When Miley Cyrus dropped Miley Cyrus And Her Dead Petz for free at the 2015 VMAs, critic Meaghan Garvey at Pitchfork was quick to sink her teeth into it, calling it “a major pop album that lands with a splash, then sinks like a brick, as ephemeral as the Tumblr culture Cyrus draws from.”

This sums up most of the critical reaction to the hour-and-a-half, violently experimental, Flaming Lips-backed album, which currently has an unenviable score of 60 on Metacritic. And fans weren’t much more welcoming: “Dooo It!” the album’s lead single, currently has 285,445 dislikes to 183,594 likes on YouTube.

Oh, but what a life Dead Petz has taken on. It’s been praised by both John Mayer and Father John Misty — two hyper-macho horndogs whom one might never expect to listen to a Miley Cyrus album. The latter even cited it as one of his favorite albums of 2015. Even Elton John praised it, calling it “spur of the moment, out of leftfield stuff that would have happened during the ‘60s.” And when musicians like something and the populace doesn’t, we end up with something increasingly rare in the Internet age of hyper-saturation: a cult classic.

It’s already proven prescient of a growing trend among pop artists to release anti-pop, non-commercial vanity projects on major labels. Remember Willow “Whip My Hair” Smith? Well, she released her debut last December, Ardipithecus, and it’s mostly abstract new age R&B about death and healing crystals. Or how about “Boom Clap” star Charli XCX’s ear-splitting new EP with electronic producer Sophie? Or that really weird new Rihanna album? Or all those “retail mixtapes” Drake and Young Thug have been releasing?

Back in the day, these kinds of projects were career suicide. Lou Reed’s Metal Machine Music, which was literally an hour of noise, killed any chance he had post-“Walk On The Wild Side” of being a rock star. Today he could have just dropped it for free on his website and still had hits. Miley Cyrus And Her Dead Petz helped prove to the pop industry that pop stars could pretty much do whatever they want and still be successful. In that, it’s helping usher in a new era where pop stars aren’t so constrained by the expectations of making, well, pop music. Stay tuned for Katy Perry’s upcoming triple-disc album of fart noises.

And hey — Dead Petz is really good. There’s a lot of indulgent nonsense, as with pretty much any ninety-minute album. But it’s got a few of the best and most sincere love songs I’ve heard from a pop star this decade; “Lighter” and “Something About Space Dude” both rank among the best songs Cyrus has ever recorded. I don’t expect anyone reading this to commit to its entire runtime. But if y’all forgot it existed, it might be time to pick it up and expand your pop horizons.

Listen to “Dooo It!” from Miley Cyrus and Her Dead Petz below.

Sonic Youth’s Kim Gordon once said people go to rock shows to watch other people believe in themselves. The same can be said of karaoke — except it’s usually free, and the singing is generally a whole lot worse. Invented in Japan in 1971, this ingenious little technology has allowed millions of drunken revelers to fulfill their rock-star dreams, with all the self-awareness rock stars usually don’t have. Karaoke isn’t about hitting the right notes but about transcending your inability to do so — or, if you can hit the right notes, getting the audience you deserve. It’s a spiritual, if occasionally terrifying, experience. If you feel up to it, there’s karaoke in Eugene every night of the week. Here are just a few of your options.

AGATE ALLEY BISTRO

1461 E. 19th Ave.

Sunday, 9 p.m.

Singing karaoke at Agate Alley Bistro can feel a bit like playing a basement punk show: the lighting is dim, the ceiling is low, there’s no stage and it’s packed to the brim with drunk people. Take advantage of the bar’s plushy atmosphere to sing your favorite Billie Holiday song — or rile up the packed crowd with some Clash or Green Day. It’s Sunday night, so it might not be optimal for the busier among us. But Agate Alley has no shortage of treats for the rest of the week, not least its infamous Thursday night drink wheel.

Also on Sunday: Embers, 7 p.m.; Quackers, 9 p.m.; Webfoot, 9 p.m.

