Jagjaguwar HHV Records 153 Items

To Celebrate The 10th Anniversary Of The Now Legendary Album 'Public Strain', Women Released A Special Limited Vinyl Pressing Of The Album And A New Five-Song Collection Of Material Titled 'Rarities 2007-2010' Featuring Material That Was Either Hard-To-Find Or Never Released, Now Properly Mastered And Available On Vinyl For The First Time.The Product Of An Intense And Difficult Year-Long Recording Process, 'Public Strain' Seems Without Any Clear Sonic Lineage - Equal Parts Velvet Underground, Deerhoof, And Television, But Distinctly Unique And Unprecedented. Just Over A Month After The Album's Release, The Short-Lived Band Was Finished; However, The Reverberations Of 'Public Strain' Were Widespread And It Became Regarded As A Modern-Day Masterpiece, A Vital Document Of An Inimitable Moment In Time, And A Clear Touchstone For Countless Albums Since Its Release.

On their self-titled debut album, Women embraced sonic brashness that deeper examination revealed to be tinted with sly pop melody.With Public Strain the band honed a sound truthful to that reverb-drenched noise while allowing the pop sensibilities to surface into clearer focus. In fall of 2009, Patrick Flegel (vocals/guitar), Matt Flegel (bass/vocals), Chris Reimer (guitar/vocals), and MichaelWallace (drums) went into the studio with an abundance of ideas,...

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You can designate records as seasonal, and you can feel Viet Cong's bleakness and declare it wintry. But the only way you get a frost is when there's something warmer to freeze up. So yes, Viet Cong is a winter album, but only until it is a spring record, then a summer scorcher, then an autumn burner, then it ices over again. They build these buildings, and they're built to break.

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

Jagjaguwar 25th Anniversary compilation featuring covers of songs originally by Tracy Chapman, Stereolab, Dinosaur Jr., Smog, and more by the likes of Angel Olsen, Bruce Hornsby, Jamila Woods, and other Jagjaguwar artists and friends. Midway through his long, earnest and often very, very funny essay on the role playing game Dungeons & Dragons in the September 2006 issue of The Believer, writer Paul La Farge proposes that Dungeons & Dragons is not a game at all but rather a ritual. La Farge notes the marked difference between game and ritual. Whereas a game seeks to demonstrate how unequal or distinct players/teams are from one another, rituals seek to do the very opposite. "Ritual, on the other hand, is the exact inverse, for it brings about a union," La Farge writes, himself paraphrasing anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss. "Or in any case an organic relation between the initially separate groups." And so, across the 25-year history of Jagjaguwar, an independent record label curiously named using a Dungeons & Dragons name generator, we find this idea of ritual as a conjoining practice. We see it early on when Jagjaguwar joins forces with a midwestern label called Secretly Canadian for a powerful fusion. We see it in familial relationships and collaboration among Jagjaguwar artists, and the ways those artists' most treasured collaborators make their ways to the Jagjaguwar game board. Join The Ritual, the third piece of Jagjaguwar's 25th Anniversary celebration, looks to pay homage to the labels and artists that, whether they know it or not, invited Jagjaguwar to the table, to this wild, dark magic ritual of music. We're talking about independent titans like Drag City, Too Pure, K Records and Touch & Go. We're talking about heroes like R.E.M., Slint, Stereolab and Tracy Chapman. These songs captured the imaginations of our founders Darius Van Arman and Chris Swanson - and ultimately, opened up worlds to them.

Artist Edition – exclusive to HHV in Germany.

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

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

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

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

Fantastic three piece from American and New Zealand with their 2nd full length!

"I only started playing the acoustic guitar last year. I'd always preferred the idea that the guitar converts a sound into voltage and then becomes really loud. I thought the acoustic guitar was a little bit too twee for me or something. But after being offered some opportunities to play various acoustic sessions to promote the new record, in situations where it wasn't possible to record the whole band, I decided to treat it like a challenge to try and play acoustic and not have it be lame. After all I was really into Arthur Lee's ability with an acoustic and started wondering if I could make it sound convincing. Anyway, after being somewhat forced to develop some skill on the acoustic through these various radio sessions and things like that I decided to record some songs acoustically an...

