50 YEARS OF DE-EVOLUTION … CONTINUED! - 11/13/25 - DENVER, CO | PHOTO BY BIRDY ISSUE 144 | DECEMBER 2025 GUT FEELING: KRYSTI JOMÉI THROUGH BEING COOL: JONNY DESTEFANO SPEED RACER: JULIANNA BECKERT CHANGO: KAYVAN S. T. KHALATBARI TIMING X: CRISTIN COLVIN BOOJI BOY: MARK MOTHERSBAUGH SPACE JUNK: ALAN ROY IT'S NOT RIGHT: DANIEL 'DL' LANDES UNCONTROLLABLE URGE: CHELSEA PINTO MR. DNA: MATT HAVER FRONT COVER: KONG | BACK COVER: GODZILLA GODZILLA VS KONG BY CHRISTOPHSKI - @CHRISTOPHSKI SMART PATROL: NATE BALDING, HYEIN LEE, MATTHEW C. MARINER, NICK FLOOK, BRIAN POLK, DAVE DANZARA, DEREK KNIERIM, GRAY WINSLER, HANA ZITTEL, SUSANN BROX NILSEN, GRAHAM FRANCIOSE, JOEL TAGERT, JOE VAUX, ZAC DUNN, TOM MURPHY, BRIAN SERWAY, JASON WHITE GATES OF STEEL: NATABA, BUB DAVIS, CHRISTOPHSKI, BRIAN J HOFFMAN, HARI REN, ERWIN PAPA, DAVID PLATT, MARS BLACK PATTERNS: MARIANO OREAMUNO, DS THORNBURG, PHIL GARZA, ZAC DUNN SUPPORT OUR FRIENDS AND BENEFACTORS: MONKEY BARREL, DENVER THEATRE DISTRICT, UNDERSTUDY, MUTINY COMICS & COFFEE, OFF THE BOTTLE REFILL SHOP, ANALOG SALON, ROCKY MOUNTAIN SCHOOL OF EXPEDITIONARY LEARNING, MIXED MESSAGES, BENNY BLANCO'S, COCREATE, TOXOPLASMA ARTS FOLLOW US – IG: @BIRDY.MAGAZINE | FB: @BIRDYMAGAZINE KEEP PRINT UNDEAD - MAILED SUBSCRIPTIONS + ISSUES + MERCH: BIRDYMAGAZINE.COM/SHOP BE IN BIRDY – ART + WORDS + COMEDY + ET CETERA: BIRDYMAGAZINE.COM/SUBMISSIONS ADVERTISE IN BIRDY + SUPPORT INDEPENDENT ART: BIRDYMAGAZINE.COM/CONTACT-US BIRDY IS A SMOOTH NOODLE MAP, OUT OF SYNC MONTHLY ©2025 BIRDY MAGAZINE, SUNLIGHT, SUNLIGHT IN MY EYES 1
PHOTO BY NATABA No. 144
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BUB DAVIS, QUIETUDE - @LIZARD.PUDDING No. 144
MATTHEW C. MARINER - BEST OF BIRDY 026 HYEIN LEE, MR. FURRY PANTS - @HYEINPAIN | BEST OF 120
Stars are pin pricks in the fabric of time and the front porch is a gateway drug to the splendor of a universe writ larger on the dark tapestry of the sky. Some burn red like cigarette ash — carbon inhaled then blown into the cosmos maybe to land eventually on celestial plains. And night comes on hard yawns reflecting the fatigue of a day spent alone. Eyelids droop as wine glasses empty and Mars winks back. NICK FLOOK, TRAIN OF THOUGHT - @FLOOKO THE RED PLANET BY MATT HAVER
WHEN THE WISTFUL ARE FORGIVEN BY BRIAN POLK A WISTFUL LETTER TO THE PEOPLE WE USED TO BE There are still a few leaves defiantly clinging to the maple tree in our old front yard. I love watching them flutter in the cold winter breeze. I No. 144 can’t help but admire the figurative middle finger these leaves have for their own destiny. They’re not just summer leaves — no, this particular foliage is not going to let the seasons define who it is as vegetation. HARI REN, PUBS OF ENGLAND - THE TOWN VAULTS - @HARIR3N
They’ll probably hang on all winter. And sure, it may seem like an exercise in futility to hold onto something like that long after the writing on the wall spells out the inevitable. But I get it. Big changes in life almost always happen before we’re ready. It reminds me of us — or at least the people we used to be. One day we were vibrant, green leaves soaking up the summer sun, just content to be in each other’s presence. Then the seasons changed, just like they always do, and we had no choice but to accept our fate. I’m not clinging to that tree anymore, and neither are you. We let go and tumbled violently in the wind before we found a precarious place to land. And we’ve been around long enough to know we’re not safe here, either — that at any moment the weather could change and send us back to careen blindly through the world. But that hasn’t stopped us from moving on, of course. As a wise man once said, “So it goes.” There’s a lot