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Gonzo Report: The Beaches work out their lesbian trauma at The Sound
Latest album interrogates what happens to you after you have your heart broken
The Beaches brought the heartbreak.
I was told to meet a guy named Richie by the back gate of Del Mar’s Sound. It was 4 pm on a Tuesday. I walked by the empty ticket booths, past a security guard, and saw a guy in loose clothing with wobbly eyes standing at a gate leading towards a dirt path. “Richie?” I asked, pointing my finger at him.
“Yeah, I’m Richie,” he answered. “Jake?” I was Jake.
Somebody said Richie was the father of one of the band members in The Beaches. Maybe dad to two of the band members, if it was sisters Kylie and Jordan Miller. Jordan sings vocals and Kylie rocks the guitar. “We just flew in from Napa this morning,” he said. “Played a private show up there. Everyone’s pretty hungover. This is my fourth coffee today.”
Richie walked me past a tour bus and down a hallway into a green room where his daughter(s) would be opening for Girl in Red. Inside the green room, three out of four band members (Kylie, Jordan, and drummer Eliza) welcomed me in and told me to take a seat on the couch. Leandra, The Beaches other guitarist, couldn’t make it to the hangover party. It seemed she was busy Facetiming her cat, who recently gained internet fame on TikTok. “Leandra’s personal account got thirteen million views,” Eliza said playfully, “while our band account was still only getting 500 views per video. We were all resentful of the fuckin’ cat.”
Switching gears: it’s not uncommon for artists to draw inspiration for their art by slicing their fingers on the shards of a shattered heart. Taylor Swift is notorious for this. Like a gangster, Fleetwood Mac’s Stevie Nicks did it while Lindsey Buckingham was still in the band. Now, Jordan Miller has entered the heartbreak arena with her song “Blame Brett” from the band’s most recent album, Blame My Ex. “This album has a lot to do with break-ups and the changes you go through,” said vocalist Miller. “It’s not necessarily about a certain relationship, but what happens to you after you have your heart broken. I found it more interesting to interrogate the highs and lows of that experience, and also finding yourself after losing the person you thought you were going to marry.”
When we wrapped up, I packed up my things and headed back towards the tour bus alongside Kylie. It was a seasonally gray day. I felt I could feel the band’s hangovers, and I had a better understanding of what a painful process it must have been to write a break-up album. At least the pain came with perks: as of this moment, “Blame Brett” has amassed over 50 million listens on Spotify alone. It’s clearly connecting with the heartbroken people out there.
A couple hours later, I was at the ticket booths, claiming my complimentary tickets for the show. A moment of déjà vu hit as I watched a mother and daughter trying to figure out their ticket situation. It seemed they’d been scammed; this same scenario presented itself the last time I was at The Sound. This time, I was equipped with one extra ticket, but there were two of them, so I held off getting involved. But it was a sold-out show, and I was feeling generous with my freebie, so I waited around a bit. Eventually, a dude strolled up to the ticket counter. “I know it’s a long shot, but are there any tickets left?” he asked the attendant. When she turned him away, I chased him down, and handed him the golden ticket. “How much?” he asked.
“My friend couldn’t make it, so it’s yours,” I lied, sure that the karmic laws of the universe would have my back.
Once inside, I found my way to a stage right spot and posted up behind a gaggle of young gals who were passing around a small bottle of alcohol and chasing it down with Red Bull. Potent, candied perfumes evoked memories of some of my own exes. When The Beaches took the stage, I connected with their music through those personal hauntings. Then Leandra got on the mic and yelled: “Sing along if you have lesbian trauma!” That’s when I took a more in-depth look around and noticed something. I was swimming in a sea of lesbian soup. I decided that if this was what the universe had in store for my good karma, I’d take it.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Gonzo Report: The Beaches work out their lesbian trauma at The Sound
Latest album interrogates what happens to you after you have your heart broken
Gonzo Report: The Beaches work out their lesbian trauma at The Sound
Latest album interrogates what happens to you after you have your heart broken
The Beaches brought the heartbreak.
I was told to meet a guy named Richie by the back gate of Del Mar’s Sound. It was 4 pm on a Tuesday. I walked by the empty ticket booths, past a security guard, and saw a guy in loose clothing with wobbly eyes standing at a gate leading towards a dirt path. “Richie?” I asked, pointing my finger at him.
“Yeah, I’m Richie,” he answered. “Jake?” I was Jake.
Somebody said Richie was the father of one of the band members in The Beaches. Maybe dad to two of the band members, if it was sisters Kylie and Jordan Miller. Jordan sings vocals and Kylie rocks the guitar. “We just flew in from Napa this morning,” he said. “Played a private show up there. Everyone’s pretty hungover. This is my fourth coffee today.”
Richie walked me past a tour bus and down a hallway into a green room where his daughter(s) would be opening for Girl in Red. Inside the green room, three out of four band members (Kylie, Jordan, and drummer Eliza) welcomed me in and told me to take a seat on the couch. Leandra, The Beaches other guitarist, couldn’t make it to the hangover party. It seemed she was busy Facetiming her cat, who recently gained internet fame on TikTok. “Leandra’s personal account got thirteen million views,” Eliza said playfully, “while our band account was still only getting 500 views per video. We were all resentful of the fuckin’ cat.”
Switching gears: it’s not uncommon for artists to draw inspiration for their art by slicing their fingers on the shards of a shattered heart. Taylor Swift is notorious for this. Like a gangster, Fleetwood Mac’s Stevie Nicks did it while Lindsey Buckingham was still in the band. Now, Jordan Miller has entered the heartbreak arena with her song “Blame Brett” from the band’s most recent album, Blame My Ex. “This album has a lot to do with break-ups and the changes you go through,” said vocalist Miller. “It’s not necessarily about a certain relationship, but what happens to you after you have your heart broken. I found it more interesting to interrogate the highs and lows of that experience, and also finding yourself after losing the person you thought you were going to marry.”
When we wrapped up, I packed up my things and headed back towards the tour bus alongside Kylie. It was a seasonally gray day. I felt I could feel the band’s hangovers, and I had a better understanding of what a painful process it must have been to write a break-up album. At least the pain came with perks: as of this moment, “Blame Brett” has amassed over 50 million listens on Spotify alone. It’s clearly connecting with the heartbroken people out there.
A couple hours later, I was at the ticket booths, claiming my complimentary tickets for the show. A moment of déjà vu hit as I watched a mother and daughter trying to figure out their ticket situation. It seemed they’d been scammed; this same scenario presented itself the last time I was at The Sound. This time, I was equipped with one extra ticket, but there were two of them, so I held off getting involved. But it was a sold-out show, and I was feeling generous with my freebie, so I waited around a bit. Eventually, a dude strolled up to the ticket counter. “I know it’s a long shot, but are there any tickets left?” he asked the attendant. When she turned him away, I chased him down, and handed him the golden ticket. “How much?” he asked.
“My friend couldn’t make it, so it’s yours,” I lied, sure that the karmic laws of the universe would have my back.
Once inside, I found my way to a stage right spot and posted up behind a gaggle of young gals who were passing around a small bottle of alcohol and chasing it down with Red Bull. Potent, candied perfumes evoked memories of some of my own exes. When The Beaches took the stage, I connected with their music through those personal hauntings. Then Leandra got on the mic and yelled: “Sing along if you have lesbian trauma!” That’s when I took a more in-depth look around and noticed something. I was swimming in a sea of lesbian soup. I decided that if this was what the universe had in store for my good karma, I’d take it.
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