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Darning Woman is an intentional, beautiful, sometimes confrontational album that shreds expectations of DIY, bedroom music, and feminine themes. There's a lushness and maternal instinct at play, as Coope connects the dots between physicality, ephemera, and the ultrafeminine. "I don't really like to deal that much with themes of personal hardships, or heartache and love," says Anastasia Coope. "Ultimately, I work most honestly with the language of what is happening in a moment and the passage of time around it. That, coupled with my reaction to entering the artistic landscape, and my thoughts about what does and doesn't get representation, comprises most of this album." Darning Woman explores, among other things, the meditative aspect of sewing, patching and embellishment, care and repair, collection not as modern, craven consumption but as a counterpoint to materialism. This sort of collection - the good kind, the gathering of things to make a home - can be, in Coope's words, "A very baby way to critique capitalism. Birds make nests, right? It can be a new life for a thing that was made. What you surround yourself with matters." To that end, Anastasia Coope is also the founder and leader of the Bonzo collective and show series, an exciting new home for the type of expansive, profoundly creative scene that New York has been missing for some time. And while Bonzo may well be the ascent of a new community, Darning Woman is the story of Anastasia Coope, herself. It is the sound of Coope entering the world as an artist, acknowledging the tangle of what changes - the gaze of the world, Coope's art in reaction and community to art in general - and what does not: her ideas and her own self.

Dunya, the title of Mustafa's masterfully crafted andbreathtakingly tender full-length debut, roughly translates fromArabic to "the world in all its flaws." It's a lofty subject for a youngsongwriter, but as with every theme at the heart of theSudanese-Canadia...

Dunya, the title of Mustafa's masterfully crafted andbreathtakingly tender full-length debut, roughly translates fromArabic to "the world in all its flaws." It's a lofty subject for a youngsongwriter, but as with every theme at the heart of theSudanese-Canadia...

“22, A Million is part love letter, part final resting place of two decades of searching for self-understanding like a religion. And the inner-resolution of maybe never finding that understanding. The album’s 10 poly-fi recordings are a collection of sacred moments, love’s torment and salvation, contexts of intense memories, signs that you can pin meaning onto or disregard as coincidence. If Bon Iver, Bon Iver built a habitat rooted in physical spaces, then 22, A Million is the letting go of that attachment to a place.”

The bulk of the album was recorded and produced at April Base Studios in Fall Creek, Wisconsin with pieces recorded in London, England and just outside Lisbon, Portugal. Collaborators included Colin Stetson, S. Carey, Poliça’s Ryan Olson, and Richard Buckner.

Perth, Minnesota & Calgary get their own songs, it's a good winter in this bad summer!

Molly Lewis's compositions seem to float into our ears from distant shores. They're otherworldly, drawn more from landscapes of dream than from anywhere you could find on a map. Lewis is a unique presence in music today. Her trademark whistle, which brings to mind the great Peruvian soprano Yma Sumac, has graced recordings of everything from Schumann lieder and Brazilian jazz to Spaghetti Western ballads and noir lounge. Lewis's collaborations are diverse: La Femme, Sébastien Tellier and Dr. Dre. She's performed around the globe, at Shanghai's Yuz Museum, the Cannes Film Festival, Mexico City's Salón Los Angeles, and across the whole of New Zealand. Lewis's 2021 debut EP, The Forgotten Edge, was produced by Tom Brenneck (Charles Bradley, Amy Winehouse). It was a critical success, drawing praisefrom The New York Times and NPR, and landing Lewis a spot on CBS Sunday Morning. Now, Lewis and Brenneck have teamed up again for hersecond EP, Mirage, bringing aboard Brazilian guitarist Rogê, as well as percussionist Gibi Dos Santos and keyboardist Roger Manning.Capacious and atmospheric, Mirage is Lewis's most hypnotic effort yet. Like Eden's Island (1970) by eden ahbez_whose "Nature Boy"is covered in one of Mirage's standout moments_the album is based on Lewis's visions of an imaginary island. The lush, oceanic texturesof Mirage transport us to the sands of an unknown beach_all alone or in the company we've always dreamt of keeping.

The shopping malls have closed down, the dressing rooms are filled with ghosts, and the carousel is covered in cobwebs. Nobody Lives Here Anymore, the latest and greatest from Max Clarke as Cut Worms, is the haunted reverie of an American landscape in-and-out of Clarke's mind. Recorded between May and November 2019 in Memphis, Tennessee, the album is a snow globe of the mid-twentieth-century's popular music filled with chiming guitars, honkey tonk pianos, and Telstar organs. A constant creator - be it his Cut Worms alter-ego or his day-jobillustration work (designing brand logos and beer labels with madhouse technicolor pictures) - writing and making records has always been Max's driving force. So after an extensive eighteen-months of touring in support of 2017's Alien Sunset and 2018's Hollow Ground, he set about sifting through the fragment pieces and sketches of tunes he'd accumulated, along with a jet-stream of new compositions, mining his life-long devotion to the lost American songbook for inspiration. By thetime he flew to Memphis to work with producer Matt Ross-Spang at Sam Phillips Studio, he'd stockpiled more than thirty new songs. A loss of innocence lingers through this 80-minute opus as Clarke attempts to harbor love and meaning inside a world that sold itself out. He explores the wistfulness of the past in search of answers for tomorrow. And while his grand anthems overflow with timeless pop charm, his ability to dig deeper than lollipops and holding hands sets his work apart from the days of 45s and Top of the Pops.

