Today we’re taking a quick look at the latest from Great Lakes, Mavis Staples, and Lush.
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 Great Lakes mavis Staples, and Lush.
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 to put up.
In other words, a ton of good stuff is still coming out, and there’s something for everyone. It’s almost overwhelming— but in all the best ways. These are another batch that caught my attention recently.
Hard to believe that it’s almost AOTY season, but here we are. I’ll be posting through it, discussing what’s on my list, what isn’t, how I try to winnow things down, etc., over the coming weeks.
In the meantime, the records keep coming. There are always a few that get in under the wire, and ones from earlier in the year that might’ve been missed. Below are a few quick field reports from right between the sound machine.
Let’s get into it!
Great Lakes- Don’t Swim Too Close
Cover art courtesy of Elephant 6/HHBTM Records
Fair warning: I’m gonna go full “suburban dad” here. I don’t know what it is about hitting middle age, but this brand of cynical Americana has really started resonating with me in the last 4–5 years. It’s a sound that feels as lived-in and comfy as my worn-out Sambas and favorite pair of cargo shorts (I know! I know!). I’m not quite in sad-dad territory, but I can see it on the horizon. Distilled down, it feels relatable.
Frontman Ben Crum is wrestling with a lot of the same things we all are right now, noting:
Releasing music right now feels a bit like fiddling while Rome burns. While my new Great Lakes album, ‘Don’t Swim Too Close,’ is a personal and inward-focused record, once it was finished I was surprised to realize it also feels like a slow-burn meditation on whatever it is America means.
Same, Ben. SAME.
Of course, it helps that the record is good. After eight records and 25 years, Crum knows his way around a lyric and writes the sort that tell entire stories in a paragraph. These are character-driven tales that make you wince and smirk in equal measure. And even when the words get heavy, the music is there to lighten things up. The title track will get you moving… and it’s about him suffering a concussion.
I wrote it while recovering from a severe concussion that left me depressed and questioning my future. I honestly didn’t know if I was going to come back from it, and it scared me. Luckily, I did get better, and the song ended up being an ironically uplifting country/rock toe-tapper, with heavy lyrics (“I was feeling hopeless, but also helpless and alone / and more than a little dangerous to my soul”) set to a groove reminiscent of Doug Sahm, Jerry Jeff Walker, or CCR.
It’s worth repeating that while it may be topically heavy, this isn’t a bleak record. On the contrary, the irony and dark humor make a good thing better. As a Gen Xer, being a fan of irony isn’t a learned behavior; it’s encoded in our DNA. More so, it makes for a compelling listen, whether he’s singing about klaxon horns (“Another Klaxon Sounds”), or regret and anxiety (“Like an Open Grave”), or sharing so much of your idea for a book that you no longer want to actually write it (“On the Way Back”).
Something tells me, though, that we’ll hear more writing from Crum. At least I hope so. The band seems to be only getting better with age. It probably won’t be anything about cargo shorts, though…
I’m not sure I could tell you when I first heard Mavis Staples, though the smart money says it was likely as a kid, hearing her perform something like “I’ll Take You There” with her dad and siblings in the Staple Singers. Her voice is unmistakable, but there’s always been a current of determination, resolve, and hope. Whether it was the lot of them singing “The Weight” along with The Band in the Last Waltz or her take on Talking Heads’ “Slippery People” (TK LINK), her raspy voice has been soothing and consistent in a world of constant change.
And that hasn’t changed on “Sad and Beautiful World,” Staples’ latest. The record is 10 tracks- 9 covers and 1 original. Of course, Staples takes the 9 and makes them all her own, as only she can. I mean, who else could cover Tom Waits’ “Chicago” and make it sound smoother without sanding off any of the edges? No one, that’s who. It doesn’t hurt that Derek Trucks is here, along with Buddy Guy. Waits’ purists may want to skip it, but I hope you don’t; it’s chugs right along and is worth every note.
The title track was penned by Mark Linkous (RIP), and I’ll bet it’s gonna sound incredible live. Other tracks include her take on Frank Ocean’s “God Speed,” Curtis Mayfield’s “We’ve Got to Have Peace,” and the Hozier and Allison Russell-penned “Human Mind.”
The guest list reads like a who’s who of in-demand talent: Kevin Morby, Nathaniel Rateliff, Patterson Hood, and Bonnie Raitt, among others. As per federal law, MJ Lenderman also makes a guest appearance.
Producer Brad Cook does well to bring—and keep—the focus on Staples’ voice. With a roster like this, it could’ve been easy for her to get crowded out. Instead, we get some of her best work (a high vbar to be sure!), and a gorgeous record that perfectly meets the moment from someone who’s been lighting the way for decades.
Lush is forever linked with cassette tapes in my mind—or, more specifically, J-cards. In 1990, if I wasn’t listening to this on the original, I was scrawling the titles on one of the many mixtapes I included tracks like “De-Luxe,” “Down,” and “Bitter” on. These were my faves- and the titles were mercifully short. Lush was a band I was eager to share with anyone who would listen. Even the record itself is a mixtape compilation comprising the mini-album Scar, and Mad Love and Sweetness and Light EPs.
A few lifetimes later, a lot has changed. For one thing, I’m streaming an advance copy of the record online for something called a “newsletter” on a website called “Substack.” 15-year-old me would not recognize a thing in that sentence.
50 year old me recognizes a few; in the early 90s, record label 4AD never missed. That still seems to be true. The three tracks I shared so many times in high school are still the ones I’d encourage you to check out today, and I’d add “Second Sight” to the list. The harmonies of Emma Anderson and Miki Berenyi haven’t aged a day and sound better than ever here. This is a shoegaze record, but, with apologies to Kevin Shields, their sound is much sunnier and leans closer to pop than MBV. This is a genre that traffics in the abstract, but while MBV might be a blurred picture of red hues, Gala is one of yellows. It felt like a ray of sun in my teens and doubly so today.
