In Review: After the Revolution

Carsie Blanton’s newest album creates a catchy and endlessly helpful/hopeful soundscape for the impending dystopia

Okay, this is a blast from the past.

When I was a youngster, I spent a significant portion of my time trying to stay ahead of the curve with music: destroying the family desktop with LimeWire, nodding along at New Brookland Tavern shows, setting Conor Oberst lyrics as my away message on AIM. In high school, I wrote album reviews for the school newspaper. Small record labels would send me CDs in the mail (lol), and I’d spend my afternoon bus ride home spinning them: shitty headphones over my ears, head pressed against the vibrating bus window, scribbling notes into a composition book. An inordinate amount of time was spent making mix CDs for friends and crushes, perfecting the narrative arc and crescendo — and as it turns out, most of the recipients of these artifacts grew up to be queer. Correlation or causation: you decide.

In college, briefly (so very briefly!), I was the editor for the Arts & Entertainment section of the student newspaper. I wrote uninformed reviews of the university’s concert lineup, bobbed along critically at shows sponsored by the college radio station, and interviewed a few artists (my fave: Girl Talk — and I’ve since learned Gregg Gillis is from PGH!).

Somewhere along the way, I lost touch with this part of myself. Mp3s replaced my CD and vinyl collection — the precarity of their liminal format meant that most of the music I used to listen to was shipwrecked when my old clamshell MacBook bit the dust in 2014. My memory is worthless, so my inability to physically flick through a collection of artists is a total loss: out of touch, out of mind. Additionally, I lived in cities (Greenville) and worked in industries (F&B) that made live music tough to attend. Due to streaming, my brain is simultaneously inundated with more new music than I could imagine, but I rarely spend time digesting new artists or albums. Capitalism has a way of alienating us from the things we love.

So today, I’m writing an album review. Album reviews are a relic from the (g)olden times when you had to decide if you wanted to spend $14.99 at Best Buy, Manifest, or Earshot for a new CD. In these dismal days of on-demand streaming, there’s no reason to consider someone else’s thoughts on a musician. You probably have a Spotify account. You could start streaming now & make up your mind within 1.5 minutes of listening. But what if we play pretend for a moment? Step back from our instant opinions and take a second look. I’ve been out of the game for a long time, but the point here is to have some fun and maybe convince you to stream (or buy!!) something new.

Carsie Blanton, After the Revolution

After the Revolution dropped on March 21st (my bday & more importantly: the start of Aries season); it combines a whole lot of moxie, a wink at leftist theory, and familiar riffs on songwriting hits that make you want to singalong at first listen. The 12 songs demonstrate an impressive range of genres from crooning jazz standards to pop punk anthems.

I first encountered the title track which laments, ‘so I picked a fight later on that night / I was sick of feeling shame / and I know it all couldn’t be your fault / but I need someone to blame / after the revolution we’ll have a better life, / you’ll be a better husband, I’ll be a better wife.’ Blanton’s lyrics hit like a suckerpunch, then a bear hug: a genocide rages on, horrors are streamed direct to our phones, and yet there’s chores to be done, dinners to be assembled, dogs to be walked, babies to be cared for, love to be made. It’s a strange comfort to know the mundane muddles with oppressive structures (‘it’s not you babe, it’s capitalism!’), and this collapses and constricts us. There’s a deep understanding of how systems impact the domestic — echoing Ghodsee’s Why Women Have Better Sex Under Socialism. This intro to Blanton makes me ache for a world where I could let the soft animal of my body love what it loves without worrying about some distant Outlook inbox, Excel spreadsheet, or credit score.

Speaking of love, Blanton’s album showcases a few lusty tracks — big on pleasure, uselessness, and sexy daydreams. Toni Cade Bambara said the goal of the cultural worker is to make revolution irresistible. Blanton succeeds in making the revolution hot. Blanton’s inclusion of these tracks on a protest album underscores how personal conditions fuel revolutionary conditions: play, joy, rest, and even orgasm — all are accelerants for our fire to resist and reimagine our current world.

Perhaps my favorite aspect of Blanton’s work is that it is, in itself, a precious remedy against the satanic schemes and demonic devices of capitalism. Blanton’s words remind us of (and gift us) the very things that can buoy us through these desperate times: friendship, vulnerability, children, ‘anarchist calisthenics,’ Eros, and hope. In a world that offers ‘treat yourself’ as the apex wisdom for making it through bad times, Carsie sings of joys that no money can buy, ‘you and me in cahoots / blowing bubbles, knocking boots / clapping hands & paintin’ toes / putting on each other’s clothes […] stealing supper, dodging cops / pittin’ peaches, sippin’ rye.’ Carsie takes the sweeping, terrifying, exhilarating panorama of inevitable revolution, crumbling empires, and impending climate change and effortlessly interposes this dramatic view with the most intimate details of daily life: marital spats, loving your kiddos, cracking up with friends, sipping wine in a pool, nights with near-strangers, and putting dinner on the table.

To be honest, After the Revolution’s sound isn’t an album I’d naturally seek out. It’s outside of my usual heavy rotation. But Blanton’s witty lyricism, impeccable ear for hooks, and optimistic voice make this a comforting listen during our challenging times. Good for: walks in the sunshine, May Day festivities, and soothing baths (while you’re technically on-the-clock at your WFH gig). My favorite track: Suddenly the Spring. Oh, and as a little bonus, check out Blanton’s tribute to Prine from 2020. It isn’t on this album, but it’s too good to not mention.

Other musical notes from this week:

• Monday, we caught Cut Worms and pgh’s own The Garment District. Great little weeknight show. “Sold My Sold” is just as good live.

• Tonight, we’re headed to hear the local Labor Choir’s May Day concert. Afterward, we’ll likely wander over to Pitt’s encampment. All power and love to the students who are risking the usual poison carrots of capitalism (prestige, pedigree, salaries, etc) as well as their safety and freedom to put it all on the line for the people of Gaza. God bless them for their courage.