2xLP redux packaging.Moses Sumney evades definition as an act of duty: technicolor videos and monochrome clothes; Art Rock and Black Classical; blowing into Fashion Week from a small town in North Carolina; seemingly infinite collaborators, but only one staggering voice. A young life spent betwixt Southern California and Accra, Ghana _ not so much rootless as an epyphite, an air plant. The scale is cinematic but the moves are precise deeds of art and stewardship. Sumney's new, generous album, græ, is an assertion that the undefinable still exists and dwelling in it is an act of resistance.To try to pin Sumney down on a sound _ and really, on any matter _ is to end up with a hand full of fog, but his genius is never allowing the set to sound like a hodgepodge. His forthcoming double album expands upon the sonic universe built in Sumney's critically-acclaimed debut LP Aromanticism and subsequent EP Black In Deep Red, 2014. The songs on græ may be divergent, like the visceral, Smashing Pumpkins drama of "Virile" and the intoxicated, outro jazz of "Gagarin." There's the kinky, ambiguous bop of "Cut Me" countered with the sweeping, amphitheater-ready "Bless Me." But there's that voice, always unknowable and penetrating, threading these pieces together: a heavenly rasp, a whale call, Miles' horn, a soulful snarl. It all works to create a paradox, keeping art and artist somewhere between any one sure thing _ but surely something that demands your attention affixed and your breath bated. All of this is græ.There's probably a biblical analogy to be made about a person who just happens to be named Moses, who flees the binary, splits a massive body into two pieces, and leads us through the in-between _ holy and wholly rebellious. By breaking up græ into two multifaceted, dynamic pieces, Sumney is quite literally creating a "grey" in-between space for listeners to absorb and consider the art. Not strictly singles, not strictly albums, never altogether songs or spoken word segments on their own. It's neither here n...

The Rock Canon Has Many Anti-Heroes, Black Mountain Being The Latest. In The Past, Can's Tago Mago Established That The Only Rule In Rock And Roll Is That There Are No Rules. Pink Floyd's Prodigious Output In The 70s Showed Us That Architecture Can Be Cool, While Delinquent Proto-Metallers Black Sabbath Demonstrated That You Can Make A Lot From Not That Much. Now Black Mountain Teach Us That You Don't Have To Be Afraid Of The Past To Move Bravely Into The Future, Defining What It Is To Be A Classic Rock Band In The New Millennium. Iv Is An Unapologetically Ambitious Record Made By A Group Of Musicians Who Are At The Peak Of Their Powers.

For all the attention that was paid to her 2012 break-through Tramp, Sharon Van Etten is an artist with a hunger to turn another corner and to delve deeper, writing from a place of honesty and vulnerability to create a bond with the listener that few contemporary musicians can match. Compelled by a restless spirit, Van Etten is continuously challenging herself. Now, the result is Are We There, a self-produced album of exceptional intimacy, sublime generosity, and immense breadth.

Available for the first time on vinyl, "Julie Doiron and the Wooden Stars" is Doiron's most critically acclaimed album, going so far as to win the 2000 Juno Award - the Canadian equivalent to the Grammy - for best independently released album of the year. Combining elements of rock and jazz a la Joni Mitchell's early '70s work, "Julie Doiron and the Wooden Stars" somehow translated the coldness of the Canadian winter into one of the warmest and most tender records to be produced in the Eastern province in years.

gatefold cover!

How do you best describe Angel Olsen? From the lo-fi, sparse folk-melancholy of her 2010 EP, Strange Cacti, to the electrified, polished rock ‘n’ roll bursting from 2016’s beloved and acclaimed MY WOMAN, Olsen has refused to succumb to a single genre, expectation, or vision. Impossible to pin down, Olsen navigates the world with her remarkable, symphonic voice and a propensity for narrative, her music growing into whatever shape best fits to tell the story.

Phases is a collection of Olsen’s work culled from the past several years, including a number of never-before-released tracks. “Fly On Your Wall,” previously contributed to the Bandcamp-only, anti-Trump fundraiser Our First 100 Days, opens Phases, before seamlessly slipping into “Special,” a brand new song from the MY WOMAN recording sessions. Both “How Many Disasters” and “Sans” are first-time listens: home-recorded demos that have never been released, leaning heavily on Olsen’s arresting croon and lonesome guitar.

The b-sides compilation is both a testament to Olsen’s enormous musical range and a tidy compilation of tracks that have previously been elusive in one way or another. Balancing tenacity and tenderness, Phases acts as a deep-dive for longtime fans, as well as a fitting introduction to Olsen’s sprawling sonics for the uninitiated.

