Some thoughts on Ticketmaster, Resellers, and Swifties.
It shouldn’t surprise you that a considerable chunk of my adolescent years were spent going to, coming from, or actually at shows. If you’re reading this, I’d bet our timelines overlap.
Some of that was down to questionable life decisions—I quit more than one job after being unable to get time off. Some was timing— people on my block had cars long before I did, making getting downtown easier. But mostly, it was economics. Tickets were simply cheaper (something that will surprise absolutely no one). We dealt with plenty along the way, but automated resellers weren’t one of ’em.
Back then, the first step to seeing a show usually meant heading to a brick-and-mortar building—a sporting goods store called GI Joe’s (think Dick’s Sporting Goods, but with a token record section). They had a desk whose sole mission was to sell park passes, fishing licenses, and concert tickets. This was the designated Ticketmaster outlet, back before they decided to go all in on villain shit. Prices were reasonable, and fees weren’t absurd. Most bands and crews weren’t getting rich, but at least the system hadn’t yet been weaponized against us.
Those little paper tickets were passports to whole new worlds—or beloved old haunts. Today, they mostly live in shoeboxes or scrapbooks. Concert tickets now exist on phones or in apps we’re forced to download—just a string of ones and zeroes sitting on a server somewhere. And speaking of numbers: the average ticket last year was $136.45, up about 42% from just five years earlier.
I know, I know—I’m deep in “old man yells at cloud” territory. Stick with me.
This isn’t a “things were cheaper in my day” stemwinder. Of course they were—so was everything else. I’ve got neighbors who had apartments downtown, paid $250 a month, and can’t figure out what today’s kids are griping about. I get it.
There were certainly systemic issues even then, and Pearl Jam was already taking on Ticketmaster. People were already testing workarounds. But complete monopolization hadn’t yet hit, and “reseller” still usually meant a chainsmoking, slightly sketchy dude in the parking lot an hour before showtime. Thirty-five-ish years later, we’re still inventing workarounds: house shows are back, pop-ups are a thing, and so on.
It’s the reseller I want to focus on here.
And look, I get it—we live in a late-stage capitalist hellscape. Supply and demand are real. So is surge pricing. Even the airline I may or may not work for has toyed with the idea. In aviation, it’s called Yield Management. In the music world, it more closely resembles highway robbery. And look, if artists and crews were the ones making that extra revenue, it might be palatable—but they’re not. It’s going to faceless corporations and bad actors who’ve mastered the system. The losers? Concertgoers and, occasionally, local venue owners.
Today’s resellers are much more ominous and much better equipped. They have all the levers of technology at their fingertips and know how to weaponize each one. The rise of AI has changed the rules of engagement yet again. If you’ve ever tried to buy tickets only to find the remaining ones priced several orders of magnitude above face value, you know what I’m talking about.
It’s gotten so bad that legislation was recently introduced here in Wisconsin to push back. The bill—introduced by Democratic lawmakers—came after a theater in Racine watched helplessly as $22 tickets ballooned to several hundred dollars for a production of Legally Blonde, effectively pricing people out of the show and diverting revenue from the venue. If passed, it would require resellers to disclose total ticket costs, cap markup limits, and prohibit bots that scoop up tickets before fans can.
History is littered with similar bills that never made it out of committee. Others have tried to tackle pricing itself. If I ruled the world, future versions would include bans on venues taking merch cuts. I’m not holding my breath. That’s one the market itself will have to handle—maybe if enough of us stop going to those places, they’ll stop. Maybe.
You’ve got to have a dream, right?
Back to the bill: Wisconsin is one of the most politically balkanized states in the nation. Both parties spend more time throwing rocks at each other than actually getting things done. The GOP here can be politely characterized as “humorless.” Still, I’d like to think there’s a sliver left that remembers it’s supposed to champion small business and working people. They’ve whiffed on plenty of easy wins in recent years—hopefully this won’t be one of them. Other states are following similar paths, but like the slogan says: As goes Wisconsin…
Ideally, these obscene price hikes will go the way of the paper ticket. My dream is that kids today get to experience the same adventures I did—and that, for once, consumers aren’t the ones left holding the bag.
If nothing else, at least the bill has a killer name: the Stop Wildly Inflated Fees and Ticketing Industry Exploitation Act. 11/10 No notes. Hopefully, our elected officials will get it and realize the peril of voting against something with a title like this.
Political survival 101: Never start a land war with Swifties.
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, we’re starting by heading back in time (and just a little bit south of here) to Rockford Illinois, for a dose of Cheap Trick. Are they Power Pop? Maybe. Do they rock? No doubt. From there we’ve got a deeper cut from JAMC, and a brand new one from
It’s Spooky Szn, so Side 2 kicks off with a trifecta of Fever Ray’s “Shiver,” Water From Your Eyes’ “Nights In Armor,” and something from LA Witch, before ending with fresh tracks from Massage, Joel Cusumano, and Petrov, the Hero.
Broken record alert: 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.
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.
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 by heading to Portland (the best city on Earth, in my extremely biased opinion) for a taste of “America’s best Krautrock band.” From there, it’s off to Nashville and some very-much-not-country music from palm Ghosts. The first three wrap up with the latest from Coast City Bus.