Thankfully, no one will be subjected to my trying to squish some scrawl on a J-card, but there will be playlists. Many playlists. My handwriting may have gotten even worse, but somehow Gala has only improved.
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.
Good Morning!
Today we’re talking about Connected by The Foreign Exchange, and how you can talk about the record 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), and this month’s is coming up this Sunday November 2nd, 4PM EST/1PM PT
Backspin Hip-Hop’s Jeffrey Harvey, this month’s host. These guys 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. Everything you need to know about how to join us is below.
Either way, it’d be better with you there.
Today’s guest post below comes from Harvey himself, who makes a fantastic case for why he picked this record, why it’s the right record for right now, and why you should be there Sunday to hear about it and/or share your thoughts.
KA—
My connection to October/November’s Riff Album of the Month was a culmination of sorts. Or maybe a coronation. It actually came by way of the album after this one in a catalog that offered a template for 21st Century collaboration.
But let’s rewind before we fast forward.
In 1999, producer/The Roots’ drummer ?uestLove and writer Angela Nissel founded Okayplayer as an online hub to connect progressive hip-hop artists with like-minded listeners. As was happening all over the web, a community emerged. The features, reviews, and artist interviews gave the platform its gravitas. But its lifeblood was the message boards.
The boards allowed members to connect with one another. They quickly became a place where everybody knows your username for a particular subset of teens and young adults. This was the crowd more likely to stay up until 3 AM deciphering how Dilla chopped that Rick James sample into sonic witness protection on Common’s “Dooinit” rather than arguing over which sucker MCs Com was firing at. On those message boards, they found their tribe.
Chief among the tribesmen was “Taygravy.” Behind that username lived Phonte Coleman, an aspiring MC from North Carolina who shared tracks from his group, Little Brother, on the boards. In 2002, Little Brother landed a record deal, based at least partly on the internet buzz that began on Okayplayer. When their debut album, The Listening, the following year, it was a seminal moment for the site — the message boards in particular. Though The Listening was released through a tiny indie label and struggled to find retail space on box store shelves, it felt like the moment that Okayplayer’s digital oasis became anchored in something tangible.
When Dutch producer Nicolay began corresponding with Phonte via the boards, he was connecting with a made man. Yet, in the context of the Okay-ecosystem, they were peers. Music lovers. OKPs. Young artists hustling to connect their sounds with open ears. What began as an exchange of beats and ideas between community members blossomed into something unprecedented. It ultimately foreshadowed the future of not only music but 21st-century collaboration.
From Holland, Nicolay sent files to Phonte in Durham via AOL Instant Messenger (RIP AOL). Phonte laid vocals and snail-mailed the files back to Nicolay for post-production. Momentum built, and what began as an experiment became a passion project.
Tay and Lay could have held the lightning in a bottle for themselves. Instead, they opened the bottle and invited their friends to sip. Tay’s Little Brother partner, Big Pooh, features prominently. So does their extended Carlonia-based Justus League crew. But the album also provides a platform for peers from around the U.S. (the Eastern Seaboard, anyway) to whom the duo extended the digital share space — fellow OKP Von Pea (Brooklyn), Critically Acclaimed (DC by way of NYC), Kenn Starr (DC), Oddisee (Maryland).
As a result, the album plays as a collective mission statement for a generation ascending into adulthood at a moment of jarring paradigm shifts and getting by with a whole lot of help from their friends. Want a cheat code to understanding the album’s ethos? Pay close attention to the propulsive fourth track, “Hustle, Hustle”. Here, Phonte seems not only content, but enthusiastic to slide into a supporting role. He sings the hook while Critically Acclaimed’s Quartermaine and C.A.L.I.B.E.R. set the album’s thematic table of navigating the quest for personal fulfillment in the face of mounting responsibilities.
No matter when you entered adulthood, the core themes of defining identity, priorities, and place in the world will likely resonate as a right of passage. The universality of the themes and earnestness with which they’re explored are a big part of why, even at a moment when digital technology was making our relationship to music more transient, this album stuck with its listeners.
The other component of its timelessness is Nicolay’s production. Think the meticulous sonic polish of Steely Dan paired with the enveloping warmth of The Ummah. But where Steely Dan had access to state-of-the-art studios and all-star musicians, Nicolay had a desktop computer and a mini-arsenal of keyboards in a bedroom. If Aja represents the pinnacle of analog-era studio craft, this month’s album was an early beacon of fully realized digital-age craftsmanship.
By the time I formally joined the Okayplayer team as a writer in the late 2000s, the platform had already tipped. OkayOGs like Common, Erykah Badu, and Jill Scott were firmly situated in popular culture. Okayplayer was regularly cited in mainstream media outlets, as established journalists increasingly looked to it as a harbinger of cresting sounds. The signature logo shirts were visible on the streets of major cities worldwide. The Roots would soon become Jimmy Fallon’s house band.
Yet, there was the distinct sense that us second (third?) generation writers had arrived after the true golden years — the moments when a movement was coalescing in real time.
So when I was tapped to write the top-of-fold review for The Foreign Exchange’s 2008 sophomore album, Leave It All Behind, it felt like a connection to the glory days. A link to the era when a website became a community, digital dialog sparked creative collaboration, and a proof-of-concept emerged for 21st-century connection. When my review was “blurbed” for the album’s digital banner ad, it was validation. (I would soon be blurbed for Brooklynatiby Von Pea’s group, Tanya Morgan — also formed on the message boards — locking in my Okay bonafides.)
This month, we’re going back to the genesis.
October/November’s Riff Album of the Month is Connected by The Foreign Exchange.
We’ll connect and discuss on Sunday, November 2nd at 4 PM EST, details below.
** A BRIEF LISTENING NOTE: ** The original version consists of 14 tracks, ending with “All That You Are.” Tracks 15–17 were later added as bonus cuts. Feel free to listen, but for the purposes of the discussion, the album is tracks 1–14.
