15 SEPTEMBER 18-24, 2025 westword.com WESTWORD | CONTENTS | LETTERS | NIGHT+DAY | CULTURE | CAFE | MUSIC | FIND MORE MUSIC COVERAGE AT WESTWORD.COM/MUSIC The Craft MAY BE FERN IS BREWING SONIC SORCERY WITH THREE OF SWORDS. BY EMILY FERGUSON Pulling the Three of Swords in Tarot doesn’t often bring a winning reaction. Usually, it makes you clutch your head and stare into space and maybe dissociate for a few min- utes. Seasoned Tarot users, though, know there’s more to this card than despair. The card does look daunting: Three swords pierce through a heart, the tips of the blades dripping blood, while rain slices from storm clouds in the background. It represents grief and emotional turmoil, a convalescence of hard truths and painful disillusionment. But it also signifi es growth: When wounds are mended, renewal follows. If the card is reversed, the worst may be ending, but a diffi cult period of gradual healing is about to begin, posing an op- portunity that engenders strength and clarity. “The Three of Swords card is all about betrayal and moving on from that,” says Madi Spillman, the guitarist of Denver band May Be Fern. “That’s the theme of our whole album, which follows the arc of that healing. Tarot is a journey, and the album really tells an emotional journey that we took with each other — that we take with each other.” “The swords visualize how we work and operate,” adds vocalist/bassist Kate Fern. “We’re strong and cutting and ready to move past any obstacle.” May Be Fern’s new album, Three of Swords, dropped on September 13, and the band will celebrate the release at Globe Hall on Saturday, September 20, with openers Leashy and the Galentines. This sophomore effort has been worth the wait, even leveling up from the group’s fi rst LP, Okay Grandma, Your Turn, which won a 2024 Best of Denver award for Best Debut Album. As the Tarot card symbol- izes, May Be Fern has done a lot of growing, and the members are stronger and fi ercer than ever. “One of my favorite moments playing a show is walking in a room where no one believes in anything we’re doing and then completely fl ipping it,” says Spillman. Fern nods. “You can just see them looking at us wearing makeup and having heels on, and being like...” — she mimics a sneer. “And I’m like, ‘Don’t worry, you’ll regret that.’” But by now, anyone tuned into the local scene knows that May Be Fern is a force. When the band debuted “Blood Beach,” off Three of Swords, at the Bluebird Theater in the spring, the whole crowd was possessed. The song is the type of sonic sorcery that makes you feel as though you’re in a different world or time, with a synthy intro and creep- ing basslines that lead to Fern’s anthemic vocals, belting emotionally-charged lyrics that evoke moonlit images. May Be Fern has that undeniable “it fac- tor,” but when they head into unfamiliar ven- ues, Fern, Spillman and keyboardist Hannah May can still be made to feel as though they have something to prove. They know that some audience members will fall back on sexist, preconceived notions when they cross the stage in sky-high platform boots and mini skirts, looking like gogo girls stepping out of a vampy club and oozing cool. But that makes it all the more satisfying when they trample any doubts as soon as they begin to perform. As an example, Spillman recounts when the band played the famous Berkeley, Cali- fornia, punk venue 924 Gilman. “We’re not a punk band, like pretty much every other band on the bill that night,” she says, “and when we walked in, no one would really talk to us. The vibes were strange, all the bands knew each other, we were the odd ones out. Nobody gave us the time of day. “And then we played. We were in the middle of the bill, but they called for an en- core. So we played ‘Folsom Prison Blues’ and people were skating along in the middle of this jam-packed punk venue,” she continues. “And then everybody wanted to talk to us and wanted us to sign posters.” The band began in 2021 as a duo with May and Fern — hence the moniker — who bonded over a shared musical vision that landed somewhere between Fleetwood Mac and HEART. They especially identifi ed with HEART, because of Ann and Nancy Wilson. “The sisters were the power center of the band,” Fern says. “But ultimately that vision changed a little bit once we became a four-piece,” she adds. “We wanted it to continue to be a work of heart and a passion project, so when you add other hearts in there, obviously the fi nal project is going to change.” After a year playing as a pair, the pia- nist and bassist yearned to fl esh out their sound and found their fi rst drummer; all they needed was a guitarist. They didn’t have to search too hard: Spillman, a complete wizard on the axe, reached out herself. “I was like, ‘I know for a fact this chick is really talented,’” Fern recalls. “And we had just manifested a drummer, so it was exactly what we wanted to happen. It was exactly what we needed.” Since then, May Be Fern has become one of the hardest-working bands in Denver. Al- though most of the members have multiple full-time jobs on top of their main prior- ity, they took on almost any gig they could, steadily nurturing an ever-expanding fanbase with opening slots at the Bluebird Theater and a residency at Bar 404. After releasing its debut, the band continued pounding the pavement, performing at the main stage for Pride and recently touring with Rootbeer Richie & the Reveille. MUSIC continued on page 16 Left to right: Hannah May, Ian Spillman, Kate Fern and Madi Spillman. JOHN MCSWEENEY JOHN MCSWEENEY May Be Fern’s new album is available to stream now.
