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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’s been in heavy rotation for me. Winter finally hit here in America’s Dairyland, and we’re up to about 9” of snow and counting as I type this, with no sign of letting up. It also happens to be the week that Sirius XM is turned on for everyone. For me, the biggest threat on the road isn’t that first snow or ice; it’s First Wave, SiriusXMU, Smokey’s Soul Town all calling for my attention. I can steer into a skid without thinking about it. Taking my eyes off the dial is something else entirely. Existential threats aside, it’s largely influenced what I’ve been listening to this week. Songs I heard on there led to rabbit holes which led back to…the car radio. And so it goes. I’ve also been (re) listening to a lot of 2025 releases ahead of Steve GoldbergJami SmithSam Colt and I putting our annual AOTY lists together. Hopefully, you caught our preview of that, where we looked at the best of the 2020s (so far). If not, please check it out!
On to the music:
Side A: We kick things off easy with a little Billie Marten before heading to the best state in the union for the slinky grooves and sunny vibes of the Rose City band. From there, a quick stop in Philly for some killer power pop from
The Tisburys and over to the pond for a little Stereolab, some grapes of Grain, and a band called New Order. Not for nothing, Jamie Ward put together an awesome Stereolab playlist, which you can listen to here. Side one ends with two all-time classics from B.A.D. and The Tubes.
Side B: We start the 2nd half right here in Madison with some Spooner, and then going back to New Pornographers’ Electric Version, a little Dramarama, J Brekkie’s Diving Woman (which always reminds me of predawn commutes in the winter), and a dose of Destroyer. That’s followed with a little PJ, some Paul Weller, and Saint Etienne. I love this record, but have to admit I’m a little bummed this is gonna be the last one! More 2025 releases from Hayley Williams and Ninajirachi, and a little bit of BR-549 before winding things up with ORR faves Winged Wheel.
Do you make any end-of-year lists? If so, have you started putting them together?
Four writers. Zero consensus. Forty-plus albums that defined indie, post-punk, and everything in between—ranked, argued over, and ready for your queue.
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a quick look at the best records of 2020-2024.
Narrowing down a favorite anything can be tough. It’s much easier to overdeliver and give someone a list of 5 or even 10 top picks. And even that can be fraught. Are these objectively the best, or are they your favorites? Maybe a blend of both? And are you sharing something truly worthwhile — a nudge in the right direction — or have you just given the other person homework?
There’s also a line of thinking that you shouldn’t do these sorts of lists at all — much better to, say, group by genre or list by release date. And to that I say… fair point. But I should be clear here: I love lists — especially when it comes to music. Every music writer is really just three Rob Gordons in a trench coat, and I think (hope?) people like reading them.
If you’re looking for breakdowns on drop tuning, chord changes, or whatever, I’m not your guy, but that’s not usually why people check top 100 or best-of lists anyway. A few are there for the rage bait & hate reads; the rest are there for the recommendations without having to sift through 4000 releases a year.
In other words, they’re trying to avoid a homework assignment.
The first half of the 2020s gave us no shortage of unforgettable albums, from indie and post-punk to genre-crossing experiments. If you’re searching for the best records of the decade so far, consider this your cheat sheet.
For the past couple of years, Sam ColtSteve GoldbergJami Smith and I have put together our annual favorites. There’s not a lot of overlap in taste—or any other demographic—and that’s what keeps this so fun.
We’ll be doing it again this year, so please keep an eye out! In the interim, we wanted to tee things up by taking a quick look at our faves of the decade so far. A fool’s errand? Maybe, but why not?
Consider it the music writing equivalent of a recap or clip show, only this is the lead-in to 2025’s best-of, and not a “very special” episode of your favorite TV series.
Meet the Contributors
Jami Smith—Author of Songs That Saved Your Life, exploring overlooked queer perspectives in music. Her work has appeared in The Advocate and Out Traveler.
Jami’s List:
St. Vincent – Pay Your way in Pain (2021)
Dua Lipa – FutureNostalgia (2020)
Run the Jewels – RTJ4 (2020)
Dry Cleaning – New Long Leg (2021)
Doechii – Alligator Bites Never Heal (2024)
Yeah Yeah Yeahs – Cool It Down (2022)
Janelle Monae – Age of Pleasure (2023)
Beyonce – Renaissance (2022)
Brittany Howard – What Now (2024)
Cimafunk’s El Alimento (2021)
Sam Colt—Recovering copywriter and author of This Is A Newsletter!—a consistently hilarious, biting chronicle of modern life and its indignities.
