When we started the “Best of Summer” 

series last year, none of us expected that we 
would still have a hanging shadow of the 
pandemic looming over us. If anything, this 
series was created as a defense against the 
social brain rot brought out by constant screen 
interfacing and self-isolation. If there is one 
entity that can foster genuine connection 
without the need for physical immediacy, 
it’s music. With that in mind, here we are, 
one year later, still reeling from the effects of 
this separation but with possible hope on the 
horizon. As artists return to recording studios 
with the music they’ve created during the 
pandemic, the music beat is celebrating the 
return of new music with our favorite summer 
releases. 

Mood Valiant – Hiatus Kaiyote 

Never has outer space felt so realistic. 

Hiatus Kaiyote’s third album Mood Valiant 
grounds the strange and unfamiliar feeling 
of what is past the atmosphere, making it 
seem like something within our reach. By 
that, I don’t mean simple synths and voice 
alteration technology. Theirs is an album filled 
with intricately thought-out instrumentation 
that walks the line between jazz, R&B, funk, 
electronica and something undefinable. 
Their lead Nai Palm’s singing, which swoops 
between euphoric, daring, grooving and 
tender, is a highlight on the album, as usual. 
While the album is perhaps not as cohesive 
as their last masterpiece, it still makes strong 
use of their technical skill while remaining 
in empathetic touch with the listener. Songs 
like “Stone or Lavender” bring the listener to 
a reckoning with their insides, encouraging 
us that love is the difficult choice we should 
always make. Meanwhile, “Get Sun ft. Arthur 
Verocai” and “Chivalry Is Not Dead” really dig 
into it in completely different ways, displaying 
once again the insane range of this band. 
Because their music does not fit fully into any 
genre and is like none I’ve ever heard before, 
each album of theirs becomes a new world to 
explore. — Fia Kaminski, Daily Arts Writer

What do you get when you take the 

soulfulness and cryptic wordplay of Erykah 
Badu, a velvety smooth bassline, then add a 
taste of fusion jazz? Hiatus Kaiyote’s “Red 
Room.” This was my favorite song of the 
summer, by far. The production is stripped 
down to its bare minimum, the song builds but 
doesn’t necessarily change and the drumbeat 
is not busy at all; its simplicity is effective. 
“Red Room” showcases the artistry and skill 
of the band, since there is literally nowhere 
to hide, and everyone is heard. Frontwoman 
Nai Palm’s voice dances on top of the groove 
— there is something ritualistic about her 
vocal performance, like a shaman guiding 
you through an auditory hallucination. She’s 
not afraid to explore the edges of her register, 
and she finds beauty in the imperfections. The 
lyrics are hard to unravel but not meaningless. 
It’s poetry, and the words flow like a 
crystalline stream of consciousness. Sparse 
instrumentation and simplicity is a dangerous 
game in music, but “Red Room” definitely 
comes out on top. — Jason Zhang, Daily Arts 
Writer

Solar Power – Lorde

Lorde’s release of Solar Power feels very 

timely given the current state of the world. As 
we emerge from isolation and embrace a “new 
normal,” Lorde has returned from her hiatus, 
giving us a fresh album that grapples with 
global issues while appreciating the beauty 
that we have left to cling to. 

Unlike the dark, somber mood of her 2017 

release Melodrama, Solar Power offers a sense 
of optimism and feels more commercial than 
any of her previous releases. But commercial 
doesn’t necessarily equate to being unoriginal. 
Produced with Jack Antonoff, who recently 
produced Taylor Swift’s cut-back indie albums 
folklore and evermore, Solar Power embraces 
simplicity and seeks clarity through poetic 
accounts of her ponderings over the climate 
crisis, her recent trip to Antarctica and her 
relationships — both romantic and familial. 

The album’s title track has become a summer 

anthem, a song that celebrates the natural world 
and sonically mimics the warmth of sun-filled 
summer days. With its inspiring retrospection 
and concern for the modern crises plaguing 
our world, Solar Power is not just a feel-good 
summer release — it is a call to action. — Kaitlyn 
Fox, Music Beat Editor 

Spiral – DARKSIDE

When news broke out that producer 

Nicolás Jaar and multi-instrumentalist Dave 
Harrington would be returning to their 
DARKSIDE project nearly 8 years after their 
debut record Psychic, expectations could not 
have been higher. 

