Merge Indierock | Alternative 135 Items

Receives a 8.3 rating from Pitchfork and calls it best reissue.

To celebrate their 25th anniversary as a label, Merge are reissuing albums from their back catalog throughout 2014. First up is Lambchop's 2000 album Nixon on 180g vinyl.

Nixon was one of the final Lambchop albums to feature several members?their subsequent records had fewer people joining Wagner. "Nixon might've been the peak of the 14-person Lambchop," Kurt Wagner said in a press release. It was also the last Lambchop album to be recorded almost entirely analog.

Jade Hairpins waste no time fulfilling their second album's titular demand. From itsharmony-drenched opening note to its baroque-anthemic conclusion, Get Me the GoodStuff is positively loaded with musical ideas, an absurdist buffet of sound andaesthetic that comes with one hell of a floorshow as the Hairpins stack thoseideas higher and higher, almost daring them to crash to the floor. Instead, thoseelements_punksploitation, power pop, baggy, funk, and Italo disco are just sometouchstones_are not only held aloft, they defy gravity and convention.These pyrotechnics are, in true Jade Hairpins fashion, something of a sleight ofhand. While the music swaggers and gallops, Get Me the Good Stuff grapples withanxiety and self-doubt, obfuscating pain and alienation with sparkling wit and somestraight-up ravers. Get Me the Good Stuff opens with one of those, "Let It Be Me," inwhich Jonah Falco shouts lyrics about being alone with one's shortcomings againstguitars, synths, and harmonized vocals that are on the verge of closing in. The songis just over 90 seconds long, hitting with the gnarled-barb ferocity of punk and thegleeful insanity of theatrical art rock.It is, in other words, overwhelming. Or it would be if Jade Hairpins_Jonah Falcoand Mike Haliechuk_weren't remarkably nimble in their ability to bring unity tosounds by placing them in competition against each other. When those sounds areadjacent, like the glam and disco that saturate "Drifting Superstition," the thrill ofthose universes colliding in the heat of an absolutely filthy clavichord line turns itslyrics, about the habit of solving personal problems by ignoring them, into a winner'santhem on the order of Bowie or Hot Chocolate.Get Me the Good Stuff arcs towards unequivocal joy as Falco, Jade Hairpins' primarylyricist, breaks these cycles and attempts to run away with his dreams. The arc isroughly analogous to how the album came to fruition. Four years removed fromHarmony Avenue, an album of material that pr...

Narratively, H.C. McEntire's Eno Axis is about finding direction in the natural world, and following love. Sonically, it's an album shaped enormously by the atmosphere it was recorded in_the crew's synergy and positivity, the proximity and presence of a band in a room playing with intention. Structurally, it's a group of songs inspired by the colors and tones of open tunings, by the sacrality of space and instinct. Stylistically, it's folk-rock leaning into its curious experimental side and moved by the spiritual rawness of classic soul and the simplicity of earnest pop. Eno Axis feels like a confident and mature step forward from her debut album LIONHEART_in tone, arrangement, production, and spirit.

