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Technological agitation. Narcissism fatigue. A galaxy of isolation. These are the new norms keeping Weyes Blood (aka Natalie Mering) up at night and the themes at the heart of her latest release, And in the Darkness, Hearts Aglow. The celestial-influenced folk album is her follow-up to the acclaimed Titanic Rising. (Pitchfork, NPR, and The Guardian admiringly named it one of 2019's best.) While Titanic Rising was an observation of doom to come, And in the Darkness, Hearts Aglow is about being in the thick of it: a search for an escape hatch to liberate us from algorithms and ideological chaos. "We're in a fully functional shit show," Mering says. "My heart is a glow stick that's been cracked, lighting up my chest in an explosion of earnestness." And in the Darkness, Hearts Aglow opens with the wistful, winsome "It's Not Just Me, It's Everybody," a song about the interconnectivity of all beings, despite the fraying of society around us. "I was asking a lot of questions while writing these songs. Hyper-isolation kept coming up," Mering says. "Our culture relies less and less on people. Something is off, and even though the feeling appears differently for each individual, it is universal." Other tracks follow in kind. The lullaby-like "Grapevine" chronicles the splintering of a human connection. The otherworldly dirge "God Turn Me into a Flower" serves as allegory about our collective hubris. "The Worst Is Done" is an ominous warning, set against a deceivingly breezy pop melody. "Chaos is natural. But so is negentropy, or the tendency for things to fall into order," she says. "These songs may not be manifestos or solutions, but I know they shed light on the meaning of our contemporary disillusionment."

Slift's Ilion is a towering work of rock music, a steamrolling record that starts at the highest peak and never lets up. If that sounds overwhelming, trust that this Toulouse trio have you in good hands. Their third full-length feels massive and oceanic, merging the furious intensity of metal and the wigged-out guitar heroics of psych rock with post-rock's epic sense of scale. Ilion is the kind of music where you listen to it and think to yourself, "This came from only three people?" It sure did, and Slift's utter ferocity is way more than a tempest in a teacup. It reaches outwards for miles and creates new zeniths within unforeseen horizons of rock. Slift is made up of brothers Jean and Remí Fossat, and Canek Flores, who first met the brothers Fossat at school. After the band formed in 2016, they quickly made their 2017 debut EP, Space Is the Key, which merged stoner rock's heaviness with the sugar-rush qualities of garage rock. From there, things only got weirder: The trio experimented with faster tempos and bongos(!) on the following year's full-length La Planeté Inexploreé, and in 2019, their Kexp session recorded at the Trans Musicales festival in Rennes became a viral sensation, racking up more than 1.4 million YouTube views. Ummon from 2020 represented Slift's pivot towards the celestially crushing confines of psych-metal, marked by Remí's rolling basslines and Flores's relentless skin-pounding. But nothing in their catalog could prepare you for Ilion, a huge and melodically dense record that at once recalls Godspeed! You Black Emperor's perpetually uplifting surge, the passionate burn of post-hardcore legends _And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead, Led Zep's psychotic blues-rock mysticism, and the psychedelic swirl of Swedish greats Goat.

20th anniversary re-release with two bonus tracks. Initial pressing on opaque yellow vinyl! Hot Hot Heat's classic debut album, filled with smart, energetic, dance-punk hits, returns to vinyl with this fully remastered LP edition. AllMusic called the album "an addictive, densely packed pop gem that ranks among 2002's best albums," and Pitchfork agreed, including it on their list of the best albums of 2002. Following closely on the heels of their critically-acclaimed Knock Knock Knock EP, Make Up the Breakdown is Hot Hot Heat's first full-length, recorded with Jack Endino at Vancouver, BC's Mushroom Studios (with engineering help from Chris Walla of Death Cab for Cutie). Spin Magazine had this to say about Knock Knock Knock: "Some retro new wavers hang themselves on their own skinny ties. While their peers lip-sych to Cure 45s, these Canucks take subtler cues from early-'80s synth disco. It's not new-wave worship, it's the sound of punk teaching itself to dance." Make Up the Breakdown delivered on the promise hinted at on the EP. Hot Hot Heat (along with peers like Radio 4 and The Rapture) blended angular post-punk twitch with danceable pop, effectively (and finally) persuading white dopes on punk to get on the good foot in the early 2000s