The release of Psychic felt like a new 

discovery was just made in electronic music, 
with its murky textures being allowed to 
roam the liquid architecture provided by 
subterranean synth ambiance. 

Jaar in particular has continued to be a 

trailblazer in the genre for the years following. 

With their new release Spiral, DARKSIDE 

stick to their formula of synthetic mysticism. 
However, they do so with an entirely different 
aesthetic in mind. In fact, the respective 
album artwork between the two records 
perfectly highlights this distinction. Whereas 
Psychic sounds like an air bubble swirling in 
the darkness of a fog-imbued room, Spiral 
is lurking underneath the verdant foliage, 
slithering between the pockets of space 
provided by the leaves. It’s an album whose 
sound is allowed to ferment as sharp plucks of 
guitar give way to the encompassing hum of a 
singing bowl. It feels so in tune with a summer 
whose oppressive heat and humidity have 
often made it feel like you were swimming 
through the air. At the same time, there is also a 
certain pulse that the album seems to function 
under, whether it be a lone hi-hat count, a 
hard-hitting bass groove or just a steady 
thump of the kick. In this sense, Spiral feels 
like a living organism, with its heart-pounding 
away buried beneath the overgrowth. — Drew 
Gadbois, Music Senior Arts Editor 

Fatigue – L’Rain

Residing in an emotional state of limbo has 

never sounded more breathtakingly ethereal 
than it does on Brooklyn musician L’Rain’s 
latest album, Fatigue. The project arrived amid 
a summer spent balancing high expectations 
for normalcy with circumstances that often 
changed for the worse. It’s an odd space that 
we inhabit now, most of us not unscathed by 
the events of the last two years but willing to 
welcome hope and joy with open arms. On 
Fatigue’s opener “Fly, Die” a probing voice 
asks, “What have you done, to change?” L’Rain 
artfully unpacks this question, tying together 
the moments of chaos and peace that have 

defined her own fatigue into one cinematic 
listening experience. 

What is perhaps most special about 

Fatigue is the way that each song unfurls into 
something unexpected. The track “Find It” 
begins as a relatively spare arrangement of 
soft vocal loops and light synth, yet by its end 
 

crescendos into a soulful explosion of gospel 
choirs and church organs. “Two Face” leads 
with an incredible twist of hard-edged piano 
and percussion and descends into sparkling 
guitar and grooving bass. “Suck Teeth” flows 
between a more classic R&B bassline to almost 
eerie vocal delivery.

With her background as a chameleon-like 

instrumentalist, L’Rain doesn’t stay in one 
place for long. Despite Fatigue’s eclecticism, 
it never sounds disjointed. Instead, L’Rain has 
opened up a space for her emotions to breathe 
and interact with one another, reminding us 
that it’s okay to step back and reconcile the 
conflicting forces of our being. — Nora Lewis, 
Daily Arts Writer

Black Metal 2 – Dean Blunt

You remember laying in the backseat of your 

parents’ car — the one they got rid of years ago — 
and the radio is playing a hundred seats up; you’re 
looking at the yellow dots of street lights passing 
above you like paint strokes against a fogged-up 
mirror … ok, maybe it’s not like that. Maybe, it’s 
just another incredible edition to Dean Blunt’s 
discography of blissful, impossibly hypnotic 
and cruelly melancholic art-pop music: Black 
Metal 2. The British musician’s signature sound 
echoes throughout the 23-minute mini-album: 

his muddy baritone against the harmonization 
of album companion Joanne Robertson and 
her hazy vocals, along with lazy soulful guitars, 
warm string sections and production that rings 
snares and bells throughout such playfully short 
songs. Black Metal 2, the sequel to Dean Blunt’s 
2014 enigmatic Black Metal, feels less like a 
complete work and more like a continuation of 
a sound that is so confidently strong after the 
musician’s long and influential career. “DASH 
SNOW” has been on repeat since the album 
came out back in July, and no matter how much 
I listen to Dean Blunt, I somehow always find 
myself back to these songs, closing my eyes 
and swaying every inch of my body. Because 
that’s what his music does to you: It makes your 
everything sway. His music and lyrics have 
the effect of knowing something you wish you 
didn’t, but here you are, and what else can you 
do, you can’t get away; you can only sit down and 
listen to Black Metal 2 by Dean Blunt again and 
again. — Conor Durkin, Daily Arts Writer

Jubilee – Japanese Breakfast

Japanese Breakfast’s latest release, Jubilee, 

was by all means the perfect summer album. 
Though Michelle Zauner is best known for 
her heart-wrenching ballads and artistic 
performances, this 2021 album strays from 
somber narratives and embraces optimism 
successfully. Jubilee is the type of alternative 
pop album that can be blasted in the car 
equally as well as it can be background music 
while you’re doing homework. 