If naming is a form of claiming, of being claimed, how is one tethered to both the physical landscape that surrounds us, as well as our own internal emotional landscape_at times calm, at times turbulent, and ever changing? H.C. McEntire's new album Every Acre grapples with those themes_themes that encompass grief, loss, and links to land and loved ones. And naming_claiming land, claiming self, being claimed by ancestry and heritage_permeates the hauntingly beautiful landscape that is this poignant collection of songs. The songs straddle the line between music and poetry. In "New View," McEntire cites poets "Day, Ada, and Laux, Berry, and Olds"_fixtures in the world of writing, whose works are beacons of light over bleak horizons. The beginning of the song is backed by soft guitar plucks that fall on the downbeat and spangle like stars, and, throughout, guitar, bass, and drums swell together gently, mimicking ebbing and flowing tides under the moon. McEntire's voice (at once tender and fierce) intones the truth of both giving and taking, releasing and claiming: "Bend me, break me, split me right in two. Mend me, make me_I'll take more of you." Permeated by heartbeat-like drums, "Shadows" develops quiet ruminations on surrender and loss_reminiscing, moving on. This ponderous, dreamlike song asks the question of how "to make room." How does one make room, for self and for renewal and surrender, when it is so difficult to leave what you know behind? Playing with slivers of descending chromatics, along with the occasional downward-stepping bass, here McEntire yearns for home, and for nesting. Perhaps one of the more grief-stricken songs, "Rows of Clover" is a lamentation, one that touches on the loss of a "steadfast hound." The lone piano in the beginning of the song is rhythmically hymn-like. The stark verse arrangement gradually leads to a chorus that reads like a moody exhale, swollen with lush guitar strums and a Bill Withers-esque understated soul groove. But what stands out the most is an image of being "down on your knees, clawing at the garden"_the only explicit mention of a person in the song. "It ain't the easy kind of healing," sings McEntire, seemingly from further and further away as her voice echoes; and healing ta;kes time, time takes time_truths that linger painfully. "Dovetail" is a song that tells of various women. The song moves back and forth between solo piano and the addition of bass and drums under vocals. McEntire's gentle, trembling vibrato_harmonized in thirds in a celebratory manner_calls to mind a rejoicing psalm and shines through these images, leaving the listener cuttingly fraught with emotions_such as wonder, sadness, nostalgia_that can only arise with these juxtapositions. Gracious (and graceful) with its lilting melodies and lush harmonies, Every Acre ex - plores the acres of our physical and emotional homes. These songs are reaching for the kind of home that we all seek: one where we can rest and lay down (or tuck away) our burdens of loss. And maybe, moving through every acre of a world that often tries to tear our sense of identity and heritage down, McEntire sheds light on what it is to be human in this life_both stingy and gracious, both hurtful and kind.

If naming is a form of claiming, of being claimed, how is one tethered to both the physical landscape that surrounds us, as well as our own internal emotional landscape_at times calm, at times turbulent, and ever changing? H.C. McEntire's new album Every Acre grapples with those themes_themes that encompass grief, loss, and links to land and loved ones. And naming_claiming land, claiming self, being claimed by ancestry and heritage_permeates the hauntingly beautiful landscape that is this poignant collection of songs. The songs straddle the line between music and poetry. In "New View," McEntire cites poets "Day, Ada, and Laux, Berry, and Olds"_fixtures in the world of writing, whose works are beacons of light over bleak horizons. The beginning of the song is backed by soft guitar plucks that fall on the downbeat and spangle like stars, and, throughout, guitar, bass, and drums swell together gently, mimicking ebbing and flowing tides under the moon. McEntire's voice (at once tender and fierce) intones the truth of both giving and taking, releasing and claiming: "Bend me, break me, split me right in two. Mend me, make me_I'll take more of you." Permeated by heartbeat-like drums, "Shadows" develops quiet ruminations on surrender and loss_reminiscing, moving on. This ponderous, dreamlike song asks the question of how "to make room." How does one make room, for self and for renewal and surrender, when it is so difficult to leave what you know behind? Playing with slivers of descending chromatics, along with the occasional downward-stepping bass, here McEntire yearns for home, and for nesting. Perhaps one of the more grief-stricken songs, "Rows of Clover" is a lamentation, one that touches on the loss of a "steadfast hound." The lone piano in the beginning of the song is rhythmically hymn-like. The stark verse arrangement gradually leads to a chorus that reads like a moody exhale, swollen with lush guitar strums and a Bill Withers-esque understated soul groove. But what stands out the most is an image of being "down on your knees, clawing at the garden"_the only explicit mention of a person in the song. "It ain't the easy kind of healing," sings McEntire, seemingly from further and further away as her voice echoes; and healing ta;kes time, time takes time_truths that linger painfully. "Dovetail" is a song that tells of various women. The song moves back and forth between solo piano and the addition of bass and drums under vocals. McEntire's gentle, trembling vibrato_harmonized in thirds in a celebratory manner_calls to mind a rejoicing psalm and shines through these images, leaving the listener cuttingly fraught with emotions_such as wonder, sadness, nostalgia_that can only arise with these juxtapositions. Gracious (and graceful) with its lilting melodies and lush harmonies, Every Acre ex - plores the acres of our physical and emotional homes. These songs are reaching for the kind of home that we all seek: one where we can rest and lay down (or tuck away) our burdens of loss. And maybe, moving through every acre of a world that often tries to tear our sense of identity and heritage down, McEntire sheds light on what it is to be human in this life_both stingy and gracious, both hurtful and kind.

