By Whitney Randall Disclaimer:  This article reflects personal opinions and is not affiliated with or endorsed by Sports Illustrated or any people listed below. Is Sports Illustrated  really for the girls, or are they just chasing trends?  With support for female athletes and athletics on the rise, more and more media companies are finally giving them the attention they’ve been searching for. Sports Illustrated seems to be stepping into this momentum, but their authenticity may need a closer look. The iconic sports magazine made its debut on Aug. 16, 1954, with Milwaukee Braves star Eddie Mathews  on the cover. Since then, it’s built a reputation as a major player in the sports media world, mostly centered around men.  Across more than 3,300 issues over 71 years, only 101 have featured female athletes on the cover. That’s fewer than 3 percent. Of those, just 84 were solo cover stars. And when it comes to the coveted Sportsperson of the Year  title? Only 10 women and the 1999 U.S. Women’s Soccer Team have held it, with just four not having to share the spotlight. In 1964, the magazine expanded, adding its swimsuit edition. The first one dropped on Jan. 20, 1964. It’s been around for more than 60 years and, yes, it features women, but not usually athletes. Supermodels have dominated the cover, not Olympians. Out of 64 swimsuit issues, only five athletes have landed the cover. The first was Ronda Rousey  in 2016. So it took over half a century for a sports magazine  to put an actual athlete on the cover of its swimsuit issue. SI Swim Debut at SWIM MIAMI July 22, 2017 (deposit photos) In addition to the Swimsuit Edition, Sports Illustrated made its debut appearance at Miami Swim Week on July 22, 2017. This year’s SI Swim Week runway show was packed with athletes and influencers. Ilona Maher, Olivia Dunne, Jordan Chiles, and Ali Truwit  were among the standout names. Maher and Chiles are Olympic medalists. Truwit’s a Paralympic medalist. Dunne is one of the highest-paid college athletes in the NIL era. They were joined by nonprofit founders, TV personalities, retired college athletes, businesswomen, and creators. On paper, it’s an empowering lineup. It was an impressive group of women, no question. However, this representation seems carefully curated. They chose athletes with massive social media followings and high commercial value. Olivia Dunne alone has more than 13 million followers across Instagram and TikTok. She also has  endorsement deals with Accelerator Active Energy, Vuori, American Eagle, and Body Armor.  Jordan Chiles was featured in Nike’s first Super Bowl commercial since 1998.  Ilona Maher was the runner-up for the 2024 season of “Dancing with the Stars,” a TIME100 Next 2024 phenom , and was named one of USA TODAY’s 2025 Women of the Year.  SI’s selection feels more like a move to capitalize on the popularity and profitability of these athletes and less like a celebration of women in sports. In today’s economy, media influence can often outweigh achievement. While this approach may not be unique to SI, it reveals a pattern worth examining. Sports Illustrated has tried to champion itself as a huge supporter of women’s athletics, starting with an edition of its magazine in 1973 titled “Women Are Getting a Raw Deal.” While this issue may have been ahead of its time, it was released just 11 months after Title IX was passed, and interest in women’s sports was on the rise. Title IX  is a federal law that protects against gender discrimination in federally funded education and its programs. It gives female athletes the right to equal opportunity in any and all levels of federally funded education.  With SI, this new emphasis on female athletes could be just a long-overdue shift towards a more equitable representation of all sports within its magazine. With record-breaking viewing of the  2023 NCAA women’s basketball championship , skyrocketing WNBA ratings , and the massive growth of the Professional Women’s Hockey League  (PWHL). If Sports Illustrated truly intends to reflect that shift, it must move beyond showcasing popularity and invest in year-round, comprehensive coverage of women’s sports across all levels of professionalism.   But let’s not forget, this is the same magazine that took decades to recognize female athletes on their covers, in their awards, and in their coverage. They’ve written plenty about how women in sports are overlooked while doing the same thing. Representation is more than visibility during viral moments. So yes, the runway looked great and the brand felt empowering. But the real question isn’t about whether athletes were highlighted, it’s whether they were for the right reasons. As Billie Jean King once said, “Everyone thinks women should be thrilled when we get crumbs, and I want women to have the cake, the icing, and the cherry on top, too.”  It’s time for Sports Illustrated to stop handing out crumbs and start serving the full slice.

Gallery Holly Arend The Portland Sea Dogs  grabbed a 5-1 win over the Hartford Yard Goats  at Delta Dental Park, keeping the energy high from first pitch to the final out. Fans packed the stands, and the Sea Dogs delivered on the field. Click through the gallery for the best moments from the diamond and beyond. These photos are owned by Hazze Media and Minor League Baseball (MiLB). They may not be redistributed, sold, or used for commercial purposes without explicit permission.

By Josie LeCompte Disclaimer:  This article reflects personal opinions and is not affiliated with or endorsed by the NCAA or any schools listed below. College athletics is officially entering a new era. On June 6, 2025, a federal judge approved  the House v. NCAA  settlement, allowing universities to begin directly paying their athletes. This change comes just four years after the National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA) first permitted student-athletes to earn money from their Name, Image and Likeness (NIL), and marks one of the most significant legal shifts in the history of college sports. The lawsuit, filed on behalf of current and former college athletes, argued that players were entitled to a share of the billions generated annually by college sports. The court agreed. Now, for the first time, schools can share revenue directly with their athletes, which has been something the NCAA had long resisted. The settlement includes $2.8 billion in back pay to athletes who played between 2016-24. That money will be distributed across thousands of athletes, with some receiving tens of thousands of dollars depending on their sport, school, and playing time. However, the future is where the more significant changes lie. Starting in the 2025–2026 academic year, schools can pay up to $20.5 million annually  to athletes across all sports. That number is expected to increase to over $30 million by the early 2030s. Universities are now scrambling to figure out how to reallocate their athletic budgets to meet this new model. The ability to pay athletes directly is already shaking up the recruiting landscape. Schools that opt into the revenue-sharing model are expected to gain a significant competitive advantage, attracting top talent with the promise of compensation beyond scholarships and NIL deals. This shift could intensify the transfer portal, as athletes seek programs willing to pay them, potentially leading to more movement between schools than ever before. Coaches and athletic directors will need to adapt quickly, crafting innovative compensation packages to both lure recruits and retain current players in this new, highly competitive environment. While the new pay structure offers unprecedented opportunities for athletes, it also risks widening the gap between wealthy, high-profile programs and smaller schools with fewer resources. Powerhouse programs with bigger budgets will likely offer more substantial payments, further cementing their dominance in recruiting and competitive success. Meanwhile, smaller schools may struggle to keep pace, especially in non-revenue sports where funding is already tight. This could lead to greater disparities in college athletics, challenging the balance and fairness that the NCAA once sought to maintain. One school that is already adjusting is Texas A&M. During a press conference , Texas A&M’s athletic director, Trev Alberts, mentioned their strategy to adapt to these new regulations.   “We’re a football school,”  Alberts said . “And we’re going to support our athletes like it.” According to the Houston Chronicle , they’re planning to increase their total number of athletic scholarships and cut costs in other areas of the department to free up funds for athlete compensation. Still, this change hasn’t been without pushback. Some current and former female athletes are filing objections, saying the revenue-sharing model disproportionately favors men’s sports, particularly football and basketball. While the court has acknowledged the concern, the judge approved the plan and left the door open for future Title IX lawsuits to address gender-based inequities in pay. Others worry about the impact this will have on non-revenue sports, including swimming, gymnastics, and wrestling. Athletic directors will have to make hard decisions on how to fund all programs equitably while still staying within new payment guidelines. Schools are not automatically required to opt into the revenue-sharing model, but many are expected to. Each university must decide whether it wants to participate in the new system. Opting in allows them to begin compensating athletes directly from their athletic department revenues, but also means complying with new regulations and caps set by the ruling. Most major programs, particularly those in the Power 5 conferences, are expected to participate, given the competitive edge it provides in recruiting top talent. If a school chooses not to opt in, they may risk falling behind, both in performance and in athlete retention, as players naturally gravitate toward programs where they can be paid. For athletes, the process is just as personal. While all eligible student-athletes can receive a share of the school’s pool if their university opts in, they’re not forced to accept the money. Some may decline participation for personal or legal reasons, such as maintaining eligibility for other forms of aid or pursuing amateur status in Olympic sports. Others might opt out due to the potential tax or financial aid implications that come with being classified as an employee or receiving direct compensation. International students are also ineligible to receive payment from their schools. As with NIL deals, education around financial literacy, taxes, and contracts will now be more important than ever for college athletes navigating this new chapter. Another major change introduced by the decision is the implementation of roster caps, which are limits on the number of athletes who can receive revenue-sharing payments in each sport. These caps are intended to help schools manage costs and ensure a consistent distribution of funds across athletic programs. For example, football might have a cap of 85 scholarship athletes eligible for payments, while other sports like basketball or soccer would have smaller, sport-specific caps. Critics argue that this could create a tiered system where walk-ons and lower-depth-chart players are left out, potentially widening the gap between top-tier athletes and their teammates. On the other hand, proponents say it provides a necessary framework to control spending and prevent wealthier programs from simply outpaying everyone else. How schools balance these limits while maintaining team unity and fairness will be a new challenge in the post-settlement landscape. What remains unchanged is that NIL deals are still in place. Athletes will continue to be able to sign endorsement contracts, promote brands on social media, and make appearances for money, outside of what they receive from their schools. Some athletes may now be making six-figures annually, combining school pay with NIL partnerships. Others might earn less, but still benefit from the new structure in a way that athletes in previous decades never could. The NCAA, which for decades fought in court to maintain the “amateur” status of college athletes, now finds itself forced to regulate a professional-style system. A new College Sports Commission is being formed to help manage the payment rules, and universities will be held to stricter financial and compliance standards. The conversation around athlete compensation has been building for years. From Ed O’Bannon’s lawsuit over the use of player likeness in video games to the Supreme Court’s 2021 NCAA v. Alston  ruling, each legal challenge chipped away at the NCAA’s traditional structure. Now, the walls have officially fallen. The next few years will be filled with growing pains. Lawsuits, new regulations, and tough financial decisions are all expected. But the message is clear: the era of unpaid labor in college sports is over. And now the athletes who are the ones packing stadiums, bearing the weight of expectations, and grinding year-round are finally starting to claim their share.

Gallery by Sojung Kim AFC Toronto powered past the Ottawa Rapids with a 3 - 0 victory, with Kaylee Hunter leading the way through a standout two-goal performance. See more of the action in the gallery below. These photos are owned by Hazze Media and Northern Super League (NLS). They may not be redistributed, sold, or used for commercial purposes without explicit permission.

Gallery by Holly Arend The New Hampshire Fisher Cats  took the final game of the weekend series with a 10-5 win over the Portland Sea Dogs  on Sunday at Hadlock Field. The game featured a Scooby-Doo theme night at the ballpark. Check out the full game gallery below. These photos are owned by Hazze Media and Minor League Baseball (MiLB). They may not be redistributed, sold, or used for commercial purposes without explicit permission.

Gallery by Christina Winnegar The Tampa Bay Lightning concluded their 2025 Development Camp on Friday, July 4. Throughout the four-day event, prospects showcased their skills through skating drills, scrimmages, and ended with a final tournament. The camp offered fans a closer look at the organization's up-and-coming talent and the future of the Lightning roster. These photos are owned by Hazze Media and the National Hockey League (NHL). They may not be redistributed, sold, or used for commercial purposes without explicit permission.

Gallery by Holly Arend The Bruins wrapped up their 2025 Development Camp at Warrior Ice Arena today, following four days of on-ice sessions, scrimmages, and community visits. Goaltenders stood out in the final scrimmage with some amazing saves, closing camp with strong performances that gave fans a glimpse of the team's future core. See a glimpse of the week below. These photos are owned by Hazze Media and the National Hockey League (NHL). They may not be redistributed, sold, or used for commercial purposes without explicit permission.