BARN LIGHT

924 Willamette St.

Thursday, 9 p.m.

By day, the Barn Light is an inconspicuous little cafe, a great place to sit and study. By night, it transforms into Willamette Street’s prime party spot, as famous for its Frito pie as it is for its “world famous” karaoke on Thursday nights. The Barn Light’s karaoke nights mostly draw a younger 20-something college crowd, including a lot of regulars, and though it’s often packed, the turnover of songs is generally pretty quick.

Also on Thursday: The Cooler, 10 p.m.; Dexter Lake Club, 7 p.m., Driftwood, 9 p.m.; Island Hut, 6 p.m.; The Old Pad, 9 p.m.

BLACK FOREST

50 E 11th Ave

Monday, Wednesday, 9 p.m.

College students and metalheads collide at the Black Forest to drink every evening, and the karaoke is as unpredictable as the clientele. This one’s on a stage overlooking the entire bar, so those with stage fright would do well to stay away from this high-stakes karaoke event. (Mondays are less crowded.) Whether you’re hamming it up with “Hello” or massacring your lungs on “Master of Puppets,” there’s no better place to indulge your pipes.

Also on Monday: Embers, 7 p.m.; Gridiron, 8 p.m.; Porky’s Palace, 8 p.m.

Also on Wednesday: Cornucopia, 9 p.m.

WEBFOOT

839 E 13th Ave

Sunday, 9 p.m.

If you want to sing and you want to sing now, Webfoot’s karaoke sessions are for you. Seeing as most people won’t want to get drunk enough on a Sunday night to waddle up to the mic, the audience is scant and the waiting list is usually short; at times there’ll be enough of a void that the karaoke presenters will step up to sing themselves. The song menu features both smash hits and hipster fare (there’s even a Courtney Barnett song in the books!). Don’t worry about pleasing the crowd; there might not be much of one anyway.

Also on Sunday: Agate Alley Bistro, 9 p.m. Embers, 7 p.m.; Quackers, 9 p.m.

LEVEL UP

1290 Oak St

Tuesday, 9 p.m.

Like Black Forest, Level Up has a stage, but if you’re worried about the whole bar judging you, no worries. University of Oregon students’ preferred gamer bar is almost always noisy as hell, so your mangling of “Call Me Maybe” will likely blend into the din of bleeps, bloops and assorted drunkenness. Furthermore, a good half of the bar is well out of sight of the karaoke stage. This is a good place to go if you just want to sing with nobody judging you. (Keep in mind, though, that the lyrics of whatever song you sing will be broadcast on screens throughout the bar).

Also on Tuesday: White Horse Saloon, 9 p.m.

A CG film about moving, talking, singing, swearing sausages, Seth Rogen’s Sausage Party is sure to be polarizing. In fact, it already is.

In this installment of Double Takes, two Emerald writers had drastically different opinions upon seeing the trailer; here’s what they had to say.

Watch the trailer for Sausage Party below.

Chris Berg (@ChrisBerg25):

Seth Rogen might be the most divisive comedian in the current studio system. He’s written, starred in, and even directed some of the most iconic comedies of the past decade. Even his dramatic roles in films like Steve Jobs and 50/50 have been impressive. Despite this, Rogen’s reputation has never eclipsed the “stoner aesthetic.” Even when he plots something ambitious, people never seem to appreciate it beyond being just “another pot comedy.” No clearer was this made than with the debut of the trailer to Sausage Party.

The trailer is only two minutes, but nails a simple arc that leaves an impression. We’re eased in with an identifiable soundtrack, typical stylization and all the expectations of studio animation. Then we take a turn into the morbid and perverse. But rather than a hard cut into adult comedy, it reveals the underlying horror of a premise that the audience is prime to immediately accept. Seeing an Oreo cookie and Cup O’ Noodles reenact the beach landing from Saving Private Ryan should be a moment of referential parody – yet the scene is played straight enough to communicate the same atmosphere of shock.

