Sub Pop Vinyl, CD & Tape 293 Items

Initial LP pressing on Yellowy Green Vinyl. The music of Washed Out has always levitated over a timeless frontier. You can sense it in his immersive, amorphous vocals, the expansive soundscapes, the wistful storytelling. It's a sweet spot where, says its creative force, Ernest Greene, "any sort of association or memory from the past can transport you instantly. I love that." Greene's transcendent output has earned him the moniker of "Godfather of Chillwave" by Pitchfork and a co-sign from Portlandia, which borrowed his track, "Feel It All Around," for its utopian theme song. His latest, Notes From a Quiet Life arrives after delivering more than a decade of distinct and disparate creative re-imaginations at a remarkably high level (five albums, two EPs). Notes is bold in its intuitiveness: Greene has left the treadmill of music-as-a-business, instead letting his artistic interests lead the way. "Each album," says Green, who also paints and sculpts, "is a world-building exercise." The Georgia native left Atlanta in 2021 to move back to the countryside he knew growing up. Where escapism once flooded his thoughts, today he is preoccupied with the universe of wonder in the reality around him. He named the former horse farm he moved to "Endymion" (after the pastoral John Keats poem about a lovesick shepherd - its opening line: "A thing of beauty is a joy for ever"), and it has shaped all that he's created there, from his music to his albums' creative direction to his planned large scale visual-art experiments. "I've read that every five, maybe 10, years, you're practically a different person - like literally, on a cellular level," Greene explains. "The things that you're going through will end up changing you, and you're kind of a different person. This album is a reflection of that. Experimenting with painting and sculpture helps my music. They influence each other. That was a kind of realization for me. I don't want to look back on my life one day, and be like, 'Oh, it was all about maximizing productivity,'" he says. "I want to enjoy this." That purity of vision is what makes Notes From a Quiet Life so potent. It's the first album Greene wholly self-produced, with some mixing assistance from Nathan Boddy (James Blake, Mura Masa) and David Wrench (Caribou, Florence + the Machine). "Early in my career, I had a lack of technical skill, and there were some things I wasn't 100% enthusiastic about," he says, noting Jean-Michel Basquiat's distinct, self-driven method as an inspiration. "Something that I was looking for was...I didn't want any illusion of anyone else's influences. I wanted to see this through to the end. And honestly, that was a big challenge. Illustrating that, Greene's list of influences for Notes From a Quiet Life are mostly sculpture icons: minimalist legend Donald Judd, abstract expressionist Cy Twombly, and modernists Barbara Hepworth and Henry Moore. Of the latter, he observes, "The majority of his working life was spent on his country estate, and he wasn't living a cosmopolitan lifestyle. He was focused on just making good work, you know?" Notes from a Quiet Life is Washed Out's fifth album.

Shabazz Palaces is fronted by Ishmael Butler (Digable Planets), whose relentless drive to reinvent hip-hop continues unabated in his fifth decade on the planet. When Robed in Rareness hit digital platforms in 2023, NPR Music called it "enchanting and subversive," while Pitchfork noted that "Shabazz Palaces' futurism has always been interwoven with the past and the present, their songs sparkling tapestries of old-school shit-talk, proggy psychedelia and melodic flossing." Robed in Rareness is wrapped in this diversity as Butler and a team of close collaborators swagger through the eras of rap." "Exotic Birds of Prey" continues the modus operandi of "Robed in Rareness": a respectful look at the past, an embrace of the ever-evolving present, with feet firmly planted in the future. Where "Robed in Rareness" distorted sounds like shoegaze and ambient into the Shabazz Palaces multiverse, "Exotic Birds of Prey" mixes these elements with twisted electro and funk vibes.

Shabazz Palaces is fronted by Ishmael Butler (Digable Planets), whose relentless drive to reinvent hip-hop continues unabated in his fifth decade on the planet. When Robed in Rareness hit digital platforms in 2023, NPR Music called it "enchanting and subversive," while Pitchfork noted that "Shabazz Palaces' futurism has always been interwoven with the past and the present, their songs sparkling tapestries of old-school shit-talk, proggy psychedelia and melodic flossing." Robed in Rareness is wrapped in this diversity as Butler and a team of close collaborators swagger through the eras of rap." "Exotic Birds of Prey" continues the modus operandi of "Robed in Rareness": a respectful look at the past, an embrace of the ever-evolving present, with feet firmly planted in the future. Where "Robed in Rareness" distorted sounds like shoegaze and ambient into the Shabazz Palaces multiverse, "Exotic Birds of Prey" mixes these elements with twisted electro and funk vibes.

