Regular readers of this column know I sometimes write about streaming services that aren’t Spotify, which rips off artists and has a founder who makes decisions worth questioning.
My ethical alternative of choice, Bandcamp, has been through two corporate acquisitions since 2022 (first to Epic Games, then to Songtradr) and several rounds of layoffs, which makes me suspect Cory Doctorow’s doctrine of enshittification is starting to take hold. So, I’ve been looking at Ampwall. Should you get amped about it? Maybe not yet.
I like that Ampwall is a public benefit corporation (PBC). A PBC is supposed to elevate the public good over profit. A music-streaming platform, organized as a PBC, could, in theory, maximize the golden eggs (the music and what it means for arts and culture) without exploiting the goose (the musicians) through short term thinking.
Not that Ampwall’s corporate profile matters if the service doesn’t work. In fact, it works very well, offering a smooth, uncluttered interface and a straightforward purchase process. It’s free to search and stream the artists who have made portions of their music available, and you can make a purchase to stream the remainder. Ampwall charges artists and labels $10 per year to upload music, to sell downloads, and to maintain dedicated pages. I found Boston artist Daphne Blue Underworld’s “Memory Palace,” bought it, and it was mine to stream in the Ampwall cloud or download locally.
Here’s the problem: Daphne Blue Underworld is one of only a few Boston-area artists on Ampwall. Using the keyword “Boston” I found only ten. When I searched by genre, the results went deeper, but only by degrees. It’s not just lacking in Boston artists — I felt as though I were roaming a superstore with mostly empty shelves.
The deal-killer, though, is the absence of a mobile app. Mobile devices accounted for more than 90% of streaming platform usage in a 2019 study. Without a mobile app — founder Chris Grigg says one is in the works — Ampwall is just an interesting curiosity.
Hit This
Jan. 16: Bus Crush Album Release Show (Lilypad, Cambridge)
Alt rockers Bus Crush made their debut at Nice Fest in 2024 with none of the normal newbie nerves, probably because lead vocalist Olivia Sisay had performed there as a solo act in 2022. I’m expecting the same experienced vibe from the new Bus Crush album, since Sisay’s previous collaboration with Ben Walker produced the notable album Sports & Leisure, stocked with buzzy guitars and alt 90s-influenced vamp. Doss and Megan From Work fill out a strong three-band bill.
Jan. 17: Dayfest (The Burren, Crystal Ballroom, The Rockwell, Somerville)
Can’t decide what flavor ice cream you want? Pick them all. Dayfest, part of the Boston Celtic Music Festival, offers a smorgasbord of sounds in Davis Square on Saturday. Stop in at The Burren for the banjo-driven folk of the Simon Lace Trio. Check out Boston Scottish Fiddle Orchestra at Crystal Ballroom. Enjoy the Celtic harp of Riko Matsuoka at The Rockwell. Dayfest kicks off at 11am, so grab a coffee or whatever your preferred eye-opener, and get an early start.
Jan. 22: Sharp Pins (The Armory, Somerville)
Sharp Pins, the lo-fi indie rock project of Kai Slater, marks the latest member of the loose-knit, Chicago-centered music & arts collective Hallogallo to come through Somerville, following Lifeguard, Post Office Winter, and Horsegirl, who played the Armory last March. It’s a young rock-n-roll scene with brick & mortar, homespun roots like you hardly see any more in this moment of online music discovery.
Live: Mikayla Shirley and Kazuki Tsubakida
Vocalist Mikayla Shirley held court in the Jazz Baroness room at The Mad Monkfish last Thursday. Shirley’s voice crept around the room like a black cat at twilight during a set of beloved standards joined by pianist Kazuki Tsubakida. Though Shirley studies at Berklee College of Music, Tsubakida at the New England Conservatory, and “Berklee cats and NEC cats don’t mix very often,” as Shirley said, the pair found their rhythm.
Shirley is barely old enough to drink from the martini glass she had perched stage right, but her voice has the athleticism of Ella Fitzgerald’s, the frankness of Billie Holiday’s and the elastic vibrato of Sarah Vaughan. Her vocals transported the audience into a space of romance and elegance.
Tsubakida supported his partner’s flights with an unexpected maturity. He took over at the three-quarter mark of each song, letting his finger work step into the spotlight before Shirley snuck in the backdoor to close it out, as though she had never left. Somehow, her final note hung in the air until after we realized the show was over.
A stronger
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