"The Pet Parade," The Title Track To Fruit Bats' Newest Album, Might Be A Surprising Opening Track For Longtime Fans Of Eric D. Johnson's Beloved Indie Folk-Rock Project. The Six-And-A-Half-Minute Tone Poem Smolders And Drones Over Just Two Chords, Inspired By The Strange And Silly Community Events That He Saw Growing Up Outside Of Chicago, In La Grange, Illinois, In Which People Dressed...

2LP is pink & violet vinyl pressed to Side A / Side B effect in a gatefold jacket. Eric D. Johnson, the creative force behind Fruit Bats, doesn't spend a lot of time looking in the rearview mirror. "Maybe it speaks to some Midwest thing," he says. "Don't be overly reflective or navel-gazing. And as a songwriter, you always want to be looking forward, not backward." But with the 20th anniversary of his first Fruit Bats release (2001's Echolocation) on his mind, it seemed as good a time as any to take stock of his work_and he's doing so in the form of Sometimes a Cloud Is Just a Cloud: Slow Growers, Sleeper Hits and Lost Songs (2001-2021), a two-disc collection that tracks the history of Fruit Bats from its earliest days to right now. Thoughtfully compiled by Johnson himself, this set is split in two distinct halves. Set in reverse chronological order, the first disc cherry-picks from Fruit Bats' official releases, including fan favorites _ "Humbug Mountain Song" from 2016's Absolute Loser and "The Bottom of It" from his 2019 Merge debut Gold Past Life _ alongside some of Johnson's more personal choices like "Glass in Your Feet" from Echolocation. If the first disc of this set is "the collection that you buy for your friend that's Fruit Bats-curious," according to Johnson, the second disc is for longtime fans that want a deeper dive into Fruit Bats lore. To put this half of Sometimes a Cloud Is Just a Cloud together, Johnson dug into several hard drives' worth of material. Included here are lovely early versions of "Rainbow Sign" and "The Old Black Hole," recorded to a Tascam 4-track just as Fruit Bats was becoming a reality. There's also a rambling take on the Steve Miller Band's classic rock mainstay "The Joker," and some wonderful never-before-heard original tunes.