Ever since childhood, learning to play various instruments in a suburban Cincinnati basement alongside his brother Bryce, Aaron Dessner has consistently sought an emotional outlet and deep human connection through music _ be it as a primary songwriter in The National, a founder and architect of beloved collaboration-driven music festivals, or collaborator on two critically acclaimed and chart-topping Taylor Swift albums recorded in complete pandemic-era isolation at his Long Pond Studio in upstate New York, among many other projects. Through it all, Dessner has brought together an unlikely community of musicians that share his impulse to connect, celebrate and, most of all, process emotion and experience through music. This generous spirit and desire to push music forward has never been more deeply felt than on Big Red Machine's "How Long Do You Think It's Gonna Last?," the second album from Dessner's evermorphing project with Bon Iver's Justin Vernon. In 2008, while assembling material for the charitycompilation "Dark Was the Night," Dessner sent Vernon a song sketch titled "big red machine". Vernon interpreted "big red machine" as a beating heart and finished the song accordingly _ a metaphor Dessner says "still sticks with me today. This project goes to many places and is always on some level about experimentation, but it shines a light on why I make music in the first place, which is an emotional need. It's one of my therapies and one of the ways I interrogate the past." Released in 2018, Big Red Machine's self-titled debut album evolved from improvisation and what Dessner calls "structured experimentalism," with an ear toward building tracks that would work well in a live setting alongside visual elements. When Dessner and Vernon started the Eaux Claires Music Festival in 2015, they staged the original "Big Red Machine" as an improvisation-based performance piece. They later took that show to the People collective's Berlin residency and festival, and to Dessner's Haven Festival in Copenhagen. "Big Red Machine started as this thing we would do for fun, and we fell in love with the feeling of it," says Dessner." Vernon agrees: "I remember it feeling really easy, but we never knew what would happen. It was exciting. As time went on, we just kept doing things together. And our friendship has grown strong, alongside all the collaborative stuff." New Big Red Machine material began taking shape in spring 2019, when Vernon came to visit Dessner at Long Pond. The first week produced songs such as "Reese," "8:22am" and eventual album opener "Latter Days," a haunting number sung by Vernon and Anaïs Mitchell that set the emotional tenor for what was to come. "It was clear to her that the early sketch Justin and I made of Latter Days was about childhood, or loss of innocence and nostalgia for a time before you've grown into adulthood _ before you've hurt people or lost people and made mistakes. Anaïs defined the whole record When she sang that, as these same themes kept appearing again and again," Dessner says. In the ensuing months, Vernon and Dessner would meet up when they could, and in the meantime, Dessner developed the existing material and wrote new instrumental tracks which he sent Vernon, always eager to hear what he would receive back. "Justin is incredibly gifted, but he's also disruptive in the best way," says Dessner, pointing to the first note of the song "Birch" as a prime example. "It's absolutely brilliant, but it was very surprising when I heard it the first time. I can't tell you what that interval is. There are many moments working with him where your head hits the wall in amazement like that." In the early stages of the pandemic, Swift approached Dessner to work with her on what would become the sister albums "folklore" and "evermore." Dessner describes this period as a "creative blur," during which he'd be writing material for Swift and Big Red Machine simultaneously. "I think this was an intense growing period for me, I was learning so much from Taylor and the process. Along the way, I shared all of our unfinished Big Red Machine songs with her and she really found them inspiring and gave me so much positive feedback and encouragement," he says. "I think that helped me realize how connected this Big Red Machine music was to everything else I was doing and that I was always supposed to be chasing these ideas. I was finding new sounds and ways of working through these songs. I just hadn't been able to finish them. So, I did." Beyond Vernon and Swift's encouragement, many of Dessner's previous collaborators and friends show up for him here, continuing the reciprocal exchange of ideas that has come to define his creative community. Songs feature guest vocals and writing contributions from artist friends including Fleet Foxes' Robin Pecknold ("Phoenix"), Ben Howard and This Is The Kit ("June's a River"), Naeem ("Easy to Sabotage'), Sharon Van Etten, Lisa Hannigan and My Brightest Diamond's Shara Nova ("Hutch," a tune inspired by Dessner's late friend, Frightened Rabbit frontman Scott Hutchison) and Swift herself ("Birch" and "Renegade," the latter an instant-classic Taylor earworm summed up by the poignant lyric "Is it insensitive for me to say / get your shit together so I can love you." The song was recorded in Los Angeles at the Kitty Committee studio in March 2021, the same week when Swift and Dessner took home the Grammy for Album of the Year for "folklore.") "This is all music I generated, but it is interesting to hear how different people relate to it, or how different voices collide with it," Dessner says. "That's what makes it special. With everyone that's on this record, there's an openness, a creative generosity and an emotional quality that connects it all together." As he continued writing prolifically on his own, Dessner noticed a theme emerging -- the idea of sitting with the uncomfortability of personal and family darkness from his childhood and reflecting on how emotional issues he dealt with growing up have reverberated through his adult life. It became clear that some of these he'd need to sing himself; songs such as "The Ghost of Cincinnati" and "Magnolia" address the disintegration of marriage and family and mental health, asking pointed questions of himself and those closest to him. "Brycie" is an ode to his aforementioned twin and National bandmate, who picked up on the musical vibes immediately when Dessner played the song for him for the first time backstage at a National show in Washington D.C. "He picked along to it with me and it immediately sounded like Aaron and Bryce playing the guitar in the basement as kids, which was my intent," Dessner remembers. "The words mean a lot to me. It's about my childhood with Bryce, and how I had pretty severe depression in high school. He was the one who kept me going and took care of me until I was back on my feet. I've lost close friends to depression and this song is about how important it was that Bryce was there for me at that time and is still here." In addition to being one of the more lyrically significant tracks on the album, Dessner says singing it himself felt like an important act of self-acceptance. "I always sing under my breath when I write music, but I usually hand it off to [National vocalist] Matt [Berninger] or others" he says. "When you're in a band for so long and somebody else is that person, you come to rely on it and I've always loved Matt's voice and his words. But singing `Brycie' myself helped rewire my brain to realize that maybe Big Red Machine is the project that not only enables me to create songs with other people, but also sometimes finish songs on my own." Recalling sessions at Sonic Ranch in Texas when Dessner recorded his vocal takes, Vernon says, "Aaron showed me `Brycie' a couple years ago now. I was like, this is beautiful, and you should do more singing. Not only would it be good for the future of your songwriting, but your voice sounds really good to me. It was exciting to see him flourish in that way _ to now be a part of that process and realize the hardships in that and also the victories. On this record, he's leading the charge, wholly and completely." Musically, "How Long Do You Think It's Gonna Last?" features what Dessner calls maybe the "clearest distillation" of his varying songwriting and production styles. Songs like "Reese," the Dessner-sung "Magnolia" and the elegiac "Hutch" are built on the kinds of tear-jerking piano melodies millions of fans have come to love from The National, but then move at their own pace toward unusual sonic destinations. "Aaron's greatest gift as a collaborator is his ability to evolve and experiment with the emotional sound that is so natural to him," Vernon says of the material. Elsewhere, the dream-like "Hoping Then" sets layered vocals by Vernon, Dessner and Hannigan ("It's the on the edge of why I can't sleep soundly") atop chopped and phased violin lines, programmed drums and countermelodies played on a rubber bridge guitar. His brother Bryce's orchestration ebbs and flows throughout this song and many others. The main instrumental track of the chugging, groovy "Easy to Sabotage" was stitched together from two different live recordings and later enveloped in warm keyboard textures and the head-nodding vocals of Naeem. "It just feels alive and electric, and it just happened," Dessner says of the song. That sense of shared experience extended to the new album's title, which was coined by Swift after Dessner told her he wasn't sure what to call the new album. Intuitively summing up the themes, she suggested titling it "How Long Do You Think It's Gonna Last?," a question which she pointed out could refer to multiple subjects addressed therein: "childhood, family, marriages, a depression, a losing streak, a winning streak or a creative streak. Taylor saw it all so clearly," Dessner says. "A year ago, we'd never even worked together. It's so cool that this community keeps extending and that everyone who contributed to this album connected so naturally to the emotions at the heart of the music."

