Search:merge

Orbiting Human Circus' new album is called Quartet Plus Two. What is Orbiting Human Circus? It is the continuing evolution of Julian Koster (Neutral Milk Hotel, The Music Tapes), whose music and storytelling under this moniker have encompassed immersive theater and a Night Vale Presents podcast, as well as more traditional albums. Central to the album are the "two" referenced in the title: North and Romika, the singing saws, whom Koster doesn't "play" so much as encourage. "I think saws sing like angels," says Koster. "I always have. Since I was a little boy. When you encourage them to sing, they do so earnestly and beautifully. It's an honest and real sound." The origins of Quartet Plus Two are as magical and seemingly unlikely as everything else in Koster's career. While walking through New York's Central Park, he stumbled upon Gauvain Gamon and Kolja Gjoni_a standup bass player and drummer, respectively_playing Gershwin and Mingus, and a musical partnership was born. Pianist Benji Miller rounds out the titular quartet, with Koster's longtime collaborators Robbie Cucchiaro (horns) and Thomas Hughes (orchestral arranging and chimes) of The Music Tapes also contributing to the record. The music they make together is at once familiar and unrecognizable, as Koster and Orbiting Human Circus interpret jazz compositions by Irving Berlin, Duke Jordan, George and Ira Gershwin, and others, alongside Koster's three originals. The use of the term "composition" is intentional and speaks to Koster's relationship with the music of Quartet Plus Two in far more evocative terms than "cover" or "standard." "To me it was always magical that there were these people called `composers' who created symphonies and popular songs for other people to breathe into life and existence all over the world and throughout time," he explains. "They traveled into our homes as sheet music, endless recorded interpretations, or were passed from hand to hand, village to village, like folk tales, changed by every hand that touched them. That music was something that came to life in our own living rooms and lives, songs that our grandmothers might have sung in a choir that we might sing just as earnestly. I just think it's nice, and I would love to share that feeling in any way we can."

Orbiting Human Circus' new album is called Quartet Plus Two. What is Orbiting Human Circus? It is the continuing evolution of Julian Koster (Neutral Milk Hotel, The Music Tapes), whose music and storytelling under this moniker have encompassed immersive theater and a Night Vale Presents podcast, as well as more traditional albums. Central to the album are the "two" referenced in the title: North and Romika, the singing saws, whom Koster doesn't "play" so much as encourage. "I think saws sing like angels," says Koster. "I always have. Since I was a little boy. When you encourage them to sing, they do so earnestly and beautifully. It's an honest and real sound." The origins of Quartet Plus Two are as magical and seemingly unlikely as everything else in Koster's career. While walking through New York's Central Park, he stumbled upon Gauvain Gamon and Kolja Gjoni_a standup bass player and drummer, respectively_playing Gershwin and Mingus, and a musical partnership was born. Pianist Benji Miller rounds out the titular quartet, with Koster's longtime collaborators Robbie Cucchiaro (horns) and Thomas Hughes (orchestral arranging and chimes) of The Music Tapes also contributing to the record. The music they make together is at once familiar and unrecognizable, as Koster and Orbiting Human Circus interpret jazz compositions by Irving Berlin, Duke Jordan, George and Ira Gershwin, and others, alongside Koster's three originals. The use of the term "composition" is intentional and speaks to Koster's relationship with the music of Quartet Plus Two in far more evocative terms than "cover" or "standard." "To me it was always magical that there were these people called `composers' who created symphonies and popular songs for other people to breathe into life and existence all over the world and throughout time," he explains. "They traveled into our homes as sheet music, endless recorded interpretations, or were passed from hand to hand, village to village, like folk tales, changed by every hand that touched them. That music was something that came to life in our own living rooms and lives, songs that our grandmothers might have sung in a choir that we might sing just as earnestly. I just think it's nice, and I would love to share that feeling in any way we can."

For the first time ever, Neutral Milk Hotel's much-beloved, endlessly influential 1998 album In the Aeroplane Over the Sea is available on cassette. On too many "best albums of the 1990s" lists to recount, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea gives us Jeff Mangum's powerful solo acoustic work, full horn-section marches, history, religion, and sex _ everything you hoped for and more!













m 1.13[UNTITLED TRACK]













[m] [UNTITLED TRACK]

Jenny from Thebes begann, wie viele Alben der Mountain Goats, mit John Darnielle am Klavier, bis ein Text entstand. Dieser Text, "Jenny was a warrior / Jenny was a thief / Jenny hit the corner clinic begging for relief", wurde zu "Jenny III", einem Song, der eine Herausforderung darstellte, der er sich nie zuvor gestellt hatte: eine Fortsetzung zu einem seiner beliebtesten Alben zu schreiben.

Der Katalog der Mountain Goats ist voll von wiederkehrenden Charakteren_Jenny, die ursprünglich in dem ihren Namen tragenden Stück All Hail West Texas auftaucht, sowie in "Straight Six" von Jam Eater Blues und dem Transcendental Youth side two jam "Night Light", ist einer von ihnen, jemand, der unerwartet in einen Song eintritt und die Ohren der Fans spitzt, die darauf erpicht sind, die verschiedenen Erzählstränge fortzusetzen, die sich durch die Diskografie der Mountain Goats ziehen, bevor sie im Nebel verschwinden.

In diesen Liedern wird Jenny weitgehend durch ihre Abwesenheit definiert, und diese Definition wird ihr von anderen Charakteren gegeben. Sie läuft vor etwas weg.

Diese Merkmale sind betörend, sowohl für die Figuren, die ihre Geschichte bisher erzählt haben, als auch für den Zuhörer. Sie laden zu bestimmten Fragen ein: Wer ist Jenny wirklich? Wovor läuft sie weg? Nun, sie ist eine Kriegerin und eine Diebin, und da es sich um ein Album der Mountain Goats handelt, ist es eine sichere Wette, dass das, wovor sie flieht, etwas Schlimmes ist. Etwas katastrophal Schlimmes. Jenny from Thebes ist die Geschichte von Jenny, ihrem Haus im südwestlichen Ranchstil, den Menschen, für die dieses Haus ein Ort der Sicherheit ist, und der westtexanischen Stadt, die sich mit ihrer Existenz nicht anfreunden kann. Es ist eine Geschichte über das Individuum und die Gesellschaft, über Sicherheit und Schutz und diejenigen, die sich dafür entscheiden, sich um sie zu kümmern, wenn es sonst niemand tut. Aufgenommen im legendären The Church Studio in Tulsa, Oklahoma, mit der Grammy-prämierten Produzentin/Technikerin Trina Shoemaker, ist Jenny from Thebes eine üppige Sammlung von Songs, die Darnielle als Sängerin und die Mountain Goats als Band vorantreibt, indem sie ihre klangliche Palette wieder einmal erweitert und sich an Einflüsse wie Godspell, Jim Steinman und The Cars anlehnt. Getragen von den Bläser- und Streicherarrangements von Matt Douglas, der verträumten Gitarre der Bully-Leaderin (und Bleed Out-Produzentin) Alicia Bognanno und den Backing Vocals von Kathy Valentine von den Go-Go's und Matt Nathanson, ist Jenny from Thebes ein Musical von großem Ausmaß, ein Melodram mit detailreichen Charakteren und mitreißenden Emotionen.

Jenny from Thebes begann, wie viele Alben der Mountain Goats, mit John Darnielle am Klavier, bis ein Text entstand. Dieser Text, "Jenny was a warrior / Jenny was a thief / Jenny hit the corner clinic begging for relief", wurde zu "Jenny III", einem Song, der eine Herausforderung darstellte, der er sich nie zuvor gestellt hatte: eine Fortsetzung zu einem seiner beliebtesten Alben zu schreiben.

Der Katalog der Mountain Goats ist voll von wiederkehrenden Charakteren_Jenny, die ursprünglich in dem ihren Namen tragenden Stück All Hail West Texas auftaucht, sowie in "Straight Six" von Jam Eater Blues und dem Transcendental Youth side two jam "Night Light", ist einer von ihnen, jemand, der unerwartet in einen Song eintritt und die Ohren der Fans spitzt, die darauf erpicht sind, die verschiedenen Erzählstränge fortzusetzen, die sich durch die Diskografie der Mountain Goats ziehen, bevor sie im Nebel verschwinden.