Eric D. Johnson rarely lingers at one location too long. As a kid growing up in the Midwest, Johnson's family moved around a lot, but it wasn't until he became a touring musician years later that motion became a central part of his identity. That transient lifestyle stoked an enduring reverence for the world he watched pass by through a van window. A sense of place is a unifying theme he's revisited with Fruit Bats throughout its many lives. From the project's origins in the late '90s as a vehicle for Johnson's lo-fi tinkering to the more sonically ambitious work of recent years, Fruit Bats has often showcased love songs where people and locations meld into one. It's a loose song structure that navigates what he calls "the geography of the heart." "The songs exist in a world that you can sort of travel from one to another," says Johnson. "There are roads and rivers between these songs." Those pathways extend straight through the newest Fruit Bats album, aptly titled A River Running to Your Heart . Self-produced by Johnson, a first for Fruit Bats, with Jeremy Harris at Panoramic House just north of San Francisco, it's Fruit Bats' tenth full-length release and one that finds the project in the middle of a creative resurgence. After two decades of making music, hard-earned emotional maturity has seeped into Johnson's songs, resulting in a more complex sound that's connected with audiences like no other previous version of Fruit Bats. A River Running to Your Heart represents the fullest realization of that creative vision to date. It's a sonically diverse effort that largely explores the importance of what it means to be home, both physically and spiritually. And while that might seem like a peculiar focus for an artist who's constantly in motion, for Fruit Bats, home can take many forms, from the obvious to the obscure. Lead single "Rushin' River Valley" is a self-propelled love song written about Johnson's wife that clings to the borrowed imagery of the place where she grew up in northern California. Then, there's the gentle and unfussy acoustic ballad "We Used to Live Here," which looks back to a time of youthful promise and cheap rent. But the wistful "It All Comes Back" is perhaps the most stunning and surprising track on the album, Johnson's production skills on full display. Built upon intricate layers of synths, keyboards, and guitars, it's a pitch-perfect blend of tone and lyricism that taps into our shared apprehensions and hopes for a post-pandemic life. "We lost some time / But we can make it back / Let's take it easy on ourselves, okay?" sings a world-weary but ultimately reassuring Johnson in the song's opening lines It's the kind of performance that makes you hope Fruit Bats stays in this one place, at least for a little while longer.

Eric D. Johnson rarely lingers at one location too long. As a kid growing up in the Midwest, Johnson's family moved around a lot, but it wasn't until he became a touring musician years later that motion became a central part of his identity. That transient lifestyle stoked an enduring reverence for the world he watched pass by through a van window. A sense of place is a unifying theme he's revisited with Fruit Bats throughout its many lives. From the project's origins in the late '90s as a vehicle for Johnson's lo-fi tinkering to the more sonically ambitious work of recent years, Fruit Bats has often showcased love songs where people and locations meld into one. It's a loose song structure that navigates what he calls "the geography of the heart." "The songs exist in a world that you can sort of travel from one to another," says Johnson. "There are roads and rivers between these songs." Those pathways extend straight through the newest Fruit Bats album, aptly titled A River Running to Your Heart . Self-produced by Johnson, a first for Fruit Bats, with Jeremy Harris at Panoramic House just north of San Francisco, it's Fruit Bats' tenth full-length release and one that finds the project in the middle of a creative resurgence. After two decades of making music, hard-earned emotional maturity has seeped into Johnson's songs, resulting in a more complex sound that's connected with audiences like no other previous version of Fruit Bats. A River Running to Your Heart represents the fullest realization of that creative vision to date. It's a sonically diverse effort that largely explores the importance of what it means to be home, both physically and spiritually. And while that might seem like a peculiar focus for an artist who's constantly in motion, for Fruit Bats, home can take many forms, from the obvious to the obscure. Lead single "Rushin' River Valley" is a self-propelled love song written about Johnson's wife that clings to the borrowed imagery of the place where she grew up in northern California. Then, there's the gentle and unfussy acoustic ballad "We Used to Live Here," which looks back to a time of youthful promise and cheap rent. But the wistful "It All Comes Back" is perhaps the most stunning and surprising track on the album, Johnson's production skills on full display. Built upon intricate layers of synths, keyboards, and guitars, it's a pitch-perfect blend of tone and lyricism that taps into our shared apprehensions and hopes for a post-pandemic life. "We lost some time / But we can make it back / Let's take it easy on ourselves, okay?" sings a world-weary but ultimately reassuring Johnson in the song's opening lines It's the kind of performance that makes you hope Fruit Bats stays in this one place, at least for a little while longer.

In the hallowed Destroyer discography, the early trinity of City Of Daughters / Thief /
Streethawk: A Seduction holds an important place; for not only does it document Dan
Bejar's evolution from lo-fi bedroom tyro to bona fide master of the rock album, it also
contains a massive percentage of superlative Destroyer "classics." 1998's City of Daughters
features some of the first steps out of the demo-tapey experimentation of earlier recordings,
with songs like "Comments On The World As Will" refining the sound of that strippeddown
earlier work, and the seminal "No Cease Fires" offering us the first taste of just what a
full-band Destroyer might conjure.