In Early 2018, Nathan Jenkins Returned From The Coast Of Arrábida To His New Home Studio,In A Cottage Tucked Behind The Grand Hotel Setting Of Wim Wenders' Lisbon Story. Breakingfor Lunches Under A Datura Tree In The Garden And A Far Cry From The Finsbury Park Basementflat He Rented The Previous Year, A Set Of Recordings Followed That Galvanised Into An E.P. - Wehad A Good Time. Music Informed By Out-Of-Town Trips In A 1987 Renault 9 Super, Pitchforkattributed `Remarkable Healing Powers' To Lead Song Hula.After Leaving London For A Spell In Portugal, Nathan Lost His Taste For The Night Life And Drewa Line Under A Long-Running Nts Radio Show. Much Of The Time Spent Abroad Was Dedicated Toa Longstanding Collaboration With Westerman, Whose Album They Recorded In A Remote Part Ofthe Algarve Countryside In 2019. Nathan's Own Discography Opened In 2007 With Pet Sounds:In The Key Of Dee, Before Pivoting In A More Electronic Direction Via Get Familiar And Youngheartache. From The Sampledelia Of 2011`S Too Right, The New Wave And Rave Of Say Arr Ee Tothe Robert Wyatt-Influenced Love Me Oh Please Love Me, He's Mapped A Deliberately Peculiarpath. 2015`S Rooster Was Eno & Byrne`S Bush Of Ghosts Given A Shangaan-Electro Lick Andclip. While Nathan's Partnership With Fellow Out-There Pop Auteur, Jesse Hackett, As Blluddrelations, Staggered Like A Half-Cut Prince.Collaged, Rhythmic Alternatives. Syncopated Avant-Garde Sambas. Off-Kilter Sci-Fi Jazz.Think Asha Putli In The Spot At The Star Wars Cantina. Arty, Angular. Rich, But Uncluttered.Frenetic, Electric, Blurring The Boundaries Between What Is Sampled, What Is Played. Nathan'sis A Wilfully Weird Pop, Showcased In 2016 On His Album, Loop The Loop. Wayward, Butwoven With Hooks That Come Out Of Nowhere. Lyrical, Often Beautiful, Solos On Violin, Oboe,And Desiccated Guitars. Songs That Demonstrate A Nose-Thumbing Playfulness, A Refusal To Sitstill. Where There's Always The Urge To Interrupt A Carnival Beat With A Burst Of Galloping...