In diesen Liedern wird Jenny weitgehend durch ihre Abwesenheit definiert, und diese Definition wird ihr von anderen Charakteren gegeben. Sie läuft vor etwas weg.

Diese Merkmale sind betörend, sowohl für die Figuren, die ihre Geschichte bisher erzählt haben, als auch für den Zuhörer. Sie laden zu bestimmten Fragen ein: Wer ist Jenny wirklich? Wovor läuft sie weg? Nun, sie ist eine Kriegerin und eine Diebin, und da es sich um ein Album der Mountain Goats handelt, ist es eine sichere Wette, dass das, wovor sie flieht, etwas Schlimmes ist. Etwas katastrophal Schlimmes. Jenny from Thebes ist die Geschichte von Jenny, ihrem Haus im südwestlichen Ranchstil, den Menschen, für die dieses Haus ein Ort der Sicherheit ist, und der westtexanischen Stadt, die sich mit ihrer Existenz nicht anfreunden kann. Es ist eine Geschichte über das Individuum und die Gesellschaft, über Sicherheit und Schutz und diejenigen, die sich dafür entscheiden, sich um sie zu kümmern, wenn es sonst niemand tut. Aufgenommen im legendären The Church Studio in Tulsa, Oklahoma, mit der Grammy-prämierten Produzentin/Technikerin Trina Shoemaker, ist Jenny from Thebes eine üppige Sammlung von Songs, die Darnielle als Sängerin und die Mountain Goats als Band vorantreibt, indem sie ihre klangliche Palette wieder einmal erweitert und sich an Einflüsse wie Godspell, Jim Steinman und The Cars anlehnt. Getragen von den Bläser- und Streicherarrangements von Matt Douglas, der verträumten Gitarre der Bully-Leaderin (und Bleed Out-Produzentin) Alicia Bognanno und den Backing Vocals von Kathy Valentine von den Go-Go's und Matt Nathanson, ist Jenny from Thebes ein Musical von großem Ausmaß, ein Melodram mit detailreichen Charakteren und mitreißenden Emotionen.

Sara Dobbs and Jenny Shore used to work summer stock theater in St. Louis, Missouri. They'd do the hand jive with TV stars past and future; they'd get coldly corrected by the ancient, legendary choreographer Gemze de Lappe. Sara went on to Broadway, including a run as Anybodys in West Side Story. Jenny went on to choreograph in the independent dance scene of early 2000s Chicago. Julie Shore is Jenny's sister. She's always made music_playing Chopin, writing songs, making bands with her friends. She's had the archetypal Millennial journey of entering adulthood in the '08 financial crisis and figuring out what stupid series of jobs you have to take to pay rent while keeping an artistic life alive. Miles Francis grew up in New York City with Backstreet Boys posters covering their walls. An extraordinary drummer since youth, Miles thrives in collaboration_ whether producing artists in their West Village studio, performing with artists like Angelique Kidjo, or powering protests with a big marching drum. These four_Miles, Julie, Jenny, and Sara_are Sister Squares. What made them a musical unit was working with Grammy winner and Oscar nominee Will Butler. They've all just finished a new record together: Will Butler + Sister Squares. "After Generations, I considered making a weird solo record. Me alone in the basement, etc., etc. Mostly I realized that what I wanted was the opposite," says Will. He increasingly turned to the band for feedback on lyrics and song structures. He asked Miles if they'd produce the record. The band played a run of shows in August 2022, airing out studio ideas in live rooms. After coming home, the band regrouped at Figure 8 Studios in Brooklyn. "I had quit my band Arcade Fire very recently, after 20 years_maybe the most complex decision of my life. I had spent the preceding two years at home with my three children. I was 39 years old. I was waking up every morning and reading Emily Dickinson, until I had read every Emily Dickinson poem. I was listening to Morrissey, to Shostakovich, to the Spotify top 50. I had unformed questions with inchoate answers," says Will. "But, honestly, I was feeling great about the record." The album projects widescreen emotional landscapes. Lead-off single "Long Grass" is like a Harry Styles song with 20 more years of life behind it. Standout track "Saturday Night" has a beat, according to Miles, "with that robot-alien-dancing-at-a-haunted- dive-bar feeling that we were going for." The back half of the album is a danceable, weird choral record with harmonies both beautiful and dissonant. Closing song "The Window" is the comedown after the party_Julie playing a Chopin Nocturne on a three-years-out-of-tune piano, slowed to half-speed on tape with Will singing over it in a voice exactly as tired as he was. It's a record with a warm, humane soul.

Sara Dobbs and Jenny Shore used to work summer stock theater in St. Louis, Missouri. They'd do the hand jive with TV stars past and future; they'd get coldly corrected by the ancient, legendary choreographer Gemze de Lappe. Sara went on to Broadway, including a run as Anybodys in West Side Story. Jenny went on to choreograph in the independent dance scene of early 2000s Chicago. Julie Shore is Jenny's sister. She's always made music_playing Chopin, writing songs, making bands with her friends. She's had the archetypal Millennial journey of entering adulthood in the '08 financial crisis and figuring out what stupid series of jobs you have to take to pay rent while keeping an artistic life alive. Miles Francis grew up in New York City with Backstreet Boys posters covering their walls. An extraordinary drummer since youth, Miles thrives in collaboration_ whether producing artists in their West Village studio, performing with artists like Angelique Kidjo, or powering protests with a big marching drum. These four_Miles, Julie, Jenny, and Sara_are Sister Squares. What made them a musical unit was working with Grammy winner and Oscar nominee Will Butler. They've all just finished a new record together: Will Butler + Sister Squares. "After Generations, I considered making a weird solo record. Me alone in the basement, etc., etc. Mostly I realized that what I wanted was the opposite," says Will. He increasingly turned to the band for feedback on lyrics and song structures. He asked Miles if they'd produce the record. The band played a run of shows in August 2022, airing out studio ideas in live rooms. After coming home, the band regrouped at Figure 8 Studios in Brooklyn. "I had quit my band Arcade Fire very recently, after 20 years_maybe the most complex decision of my life. I had spent the preceding two years at home with my three children. I was 39 years old. I was waking up every morning and reading Emily Dickinson, until I had read every Emily Dickinson poem. I was listening to Morrissey, to Shostakovich, to the Spotify top 50. I had unformed questions with inchoate answers," says Will. "But, honestly, I was feeling great about the record." The album projects widescreen emotional landscapes. Lead-off single "Long Grass" is like a Harry Styles song with 20 more years of life behind it. Standout track "Saturday Night" has a beat, according to Miles, "with that robot-alien-dancing-at-a-haunted- dive-bar feeling that we were going for." The back half of the album is a danceable, weird choral record with harmonies both beautiful and dissonant. Closing song "The Window" is the comedown after the party_Julie playing a Chopin Nocturne on a three-years-out-of-tune piano, slowed to half-speed on tape with Will singing over it in a voice exactly as tired as he was. It's a record with a warm, humane soul.