By Sarah Hyun Q&A disclaimer: Responses have been lightly edited for grammar and clarity, and trimmed for length Kevin Atwater, a Chicago-born indie-folk singer-songwriter, recently wrapped up his Achilles tour, which celebrated the release of his debut album. I had the chance to interview him before his show on April 23rd at the Troubadour in Los Angeles, which he described as one of his “biggest dreams.” Atwater is known by many lovers of the indie-folk genre for his deeply honest songwriting and melancholic melodies, often storytelling his life chronologically. He is also a huge inspiration for those in the LGBTQ+ community, writing mainly about his personal experiences navigating relationships as a gay man. Atwater discussed his storytelling approach to songwriting, favorite memories from tour and new album. Songwriting & “Achilles”: Q: Your songwriting is incredibly imagistic and cinematic, almost like flipping through the photo album of your life. Who do you consider your biggest songwriting influences, both lyrically and sonically? Atwater: I think my biggest songwriting influences are definitely Sufjan Stevens and Adrianne Lenker, two songwriters who I believe are just like, perfect at capturing emotions that I have never found the words to explain myself. Hugely inspirational to me. I think they are influences sound-wise too, but, there’s this artist called Lomelda who has been a huge, huge inspiration for me recently. And like, writing out of different time signatures, and just really trying to expand my musical knowledge.  Q: Continuing on that thought, your storytelling is deeply introspective and unapologetically direct, especially with the way you name drop and chronologically recount your experiences. How would you say your writing has evolved from “Retriever” to “Achilles”? Has that confessional approach always come naturally to you? Atwater: Yeah, it's kind of like, I think the confessional vibe is the only way I really know how to work. And I think right now, it always feels natural to just be honest, to just say how things are, like just to put it cleanly and then find the meaning in it maybe later. Like, I think when I write music — this has been true for all the way in the past — like I need some time away from stuff, before I can write about it honestly. So that hasn't changed. But my approach to creating music with other people, like my producer, has changed in that, like when I did “Retriever,” it was just me and my room with my guitar, and I didn't know what I was doing really. And now I have more understanding of how music gets made and stuff. And so, yeah, it's just gonna keep growing and changing. Q: Do you ever feel nervous putting so much of yourself out there? Atwater: Yeah. Every single day. It's scary sometimes to be on stage as myself, singing about things that happened, but it's also kind of liberating, like freeing to just put it all out there. Q: Are there any elements of fantasy in your songs or do you typically write about your lived experiences? Atwater: There is a little bit. There are little things that sometimes I'll embellish. Not in a crazy way, but I'll like, turn something a little more poetic than maybe it was in the moment. But for the most part it's, yeah, I'm just telling it how, how it is. But yeah, I'd love to explore more and see stories that aren't necessarily my own stories to tell in the future. Q: Is there a song in “Achilles” that feels the most meaningful or personal to you? Atwater: Yeah. “Call of Duty” is a song that's really, really personal, so I'd say probably that one. Just because it is a story. The story of the song is so deeply rooted in my lived experience, and my family's lived experience.  Q: What was the writing process for that song? Atwater: I started it years ago, and then I wrote the first verse and then I stepped away, gave it time, I wrote the second verse. I didn't even know where I was going with it. And then like, so each verse of it came, after that, months and months apart. And then I kept that song to me for years also because I knew, I was like, when this song comes out, it needs to make sense and like a project that deserves that.  Tour Life:  Q: What has been your favorite memory from the tour so far? Atwater: Oh my gosh. What is my favorite memory? I think, okay. In Minneapolis, somebody gave me a stuffed animal bear that said “Twinks Love Kevin.” I don't know why, but like I just put that bear behind me on stage and I was like, this bear's got me. I was like, “This is so sweet.” Obsessed with the gay culture. Q: Do you have a pre-show and post-show routine? Atwater: Yeah. I have like a warmup thing that I like to do for the show. Just a little vocal thing. Drink tea, which I got right here. Yeah. I have to ready myself to be on the stage. It's always, it's scary every time, right before. I have to just mentally prepare myself, so I don't like burst into tears or anything. And then the same thing, like coming off of the stage, I have to sit with myself for a second and just be like, “Okay, now we are back to normal and we're all okay.” Nothing crazy.  Short Film:  Q: The short film  you made for “why did you invite me to your wedding” is beautifully done. What inspired you to create a film to go along with the music? Atwater: Thank you, first of all. So the director of the short film actually reached out to me and was like, “I really love the story of this. It would be cool as a short film.” And I loved his work, so I was like, “I would love to do that.” And he sort of came up — I let him have full creative control, I didn't want it to be exactly like the song or exactly like my experience because that might drive me crazy, playing myself. I was like, “I want you to do whatever you think it sounds like, and we just went from there.” Potential Releases: Q: I have to ask about your song, “I'm Not the Love of Your Life.” I stumbled upon it a few years ago on TikTok, and it stuck with me ever since. Can you tell me about the story behind that one, and will you ever release it? Atwater: Thank you. I keep coming back to that one. I’ve played it for a few of the soundchecks. Yeah, that one. The thing about it though is it's a very bitter song. Like, it's very, very pointed and it's about just like being pissed that someone is moving on and you’re not able to. Which just, I think that is so human and so natural, but it had a little too much bitterness to it for me in the moment to want to do anything else to feel good releasing that. But I keep coming back to it, so I don't, I don't know, it might. Fun Facts: Q: What's a fun or surprising fact about you that your fans might not know? Atwater: I crochet. I'm currently crocheting a huge blanket. I'm like three-fourths of the way done. I've been working on it for a year. Um, but yeah, I love crocheting. It's very calming for me. Q: Do you have a dream venue or city you love to play one day? And do you also have a dream artist you want to tour with either opening for them or them opening to you? Atwater: I mean, it's so cool to be here in the Troubadour, this was a dream of mine. So excited to be playing Bowery Ballroom, too, in New York. Those are like my two, two of my biggest dreams. You know what's so cool, is my I opener right now, Renny? I'm one of his, like, I am one of his top listeners. I'm one of his biggest fans. I can't even believe that he’s opening for me like, it feels like I'm crossing off all my dreams. But like, you know, like Sufjan, Adrianne Lenker, [there are] so many people that would be so cool.  Kevin Atwater is not just a songwriter; he is the storyteller of his life, immortalizing moments of happiness, heartbreak, and trauma. His lyrics offer many truths of the human condition through their confessional bluntness — the need to live honestly and love others fully. Atwater reminds us that vulnerability is not weakness, but rather a tool to give us strength to heal.

