Jagjaguwar Vinyl, CD & Tape 126 Items

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

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

At once a hazy relic and a digital snapshot of the human experience, Your Day Will Come is the debut album from Chanel Beads, arriving April 19 via Jagjaguwar. The remarkable project announces the arrival of New York-based musician Shane Lavers as a new force in experimental music, capturing the many contradictions of modern existence and the strange infiniteness of the digital world. The songs feel like a memory in which you can't distinguish between what actually happened or what was a false reproduction in your mind - although the burning emotion remains intact. Lavers pushed himself to strip his own sense of ego from “Your Day Will Come”. Throughout, Lavers weaves in contributions from his live bandmates, singer-songwriter Maya McGrory (Colle) and experimental instrumentalist Zachary Paul, who offer their own layers of feeling. As McGrory offers a more full-bodied tone and Lavers often sings with his higher-pitched head voice, the two collaborators meet in the middle; it's an intermingling of identities or a subconscious pining for androgyny. In this slippery space, different perspectives merge together, and there's a sense of empathy and humility that arises from the blending of these voices. These days, Chanel Beads live shows see all three performers weaving together in absolute catharsis. This catharsis is pushed to its peak on "Idea June," which sees McGrory taking over lead vocals to project Lavers' lyrics. As McGrory sings, "The waves wash onto my shore," in a voice that's both earnest and digitally processed, it's as though she's speaking as a separate embodiment of Lavers. In under two minutes, the track of clunky acoustic guitar and gutting strings lands somewhere between detachment and kinship. Similar to the off-kilter structure of "Police Scanner," these songs are strangely affecting in their unfinished and liminal forms. Lavers, who is drawn to poor MP3 rips and transitional moments in DJ mixes, knows that these inexact musical artifacts evoke human imperfection. The title of Your Day Will Come could be read as a promise of the arrival of good karma, or it could be a reminder of one's mortality, said out of spite. Yet as Lavers unpacks the haunting feelings of the past that he must release in order to move into his future, he reminds us that grief and hope might be closer than they seem to the naked eye.

100 copies available at HHV!
On her expansive new album, "Water Made Us," Chicago musician and poet Jamila Woods questions what it means to fully surrender to love. On "Water Made Us," Jamila embraces new genres, playful melodies, and hypnotic wordplay as she wades through the heady turbulence of love wrecks and refuge. While Jamila celebrated her community within the black feminist movement on "heavn" (2017), and on "Legacy! Legacy!" (2019), she processed her life experiences through the stories of black and brown artists, "Water Made Us" is an entirely new kind of self-revelation, making it her most personal album to date. "Water Made Us," which she recorded with LA-based producer McClenney and features longtime Chicago friends Saba and Peter CottonTale, is a sprawling and intimate portrait of self-reflection that deftly reflects the various stages of a relationship: The beginnings of easily compromising, flirting and having fun; the careful negotiation of moments of conflict or hurt; the mourning of something lost; and the tender realization at the end of it all that the person who left never really leaves you, but stays with you while you're ready to try again, refreshed and reassured. The album's title - a line from the album's highlight "Good News" - is a subtle reference to the famous Toni Morrison quote "All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was." It is this sense - of memory, of place, and of return - that serves as the pillar for the album's arc. "Water Made Us" reminds us that, at its best, love is a warm, still ocean. Deep, shimmering and endless in its wonder. And at its worst, love can be a raging torrent that takes us so far from ourselves that we can barely find our way back, or even know how to swim. And yet Jamila surrenders to this surf - to every wave and every undertow - because perhaps even the most painful ends can be an invitation that calls her back home, back to the shore, back to herself.