Indies Only LP is opaque green vinyl. Both LPs come with a download. The moment the needle drops on Bite, the new A Giant Dog record, one’s conception of what an A Giant Dog record sounds like bends like space and time around a starship running at lightspeed. The biggest point of departure is that Bite is a concept album, concerning characters who find themselves moving in and out of a virtual reality called Avalonia. A Giant Dog’s first album of original songs since 2017’s Toy, Bite finds the band Sabrina Ellis, Andrew Cashen, Danny Blanchard, Graham Low, and Andy Bauer at their peak as musicians, challenging themselves with more complex arrangements and subject matter that forced them out of their heads and into those of the characters who occupy this supposed paradise. “We had to find ourselves within, or project ourselves into, the principal characters. We developed them, got to know their minds, emotions, and motivations, and then expressed those in nine songs,” Ellis explains. Themes of addiction, gender fluidity, living ethically in a capitalist society, physical autonomy, avarice, grief, and consent bubble beneath the promised happiness of Avalonia. This is evident in songs like “Different Than,” where Ellis sings, “My body can’t explain the things my mind don’t comprehend” as if societal gender pressure is squeezing its protagonist out of their skin. The songs on Bite are full of bombast, at turns calling to mind the spacefaring operatic rock of Electric Light Orchestra and the high drama of an Ennio Morricone film score. The album’s narrative sweep is epic in scope, its characters facing impossible odds and certain doom, existing as comfortably with the sci-fi grandiosity of Thin Lizzy’s Jailbreak as it does with the high fantasy of Dio and Iron Maiden. Appropriately, A Giant Dog came to this narrative armed to the teeth with new ideas, unleashing synthesizers and string sections to create what Ellis describes as orchestral, symphonic, futuristic punk. To achieve this, they left their home turf of Austin, Texas, for La Cuve Studio, just outside of Angers, France. Living in the French countryside, A Giant Dog laid down their vision of the future against a decidedly pastoral backdrop. On walks from Angers to La Cuve, Ellis says that they “would see many things, and also nothing at all. Swans on the river. Romani people living in little trailers, with a side hut built for their dog. A juggler on a unicycle—not fucking with you.” “We thought we wouldn’t be allowed back in France after this trip, to be honest,” they continued. “Five loud, stomping, clapping, rowdy Americans who ran through the streets of Angers for three weeks in November 2022.” The experience capped two years of planning and writing, fleshing out the universe of Avalonia beyond the bounds of most concept albums. The resulting nine songs do not merely occupy this space: They’ve lived in it, and they want out.

In dem Moment, als die Nadel auf die neue A Giant Dog-Platte fällt, krümmt sich die eigene Vorstellung davon, wie eine A Giant Dog-Platte klingen soll, wie Raum und Zeit um ein Raumschiff, das mit Lichtgeschwindigkeit fliegt. Bite ist ein Konzeptalbum, in dem es um Charaktere geht, die sich in einer virtuellen Realität namens Avalonia bewegen und zugleich ist es das erste Album von A Giant Dog mit eigenen Songs seit Toy von 2017.

Sabrina Ellis, Andrew Cashen, Danny Blanchard, Graham Low und Andy Bauer - auf ihrem Höhepunkt als Musiker, fordern sie sich mit komplexeren Arrangements heraus und versetzten sich hinein in die Köpfe der Figuren, die dieses vermeintliche Paradies Avalonia bewohnen. "Wir mussten uns in den Hauptfiguren wiederfinden oder uns in die Hauptfiguren hineinversetzen. Wir entwickelten sie, lernten ihre Gedanken, Emotionen und Motivationen kennen und brachten diese dann in neun Songs zum Ausdruck", erklärt Ellis. Themen wie Sucht, Geschlechterfluidität, ethisches Leben in einer kapitalistischen Gesellschaft, körperliche Autonomie, Geiz, Trauer und Zustimmung sprudeln unter dem versprochenen Glück von Avalonia.

Dies wird in Songs wie "Different Than" deutlich, in dem Ellis singt: "My body can't explain the things my mind don't comprehend", als ob der gesellschaftliche Geschlechterdruck seine Protagonistin aus ihrer Haut herausquetscht. Die Songs auf Bite sind voller Bombast und erinnern abwechselnd an den raumfahrenden Opernrock des Electric Light Orchestra und die hohe Dramatik einer Ennio Morricone Filmmusik. Der erzählerische Bogen des Albums ist von epischer Tragweite, seine Charaktere stehen vor unmöglichen Unwahrscheinlichkeiten und sind mit dem sicheren Untergang konfrontiert, und ist so bequem vergleichbar mit der Sci-Fi-Grandezza von Thin Lizzy's Jailbreak wie auch mit der High Fantasy von Dio und Iron Maiden. Passenderweise sind A Giant Dog bis an die Zähne bewaffnet mit neuen Ideen zu dieser Erzählung gekommen, mit Synthesizern und Streichern, um das zu schaffen, was Ellis als orchestral beschreibt: symphonischen, futuristischen Punk. Um dies zu erreichen, verließen sie ihre Heimat Austin, Texas, in das La Cuve Studio in der Nähe von Angers, Frankreich.

Auf dem französischen Land legten A Giant Dog ihre Zukunftsvision vor einer ausgesprochen pastoralen Kulisse nieder. Auf den Wanderungen von Angers nach La Cuve, so Ellis, sahen sie "viele Dinge, und auch gar nichts. Schwäne auf dem Fluss. Romani, die in kleinen Anhängern leben, mit einer Hütte für ihren Hund an der Seite Ein Jongleur auf einem Einrad - ich verarsche dich nicht. Wir dachten, wir dürften nach dieser Reise nicht mehr nach Frankreich zurück, um ehrlich zu sein", fährt sie fort. "Fünf laute, stampfende, klatschende, randalierende Amerikaner, die im November 2022 drei Wochen lang durch die Straßen von Angers gelaufen sind." Diese Erfahrung war der Höhepunkt von zwei Jahren Planung und Schreiben, in denen das Universum von Avalonia Gestalt annahm. Die daraus resultierenden neun Songs besetzen nicht nur diesen Raum: Sie haben darin gelebt und sie wollen raus.

In dem Moment, als die Nadel auf die neue A Giant Dog-Platte fällt, krümmt sich die eigene Vorstellung davon, wie eine A Giant Dog-Platte klingen soll, wie Raum und Zeit um ein Raumschiff, das mit Lichtgeschwindigkeit fliegt. Bite ist ein Konzeptalbum, in dem es um Charaktere geht, die sich in einer virtuellen Realität namens Avalonia bewegen und zugleich ist es das erste Album von A Giant Dog mit eigenen Songs seit Toy von 2017.

Sabrina Ellis, Andrew Cashen, Danny Blanchard, Graham Low und Andy Bauer - auf ihrem Höhepunkt als Musiker, fordern sie sich mit komplexeren Arrangements heraus und versetzten sich hinein in die Köpfe der Figuren, die dieses vermeintliche Paradies Avalonia bewohnen. "Wir mussten uns in den Hauptfiguren wiederfinden oder uns in die Hauptfiguren hineinversetzen. Wir entwickelten sie, lernten ihre Gedanken, Emotionen und Motivationen kennen und brachten diese dann in neun Songs zum Ausdruck", erklärt Ellis. Themen wie Sucht, Geschlechterfluidität, ethisches Leben in einer kapitalistischen Gesellschaft, körperliche Autonomie, Geiz, Trauer und Zustimmung sprudeln unter dem versprochenen Glück von Avalonia.

Dies wird in Songs wie "Different Than" deutlich, in dem Ellis singt: "My body can't explain the things my mind don't comprehend", als ob der gesellschaftliche Geschlechterdruck seine Protagonistin aus ihrer Haut herausquetscht. Die Songs auf Bite sind voller Bombast und erinnern abwechselnd an den raumfahrenden Opernrock des Electric Light Orchestra und die hohe Dramatik einer Ennio Morricone Filmmusik. Der erzählerische Bogen des Albums ist von epischer Tragweite, seine Charaktere stehen vor unmöglichen Unwahrscheinlichkeiten und sind mit dem sicheren Untergang konfrontiert, und ist so bequem vergleichbar mit der Sci-Fi-Grandezza von Thin Lizzy's Jailbreak wie auch mit der High Fantasy von Dio und Iron Maiden. Passenderweise sind A Giant Dog bis an die Zähne bewaffnet mit neuen Ideen zu dieser Erzählung gekommen, mit Synthesizern und Streichern, um das zu schaffen, was Ellis als orchestral beschreibt: symphonischen, futuristischen Punk. Um dies zu erreichen, verließen sie ihre Heimat Austin, Texas, in das La Cuve Studio in der Nähe von Angers, Frankreich.

