Good morning! Need an antidote for the algorithms? Looking for a place to share the music you love with like-minded people? You’re in the right spot.
As always, thank you to those who upgraded their subscriptions this past week. Your direct support fuels this community and makes a positive impact. Shares and reposts also help! Thank you!
When you’re ready, joining them is easy. Just click here:
For those of you who are new, we kick off every week by sharing what we’ve been playing.
The playlist below is some of what I’ve had in heavy rotation. This week, the pendulum again swings and it’s back to old faves and comfort sounds, with a few fresh tracks mixed in. We start with all-timers The dBs before launching into Home Front and Redd Kross
Side two kicks off with something from John Cale and ends with the Waterboys. Along the way, we stop in Motown, LA, and whatever universe gifted us Brothertiger.
I know I keep saying it, but it’s true: 2025 might be a hot mess, but not when it comes to new music.
The flood of great records continues! Today we’re taking a quick look at the latest from BRNDA, Grant Pavol, Water From Your Eyes, and Die Spitz.
Longtime readers may recall that I reviewed 100 new (to me) records last year. Because I’m a glutton for punishment love music, I’m doing it again this year. This is the latest in the series.
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a look at the latest from BRNDA, Die Spitz, and more!
The boilerplate intro:
Every year, I celebrate all the great music we’ve been gifted while worrying that next year will see the other shoe drop. I first did that in December 2020 and have been proven wrong every month since. Not only are there a ton of releases steadily coming out, but it also transcends genre or any other artificial guardrail we try and put up—
In other words, a ton of good stuff is coming out, and there’s something for everyone. It’s almost overwhelming— but in all the best ways. Below is another batch that caught my attention recently.
A lot of recent releases landed on my radar all at once, and I want to shine a light on them before too much more time passes. Not quite an 88 lines about 44 records kind of deal, but close. More of a clearing the decks, if you will.
Let’s get into it!
BRNDA – Total Pain
Emerging from the D.C. music scene sometime around 2011 or 2012, BRNDA has spent over a decade honing a sound that blends post-punk urgency, twee charm, and occasional nervous energy into something uniquely their own. Their latest record, Total Pain, balances moments of melancholy with bursts of off-kilter humor, producing a listening experience that feels both optimistic and restless.
From the opening moments of Peach Pit, Leah Gage, Dave Lesser, Mark McInermey, and Nick Stavely set a tone reminiscent of Dry Cleaning, pairing post-punk guitars with a detached vocal delivery. Lyrically, the album is sharp, sardonic, and often self-aware. I mean, with lines like “And again and again and again and again and you’re really not making any new friends” and “And you spend and you spend and pretend and pretend that they care that you’re reading August Wilson’s Fences,” what else can you say?
Tracks like Books Are Bad showcase a strolling bass line and vocal stylings that might evoke Chris Frantz for listeners of a certain age, while Burn the Zoo continues the album’s rambling, improvisational mood. MT Eyes offers a lighter, twee-infused interlude, recalling the charm of Tullycraft, while Everyone Chicago hits with angular riffs, urgent energy, and—yes—a flute, adding an unexpected flourish I absolutely did not have on my bingo card.
Go for Gold leans into playful absurdity with squeaks, squonks, and nonsensical lyrics like “Who’s gonna break the code? Do your knuckle worst / Breakfast of mushroom champions eat first / Who’s gonna cut my carbon? Who’s gonna cut my steak?” Yet beneath the humor, the album is suffused with subtle sadness. As the band notes,“We didn’t need to call the album Total Pain… but pain infuses the album.”
The record’s energy bounces between nervous, melodic post-punk and playful experimentation. Parquet Courts comparisons aren’t far off, but BRNDA distinguishes itself by taking turns on vocals that shine brightest when Leah Gage takes the lead, particularly on tracks like Cool Night. Themes of life’s anxieties, domestic chaos, and paranoia weave throughout, creating a record that to my ear feels both intimate and unhinged. Apropos of nothing, I read in an interview that Gage and Lesser are parents of a toddler. Having been there/done that, the frazzled mindset of this record makes sense.
Standout moments like Blenderman exemplify this duality: the repeated line “I could (feelin’ lucky) win or time could beat me / I could (feelin’ lucky) win” captures hope tempered by existential uncertainty. The album closes with the delicious chaos of My Mother, a tense, slightly bonkers meditation on the modern family.