Technological agitation. Narcissism fatigue. A galaxy of isolation. These are the new norms keeping Weyes Blood (aka Natalie Mering) up at night and the themes at the heart of her latest release, And in the Darkness, Hearts Aglow. The celestial-influenced folk album is her follow-up to the acclaimed Titanic Rising. (Pitchfork, NPR, and The Guardian admiringly named it one of 2019's best.) While Titanic Rising was an observation of doom to come, And in the Darkness, Hearts Aglow is about being in the thick of it: a search for an escape hatch to liberate us from algorithms and ideological chaos. "We're in a fully functional shit show," Mering says. "My heart is a glow stick that's been cracked, lighting up my chest in an explosion of earnestness." And in the Darkness, Hearts Aglow opens with the wistful, winsome "It's Not Just Me, It's Everybody," a song about the interconnectivity of all beings, despite the fraying of society around us. "I was asking a lot of questions while writing these songs. Hyper-isolation kept coming up," Mering says. "Our culture relies less and less on people. Something is off, and even though the feeling appears differently for each individual, it is universal." Other tracks follow in kind. The lullaby-like "Grapevine" chronicles the splintering of a human connection. The otherworldly dirge "God Turn Me into a Flower" serves as allegory about our collective hubris. "The Worst Is Done" is an ominous warning, set against a deceivingly breezy pop melody. "Chaos is natural. But so is negentropy, or the tendency for things to fall into order," she says. "These songs may not be manifestos or solutions, but I know they shed light on the meaning of our contemporary disillusionment."

The Milk Teeth mini album compiles singer-songwriter Suki Waterhouse's various non-album singles onto a physical release for the first time. It includes the song "Good Looking," which, in mid-2022, exploded on Tik Tok and hit #1 on the global viral chart. Suki Waterhouse catalogues the most intimate, formative, and significant moments of her life through songs. You might recognize her name or her work as an actress and model, but you'll really get to know the multi-faceted artist through her music. Growing up in London, Suki gravitated towards music's magnetic pull. She listened to the likes of Alanis Morissette and caught Missy Elliott live as her first concert. Meanwhile, Oasis held a particularly special place in her heart. She initially teased out this facet of her creativity with a series of singles, generating nearly 20 million total streams independently. Nylon hailed her debut "Brutally" as "what a Lana Del Rey deep cut mixed with Joni Mitchell's 'Both Sides, Now' would sound like." In addition to raves from Garage by Vice and Lemonade Magazine, Dujor put it best, "Suki Waterhouse's music has swagger." Constantly consuming artists of all stripes, she listened to the likes of Sharon Van Etten, Valerie June, Garbage, Frazey Ford, Lou Doillon, and Lucinda Williams. In late 2020, she finally dove into making what would become her full-length debut album, I Can't Let Go [Sub Pop Records] with producer Brad Cook [Snail Mail, Waxahatchee]. Now, she introduces this chapter with "Moves" and "My Mind." Her first album for Sub Pop, I Can't Let Go, produced by Brad Cook (Bon Iver, War On Drugs, Snail Mail, Waxahatchee) and released in May of 2022, is a testament to her powers as a singer and songwriter. The Milk Teeth mini album rightly shines a spotlight on her pre-album material, giving these six songs their first physical release.