In most any Dungeons & Dragons adventure worth completing, the hero must come face-to-face with herself in some form _ a cursed, mystical mirror that reveals all that our hero is and is not; a reflection in some Blood River that displays for our hero the monster she has become; a doppelganger that reveals how much our hero has changed since the beginning of the adventure. So, as XagXaguVar, our year-long 25th anniversary campaign enters its final chapter, Jagjaguwar must also confront our former self. We're going all the way back to the basement of the sushi joint in Charlottesville; all the way back to when we were just a haphazardly made zine; all the way back to the original mantra which served at Jagjaguwar's early guiding force. The Sentimental Noise echoing through the caverns of self-discovery is tender and deafening. We've uncovered new and unreleased work from some of Jagjaguwar's earliest friends like Drunk, Manishevitz and Bevel. We've called upon necromancers like Norway's Jenny Hval, Jagjaguwar legends Wilderness and Bloomington post-rock heroes Tammar. Mysterious noise mongers like Canada's Wold and Oslo's Some Nerve have delivered on their promise to absolutely split our skulls open. There are two loving tributes to Patron Saint of Jagjaguwar John Prine. And we've unearthed two songs from Atsushi Miura, who once upon a time allowed our founder Darius Van Arman to book shows in the basement of the sushi restaurant he ran. He dedicates one song to Darius and in the other, humorously lambasts the college town he called home for all those years. Today Jagjaguwar dies; tomorrow Jagjaguwar is reborn.

Sky Blue Vinyl.Unbound opens with a single, trembling chord that rises anddescends before meeting a warm, beguiling voice, a voicesinging in a tradition that's been heard in this northern rivercountry for millennia. The music that follows is a soulfuldialogue between the ancient tradition of powwow singing anda contemporary musical palette. On Unbound, the powwowstyle of singing is entwined with synthesized voice modulation,and hand drumming is accented with electronic samples andbeats _ the harmonies and resonances are equal parts culturaland musical.Geographically, Bizhiki is almost wholly a made-in-Wisconsinproject, a collaboration between Dylan Bizhikiins Jennings, JoeRainey and the multi-instrumentalist Sean Carey (S. Carey), whofor years has been a secret weapon within the Bon Iver family.Bezhikiins Jennings grew up singing within the powwowtradition, around the Lac Du Flambeau and Lac Courte Oreillesreservations in Central Wisconsin. He now makes his home inNorthern Wisconsin, on the Bad River reservation on the shoresof Lake Superior. He's joined on the album by his adoptedbrother, Rainey, a Red Lake Ojibwe powwow singer fromMinneapolis who now makes his home within his wife's OneidaNation on the shores of Lake Michigan.The collaboration between these three musicians first began atthe Eaux Claires festival in 2015. The festival was being organizedon Ojibwe's ancestral homelands, and the organizers didn't feelright without the inclusion of the native communities who livednearby. Bizhikiins Jennings remembers getting an invitation toplay the festival and thinking "I wish more people would say this_ that instead of reading from some land acknowledgement,that they would say `we're gonna give your people space andjust invite you to do what you wanna do.'" The open-endednessof the initial invitation and the "let's just do something together"spirit continues to inform Bizhiki's process.Recording steadily over the course of years _ and between...

At once a hazy relic and a digital snapshot of the human experience, Your Day Will Come is the debut album from Chanel Beads, arriving April 19 via Jagjaguwar. The remarkable project announces the arrival of New York-based musician Shane Lavers as a new force in experimental music, capturing the many contradictions of modern existence and the strange infiniteness of the digital world. The songs feel like a memory in which you can't distinguish between what actually happened or what was a false reproduction in your mind - although the burning emotion remains intact. Lavers pushed himself to strip his own sense of ego from “Your Day Will Come”. Throughout, Lavers weaves in contributions from his live bandmates, singer-songwriter Maya McGrory (Colle) and experimental instrumentalist Zachary Paul, who offer their own layers of feeling. As McGrory offers a more full-bodied tone and Lavers often sings with his higher-pitched head voice, the two collaborators meet in the middle; it's an intermingling of identities or a subconscious pining for androgyny. In this slippery space, different perspectives merge together, and there's a sense of empathy and humility that arises from the blending of these voices. These days, Chanel Beads live shows see all three performers weaving together in absolute catharsis. This catharsis is pushed to its peak on "Idea June," which sees McGrory taking over lead vocals to project Lavers' lyrics. As McGrory sings, "The waves wash onto my shore," in a voice that's both earnest and digitally processed, it's as though she's speaking as a separate embodiment of Lavers. In under two minutes, the track of clunky acoustic guitar and gutting strings lands somewhere between detachment and kinship. Similar to the off-kilter structure of "Police Scanner," these songs are strangely affecting in their unfinished and liminal forms. Lavers, who is drawn to poor MP3 rips and transitional moments in DJ mixes, knows that these inexact musical artifacts evoke human imperfection. The title of Your Day Will Come could be read as a promise of the arrival of good karma, or it could be a reminder of one's mortality, said out of spite. Yet as Lavers unpacks the haunting feelings of the past that he must release in order to move into his future, he reminds us that grief and hope might be closer than they seem to the naked eye.