by Holly Arend Photos provided by Luca Fantilli ANN ARBOR, Mich. — Before the speeches in the tunnel and the lights at Yost, before the team rallies around him before every puck drop, Luca Fantilli was just a kid playing hockey with his brother in their backyard in Nobleton, Ontario. It started with early mornings. Luca and Adam would get dressed at home, hop in the car with their dad, and drive one minute to the rink for 7 a.m. skates with their skills coach, Dave Damizio. But the most important ice wasn’t inside an arena. It was behind their house, where their dad built a backyard rink every winter. “I remember getting dressed with Adam at home and driving to the rink with our dad,” Fantilli said. “It was that close to our house. Playing outdoor hockey with my brother on a rink my dad made in our backyard. That’s where it started.” Years later, the dream that started in that backyard has taken him across North America and into the heart of one of college hockey’s most iconic programs. But it hasn’t been easy. There was the move from AAA to AA during a crucial development year. At the time, it felt like a setback. Now, he sees it differently. “It changed my game completely,” Fantilli said. “It made me fall in love with the game of hockey again. I got to play with my friends and just enjoy the game for what it was. Not for who I was trying to impress or make happy. It also helped me gain confidence in myself.” Then came the OHL Draft. Fifteen rounds went by without his name being called. “I wanted to be drafted. I’ll never forget watching and waiting to be picked,” he said. The following year, everything flipped. While sitting at a restaurant with his family, his name was finally called in the first round by Niagara. “My brother was the first one to see it,” Fantilli said. “I remember shedding some tears and receiving hugs from my family. Getting calls from all the people who helped me get there over the years. That gave me all the confidence in the world. I just felt way better on the ice after that. It shifted my game completely.” Photos provided by Luca Fantilli Luca eventually chose the NCAA route, attending Kimball Union Academy in New Hampshire before joining the Chicago Steel in the USHL. In Chicago, his confidence grew. So did his leadership. He captained the team in his second season and helped bring Adam in as a teammate. “Honestly, it was the coolest thing ever,” he said. “Just dreaming of playing together growing up, and it finally coming true was insane. It helped my game so much because Adam treated himself like a pro his whole career. I learned a lot from him on how to take care of my body and how to act like a pro. Honestly, I kind of idolized him and looked up to him even though he was my little brother. We also had an amazing connection on the ice because of all the practice we had together over the years. Those will be the best years of my life, the years I got to play with Adam. I’ll cherish them forever.” The brothers won a Clark Cup championship together in Chicago. “There are so many talented players,” Fantilli said. “Every night, you're going aga inst the best talent in the States. It's also grueling playing three games in three days, some weekends, but you get super close with the guys on your team, and it makes those games fun. I'm still best friends with some of the guys I played with in Chicago. Especially winning a championship, that's something I'll never forget. Even lifting that trophy with my brother was a great experience.” College hockey was always the dream. It became real when Michigan called. “I remember going to a Michigan game with my family to watch Quinn Hughes and seeing that atmosphere at Yost,” he said. “It was like a game I've never seen before. The passion, the band, the blue and maize. I just fell in love with it and remember telling my parents that if I ever got the chance to play here, my dreams would be fulfilled.” That year, he got a Michigan jersey for Christmas. It had his name and number on the back. “I thought it was so cool and that to wear that jersey in real life would probably never come true,” he said. “When I finally got the opportunity to talk to Michigan and they offered, I never looked back.” Photos provided by Luca Fantilli The first time he stepped on the ice at Yost, he tried to play it cool. “I was trying to act natural and act like it wasn't a big deal, but in my head, it was,” he said. “Being on that ice, seeing how big the crowd and the Children of Yost were, I couldn't believe it. I remember saying to myself, ‘Wow, I'm here.’ After that, it was like every other hockey game. I just had more motivation playing in front of that crowd, my family, wearing the maize and blue. I was playing for something bigger. And it was Michigan.” Since then, Fantilli has become a core part of the Wolverines. He delivers the team’s pregame speeches and is known for his leadership even without wearing a letter. His presence, on and off the ice, has become one of the team’s constants. “I feel like I've grown the most as a man,” he said. “I came into Michigan as a boy, and now I'm a man. I learned how to take care of myself on and off the ice and treat my body the right way. Taking care of school and things like that so that I could focus on hockey.” The mental side of the game has also become a major part of his development. “I realized how important mental strength was when I started playing junior hockey,” Fantilli said. Playing extremely talented guys, it’s tough to crack the lineup every night. Especially my first year of junior in Chicago. We won the Clark Cup championship with a bunch of very talented players. You have to learn how to handle being scratched or not playing a lot, and overcome that and learn how to earn your spot and respect on the team.” Working with mental performance coach Dr. Beth McCharles helped him find balance. “I don’t only speak to Beth as a hockey player,” he said. “I talk to her about my life, too. Creating habits off the ice and balancing hockey with your outside life is extremely important to me. Even the lessons she teaches me about hockey, I also use in life.” Fantilli has also made an impact outside the locker room through Movember. After realizing he had a growing platform, he decided to use it to raise awareness for men’s mental health. “I’ve had family and friends who have struggled with mental health, especially in the hockey world,” he said. “And I just wanted to try and use my social media to express that and try to be a part of something like that.” The team supported him from day one. Photos provided by Luca Fantilli “They’ve been extremely helpful,” Fantilli said. “From our social media team making a video where I could share on social media, to our staff at Michigan helping promote it, and contributing to helping me find ways to move further with Movember. My teammates have also been a huge help with growing mustaches and donating.” Fantilli has had his share of unforgettable moments at Michigan, from Adam’s first goal at Yost to comeback wins that shook the roof. “If I had to pick one, it would be Luke Hughes' four-goal game when we came back to sweep Penn State,” he said. “I don't think I've heard an arena louder and an atmosphere that crazy. I thought the roof of Yost was going to fall.” He’s taken his fair share of chirps, too. “The one I get all the time is ‘You're only here because of your brother,’” he said. “But I wouldn’t say it’s the best chirp because everyone uses it, and it’s just not true. He came to every team I was either drafted to or committed to before he was even considering taking that path. I mean it’s a good chirp and I could see why guys use it, but I just try and use it as motivation.” Music plays a big role in his game-day routine. Right now, it’s “Delilah” by Fred Again. He also has a few go-to tracks that represent different phases of his journey. “I love the song ‘Best Day Ever’ by Mac Miller,” he said. “I just think he talks about enjoying life and the moments in between, and that’s what I’ve tried to do my whole hockey career — enjoy what I was doing and smile through everything.” He adds “Roots” by The Reklaws and “Hey Brother” by Avicii to the list. “They explain the hockey life and remind me where I came from,” he said. “Adam’s been the biggest part of my career. He’s my best friend.” Photos provided by Luca Fantilli As graduation nears, Fantilli’s goals are clear. Win. Keep building Movember. Be a leader for the next generation. “I want to have a great year next year when it comes to hockey and continue to play afterwards,” he said. “But I also want to leave Michigan a better place than I found it.” What has the university given him in return? “Everything,” Fantilli said. “The hockey, the school, the brothers you make for life, the experience of being a student at Michigan. You learn so much here, like playing for something bigger than yourself. It’s all about the team here. That’s instilled in you from the second you walk on campus.” And what will he carry with him forever? “To whom much is given, much is expected,” he said. “That’s Michigan.” Disclaimer: The thoughts, experiences, and opinions shared in this article are solely those of Luca Fantilli and are based on his personal journey. They do not necessarily reflect the views of any organizations, sponsors, or institutions with which Luca may be associated with. To ensure accuracy and maintain context, Luca Fantilli reviewed this article before publication. Unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this material is strictly prohibited. For any inquiries or concerns regarding this article, please contact info@hazzemedia.com