I’d like to tell you these days. Sometimes I wish I could work up the nerve to call, but I always stop myself — mainly because I wouldn’t be talking to the old you, just like you wouldn’t be talking to the old me. We’d just be two new strangers who don’t have that much in common, awkward in silence, because we can’t think of anything to say. I guess that’s why you haven’t heard from me in a while. Sometimes I wonder if there’s a parallel universe where the old versions of ourselves still live. Where they didn’t grow so far apart. Where they’re just leaves on that tree. And I wonder if they’re still happy. IT’S OKAY TO FORGIVE YOURSELF I spent a lot of time cringing at certain events of my past. While I know this is a pretty universal experience, I had been torturing myself over it. In fact, it became such an issue that I started looking people up online and sending them messages of apology. Almost everyone I contacted replied by saying they didn’t even remember the incident in question, so no apology was required. And while unburdening yourself like that is actually quite freeing, the returns diminish pretty substantially after a while. In truth, the positive sentiments came to a screeching halt when one of the apologies did not reply to me specifically. Instead he posted on social media that he didn’t want anyone to DM him, because he didn’t want to talk about the past. Fair enough, I suppose. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt my feelings a bit. Anyway, about a year later, I would still torment myself about former occurrences from time to time. Then one day I had a thought: What if I stopped trying to find external validation for events that have already happened? What if I forced myself to have an internal breakthrough? Couldn’t I just get to the root of the problem and forgive myself for the petty indiscretions my younger self committed? Aren’t I just overemphasizing forgettable instances in order to intensify my insecurities at the expense of my own inner peace and self-actualization? And if so, why am I doing that? Once I had this discussion with myself, I let a lot of things go. I also realized I was just a kid when I acted the way I did. Today if I were faced with identical situations, I wouldn’t behave that way. And of course that means I’ve learned from my mistakes, which means I no longer have to obsess over them. This clears my brain for more important thoughts, like, How can I be more present for the people I care about now? And that is something I very much enjoy thinking about. 9
DAVE DANZARA, GALACTIC EMPIRE - @LOSTINTIMEDESIGNS
BRIAN J HOFFMAN, BRAIN BAND - @BRIANJAYHOFFMAN
No. 144
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I Who Have Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman, Translated by Ros Schwartz (1997) “Look at us, look at how we live. We have been deprived of everything that made us human, but we organized ourselves, I suppose in order to survive, or because, when you’re human, you can’t help it.” Forty women are trapped in a cage, in an underground bunker, being constantly watched by male guards. The women are forbidden to touch or to leave, and the guards do not acknowledge them beyond pulling out a whip to sting them should they deviate from any of the rules of their captivity. Their toilets are without privacy and their clothes have become tattered shreds after years of life in the cage, but the reason for this confinement remains a mystery. Not one woman knows why she is being punished, only that the sole escape from this life is through natural death, as suicide is also strictly forbidden. The youngest of the group, only referred to as “the child,” has no memory By Hana Zittel of a