Mainstream queer television has certainly 

come a long way in the past several decades. 
Before revolutionary shows like “The L 
Word” or “Orange Is the New Black,” the 
most the LGBTQ+ community could expect 
of representation was an offhand reference 
to a minor queer character (whose existence 
often served as a punchline) or the implicit 
representation provided by queerbaiting, 
wherein media implies non-heterosexual 
relationships or attraction to engage an 
LGBTQ+ audience. Slowly but surely, popular 
television has grown more inclusive in terms 
of its queer representation, which has led to 
the creation of shows like Netflix’s “Q-Force,” 
one of the loudest forms of queer media 
television has produced to date. 

“Q-Force” 
centers 
around 
Steve 

Maryweather (Sean Hayes, “Will & Grace”), 
a gay secret agent who graduates at the top 
of his class from the American Intelligence 
Agency but is denied cases, promotions and 
his deserved title of valedictorian because 
of his LGBTQ+ identity. “Q-Force” is loud 
and explicit about representing queer 
culture, unlike the implicit nature of queer 
representation in the past. However, its 
representation is still limited to mainstream 
perceptions of queerness. 

Undoubtedly an ode to popular LGBTQ+ 

culture, the show features many often-
publicized aspects of the LGBTQ+ community, 
ranging from drag shows to “iconic” and “slay 
queen” diction to lesbians loving Subarus. One 
of the agents’ names is literally “Twink.”

When does a love letter become a mockery? 

It’s tough to draw the line between riffing on 
inside jokes from within the community and 
making the community into a punchline 
through exhausted stereotypes. As nearly 
every joke in the series centers around queer 
stereotypes, it begins to feel difficult to 
appreciate the humor rather than cringe away 

from it.

A commonly understood theme of comedy 

is the notion of punching up versus punching 
down. The comedian ought to aim upward 
at the most powerful instead of downward 
at those without a voice. The question arises 
whether “Q-Force” punches up or down, as 
well as whether all representation is good 
representation. What exactly qualifies as 
progressive representation?

On one hand, Gabe Liedman (“Brooklyn 

Nine-Nine”), the creator of “Q-Force,” is a 
gay man himself; thus, the content of the 
show seems more authentic than it would 
have had it been created from a heterosexual 
perspective. Also, the show’s central plot 
is centered around combating the power 
hierarchy of a system that discriminates 
against members of the LGBTQ+ community.

Despite its reliance on queer stereotypes, 

“Q-Force” is a show unlikely to have been 
created a decade ago and would have been 
unthinkable in the decades before that. The 
fact that a show like “Q-Force” is even possible 
is a testament to the progress made by the 
LGBTQ+ community.

The next question we have to answer: 

Given the community’s growing influence 
on popular culture, will the perception of 
the queer community be pigeonholed — 
becoming essentially a brand — or will queer 
representation develop into a more nuanced 
and human definition?

Ultimately, asking an animated comedy 

show to tackle the entirety of these questions 
is a lot, but it’s interesting to see where 
“Q-Force” fits within queer history. The series 
is unapologetic and provides an opportunity 
to celebrate and gain insight into a rich and 
historic culture. You just have to remember 
this form of representation can be one-
dimensional, and queerness isn’t limited to 
the series’ depiction.

Regardless, it’s always nice to see LGBTQ+ 

culture and relationships on screen, and 
“Q-Force” is an excellent reminder of how far 
LGBTQ+ representation has come.