Ever since childhood, learning to play various instruments in a suburban Cincinnati basement alongside his brother Bryce, Aaron Dessner has consistently sought an emotional outlet and deep human connection through music _ be it as a primary songwriter in The National, a founder and architect of beloved collaboration-driven music festivals, or collaborator on two critically acclaimed and chart-topping Taylor Swift albums recorded in complete pandemic-era isolation at his Long Pond Studio in upstate New York, among many other projects. Through it all, Dessner has brought together an unlikely community of musicians that share his impulse to connect, celebrate and, most of all, process emotion and experience through music. This generous spirit and desire to push music forward has never been more deeply felt than on Big Red Machine's "How Long Do You Think It's Gonna Last?," the second album from Dessner's evermorphing project with Bon Iver's Justin Vernon. In 2008, while assembling material for the charitycompilation "Dark Was the Night," Dessner sent Vernon a song sketch titled "big red machine". Vernon interpreted "big red machine" as a beating heart and finished the song accordingly _ a metaphor Dessner says "still sticks with me today. This project goes to many places and is always on some level about experimentation, but it shines a light on why I make music in the first place, which is an emotional need. It's one of my therapies and one of the ways I interrogate the past." Released in 2018, Big Red Machine's self-titled debut album evolved from improvisation and what Dessner calls "structured experimentalism," with an ear toward building tracks that would work well in a live setting alongside visual elements. When Dessner and Vernon started the Eaux Claires Music Festival in 2015, they staged the original "Big Red Machine" as an improvisation-based performance piece. They later took that show to the People collective's Berlin residency and festival, and to Dessner's Haven Festival in Copenhagen. "Big Red Machine started as this thing we would do for fun, and we fell in love with the feeling of it," says Dessner." Vernon agrees: "I remember it feeling really easy, but we never knew what would happen. It was exciting. As time went on, we just kept doing things together. And our friendship has grown strong, alongside all the collaborative stuff." New Big Red Machine material began taking shape in spring 2019, when Vernon came to visit Dessner at Long Pond. The first week produced songs such as "Reese," "8:22am" and eventual album opener "Latter Days," a haunting number sung by Vernon and Anaïs Mitchell that set the emotional tenor for what was to come. "It was clear to her that the early sketch Justin and I made of Latter Days was about childhood, or loss of innocence and nostalgia for a time before you've grown into adulthood _ before you've hurt people or lost people and made mistakes. Anaïs defined the whole record When she sang that, as these same themes kept appearing again and again," Dessner says. In the ensuing months, Vernon and Dessner would meet up when they could, and in the meantime, Dessner developed the existing material and wrote new instrumental tracks which he sent Vernon, always eager to hear what he would receive back. "Justin is incredibly gifted, but he's also disruptive in the best way," says Dessner, pointing to the first note of the song "Birch" as a prime example. "It's absolutely brilliant, but it was very surprising when I heard it the first time. I can't tell you what that interval is. There are many moments working with him where your head hits the wall in amazement like that." In the early stages of the pandemic, Swift approached Dessner to work with her on what would become the sister albums "folklore" and "evermore." Dessner describes this period as a "creative blur," during which he'd be writing material for Swift and Big Red Machine simultaneously. "I think this was an intense growing period for me, I was learning so much from Taylor and the process. Along the way, I shared all of our unfinished Big Red Machine songs with her and she really found them inspiring and gave me so much positive feedback and encouragement," he says. "I think that helped me realize how connected this Big Red Machine music was to everything else I was doing and that I was always supposed to be chasing these ideas. I was finding new sounds and ways of working through these songs. I just hadn't been able to finish them. So, I did." Beyond Vernon and Swift's encouragement, many of Dessner's previous collaborators and friends show up for him here, continuing the reciprocal exchange of ideas that has come to define his creative community. Songs feature guest vocals and writing contributions from artist friends including Fleet Foxes' Robin Pecknold ("Phoenix"), Ben Howard and This Is The Kit ("June's a River"), Naeem ("Easy to Sabotage'), Sharon Van Etten, Lisa Hannigan and My Brightest Diamond's Shara Nova ("Hutch," a tune inspired by Dessner's late friend, Frightened Rabbit frontman Scott Hutchison) and Swift herself ("Birch" and "Renegade," the latter an instant-classic Taylor earworm summed up by the poignant lyric "Is it insensitive for me to say / get your shit together so I can love you." The song was recorded in Los Angeles at the Kitty Committee studio in March 2021, the same week when Swift and Dessner took home the Grammy for Album of the Year for "folklore.") "This is all music I generated, but it is interesting to hear how different people relate to it, or how different voices collide with it," Dessner says. "That's what makes it special. With everyone that's on this record, there's an openness, a creative generosity and an emotional quality that connects it all together." As he continued writing prolifically on his own, Dessner noticed a theme emerging -- the idea of sitting with the uncomfortability of personal and family darkness from his childhood and reflecting on how emotional issues he dealt with growing up have reverberated through his adult life. It became clear that some of these he'd need to sing himself; songs such as "The Ghost of Cincinnati" and "Magnolia" address the disintegration of marriage and family and mental health, asking pointed questions of himself and those closest to him. "Brycie" is an ode to his aforementioned twin and National bandmate, who picked up on the musical vibes immediately when Dessner played the song for him for the first time backstage at a National show in Washington D.C. "He picked along to it with me and it immediately sounded like Aaron and Bryce playing the guitar in the basement as kids, which was my intent," Dessner remembers. "The words mean a lot to me. It's about my childhood with Bryce, and how I had pretty severe depression in high school. He was the one who kept me going and took care of me until I was back on my feet. I've lost close friends to depression and this song is about how important it was that Bryce was there for me at that time and is still here." In addition to being one of the more lyrically significant tracks on the album, Dessner says singing it himself felt like an important act of self-acceptance. "I always sing under my breath when I write music, but I usually hand it off to [National vocalist] Matt [Berninger] or others" he says. "When you're in a band for so long and somebody else is that person, you come to rely on it and I've always loved Matt's voice and his words. But singing `Brycie' myself helped rewire my brain to realize that maybe Big Red Machine is the project that not only enables me to create songs with other people, but also sometimes finish songs on my own." Recalling sessions at Sonic Ranch in Texas when Dessner recorded his vocal takes, Vernon says, "Aaron showed me `Brycie' a couple years ago now. I was like, this is beautiful, and you should do more singing. Not only would it be good for the future of your songwriting, but your voice sounds really good to me. It was exciting to see him flourish in that way _ to now be a part of that process and realize the hardships in that and also the victories. On this record, he's leading the charge, wholly and completely." Musically, "How Long Do You Think It's Gonna Last?" features what Dessner calls maybe the "clearest distillation" of his varying songwriting and production styles. Songs like "Reese," the Dessner-sung "Magnolia" and the elegiac "Hutch" are built on the kinds of tear-jerking piano melodies millions of fans have come to love from The National, but then move at their own pace toward unusual sonic destinations. "Aaron's greatest gift as a collaborator is his ability to evolve and experiment with the emotional sound that is so natural to him," Vernon says of the material. Elsewhere, the dream-like "Hoping Then" sets layered vocals by Vernon, Dessner and Hannigan ("It's the on the edge of why I can't sleep soundly") atop chopped and phased violin lines, programmed drums and countermelodies played on a rubber bridge guitar. His brother Bryce's orchestration ebbs and flows throughout this song and many others. The main instrumental track of the chugging, groovy "Easy to Sabotage" was stitched together from two different live recordings and later enveloped in warm keyboard textures and the head-nodding vocals of Naeem. "It just feels alive and electric, and it just happened," Dessner says of the song. That sense of shared experience extended to the new album's title, which was coined by Swift after Dessner told her he wasn't sure what to call the new album. Intuitively summing up the themes, she suggested titling it "How Long Do You Think It's Gonna Last?," a question which she pointed out could refer to multiple subjects addressed therein: "childhood, family, marriages, a depression, a losing streak, a winning streak or a creative streak. Taylor saw it all so clearly," Dessner says. "A year ago, we'd never even worked together. It's so cool that this community keeps extending and that everyone who contributed to this album connected so naturally to the emotions at the heart of the music."