With The Riff Album of the Month Club itself having evolved from digital dialog to virtual community to several in-person meet-ups, it feels like the perfect setting to discuss not only Connected, but the nature of connection in the age of digital anomie.
I hope to see all the regulars, semi-regulars, and irregulars.
For newcomers, joining the community is easy. Simply listen to the album and log into the Zoom call detailed below. You can talk as much or as little as you want and are free to say anything.
This article is not paywalled, so share it freely on social media and elsewhere.
“A clown is a coronary in a wig waiting to happen. “ ~ Sheila Moeschen
Good morning!
Today we’re diving into the sounds of the season. Spooky Szn, that is.
It’s Spooky szn y’all!
It’s October, and that means a season of ghouls and zombies. It also means pumpkin spice everything, and if you’re in a “battleground state” like I am, some years it means the torture of nonstop political attack ads that often run back-to-back-to-back. This is an off year, so we’ve mostly been spared, but all of this is its own horror show (waves hands around).
I don’t know about you, but I think I’d take the zombies if given a choice.
There are often certain conventions attached to holiday playlists.
For example, on Thanksgiving, there really can only be one song. With Christmas, people usually have their own lines drawn in the sand:
Traditional vs. non-traditional…
Religion-themed vs laic…
What’s the earliest allowable date to hear Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You…”
And so on…
Instagram photo courtesy of SW Lauden
Halloween lists don’t generally bend to those same orthodoxies.
Maybe it’s because so many of us associate the day with the same themes. It’s not a consumption vs. family debate. It’s trick-or-treating and bad movies. And if you live where I do, there’s the annual angst surrounding whether or not it’ll snow.
In other words, anything goes, as long as it can be loosely tied to the day.
There are plenty of standards, a few curveballs, and at least one legit jump scare in here…and hopefully a new favorite (or two) to add to your mixes!
What’re your favorite tracks to play on Halloween? Any tracks that should be on here? Let me know in the comments!
Thanks for being here,
KA—
The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Halloween Playlist:
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Volume 10 | October 2025: Sam & I throw the hoodies back on and share some perfect records for fall listening.
Good morning!
So nice, we’re doin’ it twice. Today Sam Colt and I are each sharing a few more of our favorite fall records…ones that might’ve been overlooked or deserve more time in the spotlight.
Welcome to the tenth installment of our (not so) new series! For those of you who may have missed previous editions, here’s a bit of context:
In this monthly series, Sam Colt and I will each share our picks for artists and/or titles that haven’t received their due. You’ll recognize Sam’s name from our On Repeat and Friends Best of Series, and also our Top 100 of all-time serieslast fall. These posts will adopt the latter’s format; I will make my case for my three picks and my reaction to Sam’s. Sam’s page will do the reverse.
In the inaugural post, we noted that successive editions would narrow things down slightly. Maybe a specific genre…maybe a specific era…maybe a specific…well, who knows!
Last month, I talked about the vibe shifts that coincide with the school year. Living in a college town puts all of those in sharper relief. Living in a place where you get all four seasons (sometimes in a day) cements it.
We’re in full swing here, with school having been in session long enough that high school playoffs have started. The UW Badgers football team hasn’t quite figured out that the regular season has started, but that’s… fine. Hockey’s here, and hoops start soon enough! (EDIT: Tonight, actually!)
It’s the most wonderful time of the year. It’s also the time of year when a certain set of records hits differently than they do in the dog days of summer or the preternaturally hopeful late spring. These are generally softer—or if not, at least have heavier themes. Sometimes a record just “feels like fall.” Or if your mind’s wired like mine, a record that was released in October with blue cover art forever imprints itself as an autumn record.
Whatever the reason, there are a lot of fall records. Enough so that Sam and I felt like we’d left some great picks on the table last month. The responses we got from all of you said the same. So we went back to the crates and grabbed a few more that fit the bill. Some of these will be familiar. Some might be ones that get overlooked by bigger releases in the artist’s catalog.
I am a devout heliophile. Summer is my time—even if I don’t like sweating. For me, fall starts strong: it’s still sunny, there’s all the new school year energy, etc. But just underneath that is the slight unease that comes with knowing temps in the teens and a monochromatic landscape are right around the corner.
Zooming out, I think on some level, the records here represent a sort of fight against the dying of the light. I don’t mean in some big-minded, overly literate way—I mean literally clinging to daylight for as long as Mother Nature’ll let me. Someday I will retire. My plan? Put a snowblower in the back of the truck. As soon as I get somewhere that people ask what it is, I’ll know I’m far enough south. That day’s not here yet, and I need to keep finding comfort in records.
Sam paints a picture of a guy who’s already got his sweaters out and is raring to go. Maybe this is his time to shine? I probably should’ve asked him when we were chatting about this month’s piece. Either way, all of his picks were new to me. Maybe a few of these will be to you as well? At any rate, we decided on a second round, and here we are.
When you’re done here, remember to check out Sam’s take at This Is a Newsletter!
After a long hiatus, Sugar is back. After a recent cryptic post on Instagram, they confirmed it by releasing a single and a few tour dates. I suppose a post on social media is how one builds hype in 2025. In 1992, it looked different. You might read about a record in a magazine. Maybe see something on 120 Minutes. And of course, word of mouth. In the fall of that year, I was swimming in all of those circles and constantly on the hunt for new sounds. When/where I first heard about this project has been lost to time, but the smart money says word of mouth. I knew Hüsker Dü—New Day Rising is still an all-timer for me—and I knew of Mould’s solo work. But a new band? That had my curiosity piqued.