For fans of Sweeping Promises, Dry Cleaning, and Cola. Bandcamp also suggested Gaadge, which, to be honest, isn’t a bad call, either. (Bandcamp link)
Grant Pavol- Save Some Time (EP)
A little bit Krautrock, a little bit Yo La Tengo, with a dusting of twang across the top. This EP is enjoyable from start to finish. Save Some Time is a record Pavol describes as “an adult reassessment of youthful insecurity, carrying the weight of big emotions with a steady hand.” It’s also described as a bit like the Velvet Underground at their most Cale-Forward, which is fair. (Bandcamp link)
Die Spitz- Something to Consume
One thing you should know about me is that I’m a grammar nerd. Words matter. Definitions matter. And I suppose whether or not you consider a record an EP matters where you draw the line. Is it at four tracks? 6? I mention this because everything I’ve seen online refers to this record as the band’s debut. That might make for easy copy, but it ignores 2022 EP The Revenge of Evangeline and 2023’s 7-song release, Teeth.
Okay, rant over.
My elevator pitch for this Austin-based quartet has always been simple: Die Spitz is the Gen Z equivalent of L7. To be clear, that’s meant as high praise. They’re fast, loud, and have something to say— and exactly zero Fs to give. Ava Schrobilgen, Chloe De St. Aubin, Eleanor Livingston, and Kate Halter also happen to be talented musicians. 2023’s record was centered around “Hair of Dog,” one of my favorite tracks of the year, and the EP quickly found its way onto my Best of 2023 list. It set the stage for Something to Consume. Almost a rough draft, if you will. That’s not to say that this record has the edges sanded off- it absolutely doesn’t- but it’s clear that the group has worked to evolve from those early beginnings.
The first notes of opener “Pop Punk Anthem (Sorry For The Delay)” tell listeners in no uncertain terms that this ride is different. It’s almost radio-friendly. Almost. Ditto follow-up “Voir Dire.” If you have a hard rock station in your local market, don’t be surprised to hear the latter on the air at some point. Any concerns that the band might’ve lost its edge (whatever that means) are erased with “Throw Yourself to the Sword” and its piledriver riff. “Sound to No One” balances heaviness with ethereal vocals. “RIDING WITH MY GIRLS” is all gas and no brakes and purpose-built for getting the pit going.
Like L7 before them, Die Spitz’s sound is fueled by rage at the injustice(s) around them. The targets may have changed, the ferocity has not. In an era where terms like “punk” are co-opted into aesthetics, Die Spitz makes it all refreshingly honest again. The album takes the best parts of Teeth and levels up. In a word? Something to Comsume is extraordinary. (Bandcamp link)
Water From Your Eyes- It’s a Beautiful Place
Water From Your Eyes has been bending guitars into shapes you wouldn’t think possible for nearly a decade. The Brooklyn-by-way-of-Chicago duo of Rachel Brown and Nate Amos has built a catalog where the instrument is less an anchor and more a medium. Their live shows are notorious for stretching the songs until they blur into the unrecognizable. I suppose that’s fitting; this band thrives on the idea that the analog and digital worlds don’t need to agree—they just need to collide.
It’s a Beautiful Place opens with “One Small Step,” a blurry half-minute prelude that quickly gives way to “Life Signs,” and we’re off to the races. The song staggers and surges, with all kinds of time signatures
“Nights In Armor” charges further onward with a killer groove, Brown’s voice slicing through the circular bassline with a line that doubles as both invitation and dare: “I just want to fight you ’cause I’m tired.” It’s disarmingly simple, yet lands hard. Then comes “Born 2,” a warped cousin of a Weezer anthem fed through a psychedelic filter. Amos’s guitar churns in heavy downstrokes while Brown hovers just above accessibility.
The interludes scattered across the record serve as a chance to catch your breath and get your bearings.
“Spaceship” takes a break from gravity and order, the guitars dissolving into backward swells and percussion that lands like meteors. Next up is “Playing Classics,” a highlight built on club-ready synths and a deadpan vocal. It’s funny, strange, and incredibly addictive. If you’re in the market for an earrowm, start here.
Elsewhere, “Blood on the Dollar” trades distortion for restraint, Amos’s country-tinged guitar floating beneath Brown’s more reflective delivery. But even here, the band resists simplicity, adding textures that complicate what could have been an easy folk-rock closer. The title track and final instrumental tie everything together nicely, ending the record similarly to how it started.
Across It’s a Beautiful Place, Brown and Amos ricochet between maximalist noise, crooked pop structures, and ambience, every song a shot at testing the elasticity of sound. This record asks you to commit multiple listens before making any judgment calls—not because it’s elusive (okay, it is a little), but because it keeps giving more each time. (Bandcamp link)
As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts on these records! Did I get it right, or am I way off the mark?
Good morning! Need an antidote for the algorithms? Looking for a place to share the music you love with like-minded people? You’re in the right spot.
As always, thank you to those who upgraded their subscriptions this past week. Your direct support fuels this community and makes a positive impact. Shares and reposts also help! Thank you!
When you’re ready, joining them is easy. Just click here:
For those of you who are new, we kick off every week by sharing what we’ve been playing.