There’s nothing new about making an R-rated cartoon. South Park has made the trope of animated characters shouting swear words passé for over a decade. But the scale of Sausage Party is nothing to sneeze at.

This is an all-star CG animated feature from of the biggest studios in Hollywood. It fits every CG animation trope while boasting an R rating. Rather than try to remedy this cognitive dissonance between form and narrative, Sausage Party is doubling down on it, not through cheap gags but earnest comedy in premise. Despite coming from a comedian criticized for being one-note, there’s little indication that Sausage Party is aiming for the easy jokes. Perhaps the movie where Rogen literally makes himself into a piece of meat will be the one where he finally earns respect.

________

Daniel Bromfield (@bromf3):

Remember Annoying Orange? That web series where that google-eyed little fruit (who may or may not have reminded you of the person showing you Annoying Orange) irritates the living hell out of another food item before the latter’s gruesome death by knife? Ever want a whole movie of it? With Seth Rogen and racial stereotypes? Well, you’re in luck: Sausage Party is coming August 12.

There are two types of animated food: that that wants to be eaten (the Planters peanut, those “let’s all go to the lobby” creeps) and that that doesn’t. The talking CGI sausages of Sausage Party and their bun belles, who resemble nothing so much as the brain bug from Starship Troopers with lipstick, are the latter. They hope to be selected by the Gods and taken to a better place than their supermarket home. Of course, they’re quickly eaten in a scene that’s not only identical to Annoying Orange but trades in the same sort of “if you don’t laugh you’re a pussy” shock humor pioneered by the animated comedy of another Seth.

It’s been eight years since Pineapple Express, a movie Rogen made in the full throes of stonerdom. Perhaps that eight years of weed tolerance just made the difference between Pineapple’s off-the-wall grandeur and a movie whose pitch couldn’t have more than three words off from “what if we made a movie called Sausage Party with talking sausages?”

Obviously, racism doesn’t harsh his buzz. Seeing as the sausages are apparently white Christians, there’s also a Native American liquor bottle (yes, a liquor bottle), a Jewish bagel, an Arab lavash, a Salma Hayek-voiced taco that’s probably gonna be sexy and Nazi sauerkraut that claims to have “exterminated the juice.” Rogen is Jewish; I guess the comedy industry taught him to hate himself, as it has so many other marginalized folks.

Sausage Party is the first R-rated CG-animated movie in history. It could have been the Toy Story of its field, as commendable for its content as its innovation. Instead, it seems content to be its Birth of a Nation.

It’s been a year and a half since University of Oregon student band Pluto the Planet last released new music – which is longer than the lifespan of a lot of very good college bands. Since then, they’ve ditched their prior Afropop-indie style (“repetitive kumbaya music,” as one grump on Facebook described it), added an organist and gotten pretty hard into the Eagles. The band’s two latest singles are both indebted to the pre-CD era of rock: the production is warm and analogue-sounding, the guitar solos sprawl for miles, and the band doesn’t sound all too “indie” anymore.

“Things in California” doesn’t really sound like The Eagles, but it’s clearly indebted to ‘70s rock, with a soulful bed of organ and a “Bennie and the Jets” (or perhaps “Super Rich Kids”) piano stomp. The guitar solo is excessive, and vocalist Cameron Lister sounds like he’s singing “Califahnia,” which probably isn’t how he actually pronounces it when he’s just talking to people. But Pluto is smart enough not to go Full Rambler: nobody says “lord,” and it’s not misogynistic like most classic rock pastiche.

“End Of The Night” is by far the better of the two songs. The hook is infectious: the drums stop, there’s a downward-dog chord, the band coos “you are the life of the party,” and things blast off again. It’s easier to sniff out Pluto’s indie-rock roots from this one than from “Things In California,” especially during the guitar solo, which wanders into a few Real Estate-like melodies. But ultimately, it sounds more like power pop, maybe something by Cheap Trick or Big Star, or one of the breezier tunes from the Dazed and Confused soundtrack.

