Electric, I do declare. The newest staple of Java lore arrived Thursday in the form of a proudly LGBTQ+ shaggy redhead with an absurd amount of spunk and magnetism. Molly Martin came to our humble campus after nearly a decade in the Nashville, Tennessee music scene. She grew up just outside of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, with a decent fondness for country music that climaxed when she transferred from Tulane University to Belmont University in the heart of Nashville.   

Since graduating, Martin has released a string of singles, many featured on her 2020 EP “What You Need.” But, her true success coalesced earlier this year with the release of her debut LP, “Mary.” The album’s indie popularity earned her the high honor of the top search result when googling “Molly Martin.” I send my regards to the Associate Professor of Sociology and Demography at Pennsylvania State University and the Senior Strategist of New America. 

My sensationalistic introduction to Martin ensued when she entered the Java Barn sound booth, asking to livestream the concert over FaceTime for her girlfriend. What an entrance! I could immediately tell she was unlike this semester’s recent Thursday night bands. She had much more character and charisma, a care for not only her lyrical and melodic prowess but the affinity between artist and audience. Martin has clearly not reached the same heights as previous acts like Mint Green, who have taken their victorious 2023 to tone back their consistent crowd-pleasing spirit. These contemporary bands build signature brands that end up feeling forced rather than an inviting atmosphere of musical camaraderie. Even independent artists have become more like business ventures than passion projects.   

Essentially, I saw a spark of nostalgic passion in Martin’s act so rarely seen in modern indie musicians who capitalize on the instantaneous accessibility of Instagram and TikTok to broadcast their artist integrity as short snippets of flashy exposure to anyone who will listen. The vision of musicians as entrepreneurs has become all too prevalent in a world where aspiring artists like Martin must conform to the strict social media landscape if they want to survive.  

But I digress.   

The show itself was electric. I could not find a more concise way to describe her performance, so I asked the crowd. As the students trailed back and forth between the jam-packed-sweat-lodge venue and the multitude of dazed clusters outside the barn doors, I managed to snag a few poignant quotes from the huddled masses. When asked to sum up the spectacle in one word, various members of the Arts Annex illustrated the   “wild, so chill, and tubular” vibe. Greenhouse associate Madeline Haines ’25 criticized the severe magnitude of first-year students congregating around the venue, to which 2022 ConVal Regional High School Scholastic Arts Award Honorable Mention Avery Pope ’26 deeply dissented. “These people don’t even know how good they’re getting it,” Pope begins. “They’re literally getting an awesome show for completely free. This crowd should be packed all the way to that wall,” he expressed, aimlessly gesturing to the neighboring backside of Brown Hall. Truly inspiring sentiments.   

Overall, there was mixed tension within the crowd reception. No one I spoke with was overjoyed with Martin’s performance, nor were any onlookers profoundly disappointed. I personally believe Martin put on the best Java set since Moxie’s opening night. Her energy was wild. Her Nashville charm brought much-needed rejuvenation to St. Lawrence.   

As for the staff’s opinions, Java’s staple metal head Madeline Haydock ’26 declared the concert as “sexy,” while the house’s resident pretty boy, Luke Josephson ’26, proclaimed it “pickles.” I truly believe he understood the show’s significance better than I ever could.