The playlist below is some of what I’ve had in heavy rotation. This week, we again overindex new tracks, with a couple of old faves balancing things out. We start with community fave Water From Your Eyes before kicking into high gear with a 1-2 punch of Bob Mould & Die Spitz. From there, we’ve got the latest from our friend,
The Ririverse, and we end Side 1 with the latest from a longtime DC area band.
Side two kicks off with a track from a record I once deemed the #4 record of all time, before taking a trip to Pittsburgh to hear some Gaadge. I’m not on Threads anymore, but before I left, I was lucky to meet a couple of you and find Palm Ghosts. Their latest is here. Here’s to silver linings.
I know I keep saying it, but it’s true: 2025 might be a hot mess, but not when it comes to new music.
Note: Last night I had the pleasure of seeing Garrett Graff speak. Graff is the author of several books, including The Only Plane in the Sky, a harrowing recount of 9/11 as told by those who were there. Below is mine. I originally wrote this to mark the 20th anniversary of that day. I’d like to think my writing style has changed a bit in the years since. My feelings about 9/11 have not. Thanks for letting me share this. We’ll be back to our regularly scheduled programming tomorrow.
September 11th was the day the evil came to the United States. It was the day that evil came to most people’s lives.
They didn’t think it existed. They came and it exists. And it was in our backyard.
~Mary Galligan, former head of FBI’s PENTTBOM team
It’s hard to believe that over 20 years have passed since that day. The actual events were over fairly quickly-just a few hours, really. But 9/11 was an inflection point for this country, and in a lot of ways it still hasn’t ended.
Aviation today is almost unrecognizable — if you’re old enough that 9/11 was a lived event, you’re old enough to remember not having to take off your shoes, and having friends meet you at the gate.
Another good way to “tell someone your age without telling them your age” is to have a plane fly overhead at low altitude. Anyone who was around that day will still reflexively look up.
Memories can be quirky. Quiz me about last week, and I’d be hard-pressed to answer. Ask me about 9/11, and I can tell you almost anything with amazing clarity. Not just the obvious parts, but much smaller details:
What the weather was like.
The sounds (or lack thereof).
How calm my commute to the airport was — I followed a white car over the Glenn Jackson bridge.
Snippets of conversations.
The tinny voice coming out of the AM dial in my work truck as I “guarded” grounded aircraft.
I’ve tried to write this story multiple times — the funny thing about 9/11 is that everyone wants to share “their” story — but I keep getting tripped up. It’s hard to do justice to something so profound, yet something we each experienced in our own unique way.
I hope that sentence reads better than I think it does.
The aviation community is extremely fraternal. Maybe second only to law enforcement. Everyone “knows a guy” at this carrier or that station. It may not have been our our paint on those 4 planes, but in an abstract way it still us, you know?
I was that kid who used to look up and stare at planes flying overhead. In a lot of ways, I still am. To realize that these machines had been turned into weapons of mass destruction was devastating. To wonder what those last minutes were like is more than I can bear.
Flights departing the East Coast were already in the air when the FAA decided to ground all air traffic. Those flights were diverted to the nearest available concrete. Flights inbound from Asia and Europe overwhelmed Canadian airports on both ends of the country.
Where I spent 9/11/2001. Photo: Airliners.Net/Chris Coduto
Flights on the West Coast, where I was, had for the most part never left. Gates are usually full overnight, but rarely at midday. Yet there all the planes were, still tucked in from the night before.
The airport looked as if it had just overslept.
We had five planes on the ground. I was initially tasked with “guarding” one. Against what, I didn’t know. I also wasn’t armed or trained — before 9/11, the protocol was to accommodate a suspect’s demands as best you could — so I spent most of the day sitting on the hood of our station’s truck, smoking and listening to the radio. What else was I gonna do? I’ve since come to think this assignment was borne more out of a need to feel like we were doing something than anything else.
The people I worked with did not do helpless well.
As the afternoon moved into evening, we decided that playing sentry was pointless and regrouped to watch TV in our break room. We had a TV strapped to a cart like schools used to. Reception was dodgy, and developments came sporadically.
Meanwhile, our teletype printer never stopped. Looking back, I wish I would’ve saved some of those messages, but the paper fades after a few years, so it wouldn’t have done much good. Everything is ephemeral.
And everything with 9/11 is like a paradox. Recounting the day can be paralytic, and yet the words flow easily. I never really talk that much about 9/11, yet find myself writing too much, going off in every direction lest I dishonor the story by leaving some small part out.
The beautiful weather didn’t match the hellish events.
Airports were quiet.
Traffic calm.
Being high on adrenaline and drained all at once.
