Merge Rock & Indie 144 Items

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 quintetSpoon'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 DogFight , the Texas group's hard-to-find debut album, remixed, remastered, and pressed on green vinyl just for the occasion. All thetrademark tenets of AGD lore are on display at the jump:monstrously adorable album art and punny title, whip-smartsongwriting dolled up in denim and leather, boiled down to thesweetest moments and blown out to the masses with bravadoto 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.

Raucous ear candy culled from the hook-driven melodies of Slade, the glammy swagger of Marc Bolan, the morbid fantasy of Killer-era Alice Cooper & the unpredictable wit of Sparks.

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

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

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

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.

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

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

180 gram incl. free digital download!

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

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

Friendship's Merge debut, Love the Stranger, moves like a country record skipping in just the right spot, leaving its fellow travelers longing for a place they've only visited in their dreams. Guitarist Peter Gill, drummer Michael Cormier-O'Leary, bassist Jon Samuels, and hawkeyed balladeer Dan Wriggins map out the group's particular, breathtaking landscape and invite the listener to share in its glory. Between instrumental pit stops at "Kum & Go" and "Quickchek," local references in Love the Stranger create a catalog of human perception, presented as roadside attractions. From grape jelly residue ("Ramekin") to the site of a demolished cathedral ("St. Bonaventure") to King of the Hill quotations ("Smooth Pursuit"), the record's images craft a symbolic language of high and low Americana, both evocative and consistently accessible. Spending time with Love the Stranger creates a community _ one in which the window between the listener and the musicmaker shatters in full, until all that remains are the fragments you decide to pick up together. Like its sprawling lyrical references, Love the Stranger's production is both familiar and capacious enough for pedal steel, synth strings, airy folk guitar field recordings, and Midi pad exploration to work in vital harmony. Influenced by Friendship's punk and indie peers as much as road-star forebears like Lucinda Williams and Lambchop, Wriggins says of the recording sessions: "I wanted the album to sound like Emmylou Harris and the Hot Band in the '70s. Pete wanted it to sound like a semi full of spent fuel rods, barreling towards a runaway truck ramp. Jon kept reminding us that the studio is an instrument, and Michael wanted it to sound like the breakdown two-and-a-half minutes into Shuggie Otis' `Strawberry Letter 23.'" Friendship is probably already your favorite band's favorite band, a long-revered Iykyk of DIY with a devoted cult following from Wawa to In-N-Out. With Love the Stranger, the Friendship universe only continues to expand and grow more open-hearted, more inviting, with every passing note. It's a record that locates the listener exactly where the listener is, and wherever that may be, makes a friend out of them, too.

Friendship's Merge debut, Love the Stranger, moves like a country record skipping in just the right spot, leaving its fellow travelers longing for a place they've only visited in their dreams. Guitarist Peter Gill, drummer Michael Cormier-O'Leary, bassist Jon Samuels, and hawkeyed balladeer Dan Wriggins map out the group's particular, breathtaking landscape and invite the listener to share in its glory. Between instrumental pit stops at "Kum & Go" and "Quickchek," local references in Love the Stranger create a catalog of human perception, presented as roadside attractions. From grape jelly residue ("Ramekin") to the site of a demolished cathedral ("St. Bonaventure") to King of the Hill quotations ("Smooth Pursuit"), the record's images craft a symbolic language of high and low Americana, both evocative and consistently accessible. Spending time with Love the Stranger creates a community _ one in which the window between the listener and the musicmaker shatters in full, until all that remains are the fragments you decide to pick up together. Like its sprawling lyrical references, Love the Stranger's production is both familiar and capacious enough for pedal steel, synth strings, airy folk guitar field recordings, and Midi pad exploration to work in vital harmony. Influenced by Friendship's punk and indie peers as much as road-star forebears like Lucinda Williams and Lambchop, Wriggins says of the recording sessions: "I wanted the album to sound like Emmylou Harris and the Hot Band in the '70s. Pete wanted it to sound like a semi full of spent fuel rods, barreling towards a runaway truck ramp. Jon kept reminding us that the studio is an instrument, and Michael wanted it to sound like the breakdown two-and-a-half minutes into Shuggie Otis' `Strawberry Letter 23.'" Friendship is probably already your favorite band's favorite band, a long-revered Iykyk of DIY with a devoted cult following from Wawa to In-N-Out. With Love the Stranger, the Friendship universe only continues to expand and grow more open-hearted, more inviting, with every passing note. It's a record that locates the listener exactly where the listener is, and wherever that may be, makes a friend out of them, too.

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

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

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

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

With One Day, Fucked Up have delivered one of the most energizing and intricate albums of their entire 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, from towering concept albums to 12-hour performances-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. If that sounds like a study in contrasts, well, that's Fucked Up for you-and you shouldn't expect, or want, anything different. The result is a record that sounds full-bodied and immediate, with music that burns brutally and passionately in a way that only Fucked Up can evoke. The guitars sound like ziggurats reaching to the sky, reaching dizzying levels of melodic interplay while always maintaining a tuneful clarity-and the musical adventurousness that marked 2018's epic, lush Dose Your Dreams is plenty present here, too. 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.

Blue in milky clear vinyl pressed color-in-color! With One Day, Fucked Up have delivered one of the most energizing and intricate albums of their entire 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, from towering concept albums to 12-hour performances-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. If that sounds like a study in contrasts, well, that's Fucked Up for you-and you shouldn't expect, or want, anything different. The result is a record that sounds full-bodied and immediate, with music that burns brutally and passionately in a way that only Fucked Up can evoke. The guitars sound like ziggurats reaching to the sky, reaching dizzying levels of melodic interplay while always maintaining a tuneful clarity-and the musical adventurousness that marked 2018's epic, lush Dose Your Dreams is plenty present here, too. 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.

Recorded over 6 months by Jon Drew at Giant Studios in Toronto, Year of the Ox is the band's fourth record in the continuing 12-year cycle and adds to its evolving retinue of guest musicians. The patient and building Year of the Ox features Nika Rosa Danilova of Zola Jesus for a guest vocal passage and Toronto's string quartet, New Strings Old Puppets. B-side "Solomon's Song," a gothic vampire love tribute to Twilight, features a 5-minute saxophone solo from Aerin Fogel of the Bitters and heavy synthing from Trust.