Dear Reader, About a year or two ago, Naomi Yang (of Galaxie 500) reached out to me after she rediscovered a video that we had made together in 2011, during the making of Tramp, just before the album's release. It was for the song Serpents. The timing was uncanny, approaching the anniversary of Tramp. Thinking about my time in New York while in the bubble of Los Angeles and my home. Thinking about how restless I was, and now settled down and stable. Thinking about how Aaron Dessner took a chance on me after I messaged him with a fury of demos. He could see through the hiss and crappy vocals on my GarageBand demos, and that I had something to say. He gave me the confidence to be loud and to scream my rage and feel founded and justified in my own pain. He gave me more tools to find catharsis in my work. I have carried that with me ever since. Being on the west coast the last two years, I look back on my community in New York and am forever grateful. I had so many friends and peers step up and help me unfold these demos. The album that it became. Doug Keith and Ben Lord from my original touring band, Logan Cole, Peter Silberman from The Antlers, Jessica Larrabee from She Keeps Bees, Thomas Bartlett of Doveman, Rob Moose of yMusic, Jenn Wasner of Wye Oak, Julianna Barwick, Zach Condon of Beirut, Matt Barrick (of the Walkmen), Clarice Jensen, Ben Lanz, Bryce Dessner, and Bryan Devendorf (of The National). I had almost forgotten about a song titled This Is Too Right that didn't make it onto the record. It was one of the first guitar "riffs" I had ever written and Jenn Wasner sang on it with me. A song about not believing how good I had it, like the other shoe was about to drop. I hope everyone that helped make this record and supported it, feel the love and admiration that I continue to hold for all of you. I hope that in sharing this record again, with a new video and this forgotten track, that new listeners are brought into this album and find meaning and relevance in it today. All of the musicians on this album helped me come to life and perform in ways I never had before. May these songs find you well. Sending all my love, Sharon.

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

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

Created between Palm Springs, California and Hilo, Hawai'i, V is the first double album from the Hawaiian-New Zealand singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and producer Ruban Nielson's Unknown Mortal Orchestra band. Designed to play as one continuous movement and road-tested on dry California freeways, V is the definitive Unknown Mortal Orchestra car record. It's also the fifth full-length album Ruban has released in twelve years. Across fourteen sunbleached songs - written solo or with his brother Kody - Ruban draws from the rich traditions of West Coast AOR, yacht rock, weirdo pop and Hawaiian Hapa-haole music. Over a laidback blend of singalong anthems and cinematic instrumentals, he evokes blue skies, afternoons spent lounging by hotel swimming pools and the alluring darkness that lurks below perfect, pristine surfaces. It's a duality expressed in the dilapidated sunset blues and the saltcorroded soul Ruban explores through tracks like `Layla' and `Nadja. ' During the pandemic's early days, Ruban reunited with Kody at a cousin's wedding in Hawai'i. With assistance from their father, Chris Nielson (saxophone/flute) and longstanding Unknown Mortal Orchestra member Jake Portrait, they brought everything Ruban had been thinking about together. The result was V, due for release on March 3, 2023, through Jagjaguwar. When they talked about records that moved them in that spine-shivering manner, Ruban started thinking about the 70s AM radio rock and 80s pop songs that had lurked on the edge of his subconscious mind for most of his life. He wanted to write his version of records like that, leading to the two glorious uptempo singles Unknown Mortal Orchestra released in 2021, `Weekend Run' and `That Life'. However, the golden good times never last forever. Not long after, health issues began to plague his extended family.Putting his recordings aside, he helped his mother and his uncle move home from New Zealand and Portland to Hawai'i, and began dividing his time between Hawai'i and Palm Springs. During this period he reconnected with his relatives, reassessed his past, and started to look at things with fresh eyes. Hawai'i brought back memories of the darker side of his parents' lifestyle as entertainers. On those trips, he heard those classic AM radio rock records everywhere. They were inextricably intertwined with the palm trees, swimming pools, and glamorized hedonism he'd internalized from his childhood. There's a type of music in Hawai'i called Hapa-haole (Half white). You can hear it expressed in signature Unknown Mortal Orchestra style through the humid guitar-led atmosphere of V's penultimate song, `I Killed Captain Cook'. Although the songs are presented in a traditional Hawaiian manner, they're mostly sung in English. Having been influenced by Hawaiian music since Unknown Mortal Orchestra's first album, Ruban saw a space for himself within the tradition. When he reflected on his success, he realised he had the responsibility and platform to represent Hapa-haole music on the global stage.