15th Anniversary Edition. Lime Green Vinyl.When Dinosaur Jr. reunited, more than 20 years after theirformation and legendary dissolution, the worry was that theseguys were just flogging the back catalog, taking the old showon the road as a marketing gimmick. But the 2007 release ofBeyond gave a hearty Marshall-driven "F**K YOU!" answer tothose inquiring ears. Restoring the sound established by theunassailable hat-trick gambit of their first three albums --Dinosaur, You're Living All Over Me, and Bug -- Beyondcontinued the band's march into rock greatness by making oldears smile and new ears bleed afresh.And then came Farm, the 9th full length record by the originalline-up: J Mascis, Lou Barlow, and Murph. If Beyond wasDinosaur Jr.'s return to form, Farm is proof that Dinosaur Jr.could (and still do, to this day!) deliver timeless, exhilarating rockmusic. Farm encompasses Dinosaur Jr.'s signature palette:soaring and distorted guitar, unshakable hooks, honey-richmelodies. At times wholly 70's guitar-epic, at times perfect forsitting by a babbling brook with Joni and Neil, these songs getinto your head and stay there, bouncing happily around. Theear-catching "Plans" is nearly seven minutes of classicwhipped-topping rock dessert, while "I Don't Wanna Go There"is a meat-and-potatoes main dish, mixing unapologetic leadguitar with straight-ahead delivery a la James Gang or HumblePie.This expanded deluxe edition of Farm features four songs neverpressed to vinyl and never given worldwide release:"Houses","Whenever You're Ready" (The Zombies Cover), "Creepies"(Instrumental), and "Show". "Whenever You're Ready", a cover ofclassic pop-rockers The Zombies, is impossibly good for ahidden gem; Murph stomps in with a sledgehammer to the kit,J and Lou layer low-end and fuzz like two halves of one brain,and right when things feel biggest, airy and colossal, there's Jwith a lightning bolt of a guitar solo. Pure electricity and melodylike only he can make. Reco...

Crack Cloud has always been something beyond a rock band: bothprofound and grand, vaporous and elusive.The first iteration of Crack Cloud was formed nearly a decade ago as aproxy-rehab outlet on the fringes of Calgary. Over time, two EPs andaccompanying visual pieces were produced out of the residence knownas Red Mile. By 2017, several members had relocated to Vancouver,working out of harm reduction centers and low-barrier shelters. Sobriety,self-reformation and the idealism of their work further formed an ethosfor Crack Cloud. It was during these years that the band produced theirastounding 2020 album Pain Olympics. At once, their vision becameexpansive, cinematic.Now, Red Mile is a bit of a homecoming. Members have returned toCalgary. But Calgary/home has become a liminal space, a place of flux.After a decade of personal and collective growth, what does home evenmean? Red Mile is, for them, something like samsara: a return and arebirth.Red Mile's sound breathes expansive energy into the circuitous, streetbound sonics of Crack Cloud's prior material. Fizzling synths intertwinewith chiming pianos. Songs layer like Russian nesting dolls; one may finda Ramones chorus set within a desolate Western prog soundtrack only towatch it erupt into a joyous anthem. Real-ass guitars _ alternately lilting,scuzzy and soaring _ ring out across wide sun-bleached spaces. In 2024,the cumulative effect is (in rock instrumentation terms) naturalistic. Anywhiff of embalmed nostalgia is absent. Even the close of the album - awinding, alllllmost Jerry Garcia guitar noodle that leads us out of Red Mile- is delivered without sentimentality. Principal songwriter Zach Choy'slyrics are cutting but merciful, with a sharp self awareness that neverslides into self-satisfaction. Crack Cloud as artists are critical _ andultimately as forgiving _ of themselves as they are the melting worldaround them. The songs balance an easy charm and cathartic power:affirming life without denying de...

