HLLLYH : URUBURU
It’s all in the name, as the expression goes. And, whether or not it’s true, the idiom encapsulates the ridiculousness of those who’d judge books by their covers, movies by the actors that star in them, and bands by their associations and affiliations with other bands—even if the shared commonalities between them ends there. On the other hand, the “new,” arty, post-punk project HLLLYH cannot be discussed, much less introduced, without a substantial amount of context.
Tempting as it may be, pay no attention to the elderly woman crocheting a sweater in the corner of whichever room you’re in while reading the far less captivating yet most abridged version of HLLLYH’s birth that we can muster. In a nutshell within another nutshell within yet one more nutshell, the band were arguably the leaders of the pack in pre-gentrified downtown Los Angeles’ music scene in the early aughts. The Mae Shi and their gang of art-punk affiliates did all they could to avoid being slapped with the now-endearing term “emo.”
Many considered The Mae Shi to be the reigning champs in a collective of bands based in pre-gentrified DTLA. They spent almost all their artistic capital and devoted almost all their time to promoting deconstructionism and stamping out any music that involved melodies, harmonies, choruses and anything else that could potentially have even a smidgen of radio appeal.
As is almost always the case when art is used solely to further a political, social or cultural end instead at the expense of craft, the post-post-post efforts executed by The Mae Shi and their fellow reactionaries resulted in some pretty hard-on-the-ears noise splatter. Predictably, the band’s penchant for pummeling punks in packed places made it impossible for them maintain their own equilibrium. What ensued were years of ridiculous drama that isn’t nearly as entertaining enough to relate. It’s best encapsulated by the fact that The Mae Shi’s final tour didn’t feature any original members of the band.
Fast-forward to today, or in recent years at least, when some former Mae Shi members tried to take back the spirit of the band with HLLLYH, which was the name of The Mae Shi’s third and final studio album. For its own part, HLLLYH’s URUBURU was originally intended to be the fourth Mae Shi album. But the members of HLLLYH discovered that making new music by piggybacking on prototypes of old Mae Shi material sounded like Mae Shit. In hindsight, it was as if HLLLYH had put on an elaborate stage production of Weekend at Bernie’s.
Fortunately for everyone, HLLLYH decided to chart a path of their own, so much so that URUBURU is an ensconcing that other band we’re sick of discussing couldn’t have created. In an entertainment medium in which image plays at least some role, however small, in an artist’s creation and presentation of their work, new(ish)comers HLLLYH implore you to make what you will of them. Call the group of erudite, experimental and exceptionally experienced musicians what you will; like lab technicians devising and carrying out new tests, they’re way too focused on inventing and reinventing new strains of arty punk-rock to give a damn about pubic perception.
Putting the other band we’ve been discussing aside, HLLLYH are reminiscent, at various junctures, of the Polyphonic Spree, the Cars, Grandaddy, Joan of Arc and Braid. Most of the tracks on URUBURU pack a punch. The band toys around with keyboards here and there, but never to the level of self-indulgence, deviation or digression. This “rookie” band knows how to keep its collective eye on the ball. They behave like a well-trained, middle-age dog walking unleashed on a hiking trail: They’ll wander a little bit here and there, but there’s never a worry it’ll get lost.
Three short songs are sprinkled across Side A of the record, and they’re odd little ducklings. (“In Between”), (“Goodbye, Yellow Brick Wall”) and (“Failed Teste”) are short enough to be interludes that give the band and listeners alike to catch their breath. But instead, they’re bursts of insanity that provide HLLLYH with the opportunity to hop into the wayback machine and screech litanies of lyrics a la Taking Back Sunday.
If your 2025 has been all about Rilo Kiley’s return and Cursive’s comeback gem, and you somehow missed Mae Shi when they were alive, which, we repeat, they no longer are now—here’s your chance to get into a “new” band. Don’t sleep on the opportunity.
Label: Team Shi
Year: 2025
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