I went to her Bandcamp and saw she posted everything she’d made since she was sixteen. “I put that out literally the day after I saw Frankie Cosmos.
I didn’t want anyone seeing my music tag with zero notes! Even if it was a Sherlock fan blog that would like a song, I would keep it up.”Īside from trading between her sister and close friends, Gish kept her recorded output between her and her Tumblr until releasing Don’t Call On Me, a self-proclaimed “dump album” compiled after a fateful Frankie Cosmos show. “If I thought a song didn’t get enough notes to have it not be embarrassing, I’d delete it. She began to privately post her own songs on Tumblr soon after. The rebellion led Gish directly into a YouTube ukulele community led by Charlie McDonnell, a “quirky, totally 2011-y YouTube boy.” As a self-proclaimed “total choir kid that was also horrendously introverted,” Gish found something in their penchant for writing zany, humor-heavy ukulele songs. “I also thought it made me more quirky… I guess I was one of those people.” “I just didn’t want to do the same thing my dad was doing,” she says. Partially inspired by her guitar enthusiast father (“Like, types of wood, guitar conventions… he’s one of those people”), Gish genuinely picked up the ukulele as a form of teenage rebellion. Gish takes the opposite route: air it all out and hope shame doesn’t override your confidence. The subject is “rediscovering art made in your teenage years” and my immediate reaction is to burn it all in a giant pyre outside the nearest Hot Topic. “I rebelled by playing ukulele,” Sidney states matter of factly.
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Taking cues from Courtney Barnett’s hyper-observational lyricism and Frances Quinlan’s freak folk tendencies before Hop Along dropped “Queen Ansleis” from their name, Gish’s sound is both markedly self-assured and playfully absurd.īetween fears of growing old on the cusp of her 20th birthday, hopes of getting a 95 in math class, contextualizing intimacy by knowing a partner’s password without changing it in Preferences, working at a plastic dinosaur factory, and a guy in New Jersey with an unquenchable lust for real estate, Ed ’s world, like its creator’s, is humble in its singularity, effortlessly willing and able to make even the most mundane afternoons of being emotionally (and physically) lost worth documenting. Named after a mysterious realty sign Gish found in her hometown suburbs, Ed Buys Houses is the kind of engrossing record that deserves far more celebration than a well deserved nap. She asked what it was called, I said Ed Buys Houses, and she was like, ‘alright… that’s fine, I guess.’ The release day party was me trying not to pass out at a cooking class in suburban New Jersey.” “In the car on the way to the cooking class, I told I just put out an album. Hailing from a New Jersey suburb that boasts “a Panera, then lots of farms,” Gish modestly admits that the completion of her album this past December didn’t make much of a blip in her hometown. “I put the album up at 7 AM and, later that morning, my mom and I were going to a cooking class.” My sleep schedule went to absolute shit over that winter break,” Gish recalls, mimicking a catatonic stare at the floor. I forget to bring it up when we finally meet at the third location, but it’s fine Sidney has more than enough odd observations of the universe stockpiled from making her first proper full-length album. I recognize I’m using absurdity to hide the fact that I’m just bad at making plans, but it feels like the kind of thought process that would find solace in one of Sidney Gish’s songs. I begin to imagine a Greek god of New England, smiting me with poor directions and double parked cars in my bike lane for being so out of step with the rest of the city’s exposed calves. I reject the custom as a New Englander to put shorts on at the absolute first sign of warmth each year, but I am an island in my black jeans.
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I assume the driver is consumed by the fact that they got to break out short sleeve uniforms so early this year. A delivery truck weaves a little too leisurely into my lane. Even after the sun set, the temperature hangs in the upper 60s. This is the second location of said coffee chain I’ve biked to, failing to specify the exact location near Fenway that Sidney and I were going to meet. It’s late February and everything is wrong. I’m in front of a coffee chain that Sidney Gish is not at.Ī middle aged couple in khaki zip-offs walk by.
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