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.
We’ve got a great host and a killer record, all set to go. All we need now is you! Here’s how to join the fun.
Cover art courtesy of IRS Records
Good Morning!
Today we’re talking about The English Beat’s Special beat Service, and well, how you can talk about the band with other like minded people.
Note: As some of you know, I’m one of the editors for an online music publication called The Riff. Each month, we host an album discussion (via Zoom), which is coming up on Sunday.
To be clear, all credit goes to Terry Barr and Scott Fountain, who facilitate the meetings, and Jessica Lee McMillan, this month’s host. These three are doing the heavy lifting.
As you’ll see below, these are low-key affairs; all are welcome! If you want to share some thoughts, that’s awesome. Wanna just sit back & listen? That’s cool, too.
Either way, it’d be better with you there.
KA—
It’s that time again; it’s time for our monthly album discussion!
One of our core tenets is sharing music. That obviously involves writing about it, but also talking about it together. We do that monthly here.
This Sunday, August 24th, is that day.
Below is my boilerplate explanation of these discussions and the value you’ll get from joining us. Under that are both the record being discussed and the meeting login details.
Don’t know the record? Doesn’t matter.
Not comfortable speaking in public? Me either. And you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Heck, you don’t even have to turn your camera on. It’s a safe space, but you control what you share.
Ultimately, you’re part of the community; we want you to be a part of this, too.
So check out the “rules” below, and then plan to dial in.
What is this?
For new readers (hi everyone!), we host an online discussion every month.
Here’s how it works:
A writer (more on that in a second) picks a record to discuss and writes a brief piece about their choice and the meeting details.
At the meeting, they discuss why they picked it, offer a bit of a backstory/context, and whatever else they’d like to share.
Everyone else on the call can share their own “hot take,” related story, or anything else you think is relevant.
At the end of the meeting, the next month’s writer volunteers (or is chosen), and the process repeats itself.
NOTE FOR INTROVERTS: If you’d prefer to sit in and listen, that is 110% okay. Keep your video off…stay muted…it’s up to you. It’s a safe place; you can participate as much/as little as you’d like.
This month’s host:
This month’s host is Jessica Lee McMillan, a poet, writer, and teacher based in Vancouver, B.C. Her work has been featured in dozens of publications. You can see more of her writing here or on her website.
Cool! So, what are we talking about?
Jessica has chosen ‘Special Beat Service’ by The English Beat..
I am still grateful for the third wave, which brought The Specials back into rotation at clubs. I was only a few years old when the Beat emerged, and I had records and cassettes of General Public and Fine Young Cannibals. But I have to thank that third wave for making its way into the goth community here in Vancouver, where — of all places — I first learned to skank to Madness in my late teens.
Musical influences can travel anywhere — like language — and while we want to respect its origins, genre — like language — is a living thing that evolves and migrates.
Special Beat Service is the album you intentionally pull out several times a year. It is a rock. It is a place to return.
That’s why I have chosen it for the album of the month.
Musical adventure, exploring new sounds, and sharing great music with great people make these discussions a joy.
Join us and see for yourself.
Listen:
The Beat | Special Beat Service (1982)
(Click the record to listen on your platform of choice)
From the archive: A quick look at Pere Ubu’s groundbreaking Cloudland album.
Good Morning!
Today as Round 1 of the Best Record of 1989 tourney wraps up, we’re taking a quick look at Pere Ubu’s Cloudland. This was originally published in May of last year to mark the record turning 35.
Most record collectors have a holy grail: the one record they hope to find above all others. For years, mine was Pere Ubu’s 1989 album, Cloudland.
I’d first found the record not too long after it came out. In the late 80s, CDs were still a novelty, but someone at our city library decided to go “all in” on them (thank you, whoever you are). It was delightfully eclectic as a place trying to be something for everyone. You truly never knew what you might find and rarely came out with exactly what you’d gone in looking for.
They’d put a lot of effort into procuring them but not nearly as much into keeping them organized, settling instead for a brittle system of roughly sorting by genre and hoping for the best. It was all a wonderful mess purpose-built for happy accidents.
One of those collisions was my onramp to the band.
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I would ride my bike there (Haro freestyle, thankyouverymuch) and spend hours flipping through the titles, picking not just names I knew but ones that looked, well, interesting. I’m sure there was an official limit on how many titles you could have checked out at once, but I usually defaulted to about 7-8, as that’s how many could fit in those heavy-duty plastic bags they gave you.