A few weeks ago, my state’s newspaper called for submissions. Readers were asked to send in their memories. Posts were to be capped at 250 words. At first, those guardrails seemed like a constraint. In the end, they were freeing.
I did what I could. I think I managed okay. The words below are my submission. This is my story.
I work for an airline. In 2001, I was a new crew chief working the night shift in Portland, Oregon. I was sleeping when our phone started ringing off the hook. Our friends back east were already seeing the horror show unfold. They woke us up just in time to watch the second plane hit, and our lives forever changed.
I was called into work early that day to “guard” our planes; an absurd request, given that none of us were armed, and our training at the time was to accommodate the demands of any threat (much like the flight crews on that day). All of that would change shortly.
In the meantime, I spent most of Tuesday, September 11th, 2001, sitting on the hood of our station’s 20-year-old truck listening to ABC News on AM radio.
People will tell you that it was beautiful that day, and it was. It was sunny in NYC and clear and a million on the West Coast. It was quiet, too; no noise on an airfield is both rare and disconcerting.
Late that night, we were still glued to our break room TV. The graveyard supervisor came in and wondered why we weren’t working. He’d left his previous shift in an ordinary world, slept all day, and returned that night to one that was now unrecognizable to any of us.
One guy wordlessly pointed at the TV. He took a seat and watched with us all.
Wherever the day finds you, I hope the weather is as beautiful as it was that Tuesday morning in 2001.
And please spare a second for the flight crews who fought so valiantly for us before we knew anything was wrong.
Good morning! Need an antidote for the algorithms? Looking for a place to share the music you love with like-minded people? You’re in the right spot.
As always, thank you to those who upgraded their subscriptions this past week. Your direct support fuels this community and makes a positive impact. Shares and reposts also help! Thank you!
When you’re ready, joining them is easy. Just click here:
The flood of great records continues! Today we’re taking a quick look at the latest from The Beths, Suede, Smut, and more!
Longtime readers may recall that I reviewed 100 new (to me) records last year. Because I’m a glutton for punishment love music, I’m doing it again this year. This is the latest in the series.
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a look at the latest from The Beths, Jens Kuross, Smut, and more!
The boilerplate intro:
Every year, I celebrate all the great music we’ve been gifted while worrying that next year will see the other shoe drop. I first did that in December 2020 and have been proven wrong every month since. Not only are there a ton of releases steadily coming out, but it also transcends genre or any other artificial guardrail we try and put up—
In other words, a ton of good stuff is coming out, and there’s something for everyone. It’s almost overwhelming— but in all the best ways. Below is another batch that caught my attention recently.
A lot of recent releases landed on my radar all at once, and I want to shine a light on them before too much more time passes. Not quite an 88 lines about 44 records kind of deal, but close. More of a clearing the decks, if you will.
Let’s get into it!
The Beths- Straight Line Was a Lie
As someone now squarely in middle age, I sometimes question writing about new, hip bands. Should a suburban dad be writing about whatever the kids like? I dunno. What I do know is that I like The Beths. I liked Expert in a Dying Field and love this latest release.
The record opens with a familiar ring, landing squarely in that Beths sweet spot: catchy enough to feel like it’s been rattling around your brain for years, but just weird and self-aware enough to ever get filed under “power pop.” But from there, things get… sketchier. Elizabeth Stokes has been candid about her recent health struggles. That shadow looms large here— not a downer per se, but in the gravity of song titles like “No Joy” and “Mother, Pray For Me,” and in the slower, more introspective undercurrent that runs through the record.
In the press release, Stokes noted, “I was kind of dealing with a new brain…it was like my instincts were just a little different. They weren’t as panicky.” She also mentioned that many of these tracks were written using a Remington typewriter, which IMO is fantastic. Hammering those keys daily for a month resulted in about 10 pages worth of material, much of which ultimately found its way here.
Still, this isn’t a total pivot. The Beths can still rip. “No Joy” is a sharp track, and “Metal” and “Best Laid Plans” punch through the clouds with bright, hyper-melodic jangle, the latter even flirting with some Day-Glo 80s new wave shimmer. “Roundabout” (no, not that “Roundabout”) feels like a lost gem from a late-night college radio set. As for “Take?” I’m not saying I listened to it 3x in a row on the drive home the other day, but I’m not not sayin’ it, either.
No lie: Look for this to be on a lot of AOTY lists come December/January. (Bandcamp Link)
Suede- Antidepressants
Suede’s tenth studio album is like a lightning bolt. Their first new music since 2022’s Autofiction feels less like a continuation and more like an aftershock—proof that this band, after nearly forty years in the game, has no interest in setting the autopilot and coasting along..
The record opens with “Disintegrate,” which feels like a rollercoaster drop into chaos. It’s loud, frayed, and hella angsty. That sets the tone for everything that follows: songs designed less as comfort food and more as jolts to our already overloaded nervous systems.