Auf dem französischen Land legten A Giant Dog ihre Zukunftsvision vor einer ausgesprochen pastoralen Kulisse nieder. Auf den Wanderungen von Angers nach La Cuve, so Ellis, sahen sie "viele Dinge, und auch gar nichts. Schwäne auf dem Fluss. Romani, die in kleinen Anhängern leben, mit einer Hütte für ihren Hund an der Seite Ein Jongleur auf einem Einrad - ich verarsche dich nicht. Wir dachten, wir dürften nach dieser Reise nicht mehr nach Frankreich zurück, um ehrlich zu sein", fährt sie fort. "Fünf laute, stampfende, klatschende, randalierende Amerikaner, die im November 2022 drei Wochen lang durch die Straßen von Angers gelaufen sind." Diese Erfahrung war der Höhepunkt von zwei Jahren Planung und Schreiben, in denen das Universum von Avalonia Gestalt annahm. Die daraus resultierenden neun Songs besetzen nicht nur diesen Raum: Sie haben darin gelebt und sie wollen raus.

This summer, Merge will reissue A Giant Dog's first two full- lengths_2012's Fight and 2013's Bone _worldwide on limited- edition colored vinyl, reintroducing the world to the quintet Spoon's Britt Daniel calls "the greatest American rock and roll /punk band since I don't know when." Recording for the first time with a proper producer (Mike McCarthy) in a proper environment (a studio lol), A Giant Dog Bone, on pink vinyl for the reissue, still manages to kool-aid man its way through the speakers with the immediacy of the band's live shows, a hit parade for the party people. Sabrina Ellis and Andrew Cashen add another baker's dozen tunes to the band's repertoire just a year following their debut, with songs like "All I Wanted," "Dammit Pomegranate," and "Another World" cementing them as a conspicuous songwriting duo.

This summer, Merge will reissue A Giant Dog's first two full- lengths_2012's Fight and 2013's Bone _worldwide on limited- edition colored vinyl, reintroducing the world to the quintet Spoon's Britt Daniel calls "the greatest American rock and roll / punk band since I don't know when." Celebrating its tenth birthday in 2022 is A Giant Dog Fight , the Texas group's hard-to-find debut album, remixed, remastered, and pressed on green vinyl just for the occasion. All the trademark tenets of AGD lore are on display at the jump: monstrously adorable album art and punny title, whip-smart songwriting dolled up in denim and leather, boiled down to the sweetest moments and blown out to the masses with bravado to spare. Upon Fight's original release, the local Austin Chronicle raved: "The raucous, low-rent squall quakes with affirmative abandon, while a just-right dose of pop girds the buzz and yowl.

"Happy Hour in Dub" ist ein himmlisches Set von Dub-Versionen, basierend auf Hollie Cooks von der Kritik gefeiertem 2022er Album "Happy Hour", und ihr erstes komplettes Dub-Album seit 2012. "Happy Hour in Dub" wurde durch das genaue Anhören des modernen Lovers Rock des Originalalbums ins Leben gerufen. Cook und Mckone erklären: "Der Grund und die Inspiration für die Dub-Platte ist, dass "Happy Hour" in seiner ursprünglichen Form so viele komplizierte musikalische Feinheiten hat, die sich durch die Songs ziehen - von den Hintergrundgesang- und Streicherarrangements bis hin zu einigen viel subtileren Details. Und als wir beim Abmischen einige dieser Parts alleinstehend über dem Schlagzeug- und Bassfundament hörten, hatten wir das Gefühl, dass es noch so viel zu erforschen und freizulegen gab..." An den Reglern sitzt neben Hollie der Produzent von Happy Hour, Ben Mckone, der ihre gefühlvollen Kreationen bis an ihre klanglichen Grenzen ausreizt, dazu kommen neue Gesangseinlagen von Josh Skints und Kiko Bun.

I Am Not There Anymore folgt auf das 2017 erschienene Music For The Age Of Miracles (das nach einer siebenjährigen Pause der Band erschien), wobei die neuen Aufnahmen 2019 begannen und stückweise bis 2022 fortgesetzt wurden - zum Teil wegen der Pandemie, aber auch, weil die Band den Raum für Experimente haben wollte. "Wir haben uns schon immer für andere Musik als Gitarrenmusik interessiert", sagt Sänger, Texter und Gitarrist Alasdair MacLean. Diesmal hat er - zusammen mit dem Bassisten James Hornsey und dem Schlagzeuger Mark Keen - Elemente des Post-Bop-Jazz, der zeitgenössischen Klassik und der elektronischen Musik einbezogen. MacLean meint: "Nichts von alledem war in der Lage, seinen Weg in unseren Sound zu finden, außer auf die beiläufigste Art und Weise, in der schwächsten Ausprägung." I Am Not There Anymore bestätigt die Stellung von The Clientele unter den großen Stilisten der Popmusik, indem es geschickt von Bild zu Bild, von Stimmung zu Stimmung wechselt, und zwar auf eine Weise, die sich sowohl neu als auch klassisch anfühlt, während The Clientele als Band in neue klangliche Gefilde vorstoßen. Im Laufe der 32-jährigen Karriere von The Clientele haben Kritiker und Fans ihre Lieder mit Worten wie "ätherisch", "schimmernd", "dunstig", "hübsch" und "zerbrechlich" beschrieben. Alasdair MacLean, hat seine eigene Interpretation der Wirkung, die seine Musik erzeugt. "Es ist das Gefühl, nicht da zu sein", sagt er. "Was wirklich in allen Clientele-Platten steckt, ist das Gefühl, nicht in dem Moment zu sein, in dem man sich befindet." I Am Not There Anymore evoziert regelmäßig das, was MacLean "das Gefühl, nicht real zu sein" nennt. Viele der Songs wurden von MacLeans Erinnerungen an den Frühsommer 1997 inspiriert, als seine Mutter starb.

I Am Not There Anymore folgt auf das 2017 erschienene Music For The Age Of Miracles (das nach einer siebenjährigen Pause der Band erschien), wobei die neuen Aufnahmen 2019 begannen und stückweise bis 2022 fortgesetzt wurden - zum Teil wegen der Pandemie, aber auch, weil die Band den Raum für Experimente haben wollte. "Wir haben uns schon immer für andere Musik als Gitarrenmusik interessiert", sagt Sänger, Texter und Gitarrist Alasdair MacLean. Diesmal hat er - zusammen mit dem Bassisten James Hornsey und dem Schlagzeuger Mark Keen - Elemente des Post-Bop-Jazz, der zeitgenössischen Klassik und der elektronischen Musik einbezogen. MacLean meint: "Nichts von alledem war in der Lage, seinen Weg in unseren Sound zu finden, außer auf die beiläufigste Art und Weise, in der schwächsten Ausprägung." I Am Not There Anymore bestätigt die Stellung von The Clientele unter den großen Stilisten der Popmusik, indem es geschickt von Bild zu Bild, von Stimmung zu Stimmung wechselt, und zwar auf eine Weise, die sich sowohl neu als auch klassisch anfühlt, während The Clientele als Band in neue klangliche Gefilde vorstoßen. Im Laufe der 32-jährigen Karriere von The Clientele haben Kritiker und Fans ihre Lieder mit Worten wie "ätherisch", "schimmernd", "dunstig", "hübsch" und "zerbrechlich" beschrieben. Alasdair MacLean, hat seine eigene Interpretation der Wirkung, die seine Musik erzeugt. "Es ist das Gefühl, nicht da zu sein", sagt er. "Was wirklich in allen Clientele-Platten steckt, ist das Gefühl, nicht in dem Moment zu sein, in dem man sich befindet." I Am Not There Anymore evoziert regelmäßig das, was MacLean "das Gefühl, nicht real zu sein" nennt. Viele der Songs wurden von MacLeans Erinnerungen an den Frühsommer 1997 inspiriert, als seine Mutter starb.

Cable Ties are a fierce, tense rock’n’roll trio. They take the three-minute punk burner and stretch it past breaking point to deliver smouldering feminist anthems. Post-punk and garage rock hammered together by a relentless rhythmic pulse. Jenny McKechnie channels her struggles into songs that resonate deeply, giving voice to feelings often buried in modern life. Shauna Boyle and Nick Brown are a rhythm section anchored in Stooges primitivism, relentlessly hammering out a bedrock for McKechnie’s guitar pyrotechnics and vocal wallop. Three friends summoning a rhythmic tide to deliver anthems that turn latent anxieties into a rallying cry.