These two singles are different enough to make it cloudy exactly what direction Pluto will take on their next album or EP. The ‘70s analog sound is there, true, and the organ is a nice touch. But will Pluto remain pop or go full rock? I’m gunning for the former – they were a great pop band during their kumbaya period, and they slip quite comfortably into the power-pop sound on “End Of The Night.” But the band could make  a solid rock album too. Either way, they know what they’re doing, and both songs are convincing and confident takes on an old-school sound.

Pluto the Planet play the HiFi Music Hall on March 26. Door at 7 p.m., show at 8 p.m. $10, all ages. Au Revoir and Black Bell open.

Finding Dory, the sequel to Pixar’s now-13-year-old masterwork Finding Nemo, is coming this June. It’ll have to be a whale of a movie to beat the original, still one of the most revered animated films of its generation. Pixar’s sequel streak has been solid so far (well, except Cars 2 – seriously, fuck that movie), so my hopes are high. But it’ll only be great if the Pixar crew remembers what made the first movie so magical. Here are a few of the things we’d like to see from Finding Dory.

More answers. How does Dory know how to speak whale, let alone read English? There’s clearly a lot more to this fish’s past than the first movie let on. Of course, maybe even Dory doesn’t remember the answers to these things. Also, some of the tank fish from Nemo will appear, so maybe we’ll find out just how they got out of their plastic bags at the end.

More Bruce. I could give a ratfish’s anal fin if Marlin showed up. I want to see Bruce. As the biggest fish on nearly every Nemo poster, the sorta-vegetarian shark is practically the face of the franchise. It’d also be interesting to see how his relationship with Dory develops; by the end of Nemo, they seem to be on friendly terms, even after Bruce nearly ate her in a feeding frenzy.

More brutal circle-of-life drama. Nemo focused almost exclusively on small, vulnerable prey fish, and a lot of them get absolutely fucked, from Marlin’s wife to those poor krill that scream “swim away” before being devoured by a whale. In such a cruel world, the stakes are high, and the Finding Nemo franchise needs predator-prey drama as much as Planet Earth does.

More evil humans. For all the barracudas and other beasts swimming around in Nemo’s sea, the film’s most ominous presence was always above the surface. To fish, humans are a threatening mystery, and their dominion is established subtly: the distant outline of a boat, a field of unexploded mines, the tremendous net that nearly engulfs our heroes at the end.

More ocean shots. The ocean is big and blue, and the original Finding Nemo put a lot of emphasis on the first part of that equation, splicing in gorgeous yet terrifying ocean shots at every opportunity. As Nemo lacks the layers of adult humor Monsters Inc. and The Incredibles pile on, the visuals are a key reason why it’s so watchable across such a wide age spectrum.

More Thomas Newman. Composer Thomas Newman’s titanic string swells seemed to echo endlessly through Nemo’s waters; they’re as crucial to the movie’s mood as the ocean itself. He’s back on board for Finding Dory, and let’s hope he brings his A-game again.

Watching the Finding Dory teaser trailer below.

The Zendeavors have a saxophonist. His name is Ted Schera, and he works his ass off throughout the band’s self-titled debut album.

His instrument fizzes, honks and shrieks, filling up every bit of available space in the stereo field. It’s as important to the band’s sound as guitar, perhaps more so.

There are bands far more jazz-influenced than the Zendeavors who have no idea what to do with their saxophones (listen to the dispassionate hooting on some of Sade’s deep album cuts). It’s a miracle, then, that Schera’s instrument never sounds intrusive or, worse, gimmicky.