What Do We Do Now is the fifth solo studio LP recorded by J Mascis since 1996. This is obviously not a very aggressive release schedule, but when you figure in the live albums, guest spots, and records done with his various other bands (Dinosaur Jr., The Fog, Heavy Blanket, Witch, Sweet Apple, and so on), well, to paraphrase Lou Reed, "J's week beats your year." What Do We Do Now began to come together during the waning days of the Pandemic. Utilizing his own Bisquiteen Studio, J started working on writing a series of tunes on acoustic with a different dynamic than the stuff he creates for Dino. "When I'm writing for the band," he says, "I'm always trying to think of doing things Lou and Murph would fit into. For myself, I'm thinking more about what I can do with just an acoustic guitar, even for the leads. Of course, this time, I added full drums and electric leads, although the rhythm parts are still all acoustic. Usually, I try to do the solo stuff more simply so I can play it by myself, but I really wanted to add the drums. Once that started, everything else just fell into place. So it ended up sounding a lot more like a band record. I dunno why I did that exactly, but it's just what happened." Two guest musicians are playing this time out; Western Mass local Ken Mauri (of the B52s) plays piano on several tracks. Since J himself has some experience with keys, when asked why he needed a hired gun, he says, "Ken is great, and he plays all the keys. I tried playing some keyboards on the first Fog album, but I'm really only comfortable playing the white notes, so it's kind of limiting. [laughs] Nowadays, I could just turn the pitch on a mini Mellotron to play different sounds, but black keys just seem hard. For whatever reason, I just like banging on the white ones. Seems like it's harder to figure out how to stretch your fingers around the other ones." Mauri has no such qualms and plays all the keys very damn well. He sounds especially great on "I Can't Find You," where he is Jack Nitzsche to J's Neil Young, creating one of the album's loveliest tunes. The other guest musician, Matthew "Doc" Dunn, is also prominent on this track. Dunn's steel guitar manages to both widen and soften the musical edges of the music, giving it a full classicist profile. Dunn is an Ontario-based polymath who J met through Matt Valentine. After J played on Doc's great 2022 Sub Pop single, "Your Feel," he figured it was time for payback. Both Dunn and Mauri add beautifully to the songs here, helping to transform them from acoustic sketches into full-blown post-core power ballads. What Do We Do Now is the finest set of solo tunes J has yet penned, and the way they're presented is just about perfect. Asked if he would be touring to support the album, J says he'll be doing some weekend dates, but he probably won't be putting a band together. And I'm sure these songs will sound great solo and acoustic, but the arrangements on this album are truly great and put a cool, different spin on Mascis' instantly Recognizable approach to making music. So, what do we do now? Not sure. But apparently, what J does is to make one of his most killer records ever. Hats off to him. - Byron Coley

The music of Atlanta trio Omni has always swung fast and hit hard. And Souvenir, their fourth album and second for Sub Pop, packs their biggest punch yet. Inactive during the majority of the pandemic-the longest downtime in their history-they approached this recording with lots of pent-up energy. Guitarist Frankie Broyles, singer/bassist Philip Frobos, and drummer Chris Yonker converted their creative fuel into sharp, driving songs that land immediately, sporting chopping riffs, staccato beats, and wiry melodies. Why does Souvenir sound so sharp? Because each track is a compact unit that stands on its own, reflecting the time and place in which it was created. That's why Omni called the album Souvenir: it's a collection of audio objects, a stash of musical miniatures. Think of it as a family photo album, a binder of rare playing cards, a shoebox holding precious gems. Take "Plastic Pyramid," the first song Omni wrote after coming out of lockdown. Filled with twists and turns, it's a journey unto itself, charged by clanging chords, spinning rhythm, and Frobos trading lines with Izzy Glaudini of Automatic, with whom Omni toured with last fall. (Glaudini sings on two other Souvenir tracks, the first guest vocalist the band has collaborated with). Or take opener "Exacto," a slicing web of intertwined guitar and bass. Its razor-fine notes and syncopated beats perfectly match pointillist Frobos lyrics such as "Exacto, de facto, concise, quite right"-a line that could well be an Omni mantra. The precision and clarity of Souvenir comes from some new Omni developments. For one, this is their first album with Yonker as their full-time drummer, and his forceful playing adds exclamation points to every pointed moment on Souvenir. In addition, the trio worked with Atlanta-based engineer Kristofer Sampson for the first time. Sampson pushed the band to a higher degree of power, with Frobos's vocals more upfront in his pulsing mix and the rest of the music leaping out of the speakers. You might notice that Frobos' singing is a bit more emotional and even nostalgic this time around. In crafting his vocals, he was inspired by the early college radio rock of formative favorites like REM, the Cure, and Big Audio Dynamite-the kind of bands whose melodies could have been top 40 hits in an alternative universe. The lyrics on Souvenir are also by turns funny, absurd, and even cryptic. A wry humor has always coursed through Omni's songs, and this time, it comes in shades of both dark and light. In "Granite Kiss," an "astronomical" love story concludes with the hope that "we can decay together," while in "PG," a romantic walk in the park includes a rose-colored mugging. Immediacy rushes throughout every moment of Souvenir, making it the band's most powerful album to date. Omni has truly crafted a musical keepsake-a set of songs that you'll want to keep close, an aural memento you'll cherish for the rest of time.