by Christina Winnegar Photos Provided By Patrick Schmiedlin Before the pressures of chasing the dream or facing the adversity and expectations lacing up his skates, Paddy Schmiedlin was just a kid who found a home on the ice. One whose father pushed him around the rink when he was nearly a year old. One who then turned into a teenager, facing the pressures of trying to live up to not only the image he had for himself, but also to keep up with the game. This led him to find his passion off the ice, music. Though he is still making a name for himself in the world of his first love, hockey, he has now found another to find the most profound discoveries of himself.  His story began at a younger age than most, though the roots of it have remained unchanged. “Skating and my love for the game of hockey have been constant variables in my life that haven’t changed,” Paddy says.  From the moment he could walk, skating became not only a stress reliever but also a way to connect with his family through the game they all shared a love for. Photos Provided By Patrick Schmiedlin In a family where hockey was a shared passion, his dad, also a skills coach, encouraged Paddy and his brothers to play, ultimately leaving it up to their discretion to decide their athletic fate. The choice he and his older brother made to focus more on hockey brought them closer, but also led to the early development of his game. Shaping this while having a very skilled player as a model at home and a dad who was also a skills coach, gave him “a tremendous advantage over other players growing up,” he believes. As he began to level up and play for his first organized teams in South Bend, he exceeded his age group. “I would sometimes forget that I was even playing up because I felt like I fit right in with the level of play,” he remembers.  Although the time spent there was in the early years, part of it still weaves its way into his love for hockey to this day. “One thing I’ve always loved was the smell of the rink I played at in South Bend. It had a distinct scent that I came to associate with hockey, and to this day, I still love it,” Paddy reminisces.  The challenge of growing up in a small town, then trying to break through as an athlete is one many face. Week after week, his family made the two-hour drive to Chicago. This sacrifice marked the beginning of a new chapter in Paddy’s hockey development, following his foundational years in South Bend. Leading him to join the Chicago Fury. Making that commitment not only brought him memories still cherished, but competing at the AAA level also pushed his game to improve while being surrounded by other players who shared the same drive. When his time with the Fury came to an end, he found himself playing at Culver Academies, right where it all began. This was not viewed as a move to the next step, but rather as a return to his hometown, playing in the same arena where he once laced up his skates and fell in love with the game. Freshman and sophomore years were filled with nostalgia and purpose. His journey led him to represent his hometown from the very arena where he first learned the game. Putting on the jersey for the first time in his freshman year, he saw the words that held so much meaning, “Culver” printed across everyone’s chests, and got chills. It was a monumental moment, a dream come true.  Although he was returning to where it all began, the time spent at Culver Academies wasn’t special only for the sense of closure. It was also where the underlying passion for music was discovered. Something was always bound to come to fruition in one way or another, growing up in a family that was very musically inclined. However, this love presented itself in a different way for him. Rather than leading to the discovery of an instrument he loved, it led to the discovery of a tool that changed his life instead, FL Studio.   Photos Provided By Patrick Schmiedlin Paddy had always loved music, even in ways that differed from those of many in his family. However, FL Studio was proven to be the perfect fit for him.  The introduction to the platform and having the ability to hone in on his creativity without having to learn to play changed the game. Although without it, his love for music would have never vanished, he wouldn’t have discovered a completely different side of himself that he is most proud of today.  Tapping into that part of himself for the first time, finding that passion that led him to step away from the pressure of the game and just create became an escape. “There’s something about starting a song and falling in love with how it evolves as you create it. It gives me a feeling that’s similar to scoring a goal,” Paddy says.  As his sense of accomplishment for his work behind the screen began to grow, so did the immense comfort and peace it brought him. “When a song starts coming together, I feel a strong sense of joy that’s hard to put into words,” Paddy expresses. Losing track of time during the creative process has brought an unmatched balance into his life. “It gives me a way to shift my focus and unwind, especially after a tough day at the rink…reminds me that there’s more to life than just one outlet,” he explains.  Although there are no specific songs that stuck with him from the early moments of shaping his identity as an artist, the beginning times of making rap and singing helped lead him to where he flourishes most as a creative, in house music.  The pivot to a different genre focus wasn’t just a shift; it unlocked a more profound sense of artistry. “With house music, the structure is different…actually gave me more creative freedom, which was a wider canvas to work with,” Paddy says.  Always loving the early 2010s, he later realized that many of the songs he once connected with – clubby, uplifting, and progressive house format - ultimately led him to the modern music that brought back the same energy he once loved.  Paddy’s entry into the space was flipped, as the majority followed the route of beginning with decks. Producing came first. “I think that my natural ear for music and my patience to stick with a project until the way it sounds helped me get better and better,” he reflects. This encapsulates not only the journey of his passion but also who Paddy is at his core – determined and unknowingly taking the longer route, yet ultimately achieving an even greater outcome.  Now, the artistry, the deep love and passion for music, wasn’t the only thing that aided Paddy on his journey. “Making music has taught me patience… It also taught me discipline through sticking with an idea, refining it, and riding it out until the song is finished,” he says. This mindset began to permeate other areas of his life as well.  At the time, through the adversity that lay ahead, he had no idea how this chapter would completely transform his life. That early spark would soon be tested as his path took him from the comfort of hockey at Culver Academies to the complete opposite playing field of juniors. After two years of pure bliss at Culver, he was presented with the opportunity to play juniors at just 16, which was significantly ahead of many of his peers who started during their gap year following graduation. With such a big step, he began to be challenged in ways he had never experienced before, coupled with being one of the youngest to step into that level.  Despite playing up for most of his career early on, this was an entirely different experience: “Some players were four years older and physically much more developed,” he says. Despite the skating, puck-handling, and shooting ability he came with, the speed of the game was on another level.  “The puck moved so quickly that, for the first time in my career, I felt lost on the ice,” he says. In addition to the struggles faced with the change, the demand to impress NHL and college scouts at times was overwhelming.  Over the five years spent in juniors, 244 games were played, averaging 65 a season — a tremendous amount of not only physical output but psychological endurance as well. Navigating that experience as a 16-year-old entering the USHL, taking the much longer-than-anticipated path of moving on from juniors to college within five years was unimaginable. However, he believes that sometimes God has other plans that don’t make sense in the moment. Reflecting on the time spent in juniors, he went through very dark times mentally. Not only from putting the immense pressure on himself to perform at such a high level due to the potential he had growing up, but he felt like he had failed if he didn’t reach the expectations he set for himself each season. Photos Provided By Patrick Schmiedlin What one may believe aided in the pressure of the game, receiving chirps on the ice, attempting to get into his head once others had discovered his music-making, and posting content on TikTok, it never affected Paddy. “I never took the chirps to heart because I knew I was simply doing something I was passionate about, and they just didn’t understand that,” he expresses.  