Created between Palm Springs, California and Hilo, Hawai'i, V is the first double album from the Hawaiian-New Zealand singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and producer Ruban Nielson's Unknown Mortal Orchestra band. Designed to play as one continuous movement and road-tested on dry California freeways, V is the definitive Unknown Mortal Orchestra car record. It's also the fifth full-length album Ruban has released in twelve years. Across fourteen sunbleached songs - written solo or with his brother Kody - Ruban draws from the rich traditions of West Coast AOR, yacht rock, weirdo pop and Hawaiian Hapa-haole music. Over a laidback blend of singalong anthems and cinematic instrumentals, he evokes blue skies, afternoons spent lounging by hotel swimming pools and the alluring darkness that lurks below perfect, pristine surfaces. It's a duality expressed in the dilapidated sunset blues and the saltcorroded soul Ruban explores through tracks like `Layla' and `Nadja. ' During the pandemic's early days, Ruban reunited with Kody at a cousin's wedding in Hawai'i. With assistance from their father, Chris Nielson (saxophone/flute) and longstanding Unknown Mortal Orchestra member Jake Portrait, they brought everything Ruban had been thinking about together. The result was V, due for release on March 3, 2023, through Jagjaguwar. When they talked about records that moved them in that spine-shivering manner, Ruban started thinking about the 70s AM radio rock and 80s pop songs that had lurked on the edge of his subconscious mind for most of his life. He wanted to write his version of records like that, leading to the two glorious uptempo singles Unknown Mortal Orchestra released in 2021, `Weekend Run' and `That Life'. However, the golden good times never last forever. Not long after, health issues began to plague his extended family.Putting his recordings aside, he helped his mother and his uncle move home from New Zealand and Portland to Hawai'i, and began dividing his time between Hawai'i and Palm Springs. During this period he reconnected with his relatives, reassessed his past, and started to look at things with fresh eyes. Hawai'i brought back memories of the darker side of his parents' lifestyle as entertainers. On those trips, he heard those classic AM radio rock records everywhere. They were inextricably intertwined with the palm trees, swimming pools, and glamorized hedonism he'd internalized from his childhood. There's a type of music in Hawai'i called Hapa-haole (Half white). You can hear it expressed in signature Unknown Mortal Orchestra style through the humid guitar-led atmosphere of V's penultimate song, `I Killed Captain Cook'. Although the songs are presented in a traditional Hawaiian manner, they're mostly sung in English. Having been influenced by Hawaiian music since Unknown Mortal Orchestra's first album, Ruban saw a space for himself within the tradition. When he reflected on his success, he realised he had the responsibility and platform to represent Hapa-haole music on the global stage.

Artist Edition – exclusive to HHV in Germany.

Created between Palm Springs, California and Hilo, Hawai'i, V is the first double album from the Hawaiian-New Zealand singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and producer Ruban Nielson's Unknown Mortal Orchestra band. Designed to play as one continuous movement and road-tested on dry California freeways, V is the definitive Unknown Mortal Orchestra car record. It's also the fifth full-length album Ruban has released in twelve years. Across fourteen sunbleached songs - written solo or with his brother Kody - Ruban draws from the rich traditions of West Coast AOR, yacht rock, weirdo pop and Hawaiian Hapa-haole music. Over a laidback blend of singalong anthems and cinematic instrumentals, he evokes blue skies, afternoons spent lounging by hotel swimming pools and the alluring darkness that lurks below perfect, pristine surfaces. It's a duality expressed in the dilapidated sunset blues and the saltcorroded soul Ruban explores through tracks like `Layla' and `Nadja. ' During the pandemic's early days, Ruban reunited with Kody at a cousin's wedding in Hawai'i. With assistance from their father, Chris Nielson (saxophone/flute) and longstanding Unknown Mortal Orchestra member Jake Portrait, they brought everything Ruban had been thinking about together. The result was V, due for release on March 3, 2023, through Jagjaguwar. When they talked about records that moved them in that spine-shivering manner, Ruban started thinking about the 70s AM radio rock and 80s pop songs that had lurked on the edge of his subconscious mind for most of his life. He wanted to write his version of records like that, leading to the two glorious uptempo singles Unknown Mortal Orchestra released in 2021, `Weekend Run' and `That Life'. However, the golden good times never last forever. Not long after, health issues began to plague his extended family. Putting his recordings aside, he helped his mother and his uncle move home from New Zealand and Portland to Hawai'i, and began dividing his time between Hawai'i and Palm Springs. During this period he reconnected with his relatives, reassessed his past, and started to look at things with fresh eyes. Hawai'i brought back memories of the darker side of his parents' lifestyle as entertainers. On those trips, he heard those classic AM radio rock records everywhere. They were inextricably intertwined with the palm trees, swimming pools, and glamorized hedonism he'd internalized from his childhood. There's a type of music in Hawai'i called Hapa-haole (Half white). You can hear it expressed in signature Unknown Mortal Orchestra style through the humid guitar-led atmosphere of V's penultimate song, `I Killed Captain Cook'. Although the songs are presented in a traditional Hawaiian manner, they're mostly sung in English. Having been influenced by Hawaiian music since Unknown Mortal Orchestra's first album, Ruban saw a space for himself within the tradition. When he reflected on his success, he realised he had the responsibility and platform to represent Hapa-haole music on the global stage.