Sam’s List:
Alfredo — Freddie Gibbs & The Alchemist (2020)
Promises — Floating Points, Pharaoh Sanders & the London Symphony Orchestra (2021)
Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You — Big Thief (2022)
Blue Rev — Alvvays (2022)
Cave World — Viagra Boys (2022)
SCARING THE HOES — Danny Brown & JPEGMAFIA (2023)
3D Country — Geese (2023)
“NO TITLE AS OF 13 FEBRUARY 2024 28,340 DEAD” — Godspeed You! Black Emperor (2024)
No Name — Jack White (2024)
Imaginal Disk — Magdalena Bay (2024)
Steve Goldberg—Writes Earworms and Songloops, weaving personal essays with the songs that lodge themselves in your brain.
Fantastic Negrito — Have You Lost Your Mind Yet? (2020)
Silk Sonic — An Evening with Silk Sonic (2021)
Arooj Aftab — Vulture Prince (2021)
Sloan — Steady (2022)
Weyes Blood — And in the Darkness, Hearts Aglow (2022)
Corey Hanson — Western Cum (2023)
King Gizzard — Petrodragonic Apocalypse (2023)
Cowboy Sadness — Selected Jambient Works Vol. 1 (2024)
Storefront Church — Ink and Oil (2024)
My List
Maggie Rogers — Don’t Forget Me (2024)
Wussy — Cincinnati, Ohio (2024)
Sweeping Promises — Good Living Is Coming For You (2023)
Chemical Brothers — For That Beautiful Feeling (2023)
New Pornographers — Continue as Guest (2023)
Spoon — Lucifer on the Sofa (2022)
Nada Surf — Moon Mirror (2024)
Destroyer — Have We Met (2020)
Alvvays — Blue Rev (2022)
Working Men’s Club — S/T (2020)
2020:
This year started on an auspicious note; I blew out my knee the first week of January, and also managed to fracture my foot in multiple places, because why not? At the time, I assumed that would be the defining event of 2020. Silly me. We went on vacation at the end of the month, my knee held together only by my stubborn desire to sit on a beach, and returned to a world almost unrecognizable. After that, we made the same descent into “online learning” and sourdough as everyone else.
Working Men’s Club’s self-titled debut was a bright spot in a bleak year, and landed with me because its sound harkened back to those late ’80s/early ’90s post-punk and dance records I was binging in my newfound free time. I found Destroyer retroactively, thanks primarily to readers here who never missed a chance to mention Dan Bejar whenever I talked up The New Pornographers. Have We Met is elegant, quirky, and well-built all at once. As good a trifecta as any when looking for a “best of” record. This is still one I play relatively often.
2021:
You may notice that there are no 2021 records on the above list. Given the lag between producing a record and us getting our hands on it, 2020 ran on the fumes of records actually recorded in 2019. The dearth of 2021 releases more accurately reflects what lockdown life looked like—a year of live streams and doing shows via Zoom to survive, not booking studio time. At least that’s my impression, anyway.
That’s not to say there weren’t some killer records like Japanese Breakfast’s Jubilee. I’m still #teamPsychopomp, but this is excellent, and “Be Sweet” got the nod for my favorite song of 2021, so there’s that. Ditto, Lily Konigsberg’s Lily We Need To Talk Now, and since this is my newsletter, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention a live record by a certain Manchester band.But if you only have enough time/money/whatever for ONE record, and asked me which 2021 release to pick up, it’d be Dry Cleaning’s New Long Leg. The English post-punk band knocked it out of the park with their debut album. The musings/vocals mix well with the layered, dense soundscapes she’s talking over (but not overtaking). Dry Cleaning reminds me a bit of King Missile, except frontwoman Florence Shaw is talking about things like lanyards and helicopters, and not detachable… organs…
2022:
Look, anytime Spoon puts out a record, it is a cause for celebration, and Lucifer on the Sofa delivers. They’ve teased a new record for next year, and there’s a greater-than-zero chance I’ll be yapping about it in next year’s year-end piece.