Proof that believing in what he loved paid off in the way he impacted others, and in turn, the support impacted him. On three separate, memorable occasions, he experienced what genuine appreciation of his music felt like. The first moment was when his friends heard his song being played at a bar in front of hundreds of people. They Facetimed him and were so excited to tell him it was playing as he heard his production in the background. “This was surreal. It was so cool to think that someone else found my song and believed that it was good enough to play in front of such a large group, and the fact that my friends were proud of me was the best part,” he shares. Following was when a DJ reached out to him and expressed that his music was the best he’s ever heard, without a doubt believing he’d be performing in front of thousands someday. “This was really cool to hear from a random stranger that took time out of his day to tell me that,” Paddy expresses. Lastly, the third moment occurred when he asked a DJ to play one of his tracks, and he already knew of Paddy. Before he even asked, he already had his songs loaded in the queue. “He treated me like a celebrity, and it was a very cool feeling knowing that I probably made his day,” Paddy recalled. Believing that although many shy away from doing the things that seem “risky” because they’re afraid of what others might think. Standing on the core belief that your passion should drive you to do what you love, no matter the negativity you may face.  Sharing insightful words for those who may be struggling with following their passion, “Stepping out of your comfort zone and trying new things not only helps you grow, but it also teaches you things about yourself that you may have never discovered before,” Paddy says.  Photos Provided By Patrick Schmiedlin Some of the toll the long seasons took on the body and mind, despite the most challenging moments, came from being scratched from the lineup or not getting enough ice time. But for Paddy, even more often, “the adversity came from not living up to the standards I had set for myself,” he recalls.  This pressure to live up to an early promise and, in turn, meet expectations became especially difficult to navigate when friends were committing to colleges and advancing more quickly. Paddy had been recognized as one of the top players in the country entering juniors, yet breaking through to the next level took longer than anticipated.  Through all of this, he kept showing up. “I’ve really started to trust the process as things have unfolded…It’s easy to lose confidence when things aren’t going your way, but I’ve learned how important it is to believe in the work you’ve put in and continue to show up with the intention of getting better every day,” Paddy shares. That hard-earned mindset has helped him quiet the internal noise and stay grounded when times have come when growth has felt slow.  Reflecting on his experience, Paddy knows there are players right now who are exactly where he once was in his journey, struggling to find rhythm in a faster space, watching others surge ahead, unsure of how to keep pushing through the adversity. “My advice to someone going through similar struggles would be simple: keep going… The physical and mental challenges are temporary, and things do get better with time,” he expresses.  The confidence he has always modeled in his creativity mirrored the belief he had to hold onto in his game, even when his results weren’t immediate. “Looking back, I don’t think I was truly ready to make the jump to juniors at that age, but the lessons I learned through the experience made the decision worth it,” he believes. Despite the adversity faced, the deep love for the game that had developed as a kid had never wavered, nor had the hope that things would get better. Eventually, they did. Finally earning the scholarship, which pushed his career to the next level at the NCAA level at Lindenwood, was met with a wave of excitement and relief.  Photos Provided By Patrick Schmiedlin In juniors, after previously committing to Colorado at 17 years old, the fourth year brought the word no player wishes to hear: decommitment. Being stripped of the scholarship that dangled the dream in front of him was a tough time. One met with silence from other opportunities. When faced with this, instead of throwing in the towel, the decision was made to make the most of the final chance he had.  “For the first time in my junior career, I didn’t feel the pressure,” he says.  Freshman year at Lindenwood, Paddy showed his presence a lot on the ice, in whichever role was necessary. Then, entering his sophomore season with a new coach, he was under the impression it would continue the way it started, but instead, he didn’t play the first four or five weeks of the season.  Thinking college would be a fresh start, he learned lessons that helped shift his comeback in the second half ot the season. Going through that kind of setback and comeback again taught him that “consistent, hard work, and patience are key to reaching success,” he reflects. The fact that development isn’t linear, starting the year with a big dip, caused him to lose a little bit of confidence, following that hope. Consistent throughout the entirety of Paddy’s story is his attitude, work ethic, and patience, which never changed. He waited for his opportunity to come and took advantage of it when the time did.  Throughout Paddy’s story, he not only takes every setback as an opportunity for growth, but also continues to show up in every way. Allowing the learning of deeper truths about himself. During his chapter of balancing his two passions, hockey and music, he has realized that life does not need to be centered around one particular thing he does.  Combining both of these to show different sides of himself: hockey, which teaches resiliency, structure, teamwork, and how to push through when faced with hard times. Music, on the other hand, has given him a space to feel, reflect, and express who he is on a deeper level, realizing that devotion to both can coexist and even fuel each other. “That discovery has helped me feel more whole, more myself, and more free to explore new things that make me who I am,” Paddy shares. Photos Provided By Patrick Schmiedlin His story, from early expectations to finding his haven of creativity, rediscovering his confidence, and learning to trust the timing of his path, no matter how long or complex, has been filled with many unexpected turns. Perhaps the most powerful conveyance of all came not from a new opportunity or external validation, but from where he learned to place his focus. During a period when doubt and pressure began to feel louder than the progress being made, a message from a teammate shifted his perspective. Raised Catholic, Paddy had always believed in God, but often struggled to commit extra time to deepening that connection.   “One of the messages he gave me that stuck out to me was a verse from Proverbs 11:25: ‘Whoever refreshes others, will be refreshed ,’... It stuck in my head for a few days, and I thought of several interpretations of it and found a way to connect it to my mental struggles in hockey,” he shares. Ultimately, realizing that when he put his focus into building up his teammates and focusing on being present with them, he stopped thinking about the struggles he faced, leading him to feel much less stress and anxiety.   The gradual reframing didn’t just help him find peace in the game again; it became a reminder that purpose can live in both discipline and connection. Whether he is lacing up his skates or producing the next song in his story, he is no longer chasing the flat answer of what success is—instead, building a life that allows for authenticity, growth, fulfillment, and faith, both on and off the ice.  Because ultimately, when you love the game, it will love you back.  Follow Paddy's DJ journey on Soundcloud here Disclaimer: The thoughts, experiences, and opinions shared in this article are solely those of Paddy Schmiedlin and are based on his personal journey. They do not necessarily reflect the views of any organizations, sponsors, or institutions with which Paddy may be associated with. To ensure accuracy and maintain context, Paddy Schmiedlin reviewed this article before publication. Unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this material is strictly prohibited. For any inquiries or concerns regarding this article, please contact info@hazzemedia.com

Gallery by Sojung Kim The Philadelphia Union  earned a 1-0 win over the Chicago Fire  on Wednesday night at Soldier Field , staying unbeaten in their last 11 MLS matches. See highlights from the match in the photo gallery below. These photos are owned by Hazze Media and Major League Soccer (MLS). They may not be redistributed, sold, or used for commercial purposes without explicit permission.