In this accompanying remix set, "Earth 2.23: Special Lower Frequency Mix", the Bug has taken a bit of "Seven Angels" and laced it with feedback and big bass, allowing grime luminary Flowdan to climb atop it with his dark, staccato visions. Responsible for many transformational records himself, Justin K. Broadrick of Jesu and Godflesh crawls inside "Teeth" to lash at it with punishing drum machines and sordid layers of new distortion, building it into some brokedown palace of industrial mayhem. Loop's Robert Hampson makes good on the premise of ambient metal with his 30-minute hypnotic beauty, while longtime Earth cohort and longtime Built to Spill multi-instrumentalist Brett Netson seems to float the sound through a benighted graveyard on his clever "Teeth" revamp. These are not obvious directions for Earth's impact. Again, Earth 2 was never an obvious record. 30 years on, have we yet to grasp the enormity of Earth 2, an album that has continued its slow cycle of influence, uninterrupted? Probably not. Hell, most of us don't even know there are horses on the cover. Very limited indies only Loser copies pressed on lovely Curacao Blue vinyl!

Lucky For You is Bully's most close-to-the-bone album yet. It's an album that's searing and unmistakably marked by its creator's experiences, while still retaining the massive sound that Alicia Bognanno has become known for over the last decade. Her fourth album draws from personal pain and the universal struggle that is existing, learning, and moving on-and it's all soundtracked by Bognanno's rock-solid melodic sensibilities and a widescreen sound that's impossible to pin down when it comes to the textures explored. These ten songs are simply the most irresistible Bognanno's put to tape yet, making Lucky For You her greatest triumph to date in a career already packed with them. Work on Lucky For You began last year, when Bognanno brought some in-progress demos to producer J.T. Daly in his Nashville studio to see if they could strike creative kismet. "Authenticity is always on my mind, without even knowing it," she explains while discussing their recording process together. "It was great with J.T., because I could tell he was a genuine fan who wanted to emphasize what's actually good about my writing instead of changing it. I could tell how much he cared about the project, and it meant alot to me." The album came together over the course of seven months, the longest gestation process for a Bully record to date, but that time allowed inspiration to emerge in new ways. The result is a kaleidoscopic rock record spanning punk's grit, the crunchy bliss of shoegaze, explosive Britpop, and the type of classic anthems Bully has been known for. Lucky For You's thematic focus zooms in on grief and loss: The record is largely inspired by Bognanno's dog and best friend Mezzi passing away, at a time when her life already felt as if in metamorphosis. The oceanic first single "Days Move Slow" was written shortly after Mezzi's passing, reflecting the persistence of Bognanno's incisive wit in the face of adversity. "There was nothing I could do except sit down and write it, and it felt so good." And then there's the passionate opening track "All I Do," which kicks in the door with huge riffs atop her lyrical reflections on three years of sobriety. "Once I stopped drinking, I felt like I was still haunted by mistakes and things that had happened when I was drinking, and it's still taking me a long time to forget about that while existing in this house. How do I shed the skin from a path I've moved on from?" In that vein, Lucky For You is a document of perseverance in the face of the big and the small stuff. "I'm so overly emotional and sensitive, it's a blessing and a curse" she says with a laugh, but there's no downside to her expressions of vulnerability on this record; it's the latest bit of evidence that nothing can hold Bognanno back.