Nowadays, voice memos, videos, and pictures chronicle our lives in real-time. We trace where we've been and reveal where we're going. However, Suki Waterhouse catalogs the most intimate, formative, and significant moments of her life through songs. You might recognize her name or her work as singer, songwriter, actress but you'll really get to know the multi-faceted artist through her music. Memories of unrequited love, fits of longing, instances of anxiety, and unfiltered snapshots interlock like puzzle pieces into a mosaic of well-worn country, '90s-style alternative, and unassuming pop. She writes the kind of tunes meant to be grafted onto dusty old vinyl from your favorite vintage record store, yet perfect for a sun-soaked festival stage. Her first album for Sub Pop, I Can't Let Go, is a testament to her powers as a singer and songwriter. In Suki's words: "The album is called I Can't Let Go because for years it felt like I was wearing heavy moments on my sleeve and it just didn't make sense to do so anymore. There's so much that I've never spoken about. Writing music has always been where it felt safe to do so. Every song for the record was a necessity. In many ways, I've been observing my life as an outsider, even when I've been on the inside. It's like I was a visitor watching things happen." Growing up in London, Suki gravitated towards music's magnetic pull. She listened to the likes of Alanis Morissette and Fiona Apple, and Oasis held a special place in her heart. She initially teased out this facet of her creativity with a series of singles, generating nearly 20 million total streams independently. Nylon hailed her debut track, "Brutally," as "what a Lana Del Rey deep cut mixed with Joni Mitchell's 'Both Sides, Now' would sound like." In addition to raves from Garage, Vice and Lemonade Magazine, Dujor put it best: "Suki Waterhouse's music has swagger." Suki is constantly consuming artists of all stripes, and, in the lead-up to making I Can't Let Go, she was particularly drawn to the work of Sharon Van Etten, Valerie June, Garbage, Frazey Ford, Lou Doillon, and Lucinda Williams. After falling in love with Hiss Golden Messenger's Terms of Surrender, she reached out to its producer Brad Cook (Bon Iver, War On Drugs, Snail Mail, Waxahatchee) to help define the sound of I Can't Let Go. On I Can't Let Go, Suki not only catalogs her life up to this point, but she also fulfills a lifelong ambition. "When I've been stuck or feel out of touch with a sense of inner meaning and outer purpose, I've found both through searching my memories and finding those events buried in the shadowy areas of the psyche where they were ignored," she says. "So many times of change in my life have required return visits-especially at the transitions through to the next stages. The album is an exploration of those moments when there is nothing left to lose. What is left and can't be thrown away is the self."

Recorded in August 2004 with Brian Deck at his Engine Studios in Chicago, Iron & Wine's latest release, the Woman King EP, is striking both for its broadened palette (percussion, piano, violin, even electric guitar all crop up here) and its thematic focus on female characters both archetypal and personal. The latter is mostly coincidental, a larger batch of songs yielding recurrent imagery when pared down for this EP. That negotiation with the sexual other might be best summed up with a line from "My Lady's House": "Thank god you see me the way you do/Strang...

Combining the lulling ambience of shoegaze with the iconic melodies and vocal prowess of classic American country music, enigmatic outlaw cowboy Orville Peck, croons love and loss from the badlands of North America. The resulting sound is one completely his own, taking the listener down dusty rose-colored desert highways, through a world where worn out gamblers, aloof road-dogs and lovesick hustlers drift in and out of his masked gaze. Orville's upcoming debut album, Pony, delivers a diverse collection of stories that sing of heartbreak, revenge and the unrelenting tug of the cowboy ethos. Warm lap steel guitars and echoing drums move through dreamy ballads, campfire lullabies and sometimes frantic buzzsaw tunes, all the while paying homage to his country music roots. Orville's music has been featured by Nylon magazine, ID mag, Vice, The Needle Drop, as well as numerous Apple Music and Spotify playlists. He has also had magazine features in New York's Hello Mr. and the UK's Notion. ''The masked man our 'Yee-Haw' moment deserves.'' - The New Yorker ''Utterly seductive.'' - MOJO ''4/5 - One of the best and most fascinating debuts from an alt-country-adjacent artist in a very long time.'' - AllMusic

