We’re back in the fire (or is it the frying pan?) of another Karen Read trial. Oh joy. I’m about to walk you through one especially weird cabinet of curiosities housed within this local melodrama: the microgenre of Karen Read protest songs.
But before we get into it, let me make a quick aside to underline that music is, and always has been, an important element of protest movements. The right mix of lyrics and melody can communicate complex ideas with an immediacy of feeling and conviction.
“Imagine” by John Lennon. A half-dozen songs by Bob Dylan. “We Shall Overcome” by Pete Seeger. Labor anthems such as “The Internationale.” African American spirituals. Different songs draw us together in different social and political contexts. And singing them together, or enjoying them in live performance, is itself a kind of expression of the solidarity that lays the foundation for meaningful change.
Okay, back to the nonsense of the Karen Read trial. The defendant has become the kind of folk legend that inspires song. A Rubin “Hurricane” Carter to those who want to paint her as a hero. A bad, bad Leroy Brown to those who want to paint her as a villain. The two sides are bound to disagree. But something we can all agree on, if we’re being honest with ourselves, is how painfully amateurish and downright ugly this microgenre of Karen Read music is.
Consider the anti-Karen Read “Mirror Mirror,” an AI-generated bubblegum pop ditty with lyrics based on the famous reflecting glass from “Snow White.” Karen Read looks into the glass and sings lines such as “Mirror, mirror / Please be my guide / So people will simp for me far and wide” and “I need a ploy / Wait! I see a vision in your glass / Oh no, is that Turtleboy?!” It’s poison for the ears.
Or how about the pro-Karen Read “We’ll Stand and Fight”? More AI-generated pop dreck accompanied by a YouTube video with two interesting items in the description. First, a “fair use” claim that the material is intended for “teaching, scholarship and research,” which the uploader thinks will protect them from getting copyright flagged for all the pirated images in the video. Second, an explicit warning not to use or reproduce any portions of their video without their authorization. In other words, pirating material is good for me, but not for thee. Got it.
I don’t want to give the impression that every song in the Karen Read collection is AI-generated. But most I found were. In fact, there’s some weirdo Australian podcaster who made an entire instructional video about how to create AI-generated music – specifically targeting Karen Read content creators.
Using a hodgepodge of AI-driven content generation tools, one creator alone has produced two albums’ worth of Karen Read material, containing tracks such as the folk picker “Cold at 34 Fairview Rd.,” the nu metal banger “Karen Read Was Framed!” and a hip-hop monstrosity titled simply “Karen Fucking Read!” Don’t doubt that every time you hit the play button, the account collects ad revenue.
All that stuff I said about protest music bringing people together? None of it’s true for the Karen Read microgenre. This is music by no one, for no one. This is music that robots fuck to. A gross pantomime of passion. Less music, more a symptom of a sick age, surfing on algorithms, full of idiots who confuse content creation with forming an opinion, having an idea, upholding a principle, cherishing a love or fighting for a cause.
If social media disappeared tomorrow, most of this junk AI song generation would disappear with it. No one can stand it longer than the few seconds it takes to scroll past in their feed. But we don’t live in that world.
Prepare yourself for “Karen Read: The Musical,” written by a smartphone, starring a laptop, streaming on an algorithm-driven platform, produced by Elon Musk, coming soon to a barf bag near you.
Hit this
Sunday: Tim Hecker (Crystal Ballroom, Somerville)
The decorated Canadian composer and musician Tim Hecker explores “the intersection of noise, dissonance and melody.” I can confirm the “noise.” When Hecker last visited Crystal Ballroom in May 2023, I was there and wrote up a live review with a title that was, in retrospect, borderline clickbait: “Why Does Tim Hecker Hate You?” But it was an honest response to a show that pushed far beyond what I consider an acceptable decibel level to subject an audience to. I see a lot of music. I see a lot of loud music. There is a limit beyond which the performance is merely an exercise in sadism. Should I have worn earplugs? Sure, yeah, but let’s not paper over the root of the problem. A cavalier recklessness with the audience’s physical well-being. If I make this show, though, I’ll title the live review “Why Does Tim Hecker Love You?” I’ve got nothing against the guy personally and I enjoy his ambient soup at more humane volumes.
Wednesday: L.A. Witch / Daiistar / Viruette (Middle East, Cambridge)
L.A. Witch is from L.A. Founding band members Sade Sanchez and Irita Pai wanted to name themselves “Witch,” but that was already taken, so they added the “L.A.” Voila! Done and dusted. Sounds like a Spinal Tap sketch. But it doesn’t hurt to associate the band with its hometown, because the band rocks that particular quality of cool proper to the City of Angels: You know, Slash hanging out with his Snakepit, cigarette hanging off the bottom of his lip, belting out bluesy riffs beneath cloud banks of urban smog. L.A. Witch are the garage psych version of that. Joined by Daiistar of Austin, Texas, and locals Viruette.
May 8: Clap Your Hands Say Yeah (Crystal Ballroom, Somerville)
At the risk of serving myself a big bowl of Member Berries (’member those?), ’member when Clap Your Hands Say Yeah was the next big thing? A buzzy indie rock outfit with a DIY mindset that frustrated major label types and delighted their fans. Their self-titled debut album blew up in 2005, a time when social platforms such as Myspace and indie-focused outlets such as Pitchfork promised new paths to notoriety outside of the well-worn ruts of the corporate music machine. They were on a roll for a while, but gradually got crowded out of the spotlight. Last I heard, in 2013 the band was on hiatus because frontman Alec Ounsworth lived in Philadelphia, the rest of the band lived in New York City and no one wanted to commute. Ounsworth is touring with fill-ins on the 20th anniversary of the debut LP. Can he ’member the old magic?
Preview: Orange Stage at Boston Calling
The Rock N Roll Rumble may be on hiatus in 2025, but we can still get excited about local artists getting spotlighted at Boston Calling. Each year the festival curates an impressive list of area artists and bands to bring a little New England flavor to the proceedings. And ground zero for locals, the Dunkin’ Donuts kiosk notwithstanding, is the Orange Stage.
Hip-hop artist Latrell James, TikTok phenom and acoustic guitarist Simon Robert French and pop rocker Layzi headline Friday, Saturday and Sunday night, respectively. An eclectic blend for an eclectic festival.
The remaining Orange Stage performers include chiptuners Battlemode, alt rockers Future Teens, pride of Manchester Megan From Work, garage psych Pinklids, printing press collective Sidebody, pop punk vets Rebuilder, Americana sweethearts Nate Perry & Ragged Co., gazer blazers Vivid Bloom and live, laugh, lovers Copilot.
To be clear, it’s not a rule that local artists can perform only at the Orange Stage. You will find Harvard grad and bassist Devon Gates (& Friends) performing at the Arena Stage on Friday, for example. But the Orange Stage remains the focal point for local representation at the festival, constituting a welcome gesture of support for our music scene.
Roll up to the locals stage at Boston Calling on May 23-25! It’s located right through the gates, hang a left at the food court, take a right at the Narcan kiosk, run the gantlet of port-a-potties, walk down a dirt road, crawl under a rusty fence, sprint past the junkyard dog … Ah well, you’ll figure it out.
Michael Gutierrez is an author, educator, activist and editor-in-chief at Hump Day News.
A stronger
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