Fresh out of high school, Hannah Jadagu released her debut EP, What Is Going On?, a collection of intimate bedroom pop tracks recorded entirely on an iPhone 7, which was, at the time, Jadagu's most accessible mode of production. An off-the-cuff approach to music making and instinctive ability to write unforgettable hooks belied the intensity of Jadagu's subject matter. What Is Going On? confronted some of the nation's most urgent struggles through Jadagu's compassionate perspective. What Is Going On? built on the small online fanbase Jadagu had developed by releasing music on SoundCloud for years as she realized her growing passion for songwriting. Now, Jadagu is releasing Aperture, her first LP and most ambitious work to date. Written in the years between graduating from high school in Mesquite, TX and her sophomore year of college in New York, Aperture finds Jadagu in a state of transition. "Where I grew up, everyone is Christian; even if you don't go to church, you're still practicing in some form," Jadagu says, laughing. "Moving out of my small hometown has made me reflect on how embedded Christianity is in the culture down there, and though I've been questioning my relationship to the church since high school, it's definitely a theme on this album, but so is family." As a kid, Jadagu followed her older sister - a major source of inspiration - to a local children's chorus, where she received choral training. "I hated it," Jadagu admits. "But it taught me how to harmonize, how to discover my tone, how to recognize and write melody." The aching single "Admit It" is dedicated to Jadagu's sister, whose love and impeccable taste have been a constant since Jadagu was a kid. The siblings were raised on mom's Young Money mixtapes and the Black Eyed Peas (to whom Hannah credits her love of vocoder) but it was in the sanctity of her sister's car that Jadagu discovered the indie artists who inspire her work. With Aperture, Jadagu faced the challenge of finding a co-producer capable of complementing her work without dominating it. Enter Max Robert Baby, a French songwriter and producer who captured Jadagu's attention with his take on Aperture's lead single "Say It Now." The duo worked remotely, sending stems to one another via email, before meeting in-person for the first time at Greasy Studios on the outskirts of Paris. "When I recorded my EP, it was all Midi, but in the studio Max and I worked with a ton of analog instruments," Jadagu says. "Every track on this album, except for 'Admit It,' was written first on guitar But the blanket of synths throughout helps me move between sensibilities. There's rock Hannah, there's hip-hop Hannah, and so on. I didn't want any of the songs to sound too alike." An aperture is defined as an opening, a hole, a gap. On a camera, it's the mechanism that light passes through, allowing a photographer to immortalize a moment in time. For Jadagu, the word perfectly encapsulates the mood of her debut album. In the years it took her to complete, she faced moments of darkness, sure, but the process of making it was ultimately a cathartic experience, one she now shares with you. Let the light in.

The world is filling up with trash. Humanity remains addicted to pollution. People are downing horse dewormer because some goober on television told them it cured Covid. The apocalypse is stupider than anyone could've predicted.Fortunately, the absurdities of modern life have always been prime subject matter for Seattle-based foursome Mudhoney, and the band take aim at all of them with typical barbed humor and muck-encrusted riffs on on 11th studio album, Plastic Eternity, which was recorded over nine days at Crackle & Pop! in Seattle with longtime producer Johnny Sangster. From taking on climate change from the perspective of the climate if the climate tried to play guitar like Jimi Hendrix ("Cry Me An Atmospheric River") to a driving rock and roll song about taking drugs meant for livestock ("Here Comes the Flood") to a classic punk attack on treating humans like livestock ("Human Stock Capital"), Plastic Eternity is a run through all the proto-genres of guitar rock with a keen eye on the inanities of the world in the 2020's. It also contains a genuine love song in closing track "Little Dogs," an ode to the simple joys of hanging out with tiny canines. Mudhoney (vocalist Mark Arm, guitarist Steve Turner, bassist Guy Maddison, and drummer Dan Peters) remain the ur underground group, their gnarly primordial punk stew and Arm's sharply funny lyrics as potent a combination as they've been since the band's formation in the late 1980s. When asked why they continue making records nearly four decades after forming, Arm's answer is simple. "We like