There’s no need to bury the lede here: this record rips. Mould’s solo work to that point was good, but he’s in his element when the amps are set to “full throttle.” Writing about it previously, I noted:
Sugar feels like Hüsker Dü if you turn up the pop dial and down the screaming. It hits as hard as anything they put out, but it’s sunnier, more refined, and almost anthemic. Mould is on record as loving MBV’s Loveless and, upon hearing it, recognized the need to add more dimensions to his sound. Mission accomplished, but it never gets too complex. The album is track after track of pop rock that goes 100 mph. The only real pause you get is on “If I Can’t Change Your Mind,” a lovely respite and a highlight on the record. Copper Blue is a record that holds up a lot better than much of what came out in the fall of ’92. You can hear vestigial traces of it in hundreds of records that have come in the years since, including Mould’s more recent solo work.
For years, the answer to the question, “What’s the loudest concert you’ve ever been to?” was Sugar. And it wasn’t even close. Melvins took that title a few weeks ago, but this record is still one of the best in Mould’s discography—and a perfect one to rattle those last leaves off the trees in your yard.
Sam’s Pick and My Take: Elliott Smith – Self-Titled
Speaking of marketing: one of the things I miss are concert flyers posted on telephone poles. I know they still exist, but they seem like a much rarer commodity today. Growing up in Portland, one of our favorite things to do (besides going to the shows themselves) was to walk around NW Portland—this was before it had been rebranded as “The Pearl”—and find flyers. If it was for a show that had passed, we felt like they were fair game to take. If it was for an upcoming show, we only did if there was more than one on the post. I don’t know who was putting these up, but at least one guy was hella lazy and would put like 15 on each pole so he could clock out early. Whoever you are, thank you.
That’s all to say that I liked Heatmiser, and one of those flyers graced my bedroom walls for a good chunk of my teens. I feel lucky to say that I was able to see them play.
This record is very clearly not a Heatmiser record. Their louder, electric sound is replaced by a gentler acoustic one. That shift is even more acute if you decide that listening to them before this album is a good idea. Ask me how I know this.
So, about the record: the TL;DR is that it’s a much more spare affair than much of what the band put out. But this softer sound also gave Smith’s voice room to stand in front of the music, rather than having to shout over it. The themes are darker, and there’s no shortage of brooding. Smith met a tragic end, and it’s easy—I think—to slip into a Talmudic parsing of lyrics, looking for clues or cries for help. Mostly, I think he was just looking to be taken seriously as a songwriter and made a record that reflected where his head was at at this point.
Bar trivia: Alphabet Town is in the same part of town I mentioned above, and when he sings “I’ll show you around this alphabet town,” I wonder if he was imagining those same pole-lined streets my friends and I were cruising up and down looking for Heatmiser fliers. The streets all go in alphabetical order, and at least four Simpsons characters got their names from them (Matt Groening is also a PDX native). I’ve also literally never heard it referred to as such until recently. If you happen to look up the list or find yourself in the Rose City, just know that “Couch” rhymes with “Pooch.”
Rebecca Gates joins him on “St. Ides Heaven.” Gates was one half of The Spinanes, a band that belongs on any list of underrated early-’90s bands from the NW.
Yo La Tengo – Painful
If you’ve been with us for any length of time, you’ve seen me spill some words about this band. The joke is that they’re one of your favorite bands’ favorite bands. Well, that applies to music writers, too. Heck, this isn’t even the first time this series that this record has come up.
Writing about it previously, I noted:
That steadiness is reflected in the record itself. Previous YLT records had a bad habit of bouncing between walls of fuzz and something akin to folk rock. Appealing yet inconsistent. Ira Kaplan’s vocals could verge into a bratty/sneering style. He hasn’t lost his edge, but they’ve evolved into a more—if not congenial—then conversational style.
One of YLT’s hallmarks is that any song feels like it could be remade in a dozen different ways. Much of Painful continues that tradition—see the two wildly different versions of “Big Day Coming” as Exhibit A—but it also feels fully fleshed out. The record turned 30 earlier this year, but it’s the one I repeatedly return to. I can’t say the same for many of the records released around the same time.
The first lyrics we hear are “Let’s be undecided,” but Painful is a decisive statement record from a band fully formed. One hitting its stride and never looking back.
If you’re getting the idea that it’s an important record to me, trust your gut. What it’s not, though, is a summer record. Not that YLT is a band you play while out on the lake, but even relatively speaking, some tracks pair better with October. And it doesn’t hurt that this record came out in October. I’d make an “Autumn Sweater” joke here, but that’d be too on the nose.
One could also make the argument that And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out fits here, but it’s a brooding record—more fitting for short days and long nights when you’re hunkered in. Painful still has jolts of energy in it, much like those random 70-degree days when you’ve already pulled out your sweatshirts and hard pants. My copy might not leave the shelf a lot in July, but in October or November? That’s a different story.
Sam’s Pick and My Take: Alex Turner – Submarine (EP) & boygenius – S/T (EP)
Most of what I know about Arctic Monkeys actually comes from Sam, who included their 2006 record Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not in our Top 100 series. Likewise, frontman Alex Turner didn’t know much about the film he was asked to score—director Richard Ayoade didn’t let him see any of the film until after the songs had been composed. He delivered a lovely (to my ear) EP of five(-ish) tracks. I say that as a snippet of “Stuck on the Puzzle” kicks the record off. Speaking of which, the full version is a highlight here, and is as close as we’re gonna get to a conventional pop song. It’s also the fastest song on the record—again, it’s all relative; by fast, I really just mean that there are some drums on it. The pace is lilting, and maybe that’s why it feels right for fall. Its slower pace and gentle sounds are fitting for this time of year.
On that Arctic Monkeys record, Sam noted that the first words we hear from Turner are: “Anticipation has a habit to set you up for disappointment.” Maybe. But not in this case. I always anticipate Sam’s picks, as they usually involve something I’ve never heard before. I had no idea what I was in for, but this was anything but disappointing.
If these words have reached you, I’m fairly sure you’re familiar with boygenius, and 2023’s cleverly titled record… the record. It was seemingly everywhere, and few AOTY lists left it off. Objectively, it was solid. Subjectively, it wasn’t my speed. I was a fan of Bridgers (both solo and with Better Oblivion Community Center), but I dunno… it just never really landed with me. Maybe a case of anticipation setting me up for disappointment.
