Local Music Pick

Local Music Pick

In a new series, we’ll be hearing from a different person every month, reflecting on Reno music projects, current or not so current, and what makes them special and personally important to them.


Tucker Rash reflects on Casino Hearts

“My dad often took me to shows as I grew up, but when I entered my early teenage years I started seeking more on my own.  One particular band was responsible for the increased frequency of shows I went to. The forlorn, reverb-drenched bedroom sound of Jacob Rubeck’s Casino Hearts. I don’t think I’m alone in thinking this was the perfect soundtrack for a somewhat melancholy 14-year-old. I tried to make every Casino Hearts show that was booked in 2014 and 2015.  I would walk to Holland from my house, often bringing my little sister with me. This was the first time in my life that I felt like I was coming out of my shell and becoming my own person.

Casino Hearts was and continues to be important to me because it deeply influenced me when I was a young teenager. Going to these shows helped solidify a very important belief for me. Anybody can create meaningful, profound, and inspiring art and the only thing that gets in the way is the fear of starting. If you push past that and attempt to be confident in being vulnerable, you can create something that reaches out and touches hearts. The best part of this belief is understanding that literally everybody is capable of achieving this. This belief was only solidified when I was selected to create a music video for Casino Hearts during Holland’s 2014 4x4x48, a 48-hour music video making challenge. I was only 14, the youngest participant in the event, but everyone treated me like an equal. I remember Jacob being very encouraging and excited about the music video I put together for him. 

A little later that year, I decided to start broadcasting an online radio show called “The Bottom 40”. Casino Hearts tracks like “stoned, curious, and in love” aired almost every show. The music of Casino Hearts was the perfect soundtrack to my early formative years and now produces a bittersweet nostalgia that continues to inspire me.”

You can listen to Casino Hearts HERE


Brigdon Markward reflects on SKIN. or Skinwalkers

“Like many great local bands, Skinwalkers, or SKIN. (as they were known towards the end there), existed in a very brief but influential moment of time in Reno music. When I say it was influential, I don’t mean that SKIN. were in the right place at the right time; I think it’s safe to say they helped create the moment they existed in. Emerging from a hardcore project together, SKIN. became the vessel for Nathan Lachner’s more personal songwriting. The songs were lush and cathartic, and just as heavy live as they were heartbreaking. They helped carve a path between Reno’s indie world and hardcore world, and other bands followed suit. My first introduction to them was a bill we shared together, a summer house show in a backyard up behind the university for the release of their EP “Invisible Twin”. It showed me the world they built with their music, a world all the kids screaming the lyrics were already familiar with.” – Brigdon Markward

“I can almost hear it
your invisible twin,
and it’s making me sick”

You can listen to SKIN. HERE


Watson Meyer reflects on Spitting Image

“One of the most memorable first Holland moments is biking to go see Spitting Image before I knew anybody. The show happened to be Austin’s birthday and one of the last shows they played for a long time. I remember Brigdon and I “permanently borrowed” a Spitting Image 7” from Wolfpack Radio just to listen in my apartment. The infectious “body music” energy, and creative approach to writing (musically and lyrically) still makes them one of my favorite psych punk bands out there, even though they were my first.” – Watson Meyer