There are times in our life when we feel magic in the air. When new love arrives, or we find ourselves lost in a moment of creation with others who share our vision. A sense that: this is who I want to be. This is what I want to share. It's a fleeting feeling and one that Kyle Thomas, the singer-songwriter who records and performs as King Tuff, found himself longing for in the spring of 2020. But knowing he couldn't simply recreate this time in his life at will, Thomas-who hails from Brattleboro, Vermont-set out to write a love letter to those cherished moments of inspiration and to the small town that formed him. The one where he first nurtured his songwriting impulses, bouncing ideas off other like-minded artists. The kind of place where the changing of the seasons always delivered a sense of perspective and fresh artistic inspiration. Where he felt a deeper connection with nature and sense of community that had once been so close at hand. And so, Thomas seized upon his memories, creating what he calls "an album about love and nature and youth." The result is Smalltown Stardust, a spiritual, tender and ultimately joyous record that might come as a shock to those with only a passing knowledge of the artist's back catalog. On Smalltown Stardust, Thomas takes us on his journey to a place where past and present collide, where he can be a dreamer in love with all that he sees. References to his Brattleboro upbringing abound, but at the core of Smalltown Stardust is Thomas's desire to commune with nature on a spiritual level. Images of the natural world, from blizzards to green mountains to cloudy days, fill the songs. "I consider nature to be my religion," he explains, and Smalltown Stardust is nothing if not a spiritual exploration. While so much of Smalltown Stardust invokes idealized traces and places of Thomas's past, the album's recording process made his communal vision a reality. Thomas's Los Angeles home in 2020 formed a micro-scene of sorts, with housemates Meg Duffy (Hand Habits) and Sasami Ashworth recording their own heralded albums (2021's Fun House and 2022's Squeeze, respectively) at the same time A shared spirit dominated an era spent largely on the premises, with Thomas serving as engineer and contributor to both records, and Ashworth working as co-producer on Smalltown Stardust. Ashworth's contributions are vital to the album: she co-wrote a majority of the record and contributed vocals, arrangements, and instrumentation to each song. In the end, Smalltown Stardust is not merely a nostalgia trip. Thomas not only conjured a special time in his life, he found new inspiration, surrounded by collaborators and a sense of love and wonder for nature. If the first King Tuff record was content to merely state Thomas was no longer dead, Smalltown Stardust is a paean to what that life means.

Breaking the Balls of History is Quasi's tenth record, landing ten years after their last record, on February tenth. Three tens, which aligns with the thirty years they've played together. Sam Coomes and Janet Weiss have become Pacific Northwest icons, and Quasi has always felt so steadfast- their enduring friendship so generative, their energy infinite, each album more raucous and catchy and ferocious and funny than the last. But we were wrong to ever take Quasi for granted. For a while, they thought 2013's intricate Mole City might be their last record. They'd go out on a great one and move on. Then in August 2019 a car smashed into Janet's and broke both legs and her collarbone. Then a deadly virus collided with all of us, and no one knew when or if live music as we knew it-the touring, the communal crowds, the sonic church of the dark club-would ever happen again. And with the obliterated normal came an unexpected gift: uninterrupted time, hours every day, to make art. Quasi couldn't go on the road, so they got an idea: they would act as if they were on tour and play together every single day. Each afternoon, Sam and Janet bunkered down in their tiny practice space and channeled the bewilderment and absurdity of this alien new world into songs. Janet's strength returned and rose to athlete-level stamina. The incredible result of those sessions is Breaking the Balls of History, recorded in five days and produced by John Goodmanson at the legendary Robert Lang Studios in Shoreline, WA. Here are two artists at their prime, each a human library of musical knowledge and experience, entirely distinctive in their songcraft and sound. In Quasi-form, the band becomes alchemically even greater than the sum of its parts: Janet's galloping drums and Sam's punk-symphonic Rocksichord and their intertwining vocals make something gigantic, anthemic. In the thick of a cataclysmic social and political moment, they've crafted exquisitely melodic songs that glitter with rage and wild humor and intelligence, driven by a big bruised pounding heart. While it reflects the darkness of our time, Breaking the Balls of History surges with energy and pleasure and joy. "It felt so life-affirming. I can hear in the music how happy I am to be there and to be playing at that level again," Janet said. "I get to exist." Sam and Janet have lived through enough to understand that nothing is permanent, and that when your faith in humanity sinks, you turn to the life force of what you can rely on: the people you trust, the community that claims you, and what you can create. You can't control the time. But you can make a record of a time. And luckily for us, Quasi has again.

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.

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."