Nevertheless…
“Bite the Hand” kicks things off with Lucy Daucus starting before being joined by Bridgers and Julien Baker, and the harmonies are incredible. The record might not’ve been my thing, but that’s a me problem. Their talent—and the way they play off one another—isn’t in question. And if it is, that last bit of this track should be Defense Exhibit A.
Sometimes fall can be subtly jarring. I know that’s an oxymoron, but I’m thinking about those times when you walk outside and the air is a lot sharper than you bargained for—and you realize another whole season has passed. “Stay Down” caught me in a similar fashion—I was listening and thinking that Julien Baker is really underrated, and that this was a pretty song… and then I started listening to the lyrics:
I look at you and you look at a screen I’m in the back seat of my body I’m just steerin’ my life in a video game Similar acts and a different name
Damn.
I suppose this is where I should talk more about the record and the level of talent it takes to pull off making dark lyrics sound pretty. Or delve into production or some other liner-notes-style details. Mostly, what I thought as I listened was: okay, I’m on board now. I didn’t get the fervor around the record. Now I do. I get it.
The Fall – Extricate
John Peel once described The Fall as “always different, always the same,” and it’s easy to see how that could be construed as reductive—but The Fall were one of his favorite bands, and I’ve always interpreted that line the same way you might describe Guided By Voices. If you’re not a fan, everything sounds kind of the same. If you’re listening with open ears, there’s a ton of variation in style and sound. Robert Pollard is the only constant for GBV, and Mark E. Smith for The Fall. Both bands can be described as “prolific,” with dozens of records apiece.
The Fall’s discography can be broken up into seasons: the early years, the Brix years, etc. “Brix” refers to Brix Smith, a member of the band and Mark’s one-time wife.
Extricate is the first record of the post-Brix era (both in the band and in Mark’s life), and in many ways, it feels like a divorce record. If you overlay the five stages of grief onto the tracklisting, you can kinda imagine him going through it as he wrote. He’s at turns distraught, sanguine, and as cynical as ever—mostly the latter. The names might’ve changed, but the sentiment hasn’t. Always different, always the same.
Musically, the sound is way different, with things like keyboards and (I think?) a violin. There are horns, too. It’s almost as if Smith is trying to distract himself from the absence Brix (and her guitar) left behind.
“Bill Is Dead” is gorgeous and feels almost like an elegy for a relationship that’s imploded. We’ve hit the Acceptance stage early, and it’s the looking back you do while walking through the ashes of something that didn’t quite make it to forever. Then you remember who you’re listening to and imagine it being sarcastic, and well… Oops. Still rad, though. Still one of my all-time favorites from a band that put out countless tracks.
Other points on the curve include Anger (“Black Monk Theme Pt. 1” and “Sing, Harpy!”). It’s a wild ride all around—and one I think more people should take. Most “best of” lists usually slot this one in around mid-pack to upper-third, with Hex Induction Hour or This Nation’s Saving Grace taking the top spot. But Extricate is one of my faves and belongs right up there with the best of ’em.
Sam’s Pick and My Take: Real Estate – Atlas
Once again, Sam has batted 1.000 regarding records I haven’t heard. Honestly, I’m not sure I’d even heard of Real Estate. That said, this is nice (again, not derogatory). It feels of a piece with bands like The Shins—the type of record you hear on a day when you’ve got wool socks on, have scraped your windshield, and half the heat in the car is coming from the travel mug between your seats.
I can easily see myself playing this one quite a bit in the coming weeks.
That’s a wrap! What are your thoughts on these records? Do you own any of them? Share your thoughts in the comments! Rants, raves, and spicy takes are all welcome. And if you have any ideas on future themes, please share those as well! Don’t forget to check out Sam’s thoughts over at This Is a Newsletter!
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 over the last several days. Your direct support fuels this community and makes a positive impact. Shares and reposts also help!
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’s Side A kicks off with a new single from The Lemonheads. Yep, they’re back. Evan Dando’s got a new memoir out as well. That’s followed by Eleventh Dream Day—a band I missed their first time around, and Ride who luckily, I didn’t. Winged Wheel might be putting out some of the most interesting music these days; their “Sleep Training” was one of my most played tracks last year. The side’s rounded out with the latest from The New Romantics. Synthpop from Knoxville? Yes please!
Side B roars in with Sugar’s latest. I promise it really is 2025. Like Dando, Bob Mould is as good as ever, and this feels like the band hasn’t taken any time off at all. ‘Course when you have a blast furnace for a guitar, the rust probably comes off easy. Anyway, your neighbors will like it too. After that is some power pop from Crossword Smiles and then a 1-2 punch of faves from the Blake Babies and Paul Westerberg, before we wrap up with the latest from Winter and Billie Marten, who’s Dog Eared LP is on the AOTY leaderboard.
Today we’re taking a quick look at the latest from Automatic, The Cords, and Ryan Davis and the Roadhouse Band.
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 Automatic, The Cords, and Ryan Davis and the Roadhouse Band
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 to 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 are another trio that caught my attention recently.
Let’s get into it!
Automatic- Is It Now?
Cover art courtesy of Stones Throw Records
When we last heard from Los Angeles’ Automatic, they had us looking toward the stars. On this latest release, they’re looking at the world collapsing around them.
Is It Now? finds the trio deepening their sound while sharpening their focus. Formed nine years ago, the band has this time teamed with producer Loren Humphrey (Arctic Monkeys, et al.), who brings a lean precision to their already taut mix of minimalist grooves and pop-forward melodies.
When I wrote about Excess, I asked readers to “close your eyes and imagine Devo as a dance band—or a collaboration between the Go-Go’s and Wire—and you have Automatic.” That description still holds, but Is It Now? pushes further into darker territory. The group uses those perky, tightly wound rhythms as a vehicle to deliver commentary on automated warfare, mindless consumerism, and the political machinery of oil and power.