By Sarah Hyun As the lights dimmed and silence took hold of the crowd, it was clear that this would be no ordinary concert. Ichiko Aoba, Japanese folk singer-songwriter famous for her “Windswept Adan” album, played two nights at the Wiltern in Los Angeles on April 26 and 27 for her “Luminescent Creatures” world tour. I had the pleasure of attending the latter date. Aoba is a powerful wordsmith and adept at the guitar, blending intricate fingerpicked melodies with orchestral instrumentation and mesmerizing vocals that command attention and quiet. Her songwriting is filled with vivid imagery — coupled with her breathy yet compelling voice, Aoba hushed her audience into attentive stillness at the first note. She kept her audience engaged throughout with her sudden transitions from peaceful strumming to complex fingerstyle guitar, the orchestra and her voice following along and matching the energy. The excitement that filled the air as anticipating fans waited for the night to start was electric — many were spotted taking photos in front of an “Ichiko Aoba” titled sign and walking around in frilly dresses, bows and soft pastels that mirrored Aoba’s aesthetic.  Ichiko Aoba entered the stage with the Wordless Music Quintet, dressed in a sparkling white gown and an intricate headpiece adorned with a single green feather. Opening with “Space Orphans,” Aoba’s voice did not so much cut through the room as it floated — soft, smooth and deliberate. No one whispered, no one shifted in their seat; it was the kind of presence that did not demand silence so much as invite it. The experience felt dreamlike as the music filled every corner of the venue, Aoba completely entrancing her audience. Not a single glowing cell phone could be spotted, nor any melodic hums from the crowd heard. Everyone was truly present, spellbound by her gentle tone of voice, eyes glued to the stage and heads swaying along gently. There was something very human about this show — despite the Wiltern’s larger 2300-person capacity, the concert felt deeply personal and intimate as the crowd soaked in the quiet and respected the performance.  Aside from this mesmerizing marriage between Aoba’s voice and her backing orchestra, the stage was decorated whimsically, almost like a scene from a movie. Warm ambient lighting, a rustic carpet, old wooden chairs and tables and a large globe created an ethereal setting that evoked a film set more than a concert hall, further transporting the audience to an other-wordly realm. The orchestration coupled with the filmlike scenery and Aoba’s lyrics — rich with naturalistic imagery, dream references and symbolism — created a backdrop that was picturesque and meaningful. The deep pluck of a bass and the soft swell of delicately bowed strings added a sweetness that, in many songs, complemented Aoba’s tone, and in others created disjunction, adding an almost unsettling quality; it was characteristic of the unpredictable phases of a dream sequence. This juxtaposition of slow, delicate playing and more upbeat, aggressive playing perfectly highlighted Aoba’s voice and guitar strumming. With the stage resembling the living room of a house, a sense of nostalgia also filled the air. The visual elements really enhanced the emotion behind her music, making the performance feel like a surreal folktale unfolding in real time.  Although Ichiko Aoba sings and writes in Japanese, she has the ability to emotionally deliver songs in a way that transcends language barriers. Those who do not understand Japanese can certainly feel the essence of her words; her melodies are enough to speak right to the heart. With her elongation of certain vowels, sudden tempo changes from upbeat to slow, and intentional pauses in her singing — allowing space for the instrumentals — Aoba has made her voice its own instrument, creating a rhythmically and sonically pleasing experience for listeners. She performed “Bouquet” and “Asleep Among Endives” — two tracks that gained significant traction in the U.S., amassing a combined 86 million Spotify streams, which helped her grow a large American fanbase.  Both songs, along with many others from her most recent album, “COLORATURA” lean again into the illusory escapade felt at her shows; it is as if you are drifting into a musical landscape that is both soft and emotionally disorienting. In “Bouquet,” she sings, “You dance / This world just can’t hold you, just like a bouquet / For ordinary days, rewarding days too / For the future / This is a ticket, so live.” Similarly, in “Asleep Among Endives,” Aoba sings, “At the edge of the world / We strain our ears to hear the galaxy… Asleep among endives / Now, the world too / Closes its eyes / Concealing us.” Aoba’s words are deeply introspective, inviting reflection as she urges about the importance of cherishing the little time we have on earth, finding peace in living in the present moment and appreciating life’s simplicities. To wrap up the night, Aoba sang “Omedetou no Uta,” unplugged and with only her guitar. She slowly stood from her chair, shifted closer to the audience and began singing, her voice reverberating naturally in the open theatre space. Every breath intake, every subtle vocal inflection — could be heard. Fans again watched in silent awe, seemingly careful as to not disturb the peace, as her gentle tone filled the room. This performance in particular — with no orchestra, no voice or guitar amplification and no focus on stage adornment — felt deeply human in its simplicity.  When Aoba sang her final note, the crowd paused for a short moment before erupting in warm, grateful applause. Aoba thanked her audience for coming out before exiting, ending the night on a satisfying yet bittersweet note. Although fans were sad that the show had reached its end, they were also left content and somewhat entranced, lingering for a little while longer after she made her departure. For fans of acoustic and folk music, Ichiko Aoba’s live performances offer a rare kind of immersion — one where you do not just listen, but lose yourself in the art. Her concerts are less about personal enjoyment and more about stillness and presence — a tender and intimate invitation to connect and simply exist.

By Camila Molina This article contains strong language, including direct quotes from performers. The language has been retained to accurately reflect the tone, message, and emotional intensity of the performance. Reader discretion is advised. It has been a little over a week since I saw Mannequin Pussy perform at Gov Ball, and I have not stopped thinking about it since. Lead singer and guitarist Marisa “Missy” Dabice, along with vocalist and bassist Colins “Bear” Regisford, delivered a performance that did not pretend everything was fine outside the festival gates. Instead, it acknowledged what many in the crowd already knew too well — that people are facing unprecedented attacks on their rights, from anti-trans executive orders  to policies targeting immigrants  and other marginalized groups . Dabice did not just carve out one moment to say something thoughtful — her entire presence, along with the energy of the set, transformed rage into something other than a bottled-up, painful feeling. At one point in between songs she declared, “Christian fascism weighs heavy on my mind,” directly naming the oppressive systems that many avoid addressing. She went on to speak about a broader cultural and legislative shift toward so-called “Christian values” that alienate and endanger those who don’t conform to these ideas. “Before we were all born, this script was made,” she said — likely referring to the Bible — before continuing, “and if you don’t fit onto this page, they’ll make your life a living hell.”  She addressed the men in the audience at many points. Dabice said “I wish you would learn to respect the people that you don’t want to f*ck…” Though misogyny is nothing new, there has been a disturbing, relentless and impossible-to-ignore normalization of this cruelty. After all, the president of the United States was found liable in court for sexual abuse .  There is a tendency for women who call out injustice and sexism to be painted as “man haters,” but Dabice didn’t leave room for such accusations, (though I am sure they exist somewhere) stating very clearly, “I am not a misandrist.”  As the band started building into “Loud Bark” with peaceful instrumentals — providing a moment of rest to allow space for these messages, in contrast to other songs reminiscent of early punk music — Dabice continued to address the men. “For some reason there’s still this apprehension, this fear of the word ‘pussy.’ And it’s so strange to me that it’s usually the men who are the ones who are telling us that what we do is obscene.” Dabice raised her voice, continuing with “that we should change the very way that we are in order to make someone else more comfortable. Can you imagine being so desperate for something you are so afraid of? So, before we begin this next one, just curious — where are all the boys in the audience, where are all the men?! Boys, men, don’t be shy, raise your hands. I’m Missy.” Her call to action to the men in the audience was simple: “Scream pussy as loud as you can.” Then she said, “Girls, theys, show them how it’s done!” Dabice addressed these topics in a way that didn’t leave nonbinary people out — something that often gets overlooked in these conversations. Though not explicitly addressed in the performance, abortion comes to mind as a key example, where reproductive health is frequently framed as a “women’s issue,”   when in reality, women’s bodies aren't the only ones being policed and controlled.   