It was always easy to check this CD out. As much as I’d like to frame myself as some sort of tastemaker or just ahead of my time, the reality was that word traveled slowly from Cleveland. And the people who may have known them from work like “30 Seconds Over Tokyo” or their Dub Housing record were probably not hanging out in suburban Portland libraries.
This record has proven hard to find in subsequent years for a bunch of reasons. If I’m honest, had I known how many years I’d ultimately spend looking for this record, I might’ve just kept it, said I lost it and paid the fine. Nevertheless…
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It’s reductive to call the band avant-garde, but the band has done more to define the genre than most. Their sound combined elements of kraut rock, art, flurries of guitar, and frontman Dave Thomas’ odd yelps and yowls. Thomas’s vocals also ricochet between spoken word, a warbling, and actual singing, and the result is a mix of what we recognize as the structure of normal songs and wild sonic field trips. Along the way, Pere Ubu has created a sound that is often dissonant but always original.
You don’t listen to a Pere Ubu record; you experience it.
In 1987, after a several-year hiatus, the band reformed with what would be one of a bazillion lineup iterations and released The Tenement Year—a record with one foot firmly in the traditional realm of the band’s anarchic sound and the other edging toward a more palatable—if not quite radio-friendly—world.
If The Tenement Year represented dipping a toe into the world of Pop, Cloudland was a cannonball into the deep end of the pool. Stephen Hague (Pet Shop Boys, New Order, among others) was behind the boards and took everything the band had done to that point and proudly ignored it. Gone were the usual weapons-grade chaos, tangents, and noise. Instead, he helped corral the band’s usual wanderings into something much more cohesive and melodious. Experimentation was out, and flirting with formulas was in.
In other words, Hague helped Pere Ubu make something no one saw coming—a bona fide pop record.
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There are plenty of high water marks here. Through any other lens, “Race the Sun” and “Ice Cream Truck” would be boilerplate tracks, but Pere Ubu is nothing if not subversive, and the band puts their own odd magical touch on them almost in spite of themselves.
“Waiting For Mary” is the closest they’ve come yet to a hit, cracking the Modern Rock Tracks top 10. “Bus Called Happiness” is arguably the most pop song the band has ever—or will ever—create. It’s also this writer’s favorite and drove much of the multi-year quest to hunt this record down.
That’s not to say Hague finished the job. If Side A is as radio-friendly as it gets (certainly college radio, anyway), Side B assures fans that not all has been forgotten. There are plenty of odd loops and experimentation here on tracks like “Nevada” and “Monday Night,” maintaining a line to the rest of the band’s catalog.
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I wasn’t looking for Cloudland when I walked into my local record shop a couple of years ago—in fact, I rarely know what I’m looking for when I go in. And even when I do, I usually either toss that list, come up with something totally different, or both.
But the universe has a funny way of gifting you things when you least expect them. In much the same accidental way I came across their CD all those many years ago, I came across a vinyl copy, misfiled under the wrong letter.
Again, Pere Ubu can be an acquired taste. A friend and I saw them open for Pixies not too long after this came out. Going in, I’d bet we were 2 of only a handful of people eager to see them. Post-show, I doubt that number went up much. Their records can be hard to find, and even if/when you do, they are often inaccessible and occasionally unlistenable. The release was out of print forever, and a reissue appears to be missing a couple of tracks—even trying to find listening links for this article has proven to be a challenge.
But when they’re on, they’re on, and with Cloudland, Pere Ubu made a masterpiece.
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What are your thoughts on this record? Do you have any favorite tracks or memories associated with it? Where does it land on your list of Pere Ubu albums? Share your thoughts in the comments!
Thanks for being here,
Kevin—
Some light housekeeping:
Save the date! The date for this month’s Album of the Month Discussion will be on Sunday, the 24th, at 4 PM Eastern. This month’s discussion will be led by Vancouver-based Jessica Lee McMillan, whose previous presentation on Stereolab’s Dots and Loops was one for the ages. This time around, we’ll discuss Special Beat Service by The English Beat. These are always fun, but will be better with you there! Meeting Details:When: Sunday 24 Aug 2025 ⋅ 4pm — 6pm EST Zoom Meeting Link:. https://presby-edu.zoom.us/j/85339128617?pwd=MDfb510FCFXCayaFPNtatnLiUdEsey.1&jst=2
Kevin Sent 
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