#Black Belt Eagle Scout

[grrrlswhorock]

girls who rock: black belt eagle scout!!

shes not only a one (wo)man band, but she ALSO taught herself EVERY instrument she records with 🤘😈

honestly one of the coolest women ever omg 💌

[chimneysweepghost]

Mount Eerie and Black Belt Eagle Scout at AGNSW Sydney were AMAZING

[royalarmyofoz]

BLACK BELT EAGLE SCOUT - Nobody

[likefolksongs]

my top 30 songs of 2023

17. nobody by black belt eagle scout (x)

[fairweathermyth]

This trend in album art for records that put noticeable weight on relationships with nature and/or roots 🤌

[thesearenotphotographs]

Sleater-Kinney and Black Belt Eagle Scout at Brooklyn Steel

On Wednesday, March 13, 2024, rock band Sleater-Kinney kicked off their three shows in New York City with a first night at Brooklyn Steel in Brooklyn, NY. The group was joined by Black Belt Eagle Scout (a.k.a. Katherine Paul) for an opening set on their tour in support of their newest record, Little Rope.

This was my first time I captured Sleater-Kinney performing live since 2015*. My gallery of Sleater-Kinney was done for Bowery Presents’ “The House List,” and it now available here. Images of Black Belt Eagle Scout can be found below.

Sleater-Kinney will return to Brooklyn Steel again tonight (Thursday, March 14th) for a sold out show, and head to Manhattan to Racket on Saturday night (that show is sold out as well).

*I also photographed them in December 2014 during an appearance on “The Chris Gethard Show” where Priests performed.

[kentuckyanarchist]

Songs of 2022

Year-end lists always seem doomed to become outdated. Am I really expected to have heard all the best songs of 2022 in 2022? It’s never going to work, they’ll seep through over the course of the following year or years. But giving it six weeks is better than nothing, so here we are in mid-late February.

1. Tomberlin, “Stoned”.

Stoned indeed: woozy, baffled, bodily undone.

2. Camp Cope, “Running with the Hurricane”.

Camp Cope perfected a bassy, blunt melancholy with How to Socialise & Make Friends; here they don’t so much break from that template as turn it to other—affirmative? aggressive?—purposes.

3. Caroline, “Good Morning (Red)”.

The year’s most something-new-on-every-listen song, its most capacious.

4. Christian Lee Hutson, “Age Difference”.

Lyric of the year: “Do my impression of John Malkovich critiquing food in prison / At first it isn’t funny, then it is, and then it isn’t.”

5. Big Thief, “Change”.

A panoply of possibilities on such a sprawling, immersive album by the absolute best in the game, but this most plaintive and stubborn lament just edges the rest.

6. Rachika Nayar ft. Maria BC, “Heaven Come Crashing”.

Sounds for the silentest disco.

7. The A’s, “Why I’m Grieving”.

A path not taken from an archive not delved-into; a peppy sad spurt of jolly heartbreak.

8. Black Country, New Road, “Snow Globes”.

I’m still not sure if this song’s about going mad, getting old, living through winter, all three, or none.

9. Arctic Monkeys, “Body Paint”.

Searching, insistent: like Alex Turner’s got you caught in a lie.

10. Stella Donnelly, “Cold”.

This could’ve been any of Stella Donnelly’s songs where the lilt of her voice is always dropping into conversationality, but this one, where she ends the conversation, full-stop, shuts me up the most.

11. Martha, “Irreversible Motion”.

So many of these songs are about little things, like the bones of the inner ear; this one maybe more than all the others.

12. Florist, “Red Bird Pt. 2 (Morning)”.

A delicate retrospective collage, a slow bashful loving appreciation, a puzzled amazed asking-why, a cautious comfort.

13. Aldous Harding, “Fever”.

Aldous Harding’s songs have this wonderful, dignified refusal to cohere; this one just lopes, or loafs, in and out of view.

14. Meg Baird, “Will You Follow Me Home?”.

The way Meg Baird’s vocals stay half-submerged here is what gets me: “Will You Follow Me Home?” goes from lazy river to maelstrom without you quite noticing.

15. Brian Eno, “Making Gardens Out of Silence”.

If you ask me, “Making Gardens Out of Silence” is a panorama from the time after humans, built from salvage by whatever-comes-next.

16. Hurray for the Riff Raff, “SAGA”.

A lot of these songs express a specifically 2022 kind of bafflement. “SAGA” doesn’t know how to get past this condition either, but it’s pushing against the boundaries.

17. Lana Del Rey, “Watercolor Eyes”.

You think you know someone’s schtick, but they surprise you.

18. Black Belt Eagle Scout, “My Blood Runs Through This Land".

Alternating between wordlessness and breathlessness, either way keeping on building to something.