Side 2 kicks off with a little bit from The Church’s Starfish album, a brand new one from This House is Creaking, and a 1-2 combo of Dummy and Immersion. From there we wind things out with a lesser known SY track, a gem from Pąșśìóň Pïț and a jolt of jangle pop from The Radio Dept.
Broken record alert: 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.
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!
Good morning! Need an antidote for the algorithms? Looking for a place to share the music you love with like-minded people? You’re in the right spot.
As always, thank you to those who upgraded their subscriptions this past week. Your direct support fuels this community and makes a positive impact. Shares and reposts also help! Thank you!
When you’re ready, joining them is easy. Just click here:
For those of you who are new, we kick off every week by sharing what we’ve been playing.
The playlist below is some of what I’ve had in heavy rotation. This week, the pendulum again swings and it’s back to old faves and comfort sounds, with a few fresh tracks mixed in. We start with all-timers The dBs before launching into Home Front and Redd Kross
Side two kicks off with something from John Cale and ends with the Waterboys. Along the way, we stop in Motown, LA, and whatever universe gifted us Brothertiger.
I know I keep saying it, but it’s true: 2025 might be a hot mess, but not when it comes to new music.
The flood of great records continues! Today we’re taking a quick look at the latest from BRNDA, Grant Pavol, Water From Your Eyes, and Die Spitz.
Longtime readers may recall that I reviewed 100 new (to me) records last year. Because I’m a glutton for punishment love music, I’m doing it again this year. This is the latest in the series.
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a look at the latest from BRNDA, Die Spitz, and more!
The boilerplate intro:
Every year, I celebrate all the great music we’ve been gifted while worrying that next year will see the other shoe drop. I first did that in December 2020 and have been proven wrong every month since. Not only are there a ton of releases steadily coming out, but it also transcends genre or any other artificial guardrail we try and put up—
In other words, a ton of good stuff is coming out, and there’s something for everyone. It’s almost overwhelming— but in all the best ways. Below is another batch that caught my attention recently.
A lot of recent releases landed on my radar all at once, and I want to shine a light on them before too much more time passes. Not quite an 88 lines about 44 records kind of deal, but close. More of a clearing the decks, if you will.
Let’s get into it!
BRNDA – Total Pain
Emerging from the D.C. music scene sometime around 2011 or 2012, BRNDA has spent over a decade honing a sound that blends post-punk urgency, twee charm, and occasional nervous energy into something uniquely their own. Their latest record, Total Pain, balances moments of melancholy with bursts of off-kilter humor, producing a listening experience that feels both optimistic and restless.
From the opening moments of Peach Pit, Leah Gage, Dave Lesser, Mark McInermey, and Nick Stavely set a tone reminiscent of Dry Cleaning, pairing post-punk guitars with a detached vocal delivery. Lyrically, the album is sharp, sardonic, and often self-aware. I mean, with lines like “And again and again and again and again and you’re really not making any new friends” and “And you spend and you spend and pretend and pretend that they care that you’re reading August Wilson’s Fences,” what else can you say?
Tracks like Books Are Bad showcase a strolling bass line and vocal stylings that might evoke Chris Frantz for listeners of a certain age, while Burn the Zoo continues the album’s rambling, improvisational mood. MT Eyes offers a lighter, twee-infused interlude, recalling the charm of Tullycraft, while Everyone Chicago hits with angular riffs, urgent energy, and—yes—a flute, adding an unexpected flourish I absolutely did not have on my bingo card.
Go for Gold leans into playful absurdity with squeaks, squonks, and nonsensical lyrics like “Who’s gonna break the code? Do your knuckle worst / Breakfast of mushroom champions eat first / Who’s gonna cut my carbon? Who’s gonna cut my steak?” Yet beneath the humor, the album is suffused with subtle sadness. As the band notes,“We didn’t need to call the album Total Pain… but pain infuses the album.”
The record’s energy bounces between nervous, melodic post-punk and playful experimentation. Parquet Courts comparisons aren’t far off, but BRNDA distinguishes itself by taking turns on vocals that shine brightest when Leah Gage takes the lead, particularly on tracks like Cool Night. Themes of life’s anxieties, domestic chaos, and paranoia weave throughout, creating a record that to my ear feels both intimate and unhinged. Apropos of nothing, I read in an interview that Gage and Lesser are parents of a toddler. Having been there/done that, the frazzled mindset of this record makes sense.
Standout moments like Blenderman exemplify this duality: the repeated line “I could (feelin’ lucky) win or time could beat me / I could (feelin’ lucky) win” captures hope tempered by existential uncertainty. The album closes with the delicious chaos of My Mother, a tense, slightly bonkers meditation on the modern family.
