Apolojeesus - Radical

Pia Parisi-Marcoux describes her music as a mesh of inspiration from her travels, “experimental techno in Montreal, power noise in Mexico City, psych hybrids in Sao Paolo.” In fact, she should currently be in Brazil. Like many of us, her path has been altered by the pandemic. 

Last year, she was awarded a Thomas J. Watson fellowship, a prestigious award which gives students about to graduate (in the U.S.) the opportunity to travel and research a topic of their choice. After graduating from Wheaton College, in Massachusetts, Marcoux spent last fall and part of this year traveling for her project on DIY communities. Her project is now interrupted. She was only able to pursue half of her travels, and is currently back home, in New York City.

We spoke briefly through email, and she wrote about booking shows, performing, and immersing herself in the DIY scenes. Her life has drastically changed in the last month. She recalls last summer, “I started in Montreal. From there, I went to Mexico, Puerto Rico, toured in Peru, Colombia, and Argentina, and then landed in Brazil before I had to come home.” I am intrigued by Marcoux’s position, being on both sides of the booking and performing, a balancing act of sorts. She has devoted most of her energy now to her music. 

Pia Parisi-Marcoux or Apolojeesus by Luna Rey Cano.

Radical is a single from the album Long Difference (which will be released on July 15.) It is the first album from Marcoux’s solo experimental pop project named Apolojeesus. She explained to me that this song is about “turning sadness/longing into a kind of religion, so as to avoid accountability for recovery,” but as soon as I listen, I hear it as an anthem of hope. It begins with a beautiful guitar plucking, a charming voice, metallic but angelic revealing “my self-hate has been fashioned into faith.” If it is a religion, it’s a silent one, a feeling in the narrator’s inner voice. I can hear the sadness and the longing, but I can also feel the sacredness that transcends from her voice. 

The rhythmic plucking turns into strumming, along with drums, and she repeats “I dream” in a chant, echoing a prayer for self-appreciation. This song holds a certain magic, and a resilience. Her lush guitar and rhythmic plucking offer an embrace. I feel immersed in her dark but holy world. As if it were a solace, an acknowledgement, and a nod to all the women who have ever doubted or criticized themselves. I imagine that we are all singing along, dreaming and healing from our bad thoughts.   

Words by Mána Taylor Hjörleifsdóttir.
Album artwork by Ale Kaicedo.