Unknown Mortal Orchestra came to life in basements and bedrooms, the musical vision of Portlander-via-New Zealand Ruban Nielson that fused guitar-god riffs, choppy percussion, soul and funk. II, the sophomore album from UMO, emerged in an era rampant hedonism and isolationism and became the blueprint for everything Nielson has become renowned for. It was, and is, the solidification of Unknown Mortal Orchestra as an endlessly intriguing, brave and addictive band. Ten years on, it's back with an expanded edition. Written during a punishing, debauched touring schedule during which Nielson feared for both his sanity and health, II illustrates the emotional turmoil of life on the road, painting surrealist, cartoonish portraits of loneliness, love and despair. These conflicting themes are evident immediately; on the album's sleeve is an unnerving image of Janet Farrar, the famous British witch, Wiccan, author and teacher of witchcraft. The chilling refrain of opener "Into The Sun" sees Nielson deliver the line "Isolation can put a gun in your hand," softly, his words starkly intelligible above a warm, slow-burning melody that quickly brands itself onto your brain. His playful imagery ("I'm so lonely I've gotta eat my popcorn all alone") mirrors the melody, before a solo that borders on psychotropic ends II`s introduction. UMO is unafraid to dig deeper than the rest, their intoxicating, opiate groove bringing rock'n'roll's exaggerated myths to life. And as it unfolds, II does find Nielson reenergized. "One At A Time" and "Faded In The Morning" boast dizzying choruses and instrumentals; these crusty hunks could have been excavated from a lost 1960s treasure trove. "Monki" unravels over seven minutes like the yarn from a stoner's cardigan with an eye-frying pattern. "Dawn" is a minute of disconcerting noise that stands out between the nooks and crannies of the choruses, guitar solos, groove-heavy bass and drums that were recorded live by newly-recruited drummer Greg Rogove and Kody Nielson in a move away from the electronic percussion employed on album one. II closes with "Secret Xtians," a tender observational puzzle that fizzes to a satisfied end. In celebration of the album's 10th anniversary Nielson's complete collection from the II era is finally available in one compilation, and features the five acoustic tracks from the Blue EP as well as two additional B-sides. Unknown Mortal Orchestra was once Nielson's closeted concern. With an album that uses his singular musical imagination and extraordinary talent to parade his emotions with unyielding honesty, it is now a fully realized band operating at the peak of its powers ten years on.

Sharon Van Etten has always been the kind of artist who helps people make sense of the world around them, and her sixth album, We've Been Going About This All Wrong, concerns itself with how we feel, mourn, and reclaim our agency when we think the world - or at least, our world - might be falling apart. How do we protect the things most precious to us from destructive forces beyond our control? How do we salvage something worthwhile when it seems all is lost? And if we can't, or we don't, have we loved as well as we could in the meantime? Did we try hard enough? In considering these questions and her own vulnerability in the face of them, Van Etten creates a stunning meditation on how life's changes can be both terrifying and transformative. We've Been Going About This All Wrong articulates the beauty and power that can be rescued from our wreckages. We've Been Going About This All Wrong is as much a reflection on how we manage the ending of metaphorical worlds as we do the ending of actual ones: the twin flames of terror and unrelenting love that light up with motherhood; navigating the demands of partnership when your responsibilities have changed; the loss of center and safety that can come with leaving home; how the ghosts of our past can appear without warning in our present; feeling helpless with the violence and racism in the world; and yes, what it means when a global viral outbreak forces us to relinquish control of the things that have always made us feel so human, and seek new forms of connection to replace them. We've Been Going About This All Wrong is intensely personal, exploring themes like motherhood, love, fear, what we can and can't control, and what it means to be human in a world that is wracked by so much trauma. The track "Home To Me," written about Van Etten's son, uses the trademark "dark drums" of her previous work to invoke the sonic impression of a heartbeat. Synths grow in intensity, evoking the passing of time and the terror of what it means to have your child move inevitably toward independence, wanting to hold on to them tightly enough to protect them forever. In contrast, "Come Back" reflects on the desire to reconnect with a partner. Recalling all the optimism of love felt in its infancy, Van Etten begins with the plain beauty of just her voice and a guitar, building the arrangement alongside the call to "come back" to anyone who has lost their way, be it from another person or from themselves. Hovering between darkness and light, "Born" is an exploration of the self that exists when all other labels - mother, partner, friend - are stripped back. Unlike Van Etten's previous albums, there will be no songs off the album released prior to the record coming out. The ten tracks on We've Been Going About This All Wrong are designed to be listened to in order, all at once, so that a much larger story of hope, loss, longing and resilience can be told. This is, in itself, a subtle act of control, but in sharing these songs it remains an optimistic and generous one. There is darkness here but there is light too, and all of it is held together by Van Etten's uncanny ability to both pierce the hearts of her listeners and make them whole again. Things are not dark, she reminds us, only darkish.

There are ghosts all across AVANTI, the debut album fromMalice K. At points it's howling and unhinged, a grungy layeratop a lush foundation of melodic capital-s Songwriting, but inother moments it dissolves into a gentle, wistful haunting.Malice K's songs are blunt, uncomplicated and unflinching as heprobes the interiority of memories, of mistakes - saturated withan innate intensity that sucks you into his gnarled and visceralworld, so barbed it could draw blood.Malice K is helmed by visual artist and songwriter AlexKonschuh, New York-based but born and raised in Olympia,Washington. Following a stint living in Los Angeles, where hebecame a member of the artist collective Death Proof Inc., a tripto New York resulted in him simply never leaving the city. Aperiod of chaos ensued, Malice K exhausted and unmoored andultimately, unwell.The record is unpredictable across its 11 songs. The album openswith a jarring scream on "Halloween," Malice K's breathlessvocals buried beneath a grungy, roving Nineties riff. The trackemanates a manic energy, enveloping. It's a fitting entrypointfor the record, and for the vividness of Malice K. The snarling andobsessive "You're My Girl" has a swaggering paranoia: "I got sohigh I thought my hand touching my hand was your hand." ButAVANTI exists in quieter moments too; "Radio," with itsfluttering morose cello, moves at an almost glacial pacecomparatively. The aching wistfulness of "The Old House" is analbum stand-out, anchored in an acoustic guitar, an uneasylullaby that never quite settles into itself: "I think to myself I gotthe things that I wanted, but I can't help think there'ssomething else that I forgot to do."A recent press interview called Malice K a shapeshifter, but he'snot amorphous in that way. He's decisive and intense, moreconcerned with carving his own path, and building his ownworld. Every part of Malice K is distinctly himself: from hissweaty high-octane shows to the high-flash high-contrastphotos;...