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts

The Daily’s top music releases of summer 2021

KAITLYN FOX, DREW GADBOIS, ROSA 

SOFIA KAMINSKI, JASON ZHANG, NORA 

LEWIS, CONOR DURKIN, GIGI CIULLA, 

KAI BARTOL, MADELEINE GANNON, 

RYAN BRACE

Daily Arts Writers & Editors

‘Q-Force’ is in your face, for 

better or for worse

SARAH RAHMAN

Daily Arts Writer

Colors and shapes: That’s all it takes to 

keep a kid occupied. Throw some auditory 
stimuli into the mix, and you’ve got a self-
sufficient machine equipped to monopolize 
a child’s neurons for hours. In a way, that’s 
exactly how I view the microcosm of video 
game streamers, in all their microphone-
screaming grandeur. It’s not for me, and 
that’s okay; the populace of overzealous 
20-somethings is instead embraced by an 
equally zealous audience of children. Therein 
lies the foreboding problem.

During a June 9 stream, Twitch streamer 

Adin Ross accidentally opened a Discord 
exchange in which a $2 million payment to 
Ross was discussed. Ross, whose connections 
to famous rappers turned the floodlights of 
popularity toward his channel, had at the 
time been streaming gambling games in 
crypto casinos, one of which being Duelbits.

Duelbits, alongside several sites of the 

same nature, is based offshore on the island of 
Curaçao where the regulations on gambling 
licenses are lax. Applicants are required 
to pay a fee, but background checks are 
negligent — previously approved web casinos 
have been fronts for money laundering and 
organized crime. Sites like Duelbits are not 
subject to legal disputes with customers or 
any general regulatory measures. There’s 
nothing withholding Duelbits from flagging 
users and confiscating their winnings at will 
or rigging their random-number generators 
to overturn the odds to the house.

The U.S. government cracks down on 

sites like Duelbits, effectively banning their 
service, but a powerful enough VPN can 
grant access to American players and prevent 
them from being tracked. Cryptocurrency 
adds another layer of protection — Duelbits 
accepts Ethereum, Bitcoin, Litecoin and 
Dogecoin, eliminating banks and credit card 
companies as third parties. Users might be 
traced by their cryptocurrency wallets, but 
the blockchain network ultimately offers 
unprecedented anonymity and control over 
one’s funds. 

In the case of Ross, what’s happening is 

quite simple: He hops on live, tacks a promo 
code to his stream, spends a few hours 
betting on Duelbits’ offerings of virtual slot 
machines, blackjack or roulette and gets rich. 
Sometimes he loses money, but that means it’s 
all the more exciting when he wins big. Either 
way, Ross is paid six to seven figures a month 
to gamble, so what difference does it make?

On YouTube, some of his best moments 

are clipped and re-uploaded. The titles of 
these videos give away the high-stakes 
nature of Ross’s streams: “ADIN ROSS WINS 
$300,000 GAMBLING IN MEXICO,” “ADIN 
ROSS LOSES $100K IN 10 MINUTES!! 
(HILARIOUS).” Ross loses money, but he 
wins more frequently — at least, the videos 
of him winning surpass those of him losing, 
both in quantity and in view count.

Even without YouTube views, Ross is 

popular with almost 5 million followers and 
34 million total views on Twitch. It takes little 
imagination to think of what kinds of people 
are watching Ross endorse casino games. The 
issue is that 37.9% of Twitch’s active users 
are between the ages 10 and 19. The math 
favors a fanbase of a whole lot of minors who 
aren’t equipped with the foresight needed 
to renounce the act of gambling, especially 
when their favorite streamer is adamant 
about its greatness. 

In an archived Twitch stream of the 

H3 Podcast, YouTuber Ethan Klein hosts 
Ross alongside streamers Hasan Piker and 
Matthew Rinaudo, and the four hash out over 
a Zoom call. Rinaudo, known on the site as 
Mizkif, was also briefly involved in gambling 
on Twitch. Most of the conversation takes 
place between Klein and Ross, as the focus 
of the episode is the gambling controversy. 
When Ross is confronted with accusations 
that he’s doing something objectively wrong, 
he doesn’t hesitate to agree.

Klein inquires, “ 
You have no problem 

peddling gambling to children, that’s a more 
soulless act than not smiling, wouldn’t you 
agree?”

Ross breaks into a cheeky grin before 

responding, “It’s fun!”