“If Autofiction was our punk record, Antidepressants is our post-punk record…It’s about the tensions of modern life, the paranoia, the anxiety, the neurosis. We are all striving for connection in a disconnected world. This was the feel I wanted the songs to have. The album is called Antidepressants. This is broken music for broken people.”
Suede frontman Brett Andersen
I first thought that “Disintegrate” would be the record’s feature track…and then track 2 started. “Dancing with the Europeans” is bombastic, theatrical, and over the top in all the best ways, and I’m 100% here for it.
“Criminal Ways” reminds me of early Smiths (maybe “How Soon is Now?”) and is glorious and trashy in equal measure. Andersen is in full voice here, with the band swirling around him with the urgency of people who know time is short. This is Suede mining the same sounds that made them a force in the first place—only now with the added benefit of perspective.
“Trance State” sounds like something that could have just as easily come from Republic-era New Order. I know, I know. I can see you shaking your head from here. But give it a listen—especially the bass line—and tell me it’s not reminiscent of Hooky’s work. Regardless, it’s an awesome track.
Back to my original point, what’s most striking to me is how much Antidepressants refuse to “settle.” The lyrics are heavy with dread and dissonance and are particularly relevant in this moment when everything seems particularly fraught.
Coasting would’ve been easy—and I don’t think anyone would’ve blamed them. Instead, they’ve doubled down on urgency and almost dare people not to pay attention. I know I’ve (over)used that word here plenty, but listening to the record, it’s the theme I keep coming back to.
Ten albums in, Suede sounds like a band running out of time but unwilling to slow down. The ultimate winner in all this? Us. The world might be coming apart at the seams, but at least we can say we were around to see some of Suede’s best work. (Suede’s website)
Jens Kuross- Crooked Songs
Kuross’s story is a familiar one: singer-songwriter decamps to LA with bright eyes and hope for the future, only to be chewed up and spit out by the machine. Sick of being on the fringes eking out a living as a session musician, he returned to Idaho and returned to basics. In this case, that means an entire record of just his vocals and an electric piano. The kind of thing you listen to with a glass of whiskey while you dream of going off the grid and building a boat by hand in a garage somewhere. On paper, this sounds like a solid concept. To be fair, this isn’t really in my wheelhouse, but even with that aside, I couldn’t get past the muddled mix. I’m sure that was intentional and meant to give the whole thing some sort of mystery or whatever, but Kuross’s voice is already an acquired taste. Doing this in a much more straightforward manner would have really gone a long way. With only his voice and the piano, you can only go so many directions, and Crooked Songs quickly falls into the sameness trap. If you like this sort of thing, it’s a fun place to be. For most of us, though, this is music best consumed in small doses. A song here or there is plenty. (Bandcamp link)
Smut- Tomorrow Comes Crashing
A lot has happened since Smut released their previous record, 2022’s How the Light Felt. The record had a poignant, almost ethereal quality, informed by the death of singer Tay Roebuck’s sister. At the risk of being too clever by half, in many ways, the record felt like the low light of autumn (not derogatory).
In the meantime, the band has moved, Roebuck and band member Andie Min married, and the lineup has changed, with John Steiner and Aidan O’Connor joining on bass & drums. That rhythm section sets an excellent foundation for a louder, cleaner sound. Think less Saint Etienne or Sundays and more Hole. It’s as if they’ve realized that the amps actually go up to 10. Andrew Rogers and Sam Ruschman are both on guitar, and while their presence is certainly out front, the ferocity never overtakes the sound. They alternate between clean hooks and blast furnace power chords at the right time/pace. Roebuck’s voice is the secret weapon here. She’s equally at home singing in an almost lullaby to a full-throated scream and everything in between. It not only keeps the gutiars in check, it elevates them.
You’re out of luck if you’re looking for a heavier, sludgy sound. You’ve hit pay dirt if you like your indie rock jangly with bright, clean vocals. And if you like all of that tinged with a 90s influence? Well, you might have a new favorite record on your hands.