TRACKS

Tape Casette 1

01 Dead of Night 01 Old River
02 Winds Change 02 Big Sky
03 Turn to Hate 03 Roses Are Falling
04 Buffalo Run 04 Take You Back (The Iron Hoof Cattle Call)
05 Queen of the Rodeo 05 Hope to Die
06 Kansas (Remembers Me Now) 06 Nothing Fades Like the Light

Several things happened before a warm day when I met the four members of Frankie Cosmos in a Brooklyn studio to begin making their album. Greta Kline spent a few years living with her family and writing a mere 100 songs, turning her empathy anywhere from the navel to the moon, rendering it all warm, close and reflexively humorous. In music, everyone loves a teen sensation, but Kline has never been more fascinating than now, a decade into being one of the most prolific songwriters of her generation. She's lodged in my mind amongst authors, other observational alchemists like Rachel Cusk or Sheila Heti, but she's funnier, which is a charm endemic to musicians. Meanwhile Frankie Cosmos, a rare, dwindling democratic entity called a band, had been on pandemic hiatus with no idea if they'd continue. In the openness of that uncertainty they met up, planning to hang out and play music together for the first time in nearly 500 days. There, whittling down the multitude of music to work with, they created Inner World Peace, a collection of Greta's songs changed and sculpted by their time together. While Kline's musical taste at the time was leaning toward aughts indie rock she'd loved as a teenager, keyboardist Lauren Martin and drummer Luke Pyenson cite "droning, meditation, repetition, clarity and intentionality," as well as "'70s folk and pop" as a reference for how they approached their parts. Bassist/guitarist Alex Bailey says that at the time he referred to it as their "ambient" or "psych" album. Somewhere between those textural elements and Kline's penchant for concise pop, Inner World Peace finds its balance. The first order of business upon setting up camp in Brooklyn's Figure 8 studios was to project giant colorful slides the band had made for each track. Co-producing with Nate Mendelsohn, my Shitty Hits Recording partner, we aimed for FC's aesthetic idiosyncrasies to shine. The mood board for "Magnetic Personality" has a neon green and black checkerboard, a screen capture of the game Street Fighter with "K.O." in fat red letters, and a cover of Mad Magazine that says "Spy Vs. Spy! The Top Secret Files." On tracks like "F.O.O.F." (Freak Out On Friday), "Fragments" and "Aftershook," the group are at their most psychedelic and playful, interjecting fuzz solos, bits of percussion, and other sonically adventurous ear candy. An internal logic strengthens everything, and in their proggiest moments, Frankie Cosmos are simply a one-take band who don't miss. When on Inner World Peace they sound wildly, freshly different, it may just be that they're coming deeper into their own. Inner World Peace excels in passing on the emotions it holds. When in the towering "Empty Head" Kline sings of wanting to let thoughts slide away, her voice is buoyed on a bed of synths and harmonium as tranquility abounds. When her thoughts become hurried and full of desire, so does the band, and she leaps from word to word as if unable to contain them all. As a group, they carry it all deftly, and with constant regard for Kline's point of view. Says Greta, "To me, the album is about perception. It's about the question of "who am I?" and whether or not the answer matters. It's about quantum time, the possibilities of invisible worlds. The album is about finding myself floating in a new context. A teenager again, living with my parents. An adult, choosing to live with my family in an act of love. Time propelled us forward, aged us, and also froze. If you don't leave the house, who are you to the world? Can you take the person you discover there out with you?" - Katie Von Schleicher