The grooves remain effortlessly cool, but the themes cut waaay deeper.
Of the single “Black Box,” Izzy Glaudini says, “The title ‘Black Box’ refers to the black box in a crashed plane. The repetitive synth is supposed to suggest a plane gliding as it crashes/ an alarm distress call. I was listening to the Leonard Cohen album The Future a lot around the time the lyrics were written. It’s a pretty straightforward critique of people that have sold out on a large scale, specifically within creative industries. Thierry Mugler said, “art used to tell money what to do, now money tells art what to do” and the world is a less interesting place because of it.”
Okay, then!
Elsewhere, the woozy synths on “Mercury” are fantastic—coming in and out of focus, staying just long enough for you to find their rhythm before disappearing again. Those fragmented textures leave you slightly off balance in the best way.
“Lazy” is a chilled-out groove that I played three times in a row, trying to place its reference point before landing on Altered Images. I’m curious to hear if you hear it, too. And I’ll tell you this: “Country Song” doesn’t refer to the genre.
Last time around, I said the band had a bass sound that felt like it “came from the same finishing school as Peter Hook.” I meant that as high praise, and I’ll happily repeat it here, doubly so on the title track. The song is the album’s centerpiece—icy, chaotic, and alive all at once. It sounds like Movement-era New Order at their most up-tempo, and it absolutely hits.
Is It Now? is a record that makes you think as much as it makes you move. The beats are irresistible, the message impossible to ignore. Unlike Excess, this isn’t about escapism—it’s about working your way through the current moment, heavy as it may be. Luckily, Automatic know how to turn reflection into rhythm.
The flood of great records continues! Today we’re taking a quick look at the latest from Immersion and Kathleen Edwards.
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 Immersion’s WTF?? and Kathleen Edward’s Billionaire.
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 are another pair that caught my attention recently.
Let’s get into it!
Immersion- WTF??
Cover art courtesy of Swim
Not too long after I got my driver’s license, my mom signed me up for something called a “skid car” course. For those who don’t know, this is a course where they take a normal car—I’m pretty sure it was something like a Nissan Maxima—and surround it with a sort of superstructure. You drive a circuit the same way you would on any surface street, but the instructor is able to manipulate the handling of the car—for example, taking away control of the front or rear wheels (and later on, both). The idea is to teach you how to navigate the unexpected and literally steer through it. They also taught you how to take curves at high speed (this was held at a race track, after all), but that’s a story for another day.
So you’re driving along, and things are going the way you’d expect them to; your inputs cause the usual reactions. Then the instructor goes to work, and everything starts to feel surreal. You’re operating the car the way you know how to, but everything’s just a little off—the car takes longer to respond to your inputs, or doesn’t at all. On the surface, things are business as usual, but it’s very clearly not.
I’ve been thinking about that class a lot lately as we navigate these “unprecedented times” (sorry not sorry). On one level, life is normal—I go to work, I play with Gizmo, I spin records, etc. At the same time, things are very much not normal. As I type this, my hometown is prepping for an onslaught of federal troops. The economy’s about to fully go off the tracks, and all the things we’ve relied on to keep us on the pavement are being demolished. It’s almost as if America is in one big skid car.
Immersion is one of those projects that slips under the radar until you realize the pedigree involved: Wire’s Colin Newman and his partner Malka Spigel of Minimal Compact. WTF?? marks their fourth full-length and first since 2016’s Analogue Creatures Living on an Island. This time they’ve pulled Matt Schulz in along for the ride. So what’s it sound like? The easy answer would be something like electronic rock (or, if we’re going with Wire, something from more recent years), but that’s reductive at best. It’s a little of both, and it defies easy boxing.
The record kicks off with Defiance, an instrumental that gets things off to a strong start with uptempo beats but refuses to plant its flag in either camp: not synth, not pop, not really anything but itself. Immersion—and Wire before them—thrive in these in-between zones, especially when they let the music do the talking. I tried to categorize their last record, Nanocluster Vol. 4, and failed spectacularly. I know better this time around. It’s A Long Way to Brooklyn is a highlight, a track that doesn’t need words. But the whole thing opens up when they do. Spigel’s voice on Timeline is cool and almost detached, and Newman sidles in with a wry spoken-word counterpoint. Elsewhere, like onUse It Don’t Lose It, his trademark deadpan delivery turns a good track into a great one.
If this all sounds heavy, it is—and it isn’t. At least no more so than something like Talking Heads’ Life During Wartime was back in the day. David Byrne was singing about NYC’s Alphabet City, and Immersion is speaking on a much larger scale. Nevertheless.
WTF?? is an album about the constant low-grade anxiety of modern life, and an era where current events have you saying “what the fuck?” several times before lunch.
Things are bad, but we can still have nice things. Things like this record. The grooves are brisk when they need to be and pared back when called for. The production somehow manages to feel both retro (the analog textures are a nod to history) and way, way ahead of the curve. I’m biased, but most Wire records still sound like they’re from the future. This one sounds like the right record for the right time.
Writing about Geese, Steven Hyden recently noted that “Music critics like to do this thing where they point to an album or a song and declare, ‘This music captures how it feels to live in America right now.’ And, often, I make fun of this. And you probably do, too. It just sounds so foolish and pompous. Because it’s almost never literally true.”
Fair point, but if I may, I’d like to make a motion to exempt WTF??. It’s sharp, a little angsty, and a little bewildered. In other words, it’s a record that—at least to me—captures exactly what it’s like right now.
It didn’t take me long to get why people are so excited about this record. In fact, it took about 30 seconds of the opener “Save Your Soul.” I found myself nodding and saying, “Okay, then.” The line “Line your pockets with gold… Who’s gonna save your soul/When your money’s no good.” feels like a question a LOT of people should be asking themselves in 2025. And just in case Jason Isbell doesn’t already have enough fans here in the community, the solo on this track rips.
