Merge Vinyl, CD & Tape 162 Items

This summer, Merge will reissue A Giant Dog's first two full-lengths_2012's Fight and 2013's Bone_worldwide on limited-edition colored vinyl, reintroducing the world to the quintetSpoon's Britt Daniel calls "the greatest American rock and roll / punk band since I don't know when."Celebrating its tenth birthday in 2022 is A Giant DogFight , the Texas group's hard-to-find debut album, remixed, remastered, and pressed on green vinyl just for the occasion. All thetrademark tenets of AGD lore are on display at the jump:monstrously adorable album art and punny title, whip-smartsongwriting dolled up in denim and leather, boiled down to thesweetest moments and blown out to the masses with bravadoto spare. Upon Fight's original release, the local Austin Chronicle raved: "The raucous, low-rent squall quakes with affirmative abandon, while a just-right dose of pop girds the buzz and yowl.

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

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

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

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

All Her Plans, the third album from Melbourne, Australia's Cable Ties, finds the trio of Jenny McKechnie, Shauna Boyle, and Nick Brown at their punchiest and most assured. The ferocious, kraut-influenced blend of post-punk and garage rock of Merge debut Far Enough remains, but McKechnie's lyrics invite the listener closer than ever before. The urgency and fury that have marked Cable Ties' output thus far is more nuanced on All Her Plans. The unfettered rage of their calls to action endures tackling subjects like broken mental healthcare systems and the burden of familial care that is largely placed on women…while holding space for gratitude, love, and acceptance. All Her Plans is a breakthrough moment for Cable Ties. It is the sound of a group that is exhilarated to be making music together again, both a celebration of their resilience and a massive step forward into a future they can finally claim as their own.

All Her Plans, the third album from Melbourne, Australia's Cable Ties, finds the trio of Jenny McKechnie, Shauna Boyle, and Nick Brown at their punchiest and most assured. The ferocious, kraut-influenced blend of post-punk and garage rock of Merge debut Far Enough remains, but McKechnie's lyrics invite the listener closer than ever before. The urgency and fury that have marked Cable Ties' output thus far is more nuanced on All Her Plans. The unfettered rage of their calls to action endures tackling subjects like broken mental healthcare systems and the burden of familial care that is largely placed on women…while holding space for gratitude, love, and acceptance. All Her Plans is a breakthrough moment for Cable Ties. It is the sound of a group that is exhilarated to be making music together again, both a celebration of their resilience and a massive step forward into a future they can finally claim as their own.

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

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

180 gram incl. free digital download!

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

Much like the New Orleans-born artist who created it, Second Line is an unapologetic genre bender that pushes boundaries, expands possibilities, and shatters expectations. It's more than just an album: Second Line is a cohesive sensory experience that questions traditional ideas of sound, production, and visual aesthetics as they relate to music. Its interlocking parts tell an epic story about the quest for artistic expression, with Dawn describing her project as "a movement to bring pioneering Black women in electronic music to the forefront." She elaborates: "You never see women appreciated as producers and artists alike _ especially Black women in the electronic space. The time is now for us to start recognizing their talent, not only in electronic music but in all genres. I wanna be the reason why a young Black girl from the South can be whoever she wants to be musically, visually, and artistically." Second Line cuts to the chase with its opening suite of dancefloor bangers, immediately displaying Dawn's mastery of layered production and melodic hooks. Second Line treats Louisiana Creole culture, New Orleans bounce, and Southern Swag as elemental, allowing Dawn to weave in and out of house, footwork, R&B, and more. As she says, "I am the genre." The story of Second Line centers on Dawn's persona King Creole, assassin of stereotypes, a Black girl from the South at a crossroads in her artistic career. To move forward, she decides to look back, but where previous album New Breed took influence from her father, Second Line is illuminated by Dawn's mother. Her proud repeated proclamation of "I'm a Creole Girl" introduces the ecstatic dancehall pop of "Jacuzzi," and later, on the cinematic album centerpiece "Mornin | Streetlights," she answers Dawn's question of how many times she has been in love. Intimate conversations like this between the two are interlaced throughout Second Line, giving credence to how the protagonist came to be, and direction to build a lane forward. It's no surprise that King Creole's story parallels Dawn Richard's. As a founding member of Danity Kane, and later with Diddy's Dirty Money, Dawn was able to explore the ins and outs of commercial pop music. As a solo artist, she opted to selfrelease her music. Over the span of five critically acclaimed full-length albums, Dawn has made the message clear that she will not bow down or bend to industry norms. All the while, she's built her resume with enough extracurriculars to make your head spin: Cheerleader for the New Orleans Hornets? Check. Animator for Adult Swim? Check. Owner-operator of a vegan pop-up food truck? Check. Martial arts expert? Check! Second Line embodies the heritage of soul music and the roots of New Orleans, all surrounded by the influences of electronic futurism. "The definition of a Second Line in New Orleans is a celebration of someone's homecoming," says Dawn. "In death and in life, we celebrate the impact of a person's legacy through dance and music. I'm celebrating the death of old views in the industry. The death of boxes and limits. I'm celebrating the homecoming of the Future. The homecoming to the new wave of artists. The emergence of all the King Creoles to come." Dawn Richard is bold, confident, purposeful, and a King throughout Second Line. Are you ready to dance?

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

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

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

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

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