Without a brutal evaluation of their own becoming, TV Priest might have never made their second album. Heralded as the next big thing in post-punk, they were established as a bolshy, sharp-witted outfit, the kind that starts movements with their political ire. There was of course truth in that, but it was a suit that quickly felt heavy on its wearer's shoulders, leaving little room for true vulnerability. "A lot of it did feel like I was being really careful and a bit at arm's length," says vocalist Charlie Drinkwater. "I think maybe I was not fully aware of the role I was taking. I had to take a step back and realize that what we were presenting was quite far away from the opinion of myself that I had. Now, I just want to be honest." Having made music together since their teenage years, the London four-piece piqued press attention in late 2019 with their first gig as a newly solidified group, a raucous outing in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. Debut single "House of York" followed with a blistering critique of monarchist patriotism, and they were signed to Sub Pop for their debut album. When Uppers arrived in the height of a global pandemic, it reaped praise from critics and fans alike for its "dystopian doublespeak," but the band - Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, producer, bass and keys player Nic Bueth and drummer Ed Kelland - were at home like the rest of us, drinking cups of tea and marking time via government-sanctioned daily exercise. As such, the personal and professional landmark of its release felt "both colossal and minuscule" dampened by the inability to share it live. "It was a real gratification and really cathartic, but on the other hand, it was really strange, and not great for my mental health" admits Drinkwater. "I wasn't prepared, and I hadn't necessarily expected it to reach as many people as it did." As such, My Other People maintains a strong sense of earth-rooted emotion, taking advantage of the opportunity to physically connect. Using "Saintless" (the closing song from Uppers) as something of a starting point, Drinkwater set about crafting lyrics that allowed him to articulate a deeper sense of personal truth, using music as a vessel to communicate with his bandmates about his depleting mental health. "Speaking very candidly, it was written at a time and a place where I was not, I would say, particularly well," he says. "There was a lot of things that had happened to myself and my family that were quite troubling moments.Despite that I do think the record has our most hopeful moments too; a lot of me trying to set myself reminders for living, just everyday sentiments to try and get myself out of the space I was in." "It was a bit of a moment for all of us where we realised that we can make something that, to us at least, feels truly beautiful," agrees Bueth. "Brutality and frustration are only a part of that puzzle, and despite a lot of us feeling quite disconnected at the time, overwhelmingly beautiful things were also still happening." This tension between existential fear born from the constant uncertainties of life, and an affirmative, cathartic urge to seize the moment, is central to My Other People, a record that heals by providing space for recognition, a ground zero in which you're welcome to stay awhile but which ultimately only leads up and out. For TV Priest, it is a follow-up that feels truly, properly them; free of bravado, unnecessary bluster or any audience pressure to commit solely to their original sound.