For fans of Sweeping Promises, Dry Cleaning, and Cola. Bandcamp also suggested Gaadge, which, to be honest, isn’t a bad call, either. (Bandcamp link)
Grant Pavol- Save Some Time (EP)
A little bit Krautrock, a little bit Yo La Tengo, with a dusting of twang across the top. This EP is enjoyable from start to finish. Save Some Time is a record Pavol describes as “an adult reassessment of youthful insecurity, carrying the weight of big emotions with a steady hand.” It’s also described as a bit like the Velvet Underground at their most Cale-Forward, which is fair. (Bandcamp link)
Die Spitz- Something to Consume
One thing you should know about me is that I’m a grammar nerd. Words matter. Definitions matter. And I suppose whether or not you consider a record an EP matters where you draw the line. Is it at four tracks? 6? I mention this because everything I’ve seen online refers to this record as the band’s debut. That might make for easy copy, but it ignores 2022 EP The Revenge of Evangeline and 2023’s 7-song release, Teeth.
Okay, rant over.
My elevator pitch for this Austin-based quartet has always been simple: Die Spitz is the Gen Z equivalent of L7. To be clear, that’s meant as high praise. They’re fast, loud, and have something to say— and exactly zero Fs to give. Ava Schrobilgen, Chloe De St. Aubin, Eleanor Livingston, and Kate Halter also happen to be talented musicians. 2023’s record was centered around “Hair of Dog,” one of my favorite tracks of the year, and the EP quickly found its way onto my Best of 2023 list. It set the stage for Something to Consume. Almost a rough draft, if you will. That’s not to say that this record has the edges sanded off- it absolutely doesn’t- but it’s clear that the group has worked to evolve from those early beginnings.
The first notes of opener “Pop Punk Anthem (Sorry For The Delay)” tell listeners in no uncertain terms that this ride is different. It’s almost radio-friendly. Almost. Ditto follow-up “Voir Dire.” If you have a hard rock station in your local market, don’t be surprised to hear the latter on the air at some point. Any concerns that the band might’ve lost its edge (whatever that means) are erased with “Throw Yourself to the Sword” and its piledriver riff. “Sound to No One” balances heaviness with ethereal vocals. “RIDING WITH MY GIRLS” is all gas and no brakes and purpose-built for getting the pit going.
Like L7 before them, Die Spitz’s sound is fueled by rage at the injustice(s) around them. The targets may have changed, the ferocity has not. In an era where terms like “punk” are co-opted into aesthetics, Die Spitz makes it all refreshingly honest again. The album takes the best parts of Teeth and levels up. In a word? Something to Comsume is extraordinary. (Bandcamp link)
Water From Your Eyes- It’s a Beautiful Place
Water From Your Eyes has been bending guitars into shapes you wouldn’t think possible for nearly a decade. The Brooklyn-by-way-of-Chicago duo of Rachel Brown and Nate Amos has built a catalog where the instrument is less an anchor and more a medium. Their live shows are notorious for stretching the songs until they blur into the unrecognizable. I suppose that’s fitting; this band thrives on the idea that the analog and digital worlds don’t need to agree—they just need to collide.
It’s a Beautiful Place opens with “One Small Step,” a blurry half-minute prelude that quickly gives way to “Life Signs,” and we’re off to the races. The song staggers and surges, with all kinds of time signatures
“Nights In Armor” charges further onward with a killer groove, Brown’s voice slicing through the circular bassline with a line that doubles as both invitation and dare: “I just want to fight you ’cause I’m tired.” It’s disarmingly simple, yet lands hard. Then comes “Born 2,” a warped cousin of a Weezer anthem fed through a psychedelic filter. Amos’s guitar churns in heavy downstrokes while Brown hovers just above accessibility.
The interludes scattered across the record serve as a chance to catch your breath and get your bearings.
“Spaceship” takes a break from gravity and order, the guitars dissolving into backward swells and percussion that lands like meteors. Next up is “Playing Classics,” a highlight built on club-ready synths and a deadpan vocal. It’s funny, strange, and incredibly addictive. If you’re in the market for an earrowm, start here.
Elsewhere, “Blood on the Dollar” trades distortion for restraint, Amos’s country-tinged guitar floating beneath Brown’s more reflective delivery. But even here, the band resists simplicity, adding textures that complicate what could have been an easy folk-rock closer. The title track and final instrumental tie everything together nicely, ending the record similarly to how it started.
Across It’s a Beautiful Place, Brown and Amos ricochet between maximalist noise, crooked pop structures, and ambience, every song a shot at testing the elasticity of sound. This record asks you to commit multiple listens before making any judgment calls—not because it’s elusive (okay, it is a little), but because it keeps giving more each time. (Bandcamp link)
As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts on these records! Did I get it right, or am I way off the mark?
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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 I’ve had in heavy rotation. This week, we again overindex new tracks, with a couple of old faves balancing things out. We start with community fave Water From Your Eyes before kicking into high gear with a 1-2 punch of Bob Mould & Die Spitz. From there, we’ve got the latest from our friend,
The Ririverse, and we end Side 1 with the latest from a longtime DC area band.
Side two kicks off with a track from a record I once deemed the #4 record of all time, before taking a trip to Pittsburgh to hear some Gaadge. I’m not on Threads anymore, but before I left, I was lucky to meet a couple of you and find Palm Ghosts. Their latest is here. Here’s to silver linings.
I know I keep saying it, but it’s true: 2025 might be a hot mess, but not when it comes to new music.
Kevin Sent 
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