The band has been committed to an inclusive feminist and political outlook since its inception in 2015, exploring issues of gendered violence, colonialism, and sexual assault. The band members have been involved in benefit shows, organized DIY festivals, and volunteer with Girls Rock!, a not-for-profit organization that aims to empower female, trans, and gender non-binary youth in music.
Cable Ties are dedicated to their local community and independent networks, and to playing diverse and inclusive shows. They have toured Australia a number of times and have developed into a lean and efficient touring band who deliver powerful and meaningful shows. Their debut self-titled album, released in 2017 on Poison City Records, was a Triple J feature album and album of the week on 3RRR, with strong support nationally from community radio. They have also self released three 7” singles which have all sold out. The debut album is on its third vinyl pressing.

The band toured UK/Europe in 2017 supporting Jen Cloher, and played Punk’d Festival in Berlin. They returned to the UK in May 2019 to play The Great Escape and shows with Tropical Fuck Storm and Amyl & the Sniffers. In Australia they played Bigsound 2018 and festivals such as the national Laneway Festival tour in 2018, Boogie Festival 2018, The Plot 2017, and Meredith Music Festival in 2016. Cable Ties have supported artists such as Joan Jett, The Kills, Camp Cope, and Cash Savage. They won Best Hard Rock Act at the 2017 National Live Music Awards and were nominated in five categories. They won the Corner Music Award in 2017, have been nominated for eight Age Music Victoria awards, and were longlisted for The Australian Music Prize 2017.

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.

Wye Oak, das Duo bestehend aus Jenn Wasner und Andy Stack, veröffentlicht mit Every Day Like The Last eine Sammlung brandneuer Songs und bereits veröffentlichter Singles, mit der die Band neue Wege beschreitet. Die neun Songs auf Every Day Like The Last stammen aus einer Zeit, in der sich Wye Oak nach mehr als einem Jahrzehnt kontinuierlicher Albumveröffentlichungen und Tourneen im Umbruch befanden. Die musikalische Partnerschaft von Jenn Wasner und Andy Stack erblühte in der Ungewissheit dieser Zeit, wann immer sie spürten, dass Wye Oak etwas zu sagen hatten. Sie gingen dazu über, schnell EPs und Singles zu schreiben, aufzunehmen und digital zu veröffentlichen. Klanglich kehrten Wasner und Stack zu den Grundlagen zurück. Sie balancierten das Organische und das Künstliche aus und nutzen Elektronik und Programmierung, um neue Texturen hinzuzufügen. Für Stack gibt es einen roten Faden, der sich durch das scheinbare Chaos zieht: "Freude im Untergang der Welt zu finden". Every Day Like The Last tut genau das, indem es den Hörer an die neuen Höhen erinnert, die Wye Oak seit 2018's The Louder I Call, The Faster It Runs erreicht haben, während es einen Blick ins Ungewisse wirft, was vor uns liegt. Der Titel dieser Sammlung erkennt diese Dualität an, indem er sie wie eine Frage stellt: "Jeder Tag wie der Tag davor" oder "Jeder Tag wie der letzte Tag auf der Erde"? "Beide Bedeutungen treffen zu", sagt Wasner. Es gibt keine einfachen Antworten.

Wye Oak, das Duo bestehend aus Jenn Wasner und Andy Stack, veröffentlicht mit Every Day Like The Last eine Sammlung brandneuer Songs und bereits veröffentlichter Singles, mit der die Band neue Wege beschreitet. Die neun Songs auf Every Day Like The Last stammen aus einer Zeit, in der sich Wye Oak nach mehr als einem Jahrzehnt kontinuierlicher Albumveröffentlichungen und Tourneen im Umbruch befanden. Die musikalische Partnerschaft von Jenn Wasner und Andy Stack erblühte in der Ungewissheit dieser Zeit, wann immer sie spürten, dass Wye Oak etwas zu sagen hatten. Sie gingen dazu über, schnell EPs und Singles zu schreiben, aufzunehmen und digital zu veröffentlichen. Klanglich kehrten Wasner und Stack zu den Grundlagen zurück. Sie balancierten das Organische und das Künstliche aus und nutzen Elektronik und Programmierung, um neue Texturen hinzuzufügen. Für Stack gibt es einen roten Faden, der sich durch das scheinbare Chaos zieht: "Freude im Untergang der Welt zu finden". Every Day Like The Last tut genau das, indem es den Hörer an die neuen Höhen erinnert, die Wye Oak seit 2018's The Louder I Call, The Faster It Runs erreicht haben, während es einen Blick ins Ungewisse wirft, was vor uns liegt. Der Titel dieser Sammlung erkennt diese Dualität an, indem er sie wie eine Frage stellt: "Jeder Tag wie der Tag davor" oder "Jeder Tag wie der letzte Tag auf der Erde"? "Beide Bedeutungen treffen zu", sagt Wasner. Es gibt keine einfachen Antworten.

Eric Emm and Jesse Cohen of Tanlines are indie-rock lifers turned reasonable, happy middle-aged fathers of two, figuring out their place in a chaotic culture and industry that can no longer command their full attention. They are emblematic of a particular time and place that doesn't really exist anymore, yet here they are existing, and thriving, in 2023. The Big Mess came together when Emm and his family moved from Brooklyn to rural Connecticut, while Cohen launched a marketing career and a successful podcast and stayed in the city. Emm continued writing songs_hundreds of them _ through all the weirdness of the past few years, but he wasn't exactly sure who he was writing them for. "I spent years figuring out in my mind, `What is my musical life going to look like?'" he says. "I just kept writing." Cohen gave Emm his blessing to continue Tanlines, even if his own contributions would be limited due to his own non-musical obligations. "I'm like, `Whatever you can do to keep this thing going, do it,'" Cohen says. And with that, Tanlines was reborn. By January 2022 Emm felt he had a body of work that made sense as a Tanlines album. Cohen spent ten days with Emm at his Connecticut studio, along with unofficial third Tanline Patrick Ford (!!!). This was tied together with a sleek final mix from Peter Katis (The National, Interpol) at his famed Tarquin Studios, resulting in a clear vision of what Emm's musical life was going to look like: The Big Mess. The first sounds on The Big Mess are the title track's coiled guitars and thumping drums, building into the kind of outsize, choral rock anthem artists like Tanlines were almost a reaction to. It is warm and nostalgic, and Cohen likens a lot of the prevailing mood to "a sepia filter on a digital photo." He continues, "we were pretty intentional about making this the first song on the album, underlining the way that this is a new phase of the band." Cohen says. The moody, scintillating "Burns Effect" serves as one of the biggest pushes forward for the Tanlines sound, and for Emm as a lyricist. He says that the song is "deep and dark and dangerous, but in a fun way. It's one of the more personal tracks on the album where this ungrounded part of my personality surfaces, but with an over-the-top machismo, almost an ironic character." Other tracks like "New Reality" and closer "The Age of Innocence" are also demonstrably guitar-forward in ways that wouldn't seem obvious for Tanlines (despite Emm's pedigree in austere avant-garde math-rock outfits Storm & Stress and Don Caballero), but Emm is less sure The Big Mess is a total departure. "I'm trying to make these absolutely simple things," he says. "I think of these songs as Rothko paintings: They're big and they're bold and they're seemingly straightforward, but they have a lot of depth and they engage with you and make you feel something."

