Treefort Music Fest is making its long-awaited return to Boise from September 22-26. All month long, we'll be featuring our favorite tracks by artists from the 400+ lineup, which includes Wild Honey Pie favorites like Japanese Breakfast, Tennis and The Marías.

The festival, originally scheduled for March 2020, was postponed due to COVID-19. To ensure the safety of attendees, Treefort will be requiring proof of vaccination or a negative COVID-19 test result, as well as encouraging festivalgoers to have masks on hand, as various forts will be mask-only. According to Festival Director Eric Gilbert, “This unique September version of Treefort is shaping up to be one of our best yet and we are looking forward to bringing the Treefort family back together to share and discover great music.” Tickets and more information are available here.

Chasing the tail of "Pigs Is Pigs," "Darling" opens with a starkly contrasting 5 seconds of meditative, wave-like static. Quiet, but steadfast octave jumps emerge next, in the form of a guitar flooded in reverb until time becomes almost meaningless. Heartbeat-like drums remind you where the beat falls, like the sound of your own breath in a dark room. It’s almost tempting to describe the track as unlike anything Mannequin Pussy has ever done, ending their Perfect EP in surprisingly delicate and tender territory. Its warmth is more like still-burning embers rather than the fire and brimstone that dominates the rest of Mannequin Pussy’s discography; however, it has the same lyricism full of brash vulnerability that cuts through everything in its path. The hot-blooded reconciliation of pain and the beauty of feeling intensely is reminiscent of "Drunk II," as the track dynamically moves through both states simultaneously. Each time the hook hits, it sounds even more like a challenge than a promise. “Darling, I will always defend you” becomes a double-edged dare, daring your darling to reciprocate your defense and daring the rest of the world to provide an opportunity to show your devotion. "Darling" is a beautiful example of what makes Mannequin Pussy’s work so deliciously compelling. It’s embracing your feelings with brutal honesty and rebelliously refusing to be ashamed of their intensity. It’s facing forward against whatever’s next, grasping your love’s hand tightly all the way, and proclaiming “I feel fiercely, and I am not afraid." Photo by Uv Lucas.

“Mockingbird” by Valley Maker brought me back to a place where I have struggled to arrive within the last (but ever-lasting) months. Folk music, the kind that is melancholic and gently abrasive, was the first kind of music I thought of as mine. Although hints of bluegrass, folk and Americana music were not unfamiliar genres within my household, my family generally preferred songs that buzzed with vivacity whereas I preferred those that were bitter. “Mockingbird” reminded me of what in means to have music speak to the youthful qualities buried deeply inside of us. 
 
Valley Maker is the solo project of South Carolinian Austin Crane, who happens to be a PhD candidate in the field of Human Geography. “Mockingbird” strikes me as being deeply pastoral, depicting the ways in which a landscape and the people who inhabit it are intertwined and often viewed as facets of one another. Crane’s lingering vocals and gentle guitar work create a tone that is nostalgic and meditative. The lyrics ultimately focus on the constant movement of the speaker and the geography he traverses. This raw track is deeply beautiful, encouraging its listener to take solace in the fact that no matter what, they are always in motion. Photo by Bree Burchfield.

Angelo De Augustine’s latest track, “Blue,” is sonic poetry for the collective seasonal depression. In lyrics that read like a letter to a close friend, he sings, “All my life I’ve been so low / I don’t know why / So blue.” The three minutes span like a dreamcatcher, trapping the spinning sense of ennui that haunts each of us at some point; each note a wonderance on how, when we’re down, it feels like we may stay there forever, and when we manage to stand up we question if we’ve ever soared as high as everyone else around us. De Augustine eloquently expresses how, at our darkest, it can feel like there are worlds between us and any sense of normalcy (“Between my eyes / Is an ocean / You can feel it if you try / Not unlike a howling wind / Like a tempest in the open hearts of men”). The song carries the torch of De Augustine’s trademark lo-fi, intimate recordings, but marks one of his first collaborations with his label-owner, indie-folk icon Sufjan Stevens, whose presence dwells softly in twinkling guitars and hushed vocals. “Blue” soaks like a soothing balm into our deepest thoughts, timely shimmering ahead of the most wistful days of the year — and it’s one you’ll find yourself wanting to replay well into winter. Photo by Jess Collins.

"Sing Hallelujah in the morning when I rise," sings Lydia Luce, her deep voice dripping with honey and amber, "occasionally, you cross my mind." A rhythmic guitar keeps steady time and a luscious string arrangement sweeps us off our feet, into waves of getting lost in thoughts of someone we promised ourselves we’d forget. The music is an allegory for the feeling — we’re fine, or so we’ve convinced ourselves until, occasionally, we’re not. Whoever, whatever it is that catches us off guard crosses our mind and, just like Luce, we’re afloat, carried off by a current stronger than we expected, drowning in violins and crying out, "So go away, back to where you came from!" Just as sudden as the wave came, it ebbs and Luce is back on her feet, toes gripping the sand, a warm vocal accepting her fate of being bewitched, but only occasionally. Photo by Alysse Gafkjen.

From nineteen-year-old Miloe (Bobby Kabeya) comes “Change Your Mind,” a summertime anthem for your fall. “You got cold and I’m sold but you might change your mind,” he sings, describing the partial agony of wasting your time on someone who is uninterested — but needing to do it anyways to satisfy the feelings of unrequited love. The song opens with small phrases (“Rollercoaster / Took me on, I didn’t even know her / Took me high, now I just want the closure”) while quaint instrumentation builds, layering his optimistic lyrics over bedroom pop-like sounds. Aiming for attention and validation from an unreceptive source is exhausting, but Miloe’s upbeat track reminds us that a sliver of hope is all we need to find enjoyment in the unknown.