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

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

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

Fresh grief, like fresh love, has a way of sharpening our vision and bringing on painful clarifications. No matter how temporary we know these states to be, the vulnerability and transformation they demand can overpower the strongest among us. Then there are the rare, fertile moments when both occur, when mourning and limerence heighten, complicate and explain each other; the songs that comprise Angel Olsen's Big Time were forged in such a whiplash. Big Time is an album about the expansive power of new love, but this brightness and optimism is tempered by a profound and layered sense of loss. During Olsen's process of coming to terms with her queerness and confronting the traumas that had been keeping her from fully accepting herself, she felt it was time to come out to her parents, a hurdle she'd been avoiding for some time. "Finally, at the ripe age of 34, I was free to be me," she said. Three days later, her father died and shortly after her mother passed away. The shards of this grief - the shortening of her chance to finally be seen more fully by her parents - are scattered throughout the album. Three weeks after her mother's funeral she was in the studio, recording this incredibly wise and tender new album. Loss has long been a subject of Olsen's elegiac songs, but few can write elegies with quite the reckless energy as she. If that bursting-at-the-seams, running downhill energy has come to seem intractable to her work, this album proves Olsen is now writing from a more rooted place of clarity. She's working with an elastic, expansive mastery of her voice - both sonically and artistically. These are songs not just about transformational mourning, but of finding freedom and joy in the privations as they come.

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

4xLP deluxe box set including Angel Olsen's latest two albums, All Mirrors and Whole New Mess, as well as an LP of bonus audio. Also includes 40 page book including photo shoot outtakes, pictures from the recording of these albums, handwritten lyrics, and items of meaning to Angel. Originally conceived as a double album, All Mirrors and Whole New Mess were distinct parts of a larger whole, twin stars that each expressed something bigger and bolder than Angel Olsen had ever made. Released in 2019, All Mirrors is massive in scope and sound, tracing Olsen's ascent into the unknown, to a place of true selfacceptance, no matter how dark, or difficult, or seemingly lonely. All Mirrors is colossal, moving, dramatic in an Old Hollywood manner. Recorded before All Mirrors but released after, Whole New Mess is the bones and beginnings of the songs that would rewrite Olsen's story. This is Angel Olsen in her classic style: stark solo performances, echoes and open spaces, her voice both whispered and enormous. All Mirrors and Whole New Mess presented the two glorious extremes of an artist who, in these songs, became new by embracing herself entirely. Now, with Songs of the Lark_ And Other Far Memories, these twin stars become a constellation with the full extent of the songs' iterations: all the alternate takes, b-sides, remixes and reimaginings are here, together. Alongside, a 40-page book collection tells a similar story, not just through outtakes and unseen photos but through the smaller, evocative details: handwritten lyrics, a favorite necklace, a beaded chandelier. As if it could be more plainly stated (there's nothing more), Angel adds one cover here: a loving, assertive rendition of Roxy Music's "More Than This." It is a definitive collection, not just of these songs but of their revelations and their writer, from their simplest origins to their mightiest realizations.