19. Jake Xerxes Fussell, “Love Farewell”.

Stoic and stolid, Jake Xerxes Fussell bets on metaphor but could’ve made do with just rumble, growl and twinkle.

20. Ezra Furman, “Ally Sheedy in The Breakfast Club”.

Secret-telling in movie-theatre darkness.

21. Let’s Eat Grandma, “Happy New Year”.

Let’s Eat Grandma have the saddest synths but this one’s rose-coloured.

22. Joshua Burnside, “Louis Mercier”.

Time-travel klezmer-pop that jostles you like a cobbled towpath.

23. Beth Orton, “Weather Alive”.

When talking songs become singing songs so sylphlike and effortless.

24. Sault, “Life We Rent but Love Is Free”.

Sounds like certain small parts of London, for certain small moments, on busy summer days in the past.

25. Bill Callahan, “Coyotes”.

One for slickrock and sagebrush, which are not without their romance.

26. Yard Act, “Tall Poppies”.

A self-consciously small story, a kitchen-sink drama, a talking head, no denouément.

27. Angel Olsen, “All the Good Times”.

A rhinestone widescreen production, a road movie on a soundstage.

28. Beach House, “Hurts to Love”.

Generationally speaking, the ending of Skins series 1 still packs a fair bit of a punch, so rewriting “Wild World” by Cat Stevens makes more sense than you’d think.

29. The 1975, “The 1975”.

Imagine taking “All My Friends” and making it about your cock and it’s still good; that takes rare talent.

30. Craig Finn, “Birthdays”.

Comforting because it really is nice to know there’s someone in this world who’s always known you, and comforting because it’s Craig Finn doing Craig Finn stuff with his big dumb Craig Finn voice.

31. Julia Jacklin, “Lydia Wears a Cross”.

A bodily song: knees, eyes, clothes, adornments.

32. Anaïs Mitchell, “On Your Way (Felix Song)”.

You get the sense Anaïs Mitchell finds nothing all that difficult—eulogising, philosophising, doing justice to a life, picking out the pithiest reminiscences, in just under three minutes she bowls it all over.

33. Billy Woods, “Pollo Rico”.

Intrusive thoughts, compulsion to repeat. A personal history of madness.

34. Bright Eyes, “Arc of Time (Time Code) (Companion Version)”.

This year Bright Eyes re-recorded some of the songs from the 2000s I love/hate the most. “Arc of Time” gets remade without the beats or the keys, but stays smart and wry and death stays on its mind. 

35. Fred again.., “Berwyn (all that i got is you)”.

Fred again..’s songs are urban explorations, entries to London’s subterrene.

36. Yeah Yeah Yeahs, “Spitting Off the Edge of the World”.

Cosmic.

37. The Big Moon, “Ladye Bay”.

Supersized, tectonic.

38. Drive-By Truckers, “The Driver”.

Grimy, grunting noir.

39. Ethel Cain, “American Teenager”.

D. H. Lawrence would’ve liked Ethel Cain and her Great American Hauntedness.

40. Girlpool, “Butterfly Bulletholes”.

Such a shame to lose Girlpool in 2022 but they were four or five bands in just two people, they gave us a lot.

41. The Beths, “Expert in a Dying Field”.

This one speaks for itself.

42. Nilüfer Yanya, “Shameless”.

Breathless, almost somehow fleshless, rattling ribcage xylophone.

43. Mesadorm, “Soap Opera”.

Skew-whiff boiler-hiss robot pop.

44. Porridge Radio, “Back to the Radio”.

Porridge Radio’s skills are in cacophony, cataclysm, crisis, ruination, disaster mismanagement.

45. Wet Leg, “Too Late Now”.

Every introspection needs a wise-crack or two.

46. Wilco, “Tired of Taking It Out on You”.

Aged 29, I had chickenpox recently; I recovered but it’s made looking in the mirror interesting, all these new small markings on the same face.

47. Plains, “Hurricane”.

The lyrics to “Hurricane” read like an apology, but Katie Crutchfield’s voice always sounds a little barbed to me; that’s what makes this work, I think.

48. Daniel Avery, “Higher”.

Frenetic travel in place.

49. Kevin Morby, “Bittersweet, TN”.

Kevin Morby hits all the requirements, he straight-A’s being a country singer.

50. Beabadoobee, “You’re Here That’s the Thing”.

In 2023 I resolve to continue to love silly rhymes, campfire rhythms, dewdrops and holding hands.

