As the year draws to a close, we all get the impulse to check in on the state of music over the past twelve months. What was great, what was terrible, what’s next? Here are my thoughts:

There have been numerous “scenes‰” throughout music that would go on to plant themselves in rock history: grunge in Seattle, hardcore with SST Records, emo in the entire Midwest, and New York‰’s no wave. There is magic artistic chemistry amongst friends.

In this age of Internet distribution, these local ties feel like they‰’re getting erased by universal connectivity. I can‰’t think of any modern examples of these movements that could stand the test of time with one exception: Exploding In Sound Records. The project started as a fairly straightforward music blog, but the music that Dan Goldin curated took on an almost cultish-following. He has an auteur-like talent for finding bands seemingly out of thin air, each feature distinctly its own, but they all share a loud guitar-based focus. His choices function as a larger-than-life mixtape that‰’s effective in the way that everyone who has ever created a playlist wants it to function: if you like one band, you‰’re almost guaranteed to fall in love with the entire roster.

A year after hearing Fat History Month and suspecting that there was something magical happening in the outskirts of Boston, almost every EIS band now feels like an old friend. Bands like Fat History Month, Kal Marks, Krill, Speedy Ortiz, Ovlov, and Two-Inch Astronaut feel like they‰’re a lap ahead of everything else, and then there‰’s the quartet that Krill called “outside human influence.‰” That band is Pile.

Pile likes to build tension and explode, but that does them as much justice as saying the Pixies get loud then quiet. These types of artists are in all genres; their best works feel like the slow climb to the highest hill of a rollercoaster before plunging into bliss. The result is spectacular when done correctly, but Pile takes a slightly different approach. Instead of inching their way up a hill, they throw the listener through endless drops, loops, and twists before they‰’re exhausted and staring over the edge of a canyon in a matter of minutes.

Hear the band’s sound evolve over 4 years in 4 minutes:

Genius chord progressions are sprinkled with intermittent pieces of melody. Rick sings about dismemberment as the beautiful composition bends and squirms until everything feels like it could implode. Every musical and emotive thread is stretched to its limit. Kris Kuss gives you one moment to collect yourself before letting off two gunshot snare hits and the band jumps in headfirst. Connery‰’s back remains to the audience, Matt yells louder at his amp, Rick screams with everything in him at his mic, the guitars sound like teeth made of razorblades, Kris is lost in a storm of drum fills.

Initially, it‰’s stunning that a climax could even exist among the highs surrounding it, but eventually you just accept that this band is infinitely good and will continue smashing your expectations to smithereens.

Thanks to Ethan Long for the video

The only downside to falling this hard for a band (or anything in life) is that you‰’ve unconsciously set yourself up for disappointment. The pinnacles that Dripping hits on any single song could very well be the career-defining moment for any other band. The fact that Pile can fit all of this into any single one of their releases is mind-numbing. Inevitably, I found myself wondering, “How the fuck is it even possible to follow this up?‰” I found about a month ago that it‰’s entirely possible and it will only further cement my jaw to the floor.

All of my favorite memories of the past year or so have been wrapped tightly around Pile. I‰’ll listen to them when I‰’m down, when I feel on top of the world, when I feel trapped in a world defined by routine, and when I‰’m old and weird. “Prom Song‰” will bring me back to the tiny Ethiopian bar as Rick cranked his amp and let loose the most beautiful guitar solo I‰’d ever heard. I‰’ll be back in the forest, colorful leaves swirling around me as “Pets‰” hits that quiet beauty as it recollects itself from explosion. I‰’ll be skipping class on a train to Baltimore, freed from the monotony when “Work‰” croons, “Once in a while, I‰’ll take my time off.‰” I‰’ll be standing a few feet from a humble Baltimore stage, in musical nirvana when the new song finally hits full stride. I‰’ll be 21 again, my entire life still ahead of me whenever this band finds its way back to my ears.

The whole label and Pile especially remind me that I can be still be floored by music. It‰’s an absolute crime that this whole thing still feels just shy of a breakthrough, but it was never about the money. It‰’s about the passion and the craft. For all of this, I‰’d like to sincerely thank Dan, Rick, Connery, Kris, Matt, and the countless other incredible musicians that are a part of this. Thanks for all the unadulterated joy your music brings me, thanks for making me feel like a part of something, thanks for reminding me that music can still prioritize expression over profit, thanks for making all of this possible, and thanks for everything that has and is yet to come. Most of all, thanks for reassuring me that rock is in good hands.