The year also gave us debuts from The Linda Lindas and Wet Leg. The former channeled every pop-punk record in your cabinet, and with tracks like “Ur Mum,” the latter came across like the Gen Z equivalent of Lily Allen.
The Paranoid Style also gifted us For Executive Meeting, an LP where I gave up trying to find new superlatives and just went with: “This record is just one heckuva good time. Have fun.”
Afghan Whigs dropped one on 9/9 that was a solid 10, and 5-3-8 by Dendrons proved post-punk was alive and well. Picture Wire’s Colin Newman, Joy Division (in a good mood), and High Vis all stuck together making an album during the pandemic — and they’re listening to Pavement for inspiration. The result is first-rate post-punk from America’s Second City.
Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ Cool It Down just missed the cut here. Had there not been a deadline to get this out, it’s possible I’d still be fussing with the lineup, and this would likely’ve been on it. As I noted at the time, it managed to thread the needle, making a record that sounds both “like a Yeah Yeah Yeahs record” and brand new all at once. The performance-art element isn’t as front & center as before, but the edge is as sharp as ever. No easy feat.
The record that pipped it? Alvvays — Blue Rev, where the chords are all in the right spots, and where the bridge on a track like “Belinda Says” is exactly as it needs to be. You can hear vestigial traces of the usual suspects here (Lush, MBV, etc.), but nothing is derivative. Blue Rev takes the best parts of power pop, dream pop, shoegaze, and whatever’s going on in lead singer Molly Rankin’s mind and just makes it work.
2023:
If 2021 was a reawakening, and 2022 was an (almost) return to normal, 2023 felt like when we hit our collective stride again. The last of the “pandemic project” modifiers peeled away, and the good music faucet was opened all the way up.
Drop Nineteens came out of nowhere to give us an incredible record, Seablite gave the shoegaze crowd a lil’ something, and the sad dads got a gift from Jason Isbell, the rare songwriter who can tell a whole story in one verse. The Chemical Brothers got in on the action with For That Beautiful Feeling. Tom Rowlands and Ed Simons still know a thing or two about putting together a record rather than piling a bunch of singles together and calling it good
Good Living Is Coming For You from Lawrence, Kansas-based Sweeping Promises was a revelation. The title sounds like the sort of slogan you’d see on Soviet agitprop posters or hear Peggy Olson come up with in a strategy session for Tupperware. Both are true. Speaking with the duo, frontwoman Lira Mondal described their sound as “Voracious, wild-eyed, grabbing-with-both-hands YOLO energy.” I also saw their sound described as “The B-52s if they never saw the sun.” Both of those are true, too.
Continue As Guest will take a listen or two before it clicks. But the band will win you over, as they invariably do. I often find myself writing, “Just go buy this record!” as a placeholder until I can better articulate my thoughts. Sometimes, I wish I could leave it at that. This is one of those cases.
2024:
Is there some recency bias here? Sure, maybe. But it’s undeniable that last year was chock-full of good records from end to end. Cloud Nothings tried to blow our speakers with Final Summer, and Cola dropped the best Parquet Courts record not made by Parquet Courts. What’s old was new again as J Mascis, Jesus and Mary Chain, and Pearl Jam all dropped new records. Kim Deal, too.
Last year saw Nada Surf gift us Moon Mirror, a rock-solid power pop from one of the most consistent, if not popular (heh), bands of our generation.
Cindy Lee’s Diamond Jubilee garnered almost as much ink for how it was distributed as for how good it was. Any record that gets someone to sit down and listen for two hours without doing anything else is worth considering for any best-of list. Cindy Lee is the stage name of Patrick Flegel. No spoilers, but don’t be surprised if another Flegel shows up on this year’s list.
My fave of last year was Wussy’s Cincinnati, Ohio. I don’t know what it is about this band, but man, they strike a chord in me that few other bands can hit. I’ve mentioned it elsewhere, but I think better than anyone else, they have helped me “get” what living in the Midwest is like. And the music? Well, it’s an LP with gem after gem just waiting to be discovered.
That’s a wrap! Did we nail it? Miss something obvious? Snub your favorite? Let me know—I’m always ready to be proven wrong (or at least add a few more albums to the listening pile).