You can listen to Spitting Image HERE


Erin Miller reflects on Trust Fall

“The lights went out overhead, leaving only a colorful strobe to illuminate the densely crowded living room. At the front of the crowd, quiet and yet commanding everyones attention, were Tara Tran and Jelani Best. The pair created the nostalgia core noise-pop performance art project, Trust Fall. Clad in soft white lingerie, the duo began their set and a hush fell over their captivated audience. The words to “Crazy” by Patsy Cline, tumbled out of Tara’s mouth as they softly plucked their guitar strings. In the space between them and the audience, Jelani began to dance. Only, it wasn’t quite Jelani, and it wasn’t quite Tara. It seemed as though that, as soon as their songs started, they both became possessed by the ghosts of jilted lovers from a time long before ours. Their song progressed, and with every bar Tara’s voice would rise, haggard and trembling, into a bellow of distraught anguish, giving a different kind of passion to the songs they were covering–a passion that I don’t think those songs were ever allowed to have before. Jelani, as though he were a physical vessel for these words to come alive in, fell to the floor choking. He writhed on the area-rug, hand halfway inserted into his mouth, eyes rolled back into his head. Before him laid an open suitcase with bloodied tissues and carnations inside of it. They were momento mori of what once was, reflections of a love now lost, though desperately clung onto. He leaned his head back, and he screamed. As he screamed, Tara slammed onto their guitar, looping the chaos and bringing the volume of their once soft country-pop cover to a deafening roar. It was hard not to cry, and even writing this I’m getting choked up, because I have never witnessed something quite as devastating as when I was watching Trust Fall perform. It was as though they had tapped into generations of torturous what-if’s, “crazy” women, love letters that went unanswered, longing that was never reciprocated, and gave all of those things the voice they deserved. It was more than a performance–it was a reclamation of space, an act of radical vulnerability, and an uncompromising and guttural demand to truly, finally, be seen. As the din receded, our mediums finally exorcised what had come over them and returned to their bodies, breaking the spell cast upon everyone else in the room by once again smiling their crooked grins, as if blissfully unaware of the power they had just held.”
– Erin Miller


Ilya Arbatman Reflects on Young Lions

“Driving up to Gilman for a show, back when I lived down in the peninsula, was always a special journey. I remember the big, dark graffiti’d warehouse that has seen so many thousands of punks over the years was pretty empty that night – I remember Jawsh was wearing a bandanna, a signature look of his back then. I had seen him play drums in a moshy hardcore band, Bafabegiya, which wasn’t really my thing, but when Young Lions came on I was rapt – it was exactly what my late teenage self was thirsty for: high energy, positive and upbeat but with just the right taste of bitterness and disappointment, guitar parts that were themselves somehow lyrical. I got the CD and remember I left it on to play through the night while I slept. Those songs are still stuck in a deeper part of my brain. It was crazy how often i would talk to people over the next few years and repeat the same conversation: “Reno bands? have you ever heard Young Lions?” and they had, and they would say “Yes, that’s hands down one of the best bands I’ve heard in a long time,” and we’d lament what a bummer it was that they weren’t around anymore. But that was the Reno way back then! Burn bright as you can until you burn out – you might not leave too many marks but the ones you do leave will remain forever.” – Ilya Arbatman

You can listen to Young Lions HERE


Gina Rose reflects on Stirr Lightly

“Stirr Lightly is one of my favorite bands to ever come out of Reno. Courtney Mayer, Bijou Bell, and Victoria Almanzán are experts at their instruments, and come together to create this beautiful mix of soft and breezy tunes. Seeing them live for the first time blew me away because it had been so long since I had seen an all-girl band in Reno, and their unapologetic and fun attitudes captivated me from the first second. Their song “Blue Collar” helped me connect to those feelings of being a young woman growing up in the West. It can be quite isolating, especially as an artist.” – Gina Rose Waller

You Can Listen to Stirr Lightly HERE


Julian Jacobs reflects on Royal Noble.

“Royal Noble is my favorite music project to come out of Reno, and Justin Craperi, who’s used the moniker both fronting bands and as solo performer, is among the best songwriters Reno’s ever seen. When I saw Royal Noble’s first show in the basement of Red Rock in 2008, I was blown away. They played hard, but they weren’t very loud. The songs were heartfelt and earnest but undeniably fun. In their 20-minute set, Justin had one line of banter: “These are all love songs.” The CD-R demo I picked up that night has remained in constant rotation in my personal listening ever since, as have all of all of Justin’s wildly varied, sporadic, but uniformly amazing recordings. Justin typically performs solo these days and much less frequently than most of us would like. If you catch Royal Noble on a bill, go.” – Julian Jacobs

You Can Listen to Royal Noble HERE


Sunday Sasser reflects on Pry.

“Pry is a bewildering and fascinating post-punk project with lyrics that enchantingly emulsify into strange and appealing guitar tones and melodies. Pry to me is a deep dive into the psychological pools, with muddling sounds and petrifying lyrics. I chase the high of my first time hearing those flooding tones and compositions found in Attribution Reluctance. Pry, to me, is an exposed soul begging for you to indulge in the moment— sharing in pain, experience, and vulnerability” – Sunday Sasser

You can listen to Pry HERE