[piizunn]

missing black belt eagle scout playing in vancouver by a week has me punching drywall (metaphorically because i’m in a tent)

[cbcruk]

Black Belt Eagle Scout - Spaces

[royalarmyofoz]

BLACK BELT EAGLE SCOUT - Nobody

[sinceileftyoublog]

Black Belt Eagle Scout Interview: Expanding My Vulnerability

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Katherine Paul began the Black Belt Eagle Scout set at Pitchfork with whispered singing. As “My Blood Runs Through This Land” progressed, the song a standout from their third album The Land, The Water, The Sky (Saddle Creek), Paul’s singing transformed into a wail, albeit muted by her own guitar distortion and Camas Logue’s mighty drums. Fittingly, Paul’s voice never seemed like it was at the center. It was there, telling her stories, but always equal in sonic and emotional importance to her surroundings. Sometimes, the neighboring elements were symbolic, like the guitar solo of “My Blood Runs Through This Land”, “emulating [her] ancestors running,” as she told me at Pitchfork. (Paul is Coast Salish/Swinomish, raised in the Swinomish Indian Tribal Community in LaConner, Washington.) Other times, they were perhaps coincidental, as when she sang about being “engulfed by beauty” on “Don’t Give Up”, right as her singing was overwhelmed by the swirling of Logue’s drums, Nay Wilkins’ bass, and Claire Puckett’s guitars. No matter what, the set was a masterclass in tension and ultimate expressiveness, the songs exponentially louder than their studio versions. With every repetition of “Need you, want you” on Mother of My Children’s “Soft Stud”, the guitars bellowed with mammoth force, the crowd whooping in approval. It was breathtaking.

The Land, The Water, The Sky is inspired by Paul moving back to the Swinomish Reservation on which she was raised, as well as her metaphoric personal journeys. The record contains love songs of varying recipients: her surroundings (“Nobody”), her immediate family (“Spaces”), her local queer community (“Sčičudz (a narrow place)”). This time around, she worked with some notable collaborators on the record, like multi-instrumentalist Takiaya Reed of excellent Melbourne doom duo Divide and Dissolve, who co-produced the album, and Mount Eerie’s Phil Elverum, who sings on “Salmon Stinta”. Though Paul played many of the instruments on the record and certainly led its expanded instrumental palate, its instrumentation and production was not a one-person affair like her previous two albums. Many artists find working by themselves intimidating; in contrast, for Paul, opening herself up to other musicians in this way was a key part of her growth in confidence. Ditto for playing live. “I have a really amazing band,” Paul said. “We’ve grown so much...for most of the year, we’ve been on the road non-stop, so we’ve learned how to work through certain sounds and passages together.”

Paul and I sat outside the festival press tent (as JPEGMAFIA boomed in the distance) to discuss The Land, The Water, The Sky, playing live, her writing process, and Divide and Dissolve. Read our conversation below, edited for length and clarity.

Since I Left You: You have three albums already and a somewhat limited set time. How do you decide what songs to play at a festival?

Katherine Paul: I really wanted to play a lot of the new album, but also bring in some of what I felt are the heavy hitters from my previous album. [Songs] that make the set flow. I tried to put some of the new singles in the set, and some that are the favorites in the previous albums. Since you’re playing to a lot of new people, too, something that keeps the energy up.

SILY: I definitely felt that with what you chose to play. I had never seen you live and wanted to come in green, so I didn’t watch any videos, and your set was definitely louder than I expected, in a great way. There was a lot of play with dynamics and catharsis and release. Are you feeling those emotions on stage?

KP: Yeah, I mean I feel like we kick it up a notch, and I like to rock out. For this show, I played on an amp I don’t normally play out of, and I loved it. I kind of want to get one. I love playing loud guitars. [laughs]

SILY: When you play live, do you find yourself in a similar headspace to when you wrote the songs? Are you trying to channel on stage what inspired you to write them in the first place?

KP: I think about what they mean to me, which is maybe a similar thing. I think about why I play certain parts. When I play “My Blood Runs Through This Land”, the guitar solo is supposed to emulate my ancestors running. It’s raw and beautiful. I think about that and put my feeling and playing into those thoughts. I like to make a connection to what the song means to me when I play it.

SILY: On the record, you did a lot of the instrumentation yourself. Do you find adapting the songs to the stage, with a full band, just as rewarding as writing and recording them in the first place?

KP: I’m still learning. That’s what I’m realizing. Sometimes, my natural instinct is to play them how they sound on the recording, but lately, I feel like I want to put a jam in there. [laughs]

SILY: You played “Don’t Give Up” right before playing “Indians Never Die”. In interviews around the release of Mother of My Children, you were talking about “Indians Never Die” and the idea of always taking care of the land. When you sing on "Don’t Give Up”, “I was only seventeen, I was only seventy,” is that a similar sentiment?