The Zendeavors, a band of University of Oregon alums now based in Portland, Oregon, are a good reference point for how to make “real rock” in 2016. Though the band jams out a lot (sometimes too much; most of these songs could be halved), there’s barely any soloing in the traditional sense. Rather, there’s a lot of soft, ethereal strumming. Though nobody here sounds particularly eager to prove their chops, they’re tight enough to make their prowess obvious. And though singer Andrew Rogers is obviously an heir to the blues-rock singers of the ’60s and ’70s, the band’s sound isn’t retro by any means.

Rogers has come a long way as a songwriter from his 2014 solo album Through An American Wasteland, released as Abraxas Wandering, whose sinners-and-saints clichés distracted from its otherwise lovely pre-Dylan folk. But he’s still prone to clunkers like “if I die before I wake, then I don’t get to wake and bake.”

Rogers does a lot of drugs on this album, but it’s never clear if he’s an addict or if he’s just a 20-something musician living the carefree life of a 20-something musician. As such, it’s hard to tell if we should be concerned by a lyric like “one day I’m gonna die of overdose” or just accept it as part of a gritty seeker persona.

Even if Rogers is affecting an image, he’s certainly not affecting his voice. I’ve met Rogers, and he actually sounds like that when he talks. His gritty, feline yowl is a thing of wonder. But his voice is rather low in the mix throughout the album. This isn’t a flaw; in fact, it’s refreshing. Many rock bands go into the studio with a mainstream-rock idea of how their music sounds, and as a result, thousands of small-time bands release hyper-compressed, Californication-sounding debuts every year. The Zendeavors does not sound like Californication.

In fact, it’s hard to find a reference point for the Zendeavors’ music, no small feat for a band working in a genre as spent as rock. The closest thing I can think of to the sound of this record is David Bowie’s Blackstar, with its towering walls of sax and pit-pat drums. The Zendeavors are still young, still growing, and certainly capable of a far better album than this. But it’s always nice to have bands around that are willing to deviate from rock’s established templates.

Listen to The Zendeavors’ “Mr. Muddy Jeans” below.

The music scene in Eugene, as in any decent-sized town, has a few basic strata. There are big venues like Matthew Knight Arena and the Cuthbert Amphitheater, and there are smaller ones like the W.O.W. Hall, where indie bands cut their teeth. There are the bars — maybe an all-ages venue or two. There are the bluegrass purgatories known as food festivals and farmer’s markets. These are all pretty easy to find.

Then there’s the house show scene, invisible to local event listings. This is where those bands you might have vaguely noticed at Black Forest or Sam Bond’s stretch out, swig some whiskey, bare their teeth and bust out the 20-minute jams. And even if they’re absolutely godawful, the crowd will still dance.

“It’s romantic,” said Isaac Griffin, lead singer of Eugene band The Slumps and a senior at the University of Oregon. He’s organized house shows at his various residences over the years. “Kids come out who don’t even like rock ’n’ roll — they’re into folk or EDM, and they’re digging this grunge garage rock that’s loud and fast.”

“You get to see these acts that are way the fuck out there that would never make it in the bar scene,” said Aidan D’Angelo, a UO sophomore whose band Spiller regularly plays house shows both in the campus area and in the Whiteaker neighborhood.

House shows tend to be cramped and poorly promoted. Bands rarely give their “best” performances, and there’s a good chance the police will show up on any given night if a neighbor makes a noise complaint. But house shows are a staple of both the music scene and party scene in Eugene, and local bands leap at the chance to play them.

Bassist Matt Harman played Soccer Babes’ show at The Ant House last Saturday. (Cole Elsasser/Emerald)

Bands like Pluto the Planet find that the often formal atmosphere of bar shows scarcely compares to the anything-goes attitude of house shows.

“At a bar show, you want to leave a good taste with your original music. But with a house show, we bust out the covers,” said Pluto the Planet member Cameron Lister. “We’ll pull out ‘Freebird’ and jam on it for a long time. That’s why house shows are so fun — you can do things like that.”

The house show scene is the perfect stomping ground for bands like Sleep Inertia, whose decidedly bar-unfriendly shows often involve video projections, extended improvisation and drummer T.J. Martin-Lokey painting in the background.

