Philly's Soul Glo Comes to Oblivion Access and Brings Its Diaspora Problems With It

Courtesy of Secret Voice

Soul Glo

An uncompromising screamo punk band, playing smack-dab in the middle of a bill headlined by a man most famous for rapping over a Gorillaz sample about "Hot Pockets" and "Sour Patch Kids"? Soul Glo frontman Pierce Jordan hears me squinting through the phone and insists it's really not that complicated.

"We all have the internet. I don't think anybody in 2022 just listens to one genre of music," he says. "Why is it so out of the ordinary? Rap and punk come from the same culture of dissent, right?"

Right, duh, of course. The only thing out of the ordinary here is Soul Glo. Among screamo fans, the Philadelphia group's feral onslaught is already legendary, matched for blistering speed only by the rate at which each successive release piles on outside influences and textures. It was no surprise to hear that eclecticism reflected in the Oblivion Access artists the band members geeked over: Melt-Banana, Kool Keith, Portrayal of Guilt, Blonde Redhead, and, above all else, style-hopping grindcore chaos agents (and spiritual forefathers) the Locust.

"We've just grown more comfortable with what we're doing, the music that makes us who we are," Jordan says. "And now there's maybe a kind of ambassadorship, which is really exciting."

Despite its unique perch in hardcore, Soul Glo is now in the curious position of speaking for the entirety of the genre. Debut Epitaph full-length Diaspora Problems is one of the most acclaimed albums of the year, full stop.

"The critical reception is really crazy, nobody expected it," reflects drummer TJ Stevenson. "My dad keeps me abreast of a lot of it. He's always sending me stuff like, 'Oh, yeah, they gave you this or this.'"

Indeed, it's the rare heavy-music crossover that seems almost accidental – a challenging band demanding attention by doubling down on the most singular aspects of their sound: lyrics that thread the line between radical politics and furious emotional introspection, audacious sonic pingponging, and sheer abrasive assault. Pitchfork readers and mosh pit devotees alike will find nothing diluted about the Soul Glo about to hit the road.

"It's going to take time. We're being introduced to a lot of listeners, people who are like, 'Oh, I'm listening to a hardcore band,'" promises Jordan. "But eventually they are just going to hear all that we do and just be like, 'This is a Soul Glo song.'"