Indie in 2022

“I want to love unconditionally now.” Read on as Steve Lacy opens up about how he made his sophomore album in this exclusive artist statement. “Someone asked me if I felt pressure to make something that people might like. I felt a disconnect, my eyes squinted as I looked up. As I thought about the question, I realized that we always force a separation between the artist (me) and audience (people). But I am not separate. I am people, I just happen to be an artist. Once I understood this, the album felt very easy and fun to make. *Gemini Rights* is me getting closer to what makes me a part of all things, and that is: feelings. Feelings seem like the only real things sometimes. “I write about my anger, sadness, longing, confusion, happiness, horniness, anger, happiness, confusion, fear, etc., all out of love and all laughable, too. The biggest lesson I learned at the end of this album process was how small we make love. I want to love unconditionally now. I will make love bigger, not smaller. To me, *Gemini Rights* is a step in the right direction. I’m excited for you to have this album as your own as it is no longer mine. Peace.” —Steve Lacy

“I\'ve made an album about fear and shame, it’s definitely been uncomfortable,” Oliver Sim tells Apple Music. As one third of British indie electronic group The xx, Sim—alongside bandmates Romy Madley Croft and producer Jamie xx—became adept at writing sparse and haunting love songs. For his solo debut, however, he turned his gaze inward to confront the internalized shame that has colored his life. “Initially, it was like, why would I want to share the things that I think make me feel hideous in some way?” he says. “But concealing that hasn’t really worked for me in the past. If anything, the whole idea of concealing things just feeds into shame.” Here, Sim gets straight into it: The album’s first track, “Hideous”—which features guest vocals from queer pop music royalty Jimmy Somerville—sees Sim share for the first time that he’s been living with HIV since he was 17 years old. “My whole way of navigating my status was just control,” Sim says. “I know exactly who knew and if they told anybody else. But writing that down was a real ‘fuck it’ moment.” For the record, Sim worked almost exclusively with bandmate Jamie xx. “It would have been a very different album if I\'d made it with somebody else,” he says. “Jamie\'s been my friend since I was 11 years old. I don\'t think I would have been as vulnerable with someone else. Also, he\'s a straight man and he got involved in some real queer conversations. He just had no ego. He was making my world come to life.” Part of that involved indulging Sim’s love of horror films—he has created an entire short horror film to accompany the album with director Yann Gonzalez—but also helping Sim to unpack his experiences with homophobia, loneliness, and self-sabotage. “I got worried that this record was going to be perceived as perpetuating the idea of self-loathing gay men, which would just be this downer,” Sim says. “But this whole process, and how I see the record, is not a downer. It’s the opposite of shame. It’s not hiding.” Read on for Oliver Sim’s track-by-track guide to *Hideous Bastard*. **“Hideous”** “Jimmy Somerville became my pen pal quite a few months before I asked him to appear on the song. I\'ve known that voice all my life, but as an adult I’ve come to understand what he represented and everything he’s done. He’s been so visible and vocal about queer issues for such a long time. I think I wanted some of that fearlessness. When I finally asked him to be a part of the song, I expected him to be quite militant and for the cause, but he was very gentle with me. He was like, ‘I hope you\'re doing this for yourself.’ He also said, ‘I’m 60, so don’t be expecting me to hit those high notes.’ But he came in and the moment he started singing, Jamie and I cried. His voice is incredible. It\'s so strong and in person it’s really loud.” **“Romance With a Memory”** “For this album I’ve done a lot of playing around with my voice. I have only ever sung in duet with Romy—if I step out of that, where can my voice go? I love trying to see how high can my voice go or how low can my voice go, even if I\'m pitching it down to a point of it either sounding like a parody of what a masculine voice would sound like to it being totally demonic. I like hearing male voices sing together. There is something very masculine about it, but also something romantic and tender, too. The whole idea of men harmonizing together, I think, is quite queer.” **“Sensitive Child”** “This is something that I’ve definitely been called. It’s definitely a euphemism for a certain type of kid, in particular a little boy. I think hearing it as an adult, and as a gay man, brings up a lot of childhood feelings of not being acknowledged. It’s also probably one of the fullest songs I’ve ever made. Normally, for me songs start as words on a piece of paper, but this