On 9 August, 2024, Merge Records reissues David Kilgour's A Feather in theEngine, remastered and pressed on vinyl for the very first time. Originallyreleased in 2002, A Feather in the Engine followed two full-bandefforts_1997's David Kilgour & the Heavy Eights and The Clean's 2001 albumGetaway_and is thus almost startling in its intimacy.Recorded at home and mostly alone (The Verlaines' Graeme Downesprovides lush string arrangements), Kilgour once called A Feather in theEngine "the most solo LP I've made." Interpolating his genius for guitar popthrough acoustic guitars and gorgeous instrumentals, its melodies unfoldgently, suggesting that the 13 songs here, written over the course of fouryears, were searching Kilgour as much as he was searching them.The dichotomy between A Feather in the Engine's pop songs and instrumentalsfascinates the ear, drawing the listener closer and closer to Kilgour's virtuosicguitar playing when his lyrics aren't imparting his breezy charm. The depthof style he achieves_the psych pop of "Today IsGonna Be Mine," the Velvet Underground-esque churn of "All the Rest,"the chamber folk of "The Perfect Watch"_is daunting; listening to it now,every song feels capable of generating a dozen playlists, or like the spawningpoint of a new microgenre.Perhaps anomalous upon release, it's A Feather in the Engine's instrumentalsthat feel weightiest in this regard now. "Sept. 98" and "Backwards Forwards,"respectively the opening and closing tracks of the album, are elegant,pastoral epics that call out into the yawning expanse, presaging the simmeringambient country of William Tyler and SUSS, while "Instra 2" pushes outthe boundaries of Eastern-influenced psychedelia.Lovingly remastered (and in some cases remixed) from the original tapes byTom Bell at Port Chalmers Recording Services, the vinyl reissue of A Featherin the Engine is a crucial opportunity to rediscover one of David Kilgour'sbest records, a handcrafted gem that perfects guitar pop's p...

Incredible new LP by Caribou. Similar to Four Tet, this one is more pulsating and dancefloor-oriented than his previous work, while keeping the experimental folksy edge we all love. Looooovely!

180 gram incl. free digital download!

"Look to the East, Look to the West", das neue Album von Camera Obscura, ist eine Offenbarung. Die von Tracyanne Campbell geleitete Band hat sich wieder mit dem Produzenten Jari Haapalainen zusammengetan und ein Album geschaffen, das daran erinnert, warum die langjährigen Fans sie seit Jahrzehnten heiß und innig lieben, und das gleichzeitig ihr bisher anspruchsvollstes Werk ist. Es ist auch das am härtesten umkämpfte Album in der Karriere von Camera Obscura. Nach dem Tod von Gründungsmitglied, Keyboarder und Freund Carey Lander im Jahr 2015 (an den der vorletzte Track "Sugar Almond" gerichtet ist), ging die Band in eine längere Pause. Sie blieben in Kontakt, aber ihr Status war ungewiss. Nachdem sie eingeladen worden waren, im Rahmen von Belle & Sebastians Kreuzfahrtfestival Boaty Weekender 2019 aufzutreten, kündigten sie ihre Rückkehr an. Donna Maciocia (Keyboards und Gesang) stieß bei diesen Shows zu den Gründungsmitgliedern Kenny McKeeve (Gitarre und Gesang), Gavin Dunbar (Bass) und Lee Thomson (Schlagzeug und Perkussion) und ist seitdem Songwriting-Partnerin von Campbell. Aufgenommen im selben Raum, in dem Queen "Bohemian Rhapsody" schrieb, fühlt sich "Look to the East, Look to the West" groß an, eine Breitwand-Neuinterpretation des Camera Obscura-Sounds, bei der die Band paradoxerweise zu den Grundlagen zurückkehrte - es gibt keine Streicher- oder Bläserarrangements, der Schwerpunkt liegt auf Klavier, Synthesizern, Hammond-Orgel und Drumcomputern, und, was vielleicht am auffälligsten ist, die Gruppe hat den Hallschleier fallen lassen, der ihre früheren Alben charakterisierte. Der Hauch von Country und Soul, der Camera Obscuras barocke Interpretation von Popmusik so bittersüß macht, war noch nie so offensichtlich - die Gitarren schimmern in die Ferne, die Tasten spuken, und Campbells Stimme sucht nach dem Herzen, reflektiert über Liebe, Verlust und den Lauf der Zeit. "Look to the East, Look to the West" ist Camera Obscura in seiner besten und eindrucksvollsten Form, ein Album, das den emotionalen Kern des Hörers völlig neu ordnet und ihn gleichzeitig traurig und beschwingt zurücklässt. Der Katalog von Camera Obscura ist voll von Liedern, die Menschen als lebensverändernd bezeichnen, Lieder, die sie ihr ganzes Leben lang begleiten werden. "Look to the East, Look to the West" hat 11 davon zu bieten.