life before the cage. We know she is narrating this tale as an older woman, but her story begins when she is already in captivity, a young girl who remembers no other way of life, surrounded by these older women who refuse to tell her of their lives before the cage. She assumes she is around the age of beginning puberty, but without the sun or moon, they have no way to tell time or to understand how many years have passed. Her mind grows restless in this monotony and meaninglessness, and she begins to tell herself sexual fantasies about one of the young guards to pass the time, stirring up excited feelings she has never experienced. She starts to confide in another woman, a former nurse, who teaches her the rhythm of the heart. The child then begins to develop a system of telling time in relation to the comings and goings of the guards, establishing that time may be different here than the other women knew before the bunker. On an ordinary day during their inexplicable imprisonment, the guards open up the hatch to give them food rations when a “major event” suddenly changes their fate. A blaring siren goes off just as a guard has entered his key into the lock. The guards look at each other and take off, leaving the key in the door, allowing the women to open the hatch, escape, and attempt to discover the meaning behind their incarceration and what became of the world they knew. I Who Have Never Known Men was originally published in 1995 and translated to English from the original French in 1997. Due to recent reprintings, this poignant, post-apocalyptic novel has seen a spike in popularity in recent years. Ros Schwartz updated their original translation in 2019 for the UK rerelease and in 2022, the updated US version was released with an introduction from author Carmen Maria Machado. These reissues resulted in a surge of new readers finding this mysterious take on feminist science fiction, uniquely marked with loneliness and absurdity, ever relevant. Mothballs by Sole Otero, Translated by Andrea Rosenberg (2023) Sole Otero’s 2024 graphic novel opens on a funeral in San Martín, Argentina. When 19-year-old Rocío’s grandmother, Vilma, passes away, she notices the minimal number of mourners that have come to pay their respects. “That funeral could have fit into an elevator,” she writes. The family home now vacant, Rocío gets to stay in Vilma’s former home rent free and, her parents hope, attend school. As she settles into the large space filled with memories and mementos, she tells the story of her grandmother’s life as it has been told to her. A child of Italian immigrants who moved to Argentina because of political persecution, Vilma grew up in a repressed time with a father who drank, a mother who wouldn’t cross him, and a brother who struggled to fit in despite Vilma’s love for him. Through this retelling of the past, Rocío reveals Vilma’s life as one of a woman who lived through periods of traumas and perceived abandonment. She expressed her pain by isolating or cutting off her family and friends, unable to grapple with conflicts or rejection. As she tells Vilma’s story, Rocío internalizes the missteps of her grandmother allowing her to confront her present, what she wants from life, and attempt to approach her own relationships with love and healthy conflict resolution. Captivating and colorfully illustrated, Mothballs is a beautiful reflection on breaking familial trauma and forging your path in the world. No. 144
HANDMADE, UP-CYCLED WEIRD & WONDERFUL HOLIDAY CREATURES BY NORWAY’S SUSANN BROX NILSEN: WALTER WHIMSY; LURVE GINGERBREAD; KONRAD FOX & KYRRE TURKEY LEG; DAISY BOOP & PETRA PARSNIP; A LITTLE BIRDY: WEIRDWONDERFULSUSI.BIGCARTEL.COM | @SUSI_THEWEIRDANDWONDERFUL