Martin-Lokey, who also books shows at both bars and houses, sees house shows as a more music-focused experience than bar shows.

“When you play at a house you connect with people on a more emotional level, as opposed to people spending money at a bar to just get drunk and not necessarily being there for the music,” he said. “It’s more of a musical event. For me that’s the entire point of it.”

Any show at a place people live can be termed a “house show.” They can vary from informal gatherings to regular, scheduled occurrences at places that are practically venues. The former tends to occur more in the campus area, where the population is more dense and noise complaints are more common.

Though house shows are legal, it’s easy to make enough noise to lead one of the neighbors to call the police.

Artesia Hubbard is a UO junior who fell in love with the house show scene upon her arrival in Eugene. She convinced her roommates to help her put one on at their house just south of campus. Yet they quickly found organizing a house show wasn’t as easy as just booking a couple bands and inviting a few friends.

“We got seven noise complaints and a letter from the university, and the cops showed up,” she said. “We learned our lesson from that.”

For the next show, Hubbard and her roommates knocked on the neighbors’ doors and gave out their numbers. That way, they figured, the neighbors could just call them and politely ask them to shut the show down rather than having to call the police.

“A few of them did text us,” she said. “I had my phone on me the whole night, so we shut down the party and there were no cops.”

Since then, they’ve made this routine, and none of the house shows they’ve organized have been busted.

If a noise complaint is filed, organizers must empty their house or face a $375 base fine. House show organizers are nearly always compliant, so attendees should prepare to be shooed out.

It’s easier to have successful house shows in more sparsely populated areas — including the Whiteaker, home of The Ant House.

The Ant House is the residence of three former members of the band Empty Weather, who realized their basement was perfect for shows after jamming there for a year with no incident. Its shows, hosted about twice a month, are relegated to the basement. So far they’ve had no issues with noise.

“Cops have only come by once, just to tell people to keep the drinking off the sidewalk,” said Ant House resident Connor Cook. “Our neighbors love us, so that’s not a problem. Nobody gets hurt — everyone’s pretty respectful.”

The Ant House is small and cramped, and its clientele largely consists of a handful of close friends from the Whiteaker scene. The bands it books are also consistent; most shows feature The Critical Shakes, whose lead singer Davey Beebe is a resident.

House show enthusiasts packed into The Ant House for a show on Feb. 13, 2016. (Cole Elsasser/Emerald)

In addition to noise, the presence of underage revelers is a major concern among the residents of The Ant House, and as such, the house does not allow minors. As most of The Ant House’s regulars are UO graduates now residing in the Whiteaker, the house is able to enforce a 21-and-up policy while still packing the floor.

Yet Cook fears if The Ant House gets any more attention, it may potentially attract revelers unfamiliar with its climate. If the basement cannot fit a show’s audience, showgoers may end up spilling into the rest of the house or even the street, potentially attracting noise complaints.

Cook and the other members of The Ant House have no qualms about kicking out anyone who breaks the rules or poses a potential threat to audience members or house residents.

“We’re not trying to be a legit venue,” said Cook. “This is still my home, our home. We’re just trying to keep it as it is.”

The house show scene is quite exclusive, and organizers don’t make it easy to find their events. But those connected with the music scene can actually find them with ease. According to D’Angelo, the best way to find out about house shows is to follow local bands.

“Find out what bands are playing at the bars and go on their Facebook pages and see if they’re playing a house show,” D’Angelo said. “Then come out and jam.”

Editor’s Note: the Emerald’s associate news editor, Noah McGraw, is a member of The Slumps.

