Slow Hollows
On Thursday night, amongst a sea of emotive teens, I learned that Slow Hollows is here for you in your most vulnerable moments.
On October 24th, Slow Hollows played the Moroccan Lounge to celebrate the release of their third album Actors. Originally the teenage project of Austin Anderson, Slow Hollows quickly grew from a couple of kids jamming in the Valley to a staple of the LA indie scene. Anderson’s collaboration with Tyler, the Creator on Cherry Bomb and Flower Boy, and contribution to Twitter’s favorite sad boy song “Self Control,” by Frank Ocean, likely helped the band’s rise to fame. All while still in high school, Slow Hollows released two projects, Atelophobia and Romantic, maturely dealing with themes of love and insecurity by blending glimmery dream pop with some punk tendencies. Now twenty-one, Anderson and his band are about to embark on their nationwide tour starting this week. But before that is the special album-release show in LA, where they started.
Dozens of teenage fans filter through the adult crowd of the dimly-lit yet cozy Moroccan Lounge to access the venue section, flipping through nothing on their phones. Backstage was a similar scene of anticipation. Anderson stays mostly to himself in a corner of the green room looking down at his feet, only pausing occasionally to go check his phone across the room or drink water. The other members of the band prepare differently: bassist Aaron Jassenoff and drummer Jackson Katz lounge on one side of the room, while trumpeter, keyboardist, and occasional backup guitarist Daniel Fox bounces around the space.
The band runs out on stage to a chorus of screams and cheers, thanks everyone for coming out, and jumps into a rapid sequence of the first five songs on the new album. Anderson pauses to tell the crowd that he was really nervous, the same way you would tell your best friend how nervous you were before asking out a crush in middle school. It’s a real nervousness.
“YOU’RE REALLY PRETTY!” One of the girls in the front yells back, eliciting one small smirk on Anderson’s face.
“Heart,” a fairy tale tune about a lost love, highlights their opening. The lights fade to a calming orange hue and the crowd dances unrestrained to the Tyler, the Creator-produced beat. Its playful and animated drums mixes surprisingly well with Anderson’s ethereal and nostalgic guitar style. The song doesn’t wallow in the insecure pain of a breakup, instead choosing to capture the liberation of accepting loss while still loving yourself and appreciating the past.
After “Young Man,” Anderson pauses again to confess his nervousness, taking a gulp of the paper water cup next to his feet. When Anderson tells the crowd about his unease, it doesn’t feel like a slightly arrogant and angsty teen reminding us that he’s just another teenager- except he’s onstage, not in the crowd. Instead, it feels like he’s telling you because you’re his friend and he can be vulnerable with you.
Then comes “Two Seasons,” the moment where the concert comes into clear focus. “Two Seasons” is a song of reflection dominated by melancholy piano chords and a beachy, yet bittersweet, guitar. In the chorus, Anderson questions the genuineness of a lover: “Do you love me or/ do you love the feeling?” During this chorus nearly every face in the crowd sings along softly with their eyes closed, swaying back and forth, perfectly content and safe in this space.
It clicks. Slow Hollows has always been dealing with insecurities. Atelophobia means the fear of imperfection. But here, four years later, they’ve grown up. Their message is clear and mature now. Insecurities are inevitable, which makes them universal. You can block out your insecurities, but it’s also okay to be vulnerable. Your friends will be there for you. Slow Hollows will be there for you.
The band alternates between selected tracks of their latest release and some older classics. They start “The Art School Kids” to a roar of approval from the crowd and the song sets the rhythm for the mosh pit. Then the band doubles back to the more indie aesthetic of “Nerves,” with it’s rolling, mellow guitar.
Toward the end of the show, everyone but Anderson leaves the stage for water. Fox, the multi-instrumentalist, comes into the greenroom visibly agitated. “Fuck that. This asshole photographer keeps bending over a fan to get a good picture. She’s a real fan that paid money to be here, and he’s ruining her time.” His anger makes sense. Slow Hollows is here to create an intimate, vulnerable and safe space between their fans and themselves. Nothing should get in the way of that.