It’s easy to understand how Ross gets so 

caught up in the scheme. The live events 
are so emotionally charged that it feels like 
intruding — imagine a Las Vegas casino, 
but with a camera propped up at every 
machine. In one video, Ross leans forward in 
concentration, eyes locked on the whirring 
images of shiny multicolored gems. He shouts 
expletives at the game as if to intimidate it into 
improving his odds. When he scores, he grins 
widely. When he scores big, he claps, shouts 
and jumps in his seat, as zaps of adrenaline 
take a physical form. This is what the kids 
are interested in — the thrilling nature of the 
game, the scintillating stunt of victory.

Age is the fundamental issue — in every 

sense, promoting gambling to children is 
deeply, unequivocally wrong. To watch 
someone experience unprecedented peaks 
of euphoria upon winning a life-changing 
amount of money is extremely dangerous 
to the impressionable; these are moments 
that should not be broadcasted, that no child 
should ever see.

There’s a reason why the federal 

government age-restricts gambling. Children 
and adolescents are more likely to gamble 
for entertainment, to compete with their 
friends or to relieve boredom, as opposed 
to adults who are more motivated by the 
advantage of a financial boost. The effects 
of gambling are thus exacerbated on young 
brains — substance abuse, interpersonal 
difficulties and a host of mental health 
problems can result. A lack of research clouds 
our understanding of treatment options, but 
if an Adin Ross fan falls victim to the grave 
reality of a gambling problem, Ross will hold 
on tighter to his earnings, with all but an 
impertinent smirk to offer in return.

As for Ross, he is not trying to run from 

being canceled, or to avoid some scandal; 
he accepts the allegations in a way that 
almost feels unexpected. He knows what 
he’s doing, and he knows that it’s wrong. If 
the circumstances were different, it would 
almost be unfair to expect a 20-year-old to 
be a knight of virtue and turn down a life-
changing sum of money.

I’m 19 years old, and I just started making 

my own doctor’s appointments — and I mean 
just started. Independence is a looming 
shadow under the water, an unflinching fact 
of life that I will soon have to embrace. This 
is the age for opening a checking account and 
finding a cheap apartment, not deciding how 
to spend millions of dollars in excess cash. In 
fact, I spend almost every conscious minute 
distracting myself from existential confusion 
and thoughts about my future — it’s hard to 
speak for Ross because he is so alienated from 
the triviality of the college-aged person. If he 
wasn’t sitting proudly in moral purgatory, I 
might feel bad for Ross; maybe somewhere 
in there is a deeply misguided kid, blinded by 
millionaire tunnel vision. 

The nature of digital celebrities brings 

about a new kind of autonomy for young stars, 
because the internet is not an industry in the 
way Hollywood is. There are less talent scouts 
and big studio contracts — instead, as the 
product, the internet celebrity governs the 
way they carry themself in the virtual realm 
with minimal guidance. 

Ross accepted the money because he’s the 

guy in charge, even though this choice may 
bear detriment to his future as a successful 
figure. He might not be mainstream enough 
to attract the likes of tabloid journalism, but 
he is important enough to influence a large 
niche audience. Ross, at the age of 20, is 
granted this formidable power and platform, 
and he uses it to peddle the most harmful 
habit next to drugs. 

While Ross is entitled to his own poor 

judgment, Twitch is entitled to operating 
a safe, accessible platform. To answer the 
question of “who let this happen,” we must 
fixate the accusatory glare on the site itself. 
Ross, accompanied by several others like him, 
operates under the rules of the website — rules 
that have failed to condemn online gambling 
as a whole. Twitch’s terms of service impose a 
blanket policy prohibiting illegal activity, but 
restrictions against gambling streams are not 
specifically written.

What we see on Twitch is streamable, and 

anything streamable is monetized. While 
there’s still a chance to set a precedent and 
wholly condemn online gambling, Twitch 
willfully neglects the issue; their inaction 
serves to convince more streamers that it’s 
okay to Adin Ross-ify their content.

There should be a serious incentive 

to act the opposite, but the website’s 
accommodation of gambling implies a grim 
future of Twitch as a destination for brand 
advertising and unscrupulous money-grabs, 
a platform on which ethics are thrown out 
the window.

Adin Ross sets bad precedents with Twitch gambling

LAINE BROTHERTON

Daily Arts Writer

This image is from the official trailer for “Q-Force,” produced by Netflix.

Design by Jessica Chiu

Wednesday, September 15, 2021 — 5

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