KP: “Don’t Give Up” has a lot of writing about my mental health and taking care of myself, having that knowledge that we’re still growing as people and trying to figure things out, whether we’re seventeen or seventy. That’s what those specific lyrics mean, but I think that could tie into, by taking care of myself, I’m taking care of the connection to where I’m from.

SILY: I also like the phrase on the song, “engulfed by beauty.” It suggests being almost overwhelmed by nature, and it works with the heavy reverb of the music.

KP: Yeah. Being swallowed by it.

SILY: Have you gotten to see anyone else at the festival?

KP: I got to see snippets here and there: Vagabon’s one and a half songs, Weyes Blood, Big Thief, yaya bey. I wanted to see Julia [Jacklin], but I couldn’t. Her set was so short. There was a lot of running around, getting food, getting situated.

SILY: Do you like the new Divide and Dissolve record?

KP: I haven’t heard it yet. I’m waiting for the right time to listen to it. I know it’s out, and I want to listen to it when I’m at home on a walk. When I heard the previous record, I was just gutted. So I want to listen to this one walking around in the woods or something.

SILY: Apart from the specific stories and changes in your life that inspired The Land, The Water, The Sky, is there anything else unique about it as compared to your first two records? And how is it a continuation of them?

KP: There are still those glittery sounds within the pop genre that pop up. The uniqueness comes with expanding my vulnerability as a songwriter, having different people play on it. It shifted my perspective of what my songwriting can be. Before, I was more afraid to take risks and do different things, but now, I feel better about it--almost encouraged.

SILY: Are you the type of songwriter always writing, or do you have to set periods of time for you to sit down and do it?

KP: I definitely have to set time aside to do it. I have so much going on in my life. [laughs] It’s hard to always be writing.

SILY: Is there anything else upcoming for you?

KP: I’m working on a mini tour documentary with Evan Atwood, who did the photo [on the front cover of] the album. We’ll have some live recorded versions and filmed versions on the songs. This coming winter, I’m just going to write music and figure out what’s next.

[punkrockmixtapes]

Black Belt Eagle Scout - Salmon Stinta [Official Audio]

[dustedmagazine]

Black Belt Eagle Scout—The Land, the Sea, the Sky (Saddle Creek)

Photo by Nate Lemuel

The Land, The Water, The Sky by Black Belt Eagle Scout

Katherine Paul taps a deep connection to native American traditions in this third full-length, weaving landscapes and lore into songs the artist wrote while retreating homeward to Swinomish tribal lands during the pandemic. Yet while Paul is grounded in, as the title says, The Land, the Sea, the Sky, they mostly eschew obvious sonic references to an indigenous heritage. These songs blister and spiral and swirl in early 21st century guitar-centric, indie-fashion.

Consider, for instance, “My Blood Runs Through This Land,” whose white-noise clouds of distorted guitar part for radiant dream-pop descants and reverb-thundering drums. The touchstones are obliterating shoegaze of the MBV variety layered over with Cocteau Twins-ish incantations. It rocks pretty hard, though in an inchoate, vision-haunted way, as does “Sedna,” a song about a mythical ancestor who sacrifices her fingers to bring the ocean’s bounty to her people.

“Sčičudᶻ (a narrow place)” is gentler, more translucent, its title taken from an island connected to the mainland by a thin strip of land near Paul’s tribal home. The lyrics run more confessional, however; a lover observes the loved one dancing. Paul sings in a whispery soprano, flickering, but all the sounds around them are bold and clean—a thunderous bassline, an arching long-noted guitar solo, the pummeling of definitely-not-tribal drums.

“Fancy Dance” is maybe the live highlight, a song that imagines a Swinomish girl dancing furiously at a tribal gathering. It finds the throughline between that girl and the rebels of punk and Riot Grrrl, celebrating the pounding, bouncing, obliterating exhilaration of loud music in any culture.

Paul invites fellow Phil Elverum to sing a few lines in “Salmon Stinta,” a lovely, temperate outing framed by muttering guitars, wavering, hard-to-pin down synth vibrations and breathy vocals. (Paul was close to Elverum’s now deceased wife Geneviève Castrée .) The two of them join in gentle, wordless “ba-bahs” and then Elverum shyly picks up the narrative of fish returning home to breed.

“Spaces,” near the disc’s end is similarly soft and serene, filled out with interweaving string parts, though flaring, at intervals with wild slides of guitar. It is here, though, that we finally get an inkling of the music that must have surrounded Paul as a tribal child, just as the woods and animals and water did. Both their father and mother sing on the track, their dad in a striking wordless vibrato that sounds nothing like indie rock. In an album where Black Belt Eagle Scout celebrates their home, that’s the song where they finally let the listeners into the house.

Jennifer Kelly