Today we’re taking a quick look at the latest from Playland, Via, and SG Goodman.
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 Playland, SG Goodman, and Via.
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!
Playland- Playland 2
Cover art courtesy of Smoking Room Records
A late contender to the AOTY discourse has entered the chat.
I don’t think Playland 2 is trying to make a grand statement, but it ends up feeling like one anyway. Songs like “Everyone in the Park Is in Love,” “Power Outage,” and “Interactions” have a jangly brightness — fans of labelmates Ex-Pilots will find a lot to love here — blended with a lo-fi glow that lets the melodies bloom. It’s music that feels familiar, even when you’re hearing it for the first time.
Tracks like “Luv Like That,” “I Don’t Want to Live Here Anymore,” and “Vanity” pick up the pace, and the guitars get a little fuzzier. There’s some serious humanity in these tracks — they sound like someone trying to sort out their thoughts in real time. It’s messy but sincere. It’s not “perfect” in the traditional sense, but that’s exactly why it works. It sounds like, you know, a person. It plays like an album made because someone had something to say and didn’t want to wait. And in an era of performative nonsense, that feels kinda rad.
Forty years on, Psychocandy is still cool enough to make you lie about loving it
Covert art courtesy of Reprise Records
Good morning!
Today, we’re taking a quick look at the Jesus and Mary Chain’s seminal 1985 album, Psychocandy.
The Gospel According to the Reid Brothers
In 1985, The Jesus and Mary Chain kept things simple: take catchy pop hooks and slather them with enough distortion to shake your teeth loose. Whether you call it a wall of sound or a wall of noise depends on your taste.
The Velvet Underground comparisons are cheap and come easy. You can hear some similarities, but it’s not as simple as critics made it out to be. There are some exceptions, like “Never Understand” or “You Trip Me Up,” and those rare times are when the band lets the melodies reflect their pop leanings.
“Just Like Honey” is still a fan favorite. In another world, maybe one of the girl groups that inspired the Reid brothers would’ve taken it to number one. The opening beat comes right from the Ronettes’ “Be My Baby,” and the song has a kind of neat, naive feel hidden under all the fuzz.
At the other end of the spectrum lies “In A Hole,” my fave track on the record. Here, JAMC goes all-in on their haunting, otherworldly sound, finding something unique. “In a Hole” feels like the ground has fallen out from under your feet with swirling feedback and a melody desperate to get away from itself. I’m a champion of the relatively softer sounds of Darklands and the surf rock pastiche of Barbed Wire Kisses, but for my money, the band is at its best when they sound like what you’d overhear on the elevator to purgatory.
My Take on Psychocandy
Look, my relationship with Psychocandy has always been complicated. This is one of those records you’re supposed to love. And I get it. The noise is great. That it’s a one-of-a-kind record is also not up for debate, and its influence can be seen in the sounds of countless bands that followed in its wake. It is sui generis for noise rock- and if you squint and lean in toward the speakers, maybe shoegaze too.
The pop instincts are there, but aren’t as strong as people say….yet. This becomes especially apparent with the benefit of hindsight and hearing the band’s later work. If you take away the haze (and volume), there aren’t that many truly solid melodies. What remains is mostly a mood, and a dour one at that, with the band settling into hypnotic, almost ritual-like patterns. I’m mindful this is a minority opinion and heresy in some circles. That leaves the uncomfortable question of how justified that deep admiration really is..
To me, the album feels like a hipster relic: cool, distant, and overloaded with static. It reminds me of the impossibly cool kids at my school and how I liked their style more than anything else (do Ray Bans really ever go out of style?).
Don’t get me wrong; I like that static, and you can never have too much distortion. And I’ll listen to tracks like “In A Hole” “Sowing Seeds” and “Taste of Cindy” whenever, but really need to be in the mood for the rest of the record. I don’t buy the idea that the Jesus and Mary Chain were some sort of second coming of the Shangri-Las, Ronettes, etc, or that this record is the be-all end-all of their discography. That kind of pop magic only happens once.
Listen to Psychocandy via: Qobuz | Apple Music | Spotify (album not available on YouTube Music)
I’d love to hear your thoughts on the record! Did I get it right, or am I way off the mark?
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.
Kevin Sent 
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