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The initial vinyl run Sp1408 is pressed on a clear w/gold, red, blue high melt! 2020 was a terrible year for gardening. It was terrible for peppers, it was terrible for tomatoes, it was terrible for the condition of the soul. But Chad VanGaalen somehow raised a garden all the same: carrots and sprouts and broccoli and a revivifying new album, all of them grown at home. He likes to eat directly off the plant, he says-"I get down on my knees and graze. It's nice to feel the vegetables in your face"-and the 13 songs on World's Most Stressed Out Gardener were harvested with just such a spirit: in their raw state, young and vegetal, at the very moment, they were made. What that means is that the Calgary songwriter's new album is a psychedelic bumper crop. A collection of tunes that does away with obsessiveness, the anxiety of perfectionism, in favor of freshness and immediacy - capturing the world as it was met while recording alone at home over a period of years. "Don't overthink it," VanGaalen told himself again and again, despite the push/pull love/hate of his relationship with songwriting. "I'm always trying to get outside of the song-but then I realize I love the song." This is a record that gleams with VanGaalen's musical signatures: found sound, reverb, polychromatic folk music that is by turns cartoonish and hyperphysical-like ultra magnified footage of a virus or a leaf. Apparently, the LP began life as a "pretty minimal" flute record. (There's only a vestige now, on "Flute Peace"-one of three instrumentals.) Later it became an electronic record "for a while" and finally, "right at the last second," it "turned into a pile of garbage." The good kind of garbage: glinting, useful, free. Music as compost-leaves, and branches ready to be re-ingested by the earth, turned into a flower. Throughout these 40 minutes, VanGaalen floats from mania to solace to oblivion, searching for zen in all the wrong places. "Turn up the radio / I think we're dead," he sings on "Nothing Is Strange"; or, on the inside-out rocker "Nightmare Scenario": "You're stressed out when you should be feeling very well." The singer's mental landscape is rotting and redemptive, beautiful in spite of itself-and his soundscapes reflect this fertile decay. He has been influenced by his instrumental work on TV scores (Dream Corp's third season began this fall), but still "nothing can really replace the human voice," he admits. Like Arthur Russell or Syd Barrett, it's VanGaalen's vocals that shine a path through the swampland-from the cello-lashed "Water Brother" to "Starlight"'s krautrock pipe-dream. These days, VanGaalen cherishes the privacy of the studio, the capacity to wander around, get distracted, and "move at the speed of life." Whereas once he would obsess over mic techniques, now he puts the microphone in the same place every time-trying to capture a song quickly, the idea at its heart. He'll act on his infatuations-for the flute, a squeaky clarinet, his basement's copper plumbing (remade into xylophones for "Samurai Sword")-and then he'll try to get out, "veering away from responsibility," before he overdoes his stay. In the end, it's like gardening. You have to live with your horrible decision-making; the weather's going to fuck you if it wants to; and if you plant a hundred heads of broccoli, "now you gotta eat a hundred heads of broccoli-or watch them go to seed." But mostly VanGaalen just tries to be a deer: "I remember seeing some deer come out in the Okanagan Valley once," he says, "watching them wait for a sunbeam to hit a perfect bunch of grapes-and then eating them right out of the sunbeam. I'd recommend that."

Sleater-Kinney was an acclaimed, American rock band that formed in Olympia, Washington in 1994. The band’s core lineup consisted of Corin Tucker (vocals and guitar), Carrie Brownstein (guitar and vocals), and Janet Weiss (drums). Sleater-Kinney were known for their feminist, left-leaning politics, and were an integral part of the riot grrrl and indie rock scenes in the Pacific Northwest.

Dig Me Out is the third studio album by Sleater-Kinney, originally released on April 8, 1997 by Kill Rock Stars. The album was produced by John Goodmanson and recorded from December 1996 to January 1997 at John and Stu’s Place in Seattle, Washington. Dig Me Out marked the debut of Janet Weiss, who became the band’s longest-serving and last drummer. Dig Me Out made several publications’ best album lists. The album appeared at #4 in The Village Voice’s “Pazz & Jop” critics’ poll for 1997. In 2001, Spin placed it at #19 on its list of “50 Most Essential Punk Records”. In 2003, the album was ranked #272 on Rolling Stone’s list of “The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.” In 2005, the album was ranked #24 in Spin’s “100 Greatest Albums, 1985–2005”. In 2012, Spin also ranked it at #74 on their “125 Best Albums of the Past 25 Years”. In 2008, the song “Dig Me Out” was ranked #44 in Rolling Stone’s “100 Greatest Guitar Songs of All Time”.

“Now [delivers] the punch their words describe…If [Sleater-Kinney] wanna be our Simone de Beauvoir, Dig Me Out proves they’re up to it.” [9/10] - Ann Powers, SPIN

The album has been freshly remastered by Greg Calbi for this release.

Reissued - Father John Misty's First From 2012! Father John Misty Is The Nom-De-Plume Of Josh Tillman, Who Has Been Recording And Releasing Solo Albums Under His Own Name Since 2003, And Who Left Seattle's Fleet Foxes After Playing Drums With Them From 2008-2011. When Discussing Father John Misty, Tillman Paraphrases Philip Roth: "'It's All Of Me And None Of Me, If You Can't See That, You Won't Get It.'" Fear Fun, Father John Misty's Debut Album, Began Gestating During What Tillman Describe...