Tomorrow Comes Crashing has something for both camps. (Bandcamp link)
Also awesome:
Planet Smashers-On the Dancefloor: Solid ska out of Montreal. I run hot and cold with this genre. I love first wave stuff, but have no taste for the unserious stylings of bands like Reel Big Fish. Not everything needs to be a joke! Thankfully, the band’s 10th record is enjoyable. Neville Staple of The Specials makes an appearance here as well. Rad! (Bandcamp link)
Mo Lowda & The Humble- Tailing the Ghost: Fun fact: These guys headlined the first show I saw post-COVID, and it was worth the wait. At any rate, Tailing the Ghost is More of the soulful sound you’ve come to expect from these Philly-based groove merchants, with tracks like “Canary” leading the way. Looks like they’re on tour again. If they’re comin’ your way, make a plan to check ‘em out! (Shopify link)
Terminal Buildings- Belles of the Bucket:The second of a 1-2 punch of records released nearly simultaneously. While A Binful of Bells was a sprawling affair, this is much more compact, and the tunes are much more economical. Speaking with frontman Finlay via email, he described the record as “[taking] the cast-offs that were too punchy to fit in with the rest of that album. The songs were written and recorded on either side of a move back to my home city of Aberdeen, which is why it took so long.” This is a fantastic dose of straight-ahead lo-fi power pop. Imagine a slightly more wistful version of GBV, and you‘ve got the gist. Also worth noting that these records are priced at Pay What You Can, with all revenue going to charity. (Bandcamp link)
As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts on these records! Did I get it right, or am I way off the mark?
We’re in for a treat today; Gelli Haha stops by to talk about her latest record Switcheroo, how it came to be, and what’s coming next.
There’s a particular kind of pop record that doesn’t wait to be invited in—it knocks down your door and dares you to keep up. Switcheroo, the debut LP from Gelli Haha (aka Angel Abaya), doesn’t waste time being performatively cool. It’s too busy being genius. Equal parts sugar rush, fever dream, and circus act, this kind of album turns overthinking into a punchline and escapism into high art.
Gelli Haha (pronounced “jelly”) has built a chaotic wonderland, aka the “Gelliverse,” where the synths are steady, beats alternate between hiccup-y and booming, and every note feels hand-drawn in crayon and glitter glue (and slightly outside the lines). Imagine your favorite dream pop band grabbing a copy of The B-52s’ Whammy! on the way to the launch pad, taking off, and crash-landing in an electroclash warehouse party in the coolest part of the galaxy.
That said, Switcheroo isn’t just wacky for wackiness’ sake. There’s a wry intelligence to it all, a real structure hiding beneath the glitz. Tracks like “Tiramisu” make you laugh…and then realize you’ve been singing along. “Spit” will remind you of all those hot, sweaty nights at the club back in the day. “Bounce House” is purpose-built for the pop charts. Seriously, why is this not climbing the Hot 100 already?! Even the deliberately juvenile “Piss Artist” glows with confidence and (per Bandcamp) revels in tequila-fueled storytelling about an infamous party moment (involving a jar — don’t ask, just dance). Fair enough! Another artist might’ve buried it as a skit. Gelli Haha put it right in the middle of the album. Meanwhile, tracks like “Dynamite” chug along at just the right pace/BPM.
The record saves the best for last. “Pluto is not a planet; it’s a restaurant” (this writer’s favorite track on the record) takes all of the above and puts it in a blender, pouring out grandiose synths, pulsing beats, and a cathedral sound that will make you feel like you’re floating untethered in space.
Maybe it’s just me, but here’s something liberating about how this album refuses to care what you think. It’s not just theatrical—it’s maximalist identity performance with zero fucks given apologies. Gelli Haha isn’t aiming for relatability; she’s too busy being a pop gremlin, and tbh, that rules. The whole project feels like a rejection of our (collective) obsession with being “real,” that’s often ripping through the usual music discourse channels. Instead, she turns her persona into a playground—and lets you run wild with it.
Switcheroo is weird, hilarious, and absolutely unhinged—and it might be the most fun I’ve had with a record all year. Listening makes joy feel like a radical act- a rare treat in the current era. Once you’re in the Gelliverse, you may never want to leave. I certainly don’t.
I recently had a chance to chat with her via email. In our wide-ranging discussion, we talked about how the concept for Switcheroo came to pass, what she hopes listeners will take away from it, and what’s coming next. Our chat has only been lightly edited for grammar and flow.
KA—
For those that might not know, can you walk us through the backstory of how this project came together?
Gelli Haha is a project born out of curiosity. I wanted to create something that was fun and moved people physically and emotionally—fun music to dance to, something mystical and enchanting, and silly. A couple of years ago, I started working with Sean Guerin of De Lux, wrote dozens of demos, and then created a live performance art world to accompany the project.
On Bandcamp, a supporter described the records as “…like Kate Bush meets Suburban Lawns, and it is pretty good!” Is that an accurate take?
It’s subjective, but I like those artists. Kate Bush was a top influence for the project. I’ve not listened to Suburban Lawns much, though. There’s more of an experimental, electronic flavor to the record as well that goes beyond these artists.
Switcheroo has been described as an “exercise in letting go, an inside joke turned theatrical spectacle.” Say more please.