That was followed up with “Say Goodbye, Tell No One,” one of those rare tracks whose gorgeous sound is a thin cover for caustic lyrics. It’s incredible. I can almost guarantee someone’s going to use this to get through a bad breakup. They could do worse.
Edwards is a Canadian singer-songwriter who’s spent a lot of time away from the music business. Part of that self-imposed exile away from the grind (heh) was spent running the perfectly titled Quitters Coffee. She returned to the music scene in 2020 with Total Freedom, made a covers record earlier this year, and is in fine form here.
If there’s a weak link, it’s “Need a Ride.” Clocking in at six and a half minutes, it’s about three and a half too long, and frankly, it feels like a drag on the system. Fair play to Edwards here, though- the lyrics are (again) on point. She’s saying what a lot of people are thinking. “FLA” is an ode to the Sunshine State, shouting everything from Gainesville to Tom Petty to Pelicans. It’s one of the highlights on the record for me.
Towards the end, Shelby Lynne and Allison Moorer stop by to add some vocals. It’s a nice touch on a record already overflowing with talent.
I’m many things, but an expert on Americana isn’t one of them—and maybe that’s the best part of Billionaire; you don’t have to be to get swept away by this record.
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’re starting with one from Former Champ and the latest from Chicago’s Ratboys, before heading down to Louisville for the new single from Second Story Man, a band a reviewer once asked readers to think of as a “female-fronted Jawbreaker.” ICYMI, Natalie Weiner recently wrote a great piece on Amanda Shires for Texas Monthly. Tsar’s 1998 demos are finally (!) seeing the light of day and sound fantastic.
Side 2 kicks off with some Immersion. If you’ve been here a little while, you know what a fanboy I am of Wire and frontman Colin Newman’s solo work. Immersion is the work of he and his partner Malka Spigel. Look for a review of the record soon. There is also a (relatively) deep cut from Depeche Mode, and a little something from Total Wife, before coming back to Chicago and ending with a (definitely) deep cut from Urge Overkill.
I know I’ve said it for several weeks now, but it’s true: 2025 might be is a hot mess, but not when it comes to new music.
Volume 9 | September 2025: Sam & I throw on hoodies and share some perfect records for fall listening.
Good morning!
Today Sam Colt and I are each sharing a few of our favorite fall records…ones that might’ve been overlooked or deserve more time in the spotlight.
Welcome to the ninth installment of our (not so) new series! For those of you who may have missed previous editions, here’s a bit of context:
In this monthly series, Sam Colt and I will each share our picks for artists and/or titles that haven’t received their due. You’ll recognize Sam’s name from our On Repeat and Friends Best of Series, and also our Top 100 of all-time serieslast fall. These posts will adopt the latter’s format; I will make my case for my three picks and my reaction to Sam’s. Sam’s page will do the reverse.
In the inaugural post, we noted that successive editions would narrow things down slightly. Maybe a specific genre…maybe a specific era…maybe a specific…well, who knows!
As many of you know, I live in a college town. It’s a big enough school that the city’s energy ebbs and flows in tune with the academic year. Spring is full of excitement about what’s to come. Summer is for the locals. Winter is… well, I live in the upper Midwest, so winter is usually for hunkering down and trying not to track salt everywhere. And hockey. Always hockey.
That leaves fall. As a card-carrying Gen Xer, it’s in my DNA to snicker at woo-woo things like “vibe shifts,” but there’s a palpable change that happens as soon as the first wave of students returns for the new academic year. The chaos usually kicks off with Hippie Christmas, followed by the steady arrival of new and returning students, and all the familiar events we associate with the collegiate experience: football games, drinks at the Memorial Union, and so on.
There’s a brief window before we lose the daylight and bearable temperatures where the dial turns down from “sweltering” to “this is kinda nice.” The dress code might call for a parka in the morning and a t-shirt in the afternoon. It’s a heady time for the shorts-and-hoodie crowd (of which I am also a card-carrying member). That’s the sweet spot we’re traveling to today.
This month, Sam and I are sharing a few fall records that for whatever reason might’ve been overlooked.
When you’re done here, remember to check out Sam’s take at This Is a Newsletter!
Let’s get to it!
KA—
Brothertiger- Fundamentals III
You have to dig deep to find a silver lining in the COVID lockdown, but if you’re struggling to come up with an example, I offer you Brothertiger’s Fundamentals series. Like many musicians, John Jagos was forced to stop public performances in 2020, but that didn’t mean he stopped performing. Jagos had previously made an album of Tears for Fears covers and later released a self-titled album that was one of my favorites of 2022. But in between, the pandemic forced him into pivoting to livestreams.
Each of these instrumental records was born and evolved in real time during those livestreams, while fans offered feedback to help shape them. There are four in total, but Vol. III is far and away my favorite, with Westerlies being a highlight. It’s a track a friend of the newsletter
Kiley Larsen once described as “the one with that never-ending Bruce Hornsby piano riff.” He’s right. And it’s awesome.
Likewise, the shimmering pianos of Pelée and the expansive quality of closing track Gran Canaria wrap the album in light—something I find myself desperately clinging to as the days grow increasingly shorter.
Each of the records is loosely built around an element, but I also think there’s an unintentional(?) emotional arc across the series. I might be reading too much into it, but for me Vol. I is moody and uncertain. Vol. II, even more so. In contrast, Vol. III feels like a release. It’s much more buoyant and joyful than the two that came before it.
Whenever I’m stuck writing a piece, I like to look out the window. In my field of vision is a tree that seems to operate on its own schedule. It’s the first to turn bright red while the others around it are still enamored with their lush green colors. It just does its own thing—looking forward to whatever’s coming next and ignoring everything else around it. That tree reminds me of this record, and vice versa.
