, but they are more than happy to laugh at the irony of their station and seek recompense from whomever wronged them.

For fans of: Dinosaur Jr.; Sebadoh; The Replacements