"Look to the East, Look to the West", das neue Album von Camera Obscura, ist eine Offenbarung. Die von Tracyanne Campbell geleitete Band hat sich wieder mit dem Produzenten Jari Haapalainen zusammengetan und ein Album geschaffen, das daran erinnert, warum die langjährigen Fans sie seit Jahrzehnten heiß und innig lieben, und das gleichzeitig ihr bisher anspruchsvollstes Werk ist. Es ist auch das am härtesten umkämpfte Album in der Karriere von Camera Obscura. Nach dem Tod von Gründungsmitglied, Keyboarder und Freund Carey Lander im Jahr 2015 (an den der vorletzte Track "Sugar Almond" gerichtet ist), ging die Band in eine längere Pause. Sie blieben in Kontakt, aber ihr Status war ungewiss. Nachdem sie eingeladen worden waren, im Rahmen von Belle & Sebastians Kreuzfahrtfestival Boaty Weekender 2019 aufzutreten, kündigten sie ihre Rückkehr an. Donna Maciocia (Keyboards und Gesang) stieß bei diesen Shows zu den Gründungsmitgliedern Kenny McKeeve (Gitarre und Gesang), Gavin Dunbar (Bass) und Lee Thomson (Schlagzeug und Perkussion) und ist seitdem Songwriting-Partnerin von Campbell. Aufgenommen im selben Raum, in dem Queen "Bohemian Rhapsody" schrieb, fühlt sich "Look to the East, Look to the West" groß an, eine Breitwand-Neuinterpretation des Camera Obscura-Sounds, bei der die Band paradoxerweise zu den Grundlagen zurückkehrte - es gibt keine Streicher- oder Bläserarrangements, der Schwerpunkt liegt auf Klavier, Synthesizern, Hammond-Orgel und Drumcomputern, und, was vielleicht am auffälligsten ist, die Gruppe hat den Hallschleier fallen lassen, der ihre früheren Alben charakterisierte. Der Hauch von Country und Soul, der Camera Obscuras barocke Interpretation von Popmusik so bittersüß macht, war noch nie so offensichtlich - die Gitarren schimmern in die Ferne, die Tasten spuken, und Campbells Stimme sucht nach dem Herzen, reflektiert über Liebe, Verlust und den Lauf der Zeit. "Look to the East, Look to the West" ist Camera Obscura in seiner besten und eindrucksvollsten Form, ein Album, das den emotionalen Kern des Hörers völlig neu ordnet und ihn gleichzeitig traurig und beschwingt zurücklässt. Der Katalog von Camera Obscura ist voll von Liedern, die Menschen als lebensverändernd bezeichnen, Lieder, die sie ihr ganzes Leben lang begleiten werden. "Look to the East, Look to the West" hat 11 davon zu bieten.