Eric Emm and Jesse Cohen of Tanlines are indie-rock lifers turned reasonable, happy middle-aged fathers of two, figuring out their place in a chaotic culture and industry that can no longer command their full attention. They are emblematic of a particular time and place that doesn't really exist anymore, yet here they are existing, and thriving, in 2023. The Big Mess came together when Emm and his family moved from Brooklyn to rural Connecticut, while Cohen launched a marketing career and a successful podcast and stayed in the city. Emm continued writing songs_hundreds of them _ through all the weirdness of the past few years, but he wasn't exactly sure who he was writing them for. "I spent years figuring out in my mind, `What is my musical life going to look like?'" he says. "I just kept writing." Cohen gave Emm his blessing to continue Tanlines, even if his own contributions would be limited due to his own non-musical obligations. "I'm like, `Whatever you can do to keep this thing going, do it,'" Cohen says. And with that, Tanlines was reborn. By January 2022 Emm felt he had a body of work that made sense as a Tanlines album. Cohen spent ten days with Emm at his Connecticut studio, along with unofficial third Tanline Patrick Ford (!!!). This was tied together with a sleek final mix from Peter Katis (The National, Interpol) at his famed Tarquin Studios, resulting in a clear vision of what Emm's musical life was going to look like: The Big Mess. The first sounds on The Big Mess are the title track's coiled guitars and thumping drums, building into the kind of outsize, choral rock anthem artists like Tanlines were almost a reaction to. It is warm and nostalgic, and Cohen likens a lot of the prevailing mood to "a sepia filter on a digital photo." He continues, "we were pretty intentional about making this the first song on the album, underlining the way that this is a new phase of the band." Cohen says. The moody, scintillating "Burns Effect" serves as one of the biggest pushes forward for the Tanlines sound, and for Emm as a lyricist. He says that the song is "deep and dark and dangerous, but in a fun way. It's one of the more personal tracks on the album where this ungrounded part of my personality surfaces, but with an over-the-top machismo, almost an ironic character." Other tracks like "New Reality" and closer "The Age of Innocence" are also demonstrably guitar-forward in ways that wouldn't seem obvious for Tanlines (despite Emm's pedigree in austere avant-garde math-rock outfits Storm & Stress and Don Caballero), but Emm is less sure The Big Mess is a total departure. "I'm trying to make these absolutely simple things," he says. "I think of these songs as Rothko paintings: They're big and they're bold and they're seemingly straightforward, but they have a lot of depth and they engage with you and make you feel something."

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.

BLUE & BONE VINYL

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.

Over the past 20 years, The New Pornographers have proven themselves one of the most excellent bands in indie rock. The group's ninth album and first for Merge establishes them alongside modern luminaries like Yo La Tengo and Superchunk when it comes to their ability to evolve while still retaining what made them so special in the first place. A dazzling and intriguing collection of songs, "Continue as a Guest" finds bandleader A.C. Newman and his compatriots Neko Case, Kathryn Calder, John Collins, Todd Fancey, and Joe Seiders exploring fresh territory and shattering the barriers of their collective comfort zone. Newman began work on "Continue as a Guest" after the band had finished touring behind 2019's "In the Morse Code of Brake Lights". Themes of isolation and collapse bleed into this album, as Newman tackles the ambivalence of day-to-day life during the COVID-19 pandemic. But Newman says that the album's title track also addresses the concerns that come with being in a band for so long. "The idea of continuing as a guest felt apropos to the times," he explains. "Feeling out of place in culture, in society, being in a band that has been around for so long_not feeling like a part of any zeitgeist, but happy to be separate and living your simple life, your long fade-out. Living in a secluded place in an isolated time, it felt like a positive form of acceptance: find your own little nowhere, find some space to fall apart, continue as a guest." Newman discovered new vocal approaches within his own talent. There are new and rich tones to Newman's voice throughout Continue as a Guest, from his dusky lower register over "Angelcover" to his slippery slide over the glimmering synths of "Firework in the Falling Snow," to bold tones he embraces on the soaring "Bottle Episodes." Another sonic change comes courtesy of saxophonist Zach Djanikian, whose tenor and bass luxuriate all over Continue as a Guest's alluring chassis, especially on the menacing build of "Pontius Pilate's Home Movies." Along with Newman's usual collaborators, several songwriters contribute. The bursting opener and first single "Really Really Light" is a co-write with Dan Bejar (Destroyer, the New Pornographers). Then there's "Firework in the Falling Snow," a collaboration with Sadie Dupuis of Speedy Ortiz and Sad13. Even as Newman embraces a collaborative spirit more than ever, his new album is a testament to his ability to discover new artistic sides of himself. "Continue as a Guest" sounds like a thrilling path forward for The New Pornographers, with songs that generate a contagious feeling of excitement for the future as well.

Ltd. Green & Blue Vinyl

Over the past 20 years, The New Pornographers have proven themselves one of the most excellent bands in indie rock. The group's ninth album and first for Merge establishes them alongside modern luminaries like Yo La Tengo and Superchunk when it comes to their ability to evolve while still retaining what made them so special in the first place. A dazzling and intriguing collection of songs, "Continue as a Guest" finds bandleader A.C. Newman and his compatriots Neko Case, Kathryn Calder, John Collins, Todd Fancey, and Joe Seiders exploring fresh territory and shattering the barriers of their collective comfort zone. Newman began work on "Continue as a Guest" after the band had finished touring behind 2019's "In the Morse Code of Brake Lights". Themes of isolation and collapse bleed into this album, as Newman tackles the ambivalence of day-to-day life during the COVID-19 pandemic. But Newman says that the album's title track also addresses the concerns that come with being in a band for so long. "The idea of continuing as a guest felt apropos to the times," he explains. "Feeling out of place in culture, in society, being in a band that has been around for so long_not feeling like a part of any zeitgeist, but happy to be separate and living your simple life, your long fade-out. Living in a secluded place in an isolated time, it felt like a positive form of acceptance: find your own little nowhere, find some space to fall apart, continue as a guest." Newman discovered new vocal approaches within his own talent. There are new and rich tones to Newman's voice throughout Continue as a Guest, from his dusky lower register over "Angelcover" to his slippery slide over the glimmering synths of "Firework in the Falling Snow," to bold tones he embraces on the soaring "Bottle Episodes." Another sonic change comes courtesy of saxophonist Zach Djanikian, whose tenor and bass luxuriate all over Continue as a Guest's alluring chassis, especially on the menacing build of "Pontius Pilate's Home Movies." Along with Newman's usual collaborators, several songwriters contribute. The bursting opener and first single "Really Really Light" is a co-write with Dan Bejar (Destroyer, the New Pornographers). Then there's "Firework in the Falling Snow," a collaboration with Sadie Dupuis of Speedy Ortiz and Sad13. Even as Newman embraces a collaborative spirit more than ever, his new album is a testament to his ability to discover new artistic sides of himself. "Continue as a Guest" sounds like a thrilling path forward for The New Pornographers, with songs that generate a contagious feeling of excitement for the future as well.

Over the past 20 years, The New Pornographers have proven themselves one of the most excellent bands in indie rock. The group’s ninth album and first for Merge establishes them alongside modern luminaries like Yo La Tengo and Superchunk when it comes to their ability to evolve while still retaining what made them so special in the first place. A dazzling and intriguing collection of songs, Continue as a Guest finds bandleader A.C. Newman and his compatriots Neko Case, Kathryn Calder, John Collins, Todd Fancey, and Joe Seiders exploring fresh territory and shattering the barriers of their collective comfort zone. Newman began work on Continue as a Guest after the band had finished touring behind 2019’s In the Morse Code of Brake Lights. Themes of isolation and collapse bleed into this album, as Newman tackles the ambivalence of day-to-day life during the COVID-19 pandemic. But Newman says that Continue as a Guest’s title track also addresses the concerns that come with being in a band for so long. “The idea of continuing as a guest felt apropos to the times,” he explains. “Feeling out of place in culture, in society, being in a band that has been around for so long—not feeling like a part of any zeitgeist, but happy to be separate and living your simple life, your long fade-out.

Living in a secluded place in an isolated time, it felt like a positive form of acceptance: find your own little nowhere, find some space to fall apart, continue as a guest.” Newman discovered new vocal approaches within his own talent. There are new and rich tones to Newman’s voice throughout Continue as a Guest, from his dusky lower register over “Angelcover” to his slippery slide over the glimmering synths of “Firework in the Falling Snow,” to bold tones he embraces on the soaring “Bottle Episodes.”