There are ghosts all across AVANTI, the debut album fromMalice K. At points it's howling and unhinged, a grungy layeratop a lush foundation of melodic capital-s Songwriting, but inother moments it dissolves into a gentle, wistful haunting.Malice K's songs are blunt, uncomplicated and unflinching as heprobes the interiority of memories, of mistakes - saturated withan innate intensity that sucks you into his gnarled and visceralworld, so barbed it could draw blood.Malice K is helmed by visual artist and songwriter AlexKonschuh, New York-based but born and raised in Olympia,Washington. Following a stint living in Los Angeles, where hebecame a member of the artist collective Death Proof Inc., a tripto New York resulted in him simply never leaving the city. Aperiod of chaos ensued, Malice K exhausted and unmoored andultimately, unwell.The record is unpredictable across its 11 songs. The album openswith a jarring scream on "Halloween," Malice K's breathlessvocals buried beneath a grungy, roving Nineties riff. The trackemanates a manic energy, enveloping. It's a fitting entrypointfor the record, and for the vividness of Malice K. The snarling andobsessive "You're My Girl" has a swaggering paranoia: "I got sohigh I thought my hand touching my hand was your hand." ButAVANTI exists in quieter moments too; "Radio," with itsfluttering morose cello, moves at an almost glacial pacecomparatively. The aching wistfulness of "The Old House" is analbum stand-out, anchored in an acoustic guitar, an uneasylullaby that never quite settles into itself: "I think to myself I gotthe things that I wanted, but I can't help think there'ssomething else that I forgot to do."A recent press interview called Malice K a shapeshifter, but he'snot amorphous in that way. He's decisive and intense, moreconcerned with carving his own path, and building his ownworld. Every part of Malice K is distinctly himself: from hissweaty high-octane shows to the high-flash high-contrastphotos;...

S. Carey's chosen musical expression is a hugely beatific, restorative panorama of beauty - perfect given how landscape and the wonder of nature inspire much of Carey's imagery. His new album Range of Light - the follow-up to his 2010 debut All We Grow - takes its title from the name that 19th century naturalist John Muir - Carey's hero - gave to California's Sierra Nevada, and follows suit with a dazzling array of musical light and shade, drawn from Carey's love of jazz, modern classical and Americana. Like a weathered mountain range changing shadow form and color, or the ebb and flow of a river's current, his music is simultaneously restful and rhythmic, complex and simple, and always evolving.

Range of Light incorporates elements of his previous work, but also amplifies Carey's percussive proclivities, and is altogether more developed than its predecessors, with more input on the performance and even composition side from the band of musicians and best friends he assembled originally to bring All We Grow to life in the live setting.

Molly Lewis's compositions seem to float into our ears from distant shores. They're otherworldly, drawn more from landscapes of dream than from anywhere you could find on a map. Lewis is a unique presence in music today. Her trademark whistle, which brings to mind the great Peruvian soprano Yma Sumac, has graced recordings of everything from Schumann lieder and Brazilian jazz to Spaghetti Western ballads and noir lounge. Lewis's collaborations are diverse: La Femme, Sébastien Tellier and Dr. Dre. She's performed around the globe, at Shanghai's Yuz Museum, the Cannes Film Festival, Mexico City's Salón Los Angeles, and across the whole of New Zealand. Lewis's 2021 debut EP, The Forgotten Edge, was produced by Tom Brenneck (Charles Bradley, Amy Winehouse). It was a critical success, drawing praisefrom The New York Times and NPR, and landing Lewis a spot on CBS Sunday Morning. Now, Lewis and Brenneck have teamed up again for hersecond EP, Mirage, bringing aboard Brazilian guitarist Rogê, as well as percussionist Gibi Dos Santos and keyboardist Roger Manning.Capacious and atmospheric, Mirage is Lewis's most hypnotic effort yet. Like Eden's Island (1970) by eden ahbez_whose "Nature Boy"is covered in one of Mirage's standout moments_the album is based on Lewis's visions of an imaginary island. The lush, oceanic texturesof Mirage transport us to the sands of an unknown beach_all alone or in the company we've always dreamt of keeping.

In late 2013, Preoccupations (then known as Viet Cong) released a small-run cassette EP only available on tour.

Over the course of a year, Matt Flegel and Scott Munro worked in their basement studio with a mess of old and run down equipment to build a set of fresh material.

Joined by bandmates Daniel Christiansen and Michael Wallace, the band completed work on an debut cassette.

What emerged from the studio was a mixture of sharply-angled rhythm workouts and euphoric 60s garage pop-esque melodies, balanced with a penchant for drone-y, VU-styled downer moments, and became a hard-to-find classic.