ERWIN PAPA, SHIN GODZILLA - @ERWIN.PAPA
GRAHAM FRANCIOSE, THE DEN
No. 144 BEST OF 108
JOE VAUX, FEBOOBA - @JOEVAUX No. 144
THE ICE SHEET BY ZAC DUNN | ART BY JOE VAUX THE BLINDING WHITE ... On all sides blind eyes unaccustomed to severe frozen steps ahead of polar bears and ice flows that grow perilously scant Over bones and seal meat held low and shared with the dogs as logs on a lone fire crackle laughter in the stillness Noses pounce upon reins toward IDITAROD slogs and MUSH that push the SLAY quickly on RUNNERS of STEEL Only the bone knife remains as he stepped from the tiny encampment his folk had brought him to as his before him did too The long walk back would bind and tie them up tightly as night never ceased to allow sunbeams to scream over the horizon for many moons The old one had come to walk back and give back what he took with him when he came To set the record straight enough to find legs too tired to pull another step and sleep on the ice one last time The lady of the sea may pass by beneath the ICE SHEET and greet the final desperations favored with blossoms we held in tiny leather purses to keep the frost from winning As the cubs in the cave and old folks all laid to rest are best proclaimed in silent steps ever further on the ICE SHEET that bounds into WHITE LIGHT and CRYSTALLINE FRAGMENTS OF WATER … we too happen to pass through as they drift like gifts in the breeze that are sweet KISSES OF TIME. 8:38am KNICKERBOCKER NYC 10.11z.:24.00003 FOLLOW FOR MORE: IG: @UZIEGO TUMBLR: @SAVAGESNEVERSLEEPNYC
BY TOM MURPHY In a year of outstanding, meaningful releases across all realms of music, here are a mere 43 that stood out and commanded repeated listens: ANNA VON HAUSSWOLFF – ICONOCLASTS Transcendent, elemental, operatic darkwave jazz drone. BLACK MOTH SUPER RAINBOW – SOFT NEW MAGIC DREAM Post-synthwave dream pop for abandoned Backrooms arcades. BONNIE “PRINCE” BILLY – THE PURPLE BIRD The most pointed, poignant, tender, humane revolution folk record in decades. BRIA SALMENA – BIG DOG Sensuous, swaying slowcore, hypnogogic Goth popgaze. BUCK GOOTER – KING KONG LIVES: THEREMINSANITY Deep observations on mortality, rebellion and transcendence in the language of lo-fi industrial synth psychedelia. CHES SMITH – CLONE ROW Instant IDM prog fusion classic. CHRIS STAMEY – ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE An inspired reincarnation of genius AM radio power pop. CLAIRE ROUSAY – A LITTLE DEATH Impressionistic snapshots of warmly hazy memories and daydreams. CLIPPING. – DEAD CHANNEL SKY An amalgamation of 70s art rock, 90s big/break beat and noise. CLOAKROOM – LAST LEG OF THE HUMAN TABLE Heartwarming shoegaze jangle sludge. DEERHOOF – NOBLE AND GODLIKE IN RUIN 10 Jazz Funk Math Pop Greats. DOUBLEVEE – PERISCOPE AT MIDNIGHT Emotionally vibrant, warmly cinematic indiepop. ETHEL CAIN – PERVERTS Like a slowcore ambient album made by Cowboy Junkies. FIREFRIEND – FUZZ AND BLUE RADIATION Four sides of snapshots of the fiery psych shoegaze revolutionaries in all their live performance glory. FLETCHER TUCKER – KIN Hypnotic drones infused with pastoral mysticism and personal myth-making. FOTOFORM – GRIEF IS A GARDEN (FOREVER IN BLOOM) Truly leaning into feeling melancholy and dissolving it with blissful melodies. GOON – DREAM 3 Breaking soul deep despair with joy cast as daydreamy psychedelia. GUERILLA TOSS – YOU’RE WEIRD NOW Impassioned, psychedelic, hip-hop-infused dance punk. HAYDEN PEDIGO AND CHAT PILE – IN THE EARTH AGAIN Heartbreaking songs of finding shards of hope in a world devastated by greed and neglect. HIDE – SPIT OF SWALLOW EVERY SOUL WILL TASTE DEATH Industrial noise punk explosions of radical empathy for our collective internalized despair and outrage at late capitalism. No. 144