For hip hop, the 2010s began in 2011. It was a blockbuster year. Kanye’s My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy was still fresh on everyone’s minds, and titles like Watch the Throne, Drake’s Take Care, and Wiz Khalifa’s Rolling Papers dominated the charts. But more prescient were the throngs of weirdos bubbling under the surface in the blogosphere, releasing their debuts into the void. Here are 11 hip hop artists who got their starts in 2011 and the works that launched their careers:

Action Bronson – Dr. Lecter. Armed with one of the most distinctive and interesting personae in hip hop, this 27-year-old former chef seemingly sprung onto the scene fully-formed. His vivid descriptions of a food-fueled high life make Dr. Lecter one of the great escapist rap albums of our time.

A$AP Rocky – LiveLoveA$AP. Even after signing a $3-million record deal with RCA without releasing a single tape, it was hard to imagine what a juggernaut A$AP Rocky would become from his modest debut. LiveLoveA$AP was praised primarily for its production, but it’s still arguably his most solid listen.

Childish Gambino – Camp. Between Das Racist referencing Julian Schnabel and Danny Brown raving about Joy Division, 2011 was a good year to be a hipster in rap. Perhaps the strongest evidence for this is the fact that people actually took Donald Glover’s relentlessly self-deprecating joke-rap debut seriously.

Clams Casino – Instrumental Mixtape. One might never guess the sheer depth and beauty of beatmaker Clams Casino’s Instrumental Mixtape given his list of clients, filled with goofballs like Lil B, Mac Miller, and Soulja Boy. But the man’s got an ear, and Instrumental Mixtape makes that much clear.

Death Grips – Exmilitary. Mainstream rap is as industrial as a chicken-rendering plant these days, and it’s all thanks to Death Grips. Exmilitary was a great introduction to the band’s brash and provocative style. Still, it was hard to predict they’d be such a cult phenomenon.

Frank Ocean – Nostalgia, Ultra. Odd Future’s biggest surprise would prove to be its introverted hookman. The originals on Nostalgia, Ultra showed Ocean’s flair for songwriting, but the mixtape’s true gems are its covers, especially a tragic, apocalyptic take on Coldplay’s “Strawberry Swing.”

J. Cole – Cole World: The Sideline Story. Before he was trying to make masterpieces, J. Cole was just trying to break through. The spotty Sideline Story attempted to balance Cole’s conscious-rap posturing with his cash-cow potential. It worked, selling over 200,000 copies in its first week.

Kendrick Lamar – Section.80. The young Compton MC’s debut rippled with promise, even if he still wore his 2pac influence on his sleeve and hadn’t quite developed his operatic narrative flair. The next year, he’d make good kid, m.A.A.d city, one of the decade’s few genuine instant classics.

Mac Miller – Blue Slide Park. Panned upon release, Blue Slide Park was actually a solid and likable frat-rap album. Miller’s hedonistic lyrics might have been as deep as a puddle of spilled jungle juice, but he had great flow and undeniable personality. 

Tyler, The Creator – Goblin. Tyler had been kicking around for a while by the time he released Goblin, but his first official studio album launched his career into the cosmos. Goblin has aged badly, but without its success, it’s hard to imagine where his more talented bros Earl Sweatshirt and Frank Ocean would be.

Beyoncé’s latest single “Formation” has only been out since Feb.6, but it’s already been memed endlessly – in no small part because of her declaration that “I got hot sauce in my bag, swag.”

Now, everyone loves hot sauce. But for Beyoncé to carry a bottle around in her (presumably ridiculously expensive) bag – let alone shout it out in a song – that’s devotion. It also made us curious about her hot sauce habits. Beyoncé rarely grants interviews, so it’s likely these questions will go unanswered. But we might as well ask.

1.What brand of hot sauce does she use? Houston, Beyoncé’s hometown, is no stranger to hot sauce, hosting an annual Hot Sauce Festival and an entire grocery store, iBurn, devoted to hot sauce. Perhaps she’s picked up some obscure hot sauces from one of these places, maybe a Houston specialty like Big Daddy’s. But we’re in a golden age of hot sauce right now, so it’s not out of the question she might be packing a more generic, trendy brand like Tapatio, Cholula or even Sriracha. Maybe it’s a specialty blend from her private chef. Or maybe it’s just plain old Tabasco.