If it's really a post-genre world, why does everything sound the same? The two halves of Tampa rap duo They Hate Change_Dre (he/him) and Vonne (they/them)_first came together in front of the apartment complex where they both lived as teens. Dre had just moved down from Rochester, NY; Vonne was trying to sell him bad weed. It was clear from the start that the two listen to music differently from most people_they're sonic omnivores, obsessive deep-divers, lovers of rare and radical sounds. Starting as kids trawling the internet for tracks, they've been collecting music from around the world and across the decades, amassing a shared sonic knowledge so deep that "encyclopedic" barely begins to cover it _ not just the East Coast hip-hop that Dre grew up on, or the hyperlocal bass-music variants like jook (the Gulf Coast's twerkably raunchy answer to house) and crank (think "Miami bass meets Nola bounce"), but also drum `n' bass, Chicago footwork, post-punk, prog (they're, like, seriously into prog), grime, krautrock, emo, and basically any genre on the map. Once they graduated to DJs on the Tampa DIY scene _ which includes everything from punk rock house parties to the black "teen nights" that pop up in rec centers and ballrooms _ they figured out how to pull all these disparate sounds together into a cohesive style. More importantly, they figured out how to make it something people will actually move to. When they made the transition to rapping and making beats, they brought that pleasure-seeking approach to sonic experimentation with them. "With this album, Vonne says, "it's really like, okay, you know how you talk about the internet breaking down borders? Here's what that actually sounds like. It's not just a hip-hop record with a couple more weird sounds. You want homegrown DIY? This is a record that was written, produced, and recorded in a 150-squarefoot bedroom from the least cool city you could think of." Finally, New is what a truly post-genre musical landscape is supposed to be: building deep connections that transcend outdated distinctions between them, spilling over with the joy of exploration and possibility, and daring other artists to think broader, go deeper, take bigger risks. Let the rest of them keep playing by the old rules_They Hate Change will keep changing the game.

If it's really a post-genre world, why does everything sound the same? The two halves of Tampa rap duo They Hate Change_Dre (he/him) and Vonne (they/them)_first came together in front of the apartment complex where they both lived as teens. Dre had just moved down from Rochester, NY; Vonne was trying to sell him bad weed. It was clear from the start that the two listen to music differently from most people_they're sonic omnivores, obsessive deep-divers, lovers of rare and radical sounds. Starting as kids trawling the internet for tracks, they've been collecting music from around the world and across the decades, amassing a shared sonic knowledge so deep that "encyclopedic" barely begins to cover it _ not just the East Coast hip-hop that Dre grew up on, or the hyperlocal bass-music variants like jook (the Gulf Coast's twerkably raunchy answer to house) and crank (think "Miami bass meets Nola bounce"), but also drum `n' bass, Chicago footwork, post-punk, prog (they're, like, seriously into prog), grime, krautrock, emo, and basically any genre on the map. Once they graduated to DJs on the Tampa DIY scene _ which includes everything from punk rock house parties to the black "teen nights" that pop up in rec centers and ballrooms _ they figured out how to pull all these disparate sounds together into a cohesive style. More importantly, they figured out how to make it something people will actually move to. When they made the transition to rapping and making beats, they brought that pleasure-seeking approach to sonic experimentation with them. "With this album, Vonne says, "it's really like, okay, you know how you talk about the internet breaking down borders? Here's what that actually sounds like. It's not just a hip-hop record with a couple more weird sounds. You want homegrown DIY? This is a record that was written, produced, and recorded in a 150-squarefoot bedroom from the least cool city you could think of." Finally, New is what a truly post-genre musical landscape is supposed to be: building deep connections that transcend outdated distinctions between them, spilling over with the joy of exploration and possibility, and daring other artists to think broader, go deeper, take bigger risks. Let the rest of them keep playing by the old rules_They Hate Change will keep changing the game.