HILARY WOODS – NIGHT CRIÚ Engrossing drone folk dream noir pop. PLANNING FOR BURIAL – IT’S CLOSENESS, ITS EASY An entire album of raging grief and acceptance of loving reconnection. HORSEGIRL – PHONETICS ON AND ON A fascinating orchestration of space, texture, momentum to express emotional immediacy. PYRAMIDS – PYTHAGORAS Sublimely melodic black metal shoegaze reggaeton. JAPANESE BREAKFAST – FOR MELANCHOLY BRUNETTES (& SAD WOMEN) Orchestral meditations on getting exactly what you thought you wanted. KAPUT – I Invigorating clawings for vitality and dignity against the anxieties of the attention economy and late capitalism. KNOX CHANDLER – THE SOUND Visual/musical manifestations of transitions from urban life to the tranquil rural. KILYNN LUNSFORD – PROMISCUOUS GENES Peak weirdo No Wave poignant post-punk pop genius. LANA DEL RABIES – OMNIPOTENT FUCK Diamanda Galás-esque death industrial dissection of the darkest ends of romance and sexuality. LATTER – WHAT LIVES INSIDE OF ME A sustained shredding of the idea that one’s humanity is disposable. LAVEDA – LOVE, DARLA Noise dream pop songs of post-heartbreak and self-rediscovery. MARISSA NADLER – NEW RADIATIONS Lush, stirring Lynch-soundtrack-esque dream folk. MASMA DREAM WORLD – PLEASE COME TO ME Cross-cultural, cosmic, underworld ritual drone. PATRICK SHIROISHI – FORGETTING IS VIOLENT Minimal ambient jazz against the imperial program of cultural erasure. SEE MORE: QUEENCITYSOUNDS.ORG WET LEG – MOISTURIZER Bold, ferocious, sensuous, clever anthems of living with an unapologetically passionate nature and a refreshingly untamed sense of self. SEXTILE – YES, PLEASE. Further push into techno-punk bass music. THE STARGAZER LILIES – LOVE PEDALS Psychedelic shoegaze with heavy Julee Cruise vibes. STŪRĪ ZĒVELE – ARLABUNAKTI Strikingly original indie/dream/art/chamber pop from Latvia. SWANS – BIRTHING A profound reflection on one’s own cycle of becoming and transformation until reuniting with the infinite energy of the universe. THE WHIMBRELS – S/T Paradoxically transporting, wiry, shimmery, maximalist art punk prog noise rock for fans of Mission of Burma. THEY ARE GUTTING A BODY OF WATER – LOTTO The perfect balance of caustic, grungy, metallic, ethereal, beat-driven, post-shoegaze, spoken word jangle punk. VIAGRA BOYS – VIAGR ABOYS Once again an inspired set of irreverently surreal culture jamming commentary presented as mutant post-garage punk art hooliganism. WEDNESDAY – BLEEDS Effortlessly witty, literary, countrified emogaze snapshots of regular American life through the lens of the Southern experience.
ART BY DAVID PLATT WORDS BY DANIEL 'DL' LANDES Anxiety is disabling— rare glimpses of motivation are swallowed whole by why bother? Ennui hangs around near the heart kicking it from time to time telling rotten stories of nothingness, immobility and whispers of ‘why bother?’ the heart begins to believe it deserves the kicks and forgets what it felt like before they began Who was I before I was sad? No. 144 IN THE SILENT SECONDS
I finally quit smoking when it became clear it was never about the cigarette — it was about being outside the sun, the moon the cold, the rain the streetlights and the community In front of the shrine to the dying I took her hand and vowed ‘'til death do us part’ — she looked away sealing my fate THE ISLAND OF DEATH I CAME DOWN TO MEET YOU IN THE HALF LIGHT THE MOON LEFT
BRIAN SERWAY, BEAR - @BSERWAY | BEST OF 120
29 MARK MOTHERSBAUGH, FROM THE POSTCARD DIARIES - SCREEN TIME; BIRDY IN A TREE
ART BY JASON WHITE - @JASON_WHITE_ART 31
MARS BLACK, DEATH, WITH YOGA MAT AND WOTSITS
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