2. Does she use it on Red Lobster? Beyoncé claims in “Formation” she likes to take her husband to Red Lobster when he “fuck her good.” Bey boasts a net worth of $250 million, so it’s a bit odd that she’d treat her equally rich, rapper of a husband to an international restaurant chain. But then again, rapper Cazwell once saw her at Burger King, so maybe she’ll wolf down anything if there’s enough of the red stuff slathered on it.

3. How does she keep hot sauce from spilling into her bag? Does she keep the bottle sealed in a plastic bag? Does she have some special fancy wipes she uses to keep those nasty bits of hardened hot sauce from accumulating on the edge of the bottle? Does she keep it in a high-tech, spill-proof container? Or does she simply not give a shit, leaving her bag to reek of spilled sauce?

4. Does Kanye West love mustard as much as Bey loves hot sauce? A fake Rolling Stone cover recently surfaced, positing the question of whether Kanye likes mustard. If so, did they get into any condiment fights? They’ve collaborated on “See Me Now,” a seriously stunning bonus track from My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy. I can totally imagine Bey busting out her hot sauce – for a studio snack – then Kanye, behind the boards, brandishing a gold-plated bottle of Dijon to one-up her. 

5. Will she launch her own brand of hot sauce? I hope so. Let’s hope we don’t have to subscribe to Tidal to buy it.

Kansas, Boston, Chicago, America and now Spiller: the tradition of bands naming themselves after places is long and storied.

The four members of Eugene quartet Spiller first met in the dorm of the same name, traditionally home to members of University of Oregon’s School of Music and Dance, which three out of four band members attend.

But among the band members, Spiller Hall has a different name: Vape Studios.

“Wherever Justin goes is Vape Studios,” said singer-guitarist Sam Mendoza, referring to their drummer-producer, Justin Kiatvongcharoen, who can often be seen blowing milky clouds from his mouth.

Using minimal equipment, Kiatvongcharoen produced and recorded the band’s debut EP Vinyl Kid entirely within Spiller Hall. With only marginally better equipment, he’ll be producing their upcoming split with fellow local band Era Coda, which does not yet have a definitive release date.

“I don’t see why people should go to massive, expensive studios if they can just learn everything themselves and use the most out-there equipment,” said singer-guitarist Luke Broadbent. “Even if your equipment is really shitty, you can make something out of it.”

For such a militantly DIY band, Spiller has had amazing success on numerous circuits of the Eugene music scene. Though they can frequently be found playing bars like Black Forest and Sam Bond’s Garage, their main haunt is the house show circuit – which makes sense, given that none of the band members are of drinking age.

Kiatvongcharoen attributes the band’s success to its sound: “I think we have a sound people can relate to,” he said.

Though Spiller goes by the rather vague pigeonhole “dad rock,” the band’s sound could be termed “math rock” in its fusion of indie rock melodies and jazz. Math rock has proven one of the most popular forms of indie rock, with bands such as CHON, Tera Melos and This Town Needs Guns finding wide fanbases in recent years. The group listens to these bands and takes cues from them.

“They’ve had a huge influence on my use of pedals,” said Mendoza. “I’ve become kind of a tap dancer because of those bands.”

The members of Spiller all come from diverse musical backgrounds, the only real common denominator being jazz. As such, they’ve been able to pool their collective musical knowledge into a diverse repertoire. At any given show, they can be seen busting out covers by acts as diverse as the Beatles, the Grateful Dead, Vampire Weekend and Schoolboy Q.

With such an agreeable style, it’s perhaps inevitable that they’ll have to leave their DIY ways behind and make a full album in an actual studio. But as long as Kiatvongcharoen is on board, the band plans to refuse outside producers and maintain complete creative control over its work. And if Spiller’s success in the Eugene scene is any indication, it seems to be working out for them so far.