In order to make the record, I had to let go of some old tendencies of mine. I can be a bit of a perfectionist and want people to take me seriously. This record sounds very free because I had to become very free to make it. We wanted the project to feel like something everyone is in on, like the audience is involved somehow. And it’s all just really goofy. When we perform, we have mini trampolines and dolphin balloons and boxing matches and snakes in a can.
Listening to the record, I can hear everything from Italodisco to the B-52s and back again. Are there any artists who had a particular influence on the sound here?
I’m a big fan of Björk, Animal Collective, of Montreal…and lots of obscure late 70s/early 80s records that Sean showed me. But I also grew up listening to pop radio and MTV, going to musicals, and being in a choir and orchestra, so there’s a lot of influence coming from everywhere.
What’s the songwriting process look like? What generally comes first, the music/beats or the lyrics?
I made about 45 demos, each a minute or so long. Sean and I picked which ones we liked the most and expanded upon them together. Vocals and lyrics followed suit. Sometimes, they came quickly, and other times, we had to search a little bit.
If you had to narrow it down, what’s one thing you hope someone will get out of listening to Switcheroo?
A laugh.
What’s next? Any shows? Touring? What’s the back half of 2025 look like?
We have some fun things in the works for later this year to be announced!
Last one, just for fun; I bump into you as you’re walking out of the record store. What records are you carrying?
Tom Tom Club by Tom Tom Club, Philharmony by Haruomi Hosono, and Oops!…I Did It Again by Britney Spears.
Listen:
Gelli Haha | Switcheroo (2025)
Click the record to listen on the platform of your choice.
Good morning and Happy Labor Day to those of you reading in the U.S.!
Need an antidote for the algorithms? Looking for a place to share the music you love with like-minded people? You’re in the right spot.
As always, thank you to those who upgraded their subscriptions this past week. Your direct support fuels this community and makes a positive impact. Shares and reposts also help! Thank you!
When you’re ready, joining them is easy. Just click here:
For those of you who are new, we kick off every week by sharing what we’ve been playing.
The playlist below is some of what I’ve had in heavy rotation. This week has again been more of a balance between new tracks and old faves, with a local favorite thrown in for good measure.
2025 might be a hot mess, but not where new music is concerned.
The flood of great records continues! Today we’re taking a quick look at the latest from Superchunk, The Cavernous, and Case Oats (and more!)
Longtime readers may recall that I reviewed 100 new (to me) records last year. Because I’m a glutton for punishment love music, I’m doing it again this year. This is the latest in the series.
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a look at the latest from Superchunk, The Cavernous, Case Oats, and more!
Every year, I celebrate all the great music we’ve been gifted while worrying that next year will see the other shoe drop. I first did that in December 2020 and have been proven wrong every month since. Not only are there a ton of releases steadily coming out, but it also transcends genre or any other artificial guardrail we try and put up—
In other words, a ton of good stuff is coming out, and there’s something for everyone. It’s almost overwhelming— but in all the best ways. Below is another batch that caught my attention recently.
A lot of recent releases landed on my radar all at once, and I want to shine a light on them before too much more time passes. Not quite an 88 lines about 44 records kind of deal, but close. More of a clearing the decks, if you will.
Let’s get into it!
Superchunk – Sounds From the Key of Yikes
When I was a teenager, I was a holy terror behind the wheel. It was hammer down all the time from a kid who could barely see over the steering wheel. Tracks like Superchunk’s “Precision Auto” were the perfect soundtrack. Mac McCaughan had some shit to get off his chest, and I was there for it. Albums like ’93’s On the Mouth were the perfect record for where I was at the time.
Flash forward to 2025: I drive a wagon, and while I’m not quite at the stage where I call out every sign I pass, it’s close. Not being able to see very well doesn’t help.
Mac McCaughan, on the other hand, sees things perfectly. As he’s racked up the miles—er, years—his writing (and the band’s sound) has taken on a much more reflective tone. He’s still railing against a lot of the issues of the day, but there’s more perspective—the kind that can only be earned by the years (see also: Mould, Bob).
Talking about 2022’sWild Loneliness, I noted that “Wild Loneliness finds the band in a more contemplative place. Lead singer Mac McCaughan isn’t railing so much as he’s reflecting.”
On this release, he’s somewhere in the middle.
With Jon Wurster having left and Laura Ballance no longer touring with the band, Superchunk have a real Ship of Theseus thing starting to happen. Yes, I know Ballance still plays on the records themselves, but still.
Fear not; the tone has softened, but only a little, and the band continues the trajectory started with 2018’s What a Time to Be Alive. It’s overtly political, but not annoyingly so, and when things are couched in power-pop goodness, the medicine goes down easy.
Opener “Is It Making You Feel Something” starts the record off strong with all the fizzy pop and chunky power chords we’ve come to expect. Say what you will, but for my money, guitarist Jim Wilbur is this band’s secret sauce.