Sam’s pick and my take: Cleo Sol- Rose in the Dark
The first thing I should tell you is that in my early research, I came across Cleo Sol’s name in a forum thread where someone described her music as “Erykah Badu meets Sade.” That got my attention. The second was that I was shocked to pull up this record on Spotify and see that she has over 3 million monthly listens. Another case of my being late to the party, I guess.
And that count makes more sense when you learn that Sol is a part of SAULT, but this records stand firmly on its own. Rose in the Dark may not carry the experimental edge of her group projects, but it thrives in its own constraints. The mood here is chilled out, and the sound is stripped down. IMO, that subtlety is a strength. Her singing is poised, and she‘s not overselling the emotion. The production mirrors that approach: pared back, easygoing, and full of nods to 1970s soul. You hear it in instruments like flutes and synths. It all makes for an unhurried groove and a pretty neo-soul record. I can see listening to this on a frosty Sunday morning or pairing it with a nice cozy dinner at home.
R.E.M.- Green
Okay, hear me out. I know this series is all about underrated records—or albums that might’ve flown under your radar. Green is not that. I’m also aware of the irony in choosing a record titled Green for a series on fall records. But perhaps more than any other here, this reminds me of autumn. That’s influenced in large part by the fact that I first heard this at the beginning of the school year. I was also lucky enough to see them in concert while they were on the road supporting this record. That show was in… October.
I’m the kind of listener who is long on association. There’s simply no way my brain can be rewired to tie this to the dog days of summer. Not to oversell it, but I really only listen to it in the fall and winter. By contrast, I regard Out of Time as a “summer record.” Even the pop brilliance of Pop Song ’89 takes me right back to those gray, rainy days and claustrophobic halls of junior high, where headphones were as much about body armor as they were about listening to music.
With its mandolin, You Are the Everything just feels like a fall evening.
Another (possible) hot take: Get Up is fantastic. I know it sets some listeners’ hair on fire, and the lyrics are… okay. But that rhythm? I’ll take all of that, you got! Turn You Inside Out is my vote for “R.E.M. song that should’ve been bigger.” It’s one fans know & love, but not a whole lot of casual listeners are familiar with. If that’s you, please check it out ASAP. The closest analog I can think of (it’s still early) is Push by The Cure.
Michael Stipe would spend a lot of the late ’80s and early ’90s in the political arena, and World Leader Pretend is one of the first times he writes an overtly political track—or at least one that unveils some of his political leanings. And hey, we have elections in the fall, right?
Orange Crush is about Agent Orange, which was used in Vietnam—a war we just happened to learn about in the fall of that same school year. It was all very timely, you see.
My on-ramp to the band was a 1-2 punch of Green and Eponymous. Some people say that it’s the band’s first bad record, but I’d argue the other way. I think it holds up well (yes, even Stand). I rate Green—and even Eponymous—higher than someone who came to the band earlier might. That raises some hackles every time it comes up, but I stand by it. I might be convinced to listen to this in the dog days of summer, but I’ll never be convinced that this is a poor studio outing for the group.
Sam’s pick and my take: Julia Holter- Have You In My Wilderness
Julia Holter’s fourth studio album is packaged with a distinctly sunlit, atmospheric sound, drawing clear inspiration from 1970s SoCal. The production evokes early mornings when the marine layer hasn’t quite yet lifted. It’s a backdrop well-suited to Holter’s strengths: carefully crafted songwriting and a precise sense of arrangement.
One of the record’s more striking qualities is its accessibility. Melodies are open and inviting, and the sounds are layered without ever feeling dense.
If there’s a fault here, it’s that, for as sunny and accessible as this record is, Holter occasionally overindexes on the ethereal. It’s almost as if that same marine layer will obscure her completely. That said, the storytelling is nothing if not vivid. Who else is going to work the line “sharp and high on the Balearic Promontory” into a song? A song about being seduced and then left to die on an island, by the way.
Like those early, misty mornings, this can be hard to get on the first listen, but once that burns off and the sky is clear and a million, you’re in for a treat.
Cleaners From Venus- Midnight Cleaners
This is lo-fi before any of us knew what lo-fi meant. Originally only available on tape, it was later reissued on CD and vinyl. I have a copy of the latter, and while it’s remastered and sounds great, many of the rougher qualities are still there—I hope that was by design, because in my opinion it’s a feature, not a bug.
Midnight Cleaners is at its strongest on more structured songs, like the fantastic “Only a Shadow.” The guitar is particularly sweet, and it’s something that wouldn’t be out of place on your favorite Smiths record. “Only a Shadow” also stands out because it uses real drums. I doubt anyone involved would have labeled this “lo-fi” at the time, but looking at it now, it’s tough to define it any other way. There are lots of easy GBV comparisons to make, though I can’t see Robert Pollard throwing a big block of sax on one of his records. What I can picture is this album being made in a drafty upstairs room or attic or a crisp fall evening. That aesthetic permeates the record. It too is a feature, not a bug.
Cassette recordings were never exactly high fidelity, and more than anything else, this feels like an album purpose-built for tape.
Sam’s pick and my take: Grouper-Dragging a Dead Deer Up a Hill
Ok, so my brain is clearly cooked from being terminally online, but this title had me thinking I was about to get into some sort of Swedish death metal. The closest this comes to connecting those dots is my saying that at first blush this feels like a witchy version of Cocteau Twins (not derogatory). Dragging is a record-long trip into dream pop and delicate vocals. Things get a bit gauzy, but never tip over into being too obscured to listen to. In other words, right up my alley. As for a fall record, the sounds certainly evoke this time of year, and a bunch of titles reference things like water and sleep, which aren’t exactly reminiscent of, say, July.
That’s a wrap! What are your thoughts on these records? Do you own any of them? Share your thoughts in the comments! Rants, raves, and spicy takes are all welcome. And if you have any ideas on future themes, please share those as well! Don’t forget to check out Sam’s thoughts over at This Is a Newsletter!
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?
Kevin Sent 
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