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

Smash cut to Kiwi Jr.'s third album, Chopper, overseen by trusted pilot Dan Boeckner (Wolf Parade, Handsome Furs) on storied Sub Pop Records. Turning nocturnal with necks mock turtle, our Local Kiwi Jr. takes neon flight off the digital cliff - like The Monkees starring in Blade Runner; like Michael Mann directs Encino Man. Ten songs with synth shimmer, zen gongs with yard strimmer. The signs along the highway read "less BAR, More Noir AHEAD." Ah, those late summer, Joe Strummer, Home on the Range Rover Blues. There's a melancholy to all forms of flight, and the view out the Chopper is as hazy as it gets: mission-oriented, both stealth and self-realized. This album is decidedly (yet almost secretly) anti-patio-sunscreen-Beach Boys bachelor cruise sing-a-long. Sure, these songs let a little light through the blinds, but they sting insomnia, corrupt mayors, Kennedy Curses, sex tapes, and deer rifles. Chopper is the bird's eye view of the big event - a real nighttime character of oil stain, film grain, search light, night flight. It is muscular and fragile; loud yet quiet: both an observer and somehow the observed spectacle itself. What was slack in the slacker phase, got tauter, with lacquer glaze. Slick gloss, rightened wrongs; murdered boss, promoted pawns. With Boeckner transmitting high-voltage shocks upon every reach for a familiar instrument, Kiwi Jr. expands the palette with string machine song, synthesizered oblong, and Dentyne Classic Menthol vocals from area soprano Dorothea Paas (US Girls, Badge Epoch Ensemble) like the missing piece all along. Kiwi Jr. brings the Chopper to a new space, demilitarizing the technology just like flasks, aviators, and cargo shorts. Graceful in the air above, but when the Chopper lands, there's chaos on the ground. Kiwi Jr. shout, "Look Out!" When it gets close, it'll blow the hat right off of your head. Hold onto your hats, Babies. Kiwi Jr. is Jeremy Gaudet vocals and guitar, Brian Murphy guitar, Mike Walker bass, Brohan Moore drums, and everybody played a little bit of keyboard.

Initial vinyl pressing on Blue Curacao Transparent Vinyl! As you can probably glean from the title, Bret McKenzie-whom you know from such modern musical treasures as comedy duo Flight of the Conchords, the Muppets movie reboots and other ace kid-film soundtracks, Lord of the Rings fan blogs, guest songs for The Simpsons, cycling around the streets in his native New Zealand, and more- has a new solo record coming out filled with songs that ARE NOT Comedy Songs! There. Doesn't that feel better? Sometimes it helps just to get it out in the open. So, yeah, Bret's a ridiculously funny dude, and you might even call him one of the best comedy songwriters in the biz. (In Bret's own words, there are fewer than a dozen people in the world writing comedy songs today, but who's counting?) He's had smash hits, he's won major awards, he's the better-dressed part of his duo...he's got a good thing going! So, what gives with this whole "songs without jokes" solo stuff, man? The Conchords landed McKenzie and Jemaine Clement a hit HBO TV show, a BBC Radio series, chart-topping records, world tours, a Best Comedy Album Grammy, and a 2018 "reunion" special. McKenzie transitioned to Hollywood, writing songs for 2011's The Muppets (winning a Best Original Song Oscar for "Man or Muppet"), 2014's Muppets Most Wanted, and films in the Pirates! and Dora canons. While he enjoyed and excelled at the work, he wondered where his songs might go if set free of all that plot-bound specificity. And so, while in Los Angeles a few years back, recording movie music with a crack assemblage of legendary session musicians, McKenzie started playing around with a tune or two he had written simply as songs-songs without any external direction, songs without plot-pushing concerns, songs without jokes. The results reveal McKenzie's talents on multiple instruments (he's a veteran of several non-comedy bands in New Zealand back in the day, most notably the reggae-based fusion group The Black Seeds), and his affinity for wry, literate artists like Harry Nilsson, Steely Dan, Randy Newman and Dire Straits. Written mostly during the quieter moments of 2019, with his life split between work in Los Angeles and his family in Wellington, the songs of Songs focus on themes of escape, the perpetual search for peace, and navigating a life being pulled in multiple directions at once. There are also simple meditations on driving through a city, and the weather. McKenzie was inspired by the path icons like Newman and Nilsson had paved, where a silly or playful number could be sandwiched directly between a song about heartbreak or an earnest redemption and a scathing satire or character commentary. He threw a bit of everything into the mix, recording ideas on his phone at home in New Zealand after the kids had gone to sleep. Back in LA, he fine-tuned the songs with his longtime producer and collaborator, Mickey Petralia, and longtime film collaborator Chris Caswell created charts for that same ensemble of session players with whom they'd recorded so many pieces for film. The majority of songs were then recorded at United Studio in Los Angeles in just a few takes. While the album may be free of traditional punch lines, it doesn't lack a sense of humor. It showcases a new stage of McKenzie's career, to be sure, but one that isn't so far removed from his past work and true artistic self. Like Jim Henson before him, who made a career of blending the silly with the sincere and the playful with the profound, McKenzie also aims to connect rainbows to the ridiculous.