All Her Plans, the third album from Melbourne, Australia's Cable Ties, finds the trio of Jenny McKechnie, Shauna Boyle, and Nick Brown at their punchiest and most assured. The ferocious, kraut-influenced blend of post-punk and garage rock of Merge debut Far Enough remains, but McKechnie's lyrics invite the listener closer than ever before. The urgency and fury that have marked Cable Ties' output thus far is more nuanced on All Her Plans. The unfettered rage of their calls to action endures tackling subjects like broken mental healthcare systems and the burden of familial care that is largely placed on women…while holding space for gratitude, love, and acceptance. All Her Plans is a breakthrough moment for Cable Ties. It is the sound of a group that is exhilarated to be making music together again, both a celebration of their resilience and a massive step forward into a future they can finally claim as their own.

All Her Plans, the third album from Melbourne, Australia's Cable Ties, finds the trio of Jenny McKechnie, Shauna Boyle, and Nick Brown at their punchiest and most assured. The ferocious, kraut-influenced blend of post-punk and garage rock of Merge debut Far Enough remains, but McKechnie's lyrics invite the listener closer than ever before. The urgency and fury that have marked Cable Ties' output thus far is more nuanced on All Her Plans. The unfettered rage of their calls to action endures tackling subjects like broken mental healthcare systems and the burden of familial care that is largely placed on women…while holding space for gratitude, love, and acceptance. All Her Plans is a breakthrough moment for Cable Ties. It is the sound of a group that is exhilarated to be making music together again, both a celebration of their resilience and a massive step forward into a future they can finally claim as their own.

To commemorate the thirtieth anniversary of Virginian salsa veterans Bio Ritmo, esteemed indie Merge is reissuing their debut 7" `Piragüero' which it originally released back in 1996. This impassioned, funky original is backed with a cover of `Asia Minor', a song popularised in the Fifties by Cuban maestro Machito, himself a cited influence on Bio Ritmo.

As sculpted shards of guitar-tumbling, tolling, squalling-shower the jittery bounce of a piano on opener "Human," it's obvious that Reason in Decline, Archers of Loaf's first album in 24 years, will be more than a nostalgic, low-impact reboot. When they emerged from North Carolina's '90s indie-punk incubator, the Archers' hurtling, sly, gloriously dissonant roar was a mythologized touchstone of slacker-era refusal. But this, the distilled shudder of "Human" (as in "It's hard to be human / When only death can set you free"), is an entirely different noise. In fact, it's a startling revelation. In short, this is not your father's Archers of Loaf, even if you're a father now who was a fan then. (If that's the case, congrats on surviving the Plague and getting to hear this fearlessly poignant record, you alt-geezer!) Otherwise, thank your youthful fucking lucky stars, kids! Enjoy Reason in Decline with fresh ears and do as the Archers have been doing: Stay humble, stay informed, express yourself creatively, and try not to lose your goddamned mind while the polar ice caps melt. Peace.

As sculpted shards of guitar-tumbling, tolling, squalling-shower the jittery bounce of a piano on opener "Human," it's obvious that Reason in Decline, Archers of Loaf's first album in 24 years, will be more than a nostalgic, low-impact reboot. When they emerged from North Carolina's '90s indie-punk incubator, the Archers' hurtling, sly, gloriously dissonant roar was a mythologized touchstone of slacker-era refusal. But this, the distilled shudder of "Human" (as in "It's hard to be human / When only death can set you free"), is an entirely different noise. In fact, it's a startling revelation. In short, this is not your father's Archers of Loaf, even if you're a father now who was a fan then. (If that's the case, congrats on surviving the Plague and getting to hear this fearlessly poignant record, you alt-geezer!) Otherwise, thank your youthful fucking lucky stars, kids! Enjoy Reason in Decline with fresh ears and do as the Archers have been doing: Stay humble, stay informed, express yourself creatively, and try not to lose your goddamned mind while the polar ice caps melt. Peace.