Another sonic change comes courtesy of saxophonist Zach Djanikian, whose tenor and bass luxuriate all over Continue as a Guest’s alluring chassis, especially on the menacing build of “Pontius Pilate’s Home Movies.” Along with Newman’s usual collaborators, several songwriters contribute. The bursting opener and first single “Really Really Light” is a co-write with Dan Bejar (Destroyer, the New Pornographers). Then there’s “Firework in the Falling Snow,” a collaboration with Sadie Dupuis of Speedy Ortiz and Sad13. “I was feeling like I wanted some help, so I sent it to Sadie and she sent me back this complete song that had these great lyrics,” Newman says. “She included the line ‘A firework in the falling snow,’ and I was like, ‘Yeah, that’s great.’ Sometimes you need that one thing to center the song, and even though I only used a few lines of hers in the end, I couldn’t have finished it without her.”

Even as Newman embraces a collaborative spirit more than ever, Continue as a Guest is a testament to his ability to discover new artistic sides of himself. “I started out as a songwriter more than as a singer, but at some point, you have to sing your own songs,” he says with a chuckle. “For a long time, I felt like the idea of changing a song because I couldn’t hit a note wasn’t okay—I could just get someone else to sing it. But I’m learning now that my songs can actually be a lot more malleable than I thought.” And it’s in that spirit that Continue as a Guest sounds like a thrilling path forward for The New Pornographers, with songs that generate a contagious feeling of excitement for the future as well.

On October 21, 2022, Merge Records will release Pigments, the debut collaboration between New Orleans electro-revival dynamo Dawn Richard and multi-instrumentalist, producer, and composer Spencer Zahn. Pigments is a project about the power of self-expression through living art, through motion. It's also a love letter to New Orleans, Louisiana. Not strictly classical, jazz or ambient electronica but rather a body of "movements," Pigments is an expressive soundscape that is an immersive passage through the city as seen through the eyes of a young Black girl with dreams to paint her future with the pigments given to her. Richard explains: "Spencer wanted to create one long piece of music that would ebb and flow around my lyrics and emotions, which tell a story of growing to love my own skin. I wanted my voice to be moss surrounding the roots of Spencer's compo - sitions, never forcing the moment to fill every space but rather reveling in the openness of thought and breath." Zahn agrees, saying, "I wanted to work with all these different textures, tones, and colors to have a new sound to frame Dawn's voice and lyrics. To hear a lone clarinet as the breath fades and a cello continues its melody to cue Dawn's vocal entrance is unlike any other record she has made. These are things that excite me as a composer but more as a listener. I hope that other listeners feel the same." Coming on the heels of Dawn Richard's critically acclaimed Merge debut Line, Pigments will introduce listeners to a different facet of Richard's outrageous talent and bring Zahn's thoughtful creativity to a new audience.

The two full-length records that Jeff Mangum made as Neutral Milk Hotel sound both in and out of time. Like translations of a shared subconscious, 1996's On Avery Island and 1998's In the Aeroplane Over the Sea give voice to the perennial spirit of youthful epiphany, of beginning to see the world clearly, to process and express it-no matter when you encounter them. With lo-fi indie rock, accordion, singing saw, tape collages, the so-called "zanzithophone" and beyond, Neutral Milk Hotel created an eternal entry into their Elephant 6 scene and an enduring feeling of possibility. Mangum was born in the small city of Ruston, Louisiana, in 1970, coming of age within the '80s and '90s indie and punk undergrounds, a movement of teenagers recording in their bedrooms, sharing zines and trading tapes, listening to hardcore and experimental music on college radio. For all the mythology Mangum's elusive persona has accrued-particularly during the 15 years immediately following Aeroplane, when he abruptly left the band behind-it's the beguiling songs themselves that have resonated so deeply for generations. In 2011, Mangum collected nearly all of the band's recorded output in a limited-edition box set (self-released under Neutral Milk Hotel Records, a small operation helmed by Mangum and his mother) which is now re-pressed by Merge. // CONTENTS: Black matte box is a 2-piece telescoping casewrapped package. Outer shrink-wrap includes a front sticker with "Neutral Milk Hotel," and a back sticker listing box contents. The box set includes 2 folded posters, each printed one side and each 24 x 24 inches when flat, and 1 postcard, printed front and back with box set information and sized 3.75 x 5 inches. Vinyl records: 1. In the Aeroplane Over the Sea: LP is 11 tracks pressed 33RPM to black vinyl in a gatefold jacket + printed insert for full album download. --- 2. On Avery Island: 2-LP is 12 tracks pressed to double black vinyl in a gatefold jacket + 11 x 11 printed insert + printed insert for full album download. Sides A, B and C pressed 45RPM. Side D pressed 33RPM. --- 3. Live at Jittery Joe's: 12-inch picture disc is 11 tracks pressed 33RPM to a full color picture disc in a heavyweight poly jacket + printed insert for full album download. --- 4. Ferris Wheel on Fire: 10-inch is 8 tracks pressed 45RPM to black vinyl in a printed jacket + postcard insert + printed insert for full album download. --- 5. Everything Is: 10-inch is 7 tracks pressed 45RPM to black vinyl in a printed jacket + postcard insert + printed insert for full album download --- 6. "Little Birds": 7-inch is 2 tracks pressed 45RPM to black vinyl in a printed jacket + printed insert for full album download 7-inch housed in a heavy-weight poly jacket. --- 7. "You've Passed": 7-inch is 2 tracks pressed 45RPM to black vinyl in a printed jacket + printed insert for full album download. 7-inch housed in a heavy-weight poly jacket. --- 8. "Holland, 1945": 7-inch is 2 tracks pressed 45RPM to black vinyl in a printed jacket + printed insert for full album download. 7-inch housed in a heavyweight poly jacket.

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.

Orange Viny

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.

"One Day" ist eines der energiegeladensten und komplexesten Alben der kanadischen Hardcore-Legende Fucked Up, obwohl es nur 10 Songs enthält. Fucked Up waren in der Vergangenheit eher für ihre epischen Auswüchse bekannt, von gewaltigen Konzept-Alben bis hin zu 12-stündigen Konzerten - es mag also überraschen, dass ihr sechstes Studio-Album ihr bisher kürzestes ist, geschrieben und aufgenommen innerhalb eines einzigen Tages - was dem Album auch den Titel gab. Man sollte nun aber nicht Spiellänge mit Substanz verwechseln: Der Sound der Band ist nur noch größer geworden, noch härter, mit noch dichterem Melodie-Dickicht. Das Album klingt vollmundig und unmittelbar, mit Musik, die brutal und leidenschaftlich rüberkommt, so wie sie nur Fucked Up machen können. Die Gitarren klingen gigantisch und die musikalische Abenteuerlust, die das epische, üppige "Dose Your Dreams" von 2018 kennzeichnete, ist auch hier sehr präsent. "One Day" ist ein unbestreitbares Werk der Zuversicht von einer Band, die weiterhin auf höchstem Niveau agiert und Musik macht, die garantiert ein Leben lang, und darüber hinaus, hält.

Clear Vinyl

"One Day" ist eines der energiegeladensten und komplexesten Alben der kanadischen Hardcore-Legende Fucked Up, obwohl es nur 10 Songs enthält. Fucked Up waren in der Vergangenheit eher für ihre epischen Auswüchse bekannt, von gewaltigen Konzept-Alben bis hin zu 12-stündigen Konzerten - es mag also überraschen, dass ihr sechstes Studio-Album ihr bisher kürzestes ist, geschrieben und aufgenommen innerhalb eines einzigen Tages - was dem Album auch den Titel gab. Man sollte nun aber nicht Spiellänge mit Substanz verwechseln: Der Sound der Band ist nur noch größer geworden, noch härter, mit noch dichterem Melodie-Dickicht. Das Album klingt vollmundig und unmittelbar, mit Musik, die brutal und leidenschaftlich rüberkommt, so wie sie nur Fucked Up machen können. Die Gitarren klingen gigantisch und die musikalische Abenteuerlust, die das epische, üppige "Dose Your Dreams" von 2018 kennzeichnete, ist auch hier sehr präsent. "One Day" ist ein unbestreitbares Werk der Zuversicht von einer Band, die weiterhin auf höchstem Niveau agiert und Musik macht, die garantiert ein Leben lang, und darüber hinaus, hält.