Stella makes her Sub Pop debut with the mesmerizing Up and Away, an old-school pop paean to the pangs and raptures of love. From the Greek folk-inflected get-go, we're swept up in Stella's world - and it's quite the captivating place to be. The singer-songwriter joined forces with artist and producer Tom Calvert (aka Redinho), and it was a match made in Athens; the results are heavenly. Tom caught one of Stella's gigs on a visit to the city. He reached out, they started hanging out, and the pair soon clicked creatively. Both mention chemistry when asked about their collaboration and it's clear, from what we hear, they had it in spades. The meld is seamless. Stella's songs have always riffed on American and Greek mid-century pop but Up and Away doubles down on the vintage aesthetic. Tom says he styled the record "as if it was a rare gem from the '60s found in a box of records in Athens," and Stella notes she was ready for a more "deeply Greek touch - it felt comfortable and right, smoothly fusing with the pop." The bouzouki appears on a full five tracks played by Christos Skondras who, she says, "was brilliant at improvising," while Sofia Labropoulou on the kanun "brought an insane amount of dreaminess to the last two songs. Having these amazing musicians play for Up and Away - I couldn't be more grateful." While not exclusively a confessional artist, Stella is always intimate - when she sings, it's personal. She writes "about things I feel passion for. Stories about me, about others, about all that's there in love and war." Stella was "in a very emotional state at the time, which came through in the lyrics and vocals." And it's true, her honeyed voice - layered in those unmistakable harmonies of hers - thrillingly runs the gamut from tender to terse, by turns bracing and smitten, aching and forlorn. But it's the lyrics that feel key. Across her output, Stella has proven herself a strong storyteller, and Up and Away is no exception (the guise of the medieval bard she assumes on the cover is telling). Past releases have been studded with gem-like vignettes - a diverse array of stories set tightly together to form non-linear narratives unified by emotion. Her latest feels singular in that it seems to trace a longer-form tale across songs, with each track escalating the record's erotic arc. By the end of the album, Up and Away's core concerns are clear: the conflicting and conflicted emotions inherent in love, that live on in ways we can't always understand or control. Love is like this record: when it's over, you still feel it for time to come.

The roots of Naima Bock's music are far reaching. Born in Glastonbury to a Brazilian father and a Greek mother, Naima spent her early childhood in Brazil before eventually returning to England and various homes in South-East London. This heritage combines with more recent pursuits in Naima's music. From the Brazilian standards that the family listened to while driving to the beach, to the European folk traditions she tapped into on her own, and the pursuits that interest her today - studies in archaeology, work as a gardener, and walking the world's great trails - Naima's music draws from family, the earth and music handed down through generations. Naima's debut album Giant Palm is undoubtedly infused with the Brazilian music of her youth and regular family visits. She found inspiration in "the percussion, the melodies, chords - and particularly the poetic juxtaposition of tragedy and beauty held within the lyrics." By the age of 15 Naima was embedded in the music scene of South-East London, eventually forming Goat Girl with school friends and touring the world. After six years playing bass in Goat Girl, Naima left the band to try something new. She set up a gardening company and started a degree at University College London in archeology because, as she jokes, "I liked being near the ground." During this time she wrote music, played guitar, learned violin, worked with ever-shifting South-London collective Broadside Hacks, and met producer and arranger Joel Burton through Memorials of Distinction label head Josh Cohen. Joel's burgeoning interest in Western classical music, global folk music, experience in large scale arrangement and orchestration informed the collaborative process that eventually culminated in Giant Palm. Recorded with the help of over 30 musicians (including Josh Cohen on synth/electronics) by Dan Carey of Speedy Wunderground at his studio space in Streatham, South-East London, and engineered by Syd Kemp, the songs on Giant Palm represent a snapshot of a specific feeling, of brief moments in Naima's life that make up a larger whole. The expansive yet delicate arrangements highlight Naima's love for the collectivist values of traditional folk music, in which songs belong to everyone, and singing can take on countless forms without the need to exactly replicate something. "All the other representations that I'd had of singing felt so unattainable" she recalls. Giant Palm finds Naima bucking these expectations to let her unique voice and sense of communal creativity flourish.

