B-Side Guys

Two songs, one piece of vinyl, opposing forces. The partnership between Marco Arroyo’s Goodbye, Beautiful project and Tara Craig—which previously yielded the Hang Fire EP’s atmospheric reimaginings—returns with stark purpose. Flood The Zone / Gilded Bastards captures 2025’s emotional whiplash in seven-inch format, pairing hope against fury, unity against defiance. All profits from this limited vinyl pressing go to The Trevor Project and The ACLU, transforming artistic response into direct action.

“Flood The Zone” emerged early in the year when both artists were actively searching for light during heavy times. The track functions as anthem without descending into empty uplift—it carries weight because it acknowledges what it’s pushing against. Arroyo’s production, honed through two decades of boundary-defying work across various projects, creates expansive space that refuses to feel escapist. Craig’s vocal performance channels the folk-pop and singer-songwriter roots she’s known for, but the arrangement points toward something larger than individual experience. The song advocates for togetherness and resilience not as abstract concepts but as practical strategies against chaos.

The collaboration process continues the cross-state methodology that has defined Arroyo’s recent partnerships—writing and recording from different locations (Arroyo in Austin, Craig in Friday Harbor, Washington) yet achieving immediacy that suggests shared physical space. That geographic separation served Arroyo’s previous work well: the Hang Fire EP with Meg Baier in Sedona transformed his instrumental compositions into intimate atmospheric pieces, while his earlier partnership with Craig yielded her self-titled album. Here, the long-distance approach takes on different meaning. When the world feels fractured, creating unity through deliberate remote partnership becomes its own statement.

“Gilded Bastards” arrived as the year darkened and circumstances demanded counterbalance. Where the A-side uplifts, the B-side burns. Craig steps entirely outside her established territory here—this is high-energy rock from an artist recognized for intimate folk confessionals and experimental vulnerability. Her self-titled album, created through her earlier partnership with Arroyo, showcased someone willing to excavate self through spiraling smoke and phantom movements, using whispers and wrecking-ball vocals to expose neglected recesses. That album moved through moody serenity and radiant vulnerability, tracing real misery around its edges with songs like “Forgotten Home” where she wept “I’ve lost so much / I’m not sure I can keep anything.”

“Gilded Bastards” trades all that careful excavation for blunt force. The urgency of the moment gave Craig something sharp to say, and she delivers it without her typical measured approach. The track transforms frustration into defiance, channeling rage that her previous work acknowledged but rarely weaponized. For listeners familiar with that vulnerability on her self-titled album, this new directness hits differently. Sometimes circumstances require putting aside nuance.

Arroyo’s production on “Gilded Bastards” maintains the textural depth that made his instrumental foundations so compelling while allowing Craig’s performance to dominate. His experience crafting atmospheric soundscapes doesn’t disappear—it just redirects toward supporting raw energy rather than creating contemplative space. The result sounds bold and blistering, descriptions rarely applied to either artist’s catalog but entirely appropriate here.

The deliberate pairing as A-side/B-side rather than separate singles creates conversation between tracks. Vinyl format enforces that relationship—you can’t shuffle past the unity to get to the defiance, or vice versa. The physical medium matters here, demanding listeners engage with both emotional registers in sequence. That choice reflects understanding that hope and resistance aren’t opposites but requirements, different strategies for the same survival.

The charitable component adds dimension without becoming the story. Donating all profits to The Trevor Project and The ACLU transforms these songs from artistic statement into material support. The organizations chosen aren’t random—The Trevor Project provides crisis intervention for LGBTQ+ youth, while the ACLU defends civil liberties under threat. The donation targets suggest what specific chaos these songs push against, what darkness prompted the need for both unity and defiance.

Limited vinyl pressing creates scarcity by design, turning the release into event rather than permanent catalog addition. Collectors and supporters must act rather than streaming passively. That approach suits material created from urgent response—these songs document specific moment in time, packaged as artifact that acknowledges its own temporality while hoping its messages remain relevant longer than we’d prefer.

Craig and Arroyo’s collaboration continues proving that geographic separation enables rather than hinders certain creative partnerships. Their previous work on Hang Fire transformed Arroyo’s instrumental compositions through Craig’s lyrics and melodies, creating intimate collaboration that defied distance. Those tracks—”Distress Signals,” “How Will Grief Look on You,” “Never Forget,” “Terroir”—existed in liminal spaces between states and genres, demonstrating how different landscapes shape artistic expression.

Flood The Zone / Gilded Bastards operates with less ambiguity. The songs know exactly what they’re doing and execute without hesitation. “Flood The Zone” reminds that togetherness can push back against chaos. “Gilded Bastards” demonstrates what to do when pushing back requires force. Together on seven inches of vinyl, profits redirected to organizations defending the vulnerable, they document how artists respond when circumstances demand more than observation. Sometimes collaboration means creating sanctuary. Sometimes it means creating weapons. This release does both.