The sonic experience itself was not to be missed. I hadn’t even heard of Mannequin Pussy before this set — but after experiencing “Loud Bark” live, I’ve had it on repeat all week. The movement didn’t stop onstage — the band’s energy felt like it reached through the audience and wrapped us all in it. The crowd around me mirrored the momentum I saw on stage — jumping, sometimes frantically, with their own rhythm, screaming — and I felt free in a way I hadn’t in a very long time. After “Loud Bark,” what came next was best described as an explosion, with instrumentals echoing the early 1990s, reminding me of bands like Bikini Kill during the riot grrrl era. Then came their current number one song on Spotify, “I Got Heaven,” with Dabice delivering vocals that matched the studio version with uncanny accuracy — shifting seamlessly from raw, guttural screams to a controlled whisper. Surprisingly, the chorus transforms into a dreamscape — a bedroom pop/rock anthem. It’s a combination I wouldn’t have believed if I had just read it. But you had to be there. The band revisited more punk elements in “Of Her” and “Aching” and the raw, repetitive urgency of “OK? OK? OK? OK?” But their music is far from one style. Dabice’s ability to shift from ethereal, floating vocals to full-blown screamo is nothing short of jaw-dropping — and a technical feat, especially considering the challenge of preserving one’s voice through it all. From start to finish, the instrumentals and stage presence of the band were undeniably energizing — not just watching someone sing or play drums or guitar or bass, but witnessing a real performance. With Regisford headbanging toward drummer Kaleen Reading during a riff that’s likely going to be stuck in my head for days (as happened many times, especially during “I Got Heaven”), the energy was nonstop. Dabice remained a vocal powerhouse, jumping around the stage and at one point dropping to her knees, physically throwing herself into the song during “Of Her” — and she didn’t lose that intensity for a second. But Dabice wasn’t the only one radiating that energy vocally. Regisford also delivered powerful, cathartic vocals. He took a moment to speak out before introducing “Pigs Is Pigs,” dedicating the track to people of color and the queer community: “This song is about how the police are f*cking bullsh*t.” He didn’t stop there, also calling out ICE — a growing concern even here in New York City, once considered a safe place.  He also said: “So hopefully one day we can see a free Palestine, and maybe one day we can free ourselves.” Later the drums erupted, and Regisford launched into astoundingly visceral, screaming vocals. The instrumentals also were part of the cathartic energy the band was channeling, with rhythmic feedback at one point filling the entire festival grounds. Before playing “Perfect,” another punk rock performance, Dabice addressed  the crowd. She said, “I know I’m not supposed to be angry…I’m supposed to be shy and quiet and pretty and just take it and I’m supposed to shut the f*ck up, right?” She repeated this a few times before screaming and groaning. This was something I felt to my core, and the connection deepened when she returned to the topic later, saying she felt the audience was a reflection of the people on stage. I’m usually careful about resonating with bands in this way — after countless interviews and experiences meeting my idols, I know you can’t truly know the people you look up to, you don’t really know the band members — but in that moment, that side of me melted away. For this performance, I felt like we were all family. The catharsis I keep referring to wasn’t accidental. Dabice says, “Taking in music and catharsis in a safe environment like this… I think we are pretty fucking lucky.” Toward the end of the band’s set, Dabice introduced a tradition they do at their shows. It was another call to action, though in many ways, the entire performance already felt like one. She pleads, “Do not let them infantilize your anger,” sharing that she was once told she would grow out of hers. “It is complete f*cking bullsh*t,” she says. “I have only gotten angrier every f*cking year of my life. Don’t let them take it away from you.” “Find a way to transform the rage into something else rather than something that just sits inside you…that is how they — racists and sexists and incels and homophobes and transphobic people — win…you don’t want to be exactly what they need you to be, which is full of hate.” “You’re not too cool for this,” she told the crowd. “Get your catharsis out for the day.” She calls on the audience to scream: “This is a completely safe place. Take the rage inside you and give it to me.” She counted down. The screams erupt. And the band turned that rage into music. I remember being told my senior year of high school — after writing a speech about the normalization of rape culture — “People will tell you to be less angry. Don’t.” As I write this now, I realize there are so many young people going through the world without ever hearing that message. I waited 17 years to be told it, and I think that’s why performances like Mannequin Pussy’s feel so important today.  To close, Dabice yelled at us to take care of each other, and it was oddly comforting. The experience overall is best described as transformative, in a way that didn’t feel coincidental but deeply intentional on the part of the band. The performance was a moment of embrace and emboldenment to those who may feel hopeless today — a reminder that there are still people who won’t ignore the crises unfolding around us.

By Allen Hale kmoe’s “K1” responds to a question that has long been posed by forward-thinking musicians: How can guitar-based music be electronically refashioned? Answering with 2020s-inflected ring, the record offers a fresh reply to this query, cohesively pulling from a variety of sounds indicative of this decade’s musical trajectory.  After years of firing off digicore and hyperpop singles alongside collaborations with other young talents like Jane Remover, quannnic and ericdoa, the 20-year-old’s debut album almost feels overdue, despite his age. While “K1” is chock-full of noisy indietronica-inspired songs that constitute a shift in genres, kmoe’s aforementioned associations make the pivot less confusing. And, while the format and style are themselves steps in a new direction, the fingerprints of kmoe’s prior electronic output and production prowess are all over this record. Noting the convergence of sounds , he stated: “I wanted to pull together every sound I’d explored in the past. It’s the culmination of my entire discography, glued together with my most personal writing to date.” Beginning with a guitar loop drenched in reverb, “Dumpster fire” firmly establishes kmoe’s comprehensive vision from the get-go. Throughout the whole LP, the struggles of romance in early adulthood serve as the main songwriting thrust. Here, above a fuzzy backing, his autotuned, zoomerish lament warbly recounts a now-lost love: “How could I be mad if I’m starin’ at a screen?” While the lyrics here are nothing unexpected, their unity with the instrumental makes for some catchy pop gold likewise found on the anthemic track “Do I keep you up.” “Thousand yard stare” is relatively comparable in approach, incorporating electronics that cut and dice through the mix. A plucky bass alongside kmoe’s isolated vocals guide the bridge’s breakdown and triumphant buildup, reintegrating the piercing synths before dissipating. The follow-up ballad “Watershed” is alright, but finds some difficulty matching the previous track’s impressive effect. Initially, “idiot” poses as a (non-intriguing) continuity, albeit stripped-back in arrangement. Around two minutes in, though, a voice announces “stop” as skittering hi-hats open a dance beat, carrying the song to its close. Throughout the album, these unexpected tricks remind the listener that kmoe’s bag is deep. “Carpet,” for instance, is a glitchy EDM banger punctuated by hard-hitting kick drums and a soaring melody primed for clashing, sweat-drenched concertgoers. The attempted sensuality of “Bloodbath (Dance)” is less compelling owing to the ill-fitting vocals but, as the title indicates, its placement before “Carpet” nonetheless produces a smooth transition. After the emo-rap of “You ruined it,” where kmoe’s shaky, melodic bars thrillingly clamor for space among rumbling bass and dizzying percussion, the album closes with two comparatively calmer songs. “Don’t be like a mouse” — despite being centered on a guitar riff — finds itself incorporating a drum machine. As bands grow prohibitively expensive  to run, the emulation of their sound with one’s DAW has become increasingly common; the product can be a mixed bag. However, the talent demonstrated on “K1” centers around kmoe’s unique ability to skillfully blend non-rock influences with traditional rock instruments, avoiding the brittleness and textural loss that often accompanies these attempts. Although the closer largely rehashes what earlier songs already explored, the track list’s order makes for a generally immersive listen, impressive given the brief song lengths and release format of kmoe’s previous work. At its best, “K1” constitutes an explorative effort that simultaneously leans into past strengths, suitable for bedroom listening and the festival stage alike. The result is an imaginative, refined project that manages to avoid the missteps that often accompany the overwhelmingly exciting prospect of a blank-slate debut release — while likewise capitalizing on the magic of that moment.

By Camila Molina