Since the band's inception in 1992, Built to Spill founder Doug Martsch intended his beloved band to be a collaborative project, an ever-evolving group of musicians making music and playing live together. "I wanted to switch the lineup for many reasons. Each time we finish a record I want the next one to sound totally different. It's fun to play with people who bring in new styles and ideas," says Martsch. "And it's nice to be in a band with people who aren't sick of me yet." Following several albums and EPs on Pacific Northwest independent labels, including the indie-rock classic, There's Nothing Wrong With Love, released on Sub Pop offshoot Up Records in 1994, Martsch signed with Warner Brothers from 1995 to 2016. He and his rotating cast of cohorts recorded six more great albums during that time - Perfect From Now On, Keep It Like a Secret, Ancient Melodies of the Future, You In Reverse, Untethered Moon, There Is No Enemy. There was also a live album, and a solo record, Now You Know. While the band's impeccable recorded catalog is the entry point, Built to Spill live is an essential force of its own: heavy, psychedelic, melodic, and visceral tunes blaring from amps that sound as if they're powered by Mack trucks. Now in 2022, Built to Spill returns with When the Wind Forgets Your Name, Martsch's unbelievably great new album (and his eighth full-length)... with a fresh new label. "I'm psyched: I've wanted to be on Sub Pop since I was a teenager. And I think I'm the first fifty year-old they've ever signed." (The rumors are true, we love quinquagenarians_) When the Wind Forgets Your Name continues expanding the Built to Spill universe in new and exciting ways. In 2018 Martsch's good fortune and keen intuition brought him together with Brazilian lo-fi punk artist and producer Le Almeida, and his long-time collaborator, Joao Casaes, both of the psychedelic jazz rock band, Orua. Martsch fell in love with their music the moment he heard it. So when he needed a new band for shows in Brazil, he asked them, and the partnership went so well Martsch, Almeida, and Casaes continued playing together throughout 2019, touring the US and Europe and ultimately recording the bass and drum tracks for When the Wind Forgets Your Name at Doug's rehearsal space in Boise. After Martsch tracked guitars and vocals, they group collaborated from afar to mix the album. What emerged is When the Wind Forgets Your Name, a complex and cohesive blend of the artists' distinct musical ideas. Alongside Built to Spill's poetic lyrics and themes, the experimentation and attention to detail produces an album full of unique, vivid, and timeless sounds, from guitar-driven rock odes to REM and Dinosaur Jr to bluesy '60s-style anthems to dub-reggae-inspired instrumentation. It may have taken us 30 years of obvious fandom and courtship, but on September 9, 2022, Sub Pop Records is unabashedly proud to finally release an excellent new album from Built to Spill: When the Wind Forgets Your Name. Sometimes persistence pays off.

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.

Limited Indies Loser Edition pressed on Yellow Vinyl. Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever return in 2022 with Endless Rooms, the Melbourne quintet's third album proper. Described by the band - comprised of Fran Keaney, Joe White, Marcel Tussie and brothers Tom Russo and Joe Russo - as them "Doing what we do best: chasing down songs in a room together", Endless Rooms stands as a testament to the collaborative spirit and live power of Rbcf. While initial ideas were traded online during long spells spent separated by lockdowns, the album was truly born during small windows of freedom in which the band would decamp to a mud-brick house in the bush around 2hrs north of Melbourne built by the extended Russo family in the 1970s. There, its 12 tracks took shape, informed to such an extent by the acoustics and ambience of the rambling lakeside house that they decided to record the album there. The house also features on the album cover. For the first time, the band self-produced the record (alongside engineer, collaborator and old friend, Matt Duffy), creating their most naturalistic and expansive document yet. The result is a collection of songs permeated by the spirit of the place; punctuated by field recordings of rain, fire, birds, and wind. "It's almost an anti-concept album," say the band. "The 'endless rooms' of the title reflects our love of creating worlds in our songs. We treat each of them as a bare room to be built up with infinite possibilities."