Lowertown

Lowertown finally caught their breath. Over the last few years, the New York-based duo of Olivia Osby and Avsha Weinberg was teetering on the brink. From constant touring and a separation from their label to creative frustrations and an unhealthy attachment to one another, their artistic partnership and, more importantly, their friendship were on shaky ground—especially since these experiences were colored by the disorienting intensity of their late teens and early 20s.

Those roots sprung in Atlanta, Georgia, in the forests, in the soon-to-be abandoned venues, in makeshift punk communities, but their roots also strengthened somewhere else entirely: on the internet. The band grew up on Tumblr fanpages, Reddit forums, digital spaces that had not yet been corporatized. They were able to observe and take part in music, anime, and film fandoms that grew stronger in these ungoverned places. So much so, that the fandoms leapt from the virtual to the physical, bringing people together to meet at concerts, coffee shops, and conventions to discuss their obsessions and connect over shared interests.

Inspired by the conceptual creativity of bands like Gorillaz and the emphasis on the communal concert experience of Fugazi, Lowertown’s new album, Ugly Duckling Union, is the conceptual world of Dale the duckling protagonist and his companions as they attempt to band together to defeat LBH, a tyrannical media corporation set on separating and isolating in their pursuit of control.

Through the band’s online connection with fans, their Discord server with channels for their community to share their own art and talk to the band, and their Instagram and YouTube pages, where they have built a cult following, they have already begun to bridge the gap between the digital and physical. Lowertown shows are often giddily attended by those who have met through their web of online fandom. Ugly Duckling Union, accompanied by a conceptual story, a playable Minecraft world, a handbook, plush dolls, and drawn comics by Doctor Nowhere (Silas Orion), is creating the space to be obsessed together again.

The tumultuous beginnings are in the rearview mirror for Lowertown, as we hear in the first seconds of the opening track, “Mice Protection”, Osby’s composed exhale, a symbolic moment that sets the scene for their most thoughtful, uninhibited, catchy, and eccentric collection of songs.

Songs like “Big Thumb” epitomize just how far Lowertown has come. In an unkempt folk-jazz murmur, Weinberg slurs his words with palpable heart, while Osby’s lush vocal melodies and harmonica encircle to haunting effect.