With One Day, Fucked Up have delivered one of the most energizing and intricate albums of their career, a massive-sounding record that arrives in deceptively small confines. The Canadian hardcore legends have been known for their epic scale in the past, so it might be a surprise that Fucked Up’s sixth studio album is their shortest to date, written and recorded in the confines of one literal day (hence the title). Don’t mistake size for substance, though: The band’s sound has only gotten bigger, more hard-charging, with even denser thickets of melody. “I wanted to see what I could record in literally one day.” That singular idea came to mind for guitarist Mike Haliechuk in the closing months of 2019. Haliechuk got himself into a studio and proceeded to write and record the record’s ten tracks over three eight-hour sessions, reconnecting with the core the band’s songwriting essence in the process. Initially, Fucked Up vocalist Damian Abraham was also set to complete his vocals in similar fashion—that is, before the lockdowns of 2020 took place. As it turns out, the isolation yielded creative dividends, as Abraham returned to contributing lyrics as well for the first time since 2014’s Glass Boys. “It almost felt like it might be the last time I’d ever get to record vocals for anything,” Abraham says of the stakes he felt while putting his part to tape, before reflecting on how he approached the lyrical process: “What do I want to say to friends who aren’t here anymore? What do I want to say to myself?” Over swarms of tuneful noise that evoke Sonic Youth circa Daydream Nation, Abraham lets loose on gentrification in “Lords of Kensington,” which was inspired by an “incredible” Toronto neighborhood that was regularly subject to life-ruining police surveillance and structural violence. “The police chief during that era he just opened a cannabis store,” Abraham explains. “It’s so cynical and gross, what society has come to but by being in a band, we’re culpable in changing the neighborhood, too, since the punk spaces and cool happenings that pop up are part of gentrification. Are you building a culture? Or are you ruining something that’s already been there?” Then there’s the dusky burn of “Cicada,” a sonic cousin to Dose Your Dreams’ excellent standout “The One I Want Will Come for Me” that features Haliechuk taking lead-vocal duty. The song is dedicated to lost friends, and in his words, it’s about “what life is like after you lose people, and our responsibility to carry them forward into the future, using the things they taught us as a light. I like to imagine the sound of cicadas as a metaphor for our strange life in the subculture we all just live these weird little hidden lives under the dirt, and then once in a generation, one of us gets to bust out of the dirt and intone their song so loud that it can be heard all over.” One Day is an undeniable work of confidence from a band that continues to operate at the top of their game, making music that’s guaranteed to last a lifetime and beyond.

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 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 takes 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 explores 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.

Neon Orange Vinyl. Reigning Sound's Memphis in June is a document of Greg Cartwright and the original Memphis lineup of his garage/soul group in the pocket and on their home turf. Live from the Harbor Town Amphitheater, right on the river, they forcefully knock out a dozen songs across the band's catalog with their friends, many of whom appeared on 2021's A Little More Time with Reigning Sound. The live album was pressed on neon orange vinyl, for Record Store Day 2022.

LP is black vinyl + LP3 insert for full album Download. Check out the first 18 or so seconds of “Can I Ride”, the title track on the first release by Polvo, the two-guitar juggernaut that represented the other side of Chapel Hill indie rock (more on that in a moment). That two-note riff, and the guitar twang that follows, recalls the opening notes on another monster song: “The Sprawl”, a key track on Sonic Youth's epochal Daydream Nation, an album released in October 1988, less than two years before Polvo formed. This compilation's nine tunes—the first seven from the Can I Ride double 7” EP (1990), the last two from the “Vibracobra” b/w “The Drill” 7” (1991) are not quite the sound of a torch being passed, but they were a sign that Sonic Youth's weird tunings, the hardcore punk and proto-indie rock on SST Records, and R.E.M.'s hazy rock (three big influences on this era of Polvo) were changing lives. Even back then, the impossibly catchy roar from Merge’s flagship act Superchunk was known to outsiders as the sound of Chapel Hill. But Polvo was something different from the same region. While the band never cottoned to the “math rock” tag (and it’s hard to disagree with them), there is no question that there was a distinct “how can we make guitar rock sound different from all the other guitar rock” vibe going on in the mid-Atlantic, from Richmond (math rock’s true home, don’t @ me) to the North Carolina Triangle over to Louisville and down almost to Atlanta. (If the Mastodon dudes aren’t down with Polvo, I’ll eat your shoe.) No, Polvo were their own brand of squall, not afraid of big hooks (“Leaf ”), odd tempos and textures (“Lull”) and rolling thunder (“Totemic”), and answers to the musical question, “What if the Feelies grew up on Dinosaur Jr.?” (“Tread on Me”). Indie rock? Not the 2022 kind. Math rock? Eh, not really. This was the sound of a new Southern rock, of a pre-internet guitar storm that looked at what came before and said, “What's next?” Track listing: Side A 1. Can I Ride 2. Leaf 3. Lull 4. Totemic 5. Tread on Me. Side B. 6. Teen Dream 7. Snake Fist Fighter 8. Vibracobra 9. The Drill

Both LPs pressed 45RPM in gatefold jacket+ white paper sleeves + LP3 insert for full album download. Yellow vinyl is for Indies only. It might be too soon to declare In Prism the best Polvo record ever…but it might be okay by the time you’re done reading this. ...Only at this point in life would Polvo be so assured, so casually stormy and intensely calm, graceful and free with their power without setting aside anything that made them the rock artists they were during their first, unblemished run. There is not a thing on In Prism that they aren’t doing better than before: the sidewinder guitars and the mighty roar and the moody atmospheres and the psychedelic explosiveness; the writing, the singing, the words you can understand, the ones you can’t. Polvo spent 1990–98 giving voice to a chorus of discrete rock & roll ideas that really hadn’t been heard before. And while there was nothing wrong before, it’s now so much more right—perhaps because after ten years none of the peripheral stuff matters anymore. Now is for Polvo, and Polvo is for now. In Prism is the best Polvo record even before you get to the majestic “A Link in the Chain,” serene and tempestuous like few other things you’ll hear. The album was recorded with Brian Paulson and Polvo has never sounded better. Don’t you agree? Mike Wolf, NYC (2009). Side A 1. Right the Relation 2. D.C. Trails Side B 3. Beggar’s Bowl 4. City Birds Side C 5. Lucía 6. Dream Residue/Work Side D 7. The Pedlar 8. A Link in the Chain

LP is on baby blue vinyl in a jacket w/ spot gloss + printed inner sleeve + LP3 album download. On October 21, 2022, Merge Records will release Pigments, the debut collaboration between New Orleans electro-revival dynamo Dawn Richard and multi-instrumentalist, producer, and composer Spencer Zahn. Pigments is a project about the power of self-expression through living art, through motion. It’s also a love letter to New Orleans, Louisiana. Not strictly classical, jazz or ambient electronica but rather a body of “movements,” Pigments is an expressive soundscape that is an immersive passage through the city as seen through the eyes of a young Black girl with dreams to paint her future with the pigments given to her. Richard explains: “Spencer wanted to create one long piece of music that would ebb and flow around my lyrics and emotions, which tell a story of growing to love my own skin. I wanted my voice to be moss surrounding the roots of Spencer’s compositions, never forcing the moment to fill every space but rather reveling in the openness of thought and breath.” Zahn agrees, saying, “I wanted to work with all these different textures, tones, and colors to have a new sound to frame Dawn’s voice and lyrics. To hear a lone clarinet as the breath fades and a cello continues its melody to cue Dawn’s vocal entrance is unlike any other record she has made. These are things that excite me as a composer but more as a listener. I hope that other listeners feel the same.” Coming on the heels of Dawn Richard’s critically acclaimed Merge debut Second Line, Pigments will introduce listeners to a different facet of Richard’s outrageous talent and bring Zahn’s thoughtful creativity to a new audience

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.