If it's really a post-genre world, why does everything sound the same? The two halves of Tampa rap duo They Hate Change_Dre (he/him) and Vonne (they/them)_first came together in front of the apartment complex where they both lived as teens. Dre had just moved down from Rochester, NY; Vonne was trying to sell him bad weed. It was clear from the start that the two listen to music differently from most people_they're sonic omnivores, obsessive deep-divers, lovers of rare and radical sounds. Starting as kids trawling the internet for tracks, they've been collecting music from around the world and across the decades, amassing a shared sonic knowledge so deep that "encyclopedic" barely begins to cover it _ not just the East Coast hip-hop that Dre grew up on, or the hyperlocal bass-music variants like jook (the Gulf Coast's twerkably raunchy answer to house) and crank (think "Miami bass meets Nola bounce"), but also drum `n' bass, Chicago footwork, post-punk, prog (they're, like, seriously into prog), grime, krautrock, emo, and basically any genre on the map. Once they graduated to DJs on the Tampa DIY scene _ which includes everything from punk rock house parties to the black "teen nights" that pop up in rec centers and ballrooms _ they figured out how to pull all these disparate sounds together into a cohesive style. More importantly, they figured out how to make it something people will actually move to. When they made the transition to rapping and making beats, they brought that pleasure-seeking approach to sonic experimentation with them. "With this album, Vonne says, "it's really like, okay, you know how you talk about the internet breaking down borders? Here's what that actually sounds like. It's not just a hip-hop record with a couple more weird sounds. You want homegrown DIY? This is a record that was written, produced, and recorded in a 150-squarefoot bedroom from the least cool city you could think of." Finally, New is what a truly post-genre musical landscape is supposed to be: building deep connections that transcend outdated distinctions between them, spilling over with the joy of exploration and possibility, and daring other artists to think broader, go deeper, take bigger risks. Let the rest of them keep playing by the old rules_They Hate Change will keep changing the game.

Still in shrink, but opened, with hype sticker

Vinyl with a couple of light scuffs. Still in shrink, but opened, with hype sticker

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

“Maroon Insomnia“ Vinyl in gloss finish gatefold jacket with 4 color printed inner sleeves plus signed artprint.

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

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

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

“Maroon Insomnia“ Vinyl in gloss finish gatefold jacket with 4 color printed inner sleeves plus signed artprint.

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

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

Clear Blue Vinyl! Van Etten originally recorded "Silent Night" in 2018 for Eric Paschal Johnson 's short film The Letter. Her version of "Blue Christmas" appeared in 2009 on a benefit album titled Do You EAR what I Ear. "The holidays are just around the corner, and since I'm always late to the party, I thought I'd share two holiday songs I recorded. Nothing really beats the Bob Dylan Christmas record for me _ but I hope they bring you joy." - Sharon Van Etten

For all the attention that was paid to her 2012 break-through Tramp, Sharon Van Etten is an artist with a hunger to turn another corner and to delve deeper, writing from a place of honesty and vulnerability to create a bond with the listener that few contemporary musicians can match. Compelled by a restless spirit, Van Etten is continuously challenging herself. Now, the result is Are We There, a self-produced album of exceptional intimacy, sublime generosity, and immense breadth.

S. Carey's chosen musical expression is a hugely beatific, restorative panorama of beauty - perfect given how landscape and the wonder of nature inspire much of Carey's imagery. His new album Range of Light - the follow-up to his 2010 debut All We Grow - takes its title from the name that 19th century naturalist John Muir - Carey's hero - gave to California's Sierra Nevada, and follows suit with a dazzling array of musical light and shade, drawn from Carey's love of jazz, modern classical and Americana. Like a weathered mountain range changing shadow form and color, or the ebb and flow of a river's current, his music is simultaneously restful and rhythmic, complex and simple, and always evolving.

Range of Light incorporates elements of his previous work, but also amplifies Carey's percussive proclivities, and is altogether more developed than its predecessors, with more input on the performance and even composition side from the band of musicians and best friends he assembled originally to bring All We Grow to life in the live setting.

S. Carey is the moniker of Eau Claire, Wisconsin-based multiinstrumentalist, songwriter, and producer Sean Carey. Over the past decade, Carey has fostered his flourishing solo career via themes of nature and sustainability, songwriting built from jazz beginnings, and heartfelt, emotive lyricism. His latest and fourth album, Break Me Open, is best described in his own words: In Break Me Open, I confronted darkness, I wrote about fear, I looked at love from different angles, I left it all out on the field. These past couple years have been the hardest of my life: full of grief, loss, and change. I feel like I had two choices. I could run from life, turn away, grow cold, resort to drugs, run and keep running. Or, I could give myself a deep look within. I could dig deep where the pain lives, where fear is festering, to try shed a new skin and come back a better person.Everyone is so far from perfect. This is not a "divorce" album. And while going through that has shook me to my core, leaving me at times, wondering who I am, and where to go, this record is bigger. It's about love - past, present, and future. It's about fatherhood - the overwhelming feeling of deep love for my kids and the melancholy of watching them grow up right before my eyes. It's about accepting my faults and wrongdoings, exposing myself, and trying to know myself better than I did the day before. But above the darkness, it's a message of hope, honesty, and growth. It's a call to be vulnerable: Break Me Open.