“Bruised Lung” keeps things moving right along, and so do the next couple of tracks. McCaughan is optimistic, but there’s lament creeping in—almost like he’s forcing a smile as resistance. Our generation is quite good at performative nonchalance, and when he sings:
I’m trying to care less I’m trying to care less Don’t make me remember What I can’t forget I’m trying to care less, yeah
I’m not sure if he’s being serious or sardonic. Is this a political rant about the current state of play, or an updated version of Driveway to Driveway?
If you like mid-discography Superchunk, you’ll find plenty here to dig. What you see is what you get; no one’s trying to make a concept record. If you’re all in on the early stuff, you might find the edges a little too sanded off, but odds are good you’ve thought that for a while now. It’s easy to get consumed by (waves hands all around), and while fully checking out isn’t an option, trying to care less is sage advice.
I don’t know that anyone will claim this as their new favorite record by the band, but it’s got a lot of what’s helped them make it to elder statesman status, and with just the right blend of angry and sanguine, it’s the right record for right now. (Bandcamp link)
Case Oats- Last Missouri Exit
I have this daydream that I’ll retire early from my job, hit the Midwest backroads, and restart my quest for the four calendar cafe. I did this a lot in my early 20s, coming close a couple of times, but never hit the jackpot. This time around, I’d find it- just as imagined; a clean, well-lit place, populated with locals sitting in the same spots their families have for generations. Where everyone knows your name (except for me, obvs), and the coffee is strong enough to stand a spoon up in. The menus are one-sided single laminate sheets, and the aroma of the freshly baked pie is seared into the slightly cracked vinyl booths. You can see over the diner counter back into the kitchen where a radio is perched up on a shelf (antenna pointed just so), and you’ll hear something like Case Oats’ “In a Bungalow” coming through the tinny speakers. It will be exactly what I’ve been looking for, and it will be fantastic.
I never really know what I’m looking for when it comes to alt-country or Americana. As both a fan ofsad dad bands and a music writer, saying I’m mostly looking for a vibe might not be the best approach, but that’s what happens. Albums in this lane either have that vibe (see above) or they don’t. Last Missouri Exit checks all the boxes. Casey Walker’s plaintive vocals feel authentic in a way that’s becoming increasingly rare. When she’s singing about life and lives lived, you feel it. Supporting her is a lot of talent, including Spencer Tweedy. It takes a lot of work to sound this unpolished, but they make light work of it.
Last Missouri Exit doesn’t stray too far from the plan here. Like those one-page menus, the tracks are simple and to the point (not derogatory). No one will describe this album as pushing boundaries—and it never tries to. This is a record that feels as lived-in as those booths. And it, too, is fantastic. (Bandcamp link)
The Cavernous – Please Hold
The (literal) pitch: It’s a lo-fi, trip-hop–leaning album accessible only by calling a North American toll-free number. The record blends ambient textures, eerie downtempo, and cryptic operator messages into something equal parts surreal and existential. Lead single “Guile” is streaming now.
Okay, so the idea that you would need to call a 1-800 number to hear a record seemed too clever by half… but also really intriguing. Sort of like taking Cindy Lee’s Geocities–only release to the next level.
In an era of hours-long hold times, sadistic phone trees, and AI chatbots, the idea of willfully calling a line to literally listen to a treatise on hold times seems like an incredible self-own. And it would be… except for one thing: the record is really good. Not even sure I can call it a record, but whatever it is, it kept me fully engaged. The lo-fi beats and loops felt comforting, like I was finally being let in on a joke, only to then be jolted back to reality by the “just a little too loud” spoken word updates that are on all the routine calls we suffer through. I have to assume those are there to ensure we don’t fall asleep, right?
There are downtempo beats and washed-out synths for days. Even the sounds like Microsoft’s hold music, which usually make me reflexively angry, only made me chuckle here.
“It started as a joke about hold music,” says frontman Rob McLaren. “Then it became a meditation on death.”
I’m not sure I can describe it any better than that. Want to experience it for yourself? Call 1-877-420-9159. It might be the only time you’ll be happy to be “on hold” for 45 minutes.
Good morning! Need an antidote for the algorithms? Looking for a place to share the music you love with like-minded people? You’re in the right spot.
As always, thank you to those who upgraded their subscriptions this past week. Your direct support fuels this community and makes a positive impact. Shares and reposts also help! Thank you!
When you’re ready, joining them is easy. Just click here:
For those of you who are new, we kick off every week by sharing what we’ve been playing.
The playlist below is some of what I’ve had in heavy rotation. This week has been more of a balance between new tracks and old faves. That said, a TON of great new records came out this past Friday, so who knows what next week’ll look like?
2025 might be a hot mess, but not where new music is concerned.
Kevin Sent 
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