Frequencies: How Joe Hawley and a Fan Named Foss Rederman Found Themselves on the Same Wavelength
Joe Hawley? Sounds like he's got some competition!
By Foss Rederman | June 9, 2025
The underground halls of experimental pop, Joe Hawley—best known as the mysterious voice behind Tally Hall’s red tie—has cultivated a legacy of layered lyrics, existential dread disguised as whimsy, and a musical voice that dances between genres like a dream you’re not quite sure you had. But what happens when a fan not only hears the message but starts unknowingly echoing it in his own music?
Meet Foss Rederman, an independent artist and the accidental architect of Opposite Hall, an online band that started as a playful cover project—and morphed into something far more personal, thoughtful, and resonant.
“I didn’t start Opposite Hall to ‘make a living off premade tracks’ or anything,” Rederman explains. “It was mostly for fun—an accident if you will, something weird and experimental. But then I realized I was using it as a way to process a lot of the same themes that Joe seems obsessed with. Time, death, meaning... you know, the usual existential spiral.”
That spiral isn’t just artistic fluff. It's built into the DNA of both Hawley and Rederman’s music. From Tally Hall classics like “Hidden in the Sand”, to solo Hawley tracks like “The Mind Electric”, “Labyrinth”, and “Special,” there's a recurring motif: fractured perception, looping thoughts, cryptic warnings, and sudden tonal shifts that feel like waking from a fever dream.
Hawley’s ミラクルミュージカル project, Hawaii: Part II, in particular, hits like a conceptual companion to Rederman’s worldview—an album haunted by themes of parallel dimensions, cosmic fatalism, and psychological decay. Songs like:
“The Mind Electric” – a song about electroshock therapy, and mental illness;
“Labyrinth” – full of cryptic metaphors and mythic references, mirroring Foss’s own narrative-heavy songwriting;
“Dream Sweet in Sea Major” – which feels like floating through a metaphysical epilogue, touching themes of death, memory, and transcendence;
All of these align strikingly well with Rederman’s inner world, which has long been shaped by his favorite game: The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask.
“That game messed me up—in the best way,” Rederman says with a laugh. “The constant countdown to the moon crashing down… the masks, the tragedy, the quiet in-between moments—it all gave me this lifelong obsession with time and how fragile everything is. Not to mention, that when I first played Majora's Mask, I would always run to my mom when the moon crashed down into Termina.”
That obsession found its creative outlet in Opposite Hall, a name that playfully nods to Tally Hall while carving out its own identity. Originally launched as a lighthearted tribute band, plans to become somewhat original, "I've planned multiple original projects behind the scenes, so far only a few of them have ever been complete." Rederman says, “I want it to feel like a lucid dream,” Foss explains. “Like if Majora’s Mask were a band instead of a game.”
“There’s a kind of theatrical weirdness in Joe’s music that gave me permission to do the same,” says Foss. “He blends sincerity with surrealism in a way that lets you be both the clown and the philosopher.”
That influence runs deep, but Opposite Hall is no mere imitation. While Hawley often leans into cryptic minimalism and irony, Rederman’s voice adds a layer of emotional directness—less aloof, more intimate. It’s the sound of someone working through time loops not just for cleverness, but survival.
What started as a fun homage now stands as a compelling body of work in its own right. Opposite Hall is a band that wasn’t supposed to happen, and that’s exactly what makes it special: a strange mirror reflecting an artist’s subconscious back at him, then through him, to listeners ready to stare into the abyss—and sing along.
As Foss puts it: “It was kind of an accident. But then again, maybe all the best time loops are.”
Behind the Curtain: Harassment, Privacy Violations, and Crossing the Line
While Opposite Hall grew from a lighthearted creative experiment into an emotionally layered music project, its creator Foss Rederman found himself facing a much darker side of online spaces: targeted harassment, character attacks, and disturbing behavior from a group of individuals that included a user known publicly as Simon.
“I tried to stay focused on the music,” Rederman says. “But at a certain point, it became impossible to ignore what was being done to me and my friends.”
The situation escalated far beyond name-calling or artistic disagreements. Rederman and others involved in the project began compiling a growing Discord server full of evidence, documenting months of antagonistic behavior—ranging from repeated slurs, false accusations, and inappropriate content to personal violations that crossed serious ethical lines. Unfortunately, as Rederman states, "It was all gone. It was deleted because the fucking person who had the server made was scared and didn't want to get in trouble with them. So he cowardly deleted the server, and with the server being deleted, all the evidence was gone. All the chat logs we had, gone."
Rederman also says, “One of the worst moments was when they added me to a group chat and sent what appeared to be pedophilic art,” Rederman recounts. “It was incredibly upsetting. No one warned me, no one asked—it was just thrown at me. I could be wrong, but the image had one line that said 'Wow [character name], it's your first boner. Congrats.' 'W-what's a boner?'.”
Another incident involved what’s been described as a “shock fic” titled “The Milk Fic”, sent directly to Rederman. The content of the piece was described as disturbing, graphic, and deliberately disgusting, "Now look, I'm into some freaky shit, but this kind of shit crossed the boundary. It felt like they wanted to mentally shake me,” Rederman says. “It was meant to be triggering. I didn’t ask for it, and I definitely didn’t consent to being shown something like that.”
Even more concerning, a post made by Simon on Twitter included a photo of a wall that featured:
Foss’s own art,
Foss’s face,
And even a screenshot from someone’s shtwt (self-harm Twitter) account.
“To see my face and my art publicly displayed beside a self-harm post… it was terrifying and humiliating,” Foss says. “It wasn’t just a violation of privacy—it was an attempt to dehumanize me. To treat me like a symbol they could smear.”
These aren’t just isolated incidents. They form a pattern of intentional harm, documented across chats, screenshots, and interactions. Rederman and others impacted by this behavior are considering their options for how to protect themselves and ensure the material is preserved for any potential reporting or moderation.
“I’ve tried to be patient, to take the high road,” Rederman says. “But the reality is, they crossed a line a long time ago—and they need to be held accountable.”
Despite the chaos, Foss remains focused on what truly matters: the music, the art, and the community that Opposite Hall is building. “This isn’t going to stop me, it almost did once which ended up with me nearly taking my own life, but,” he says. “If anything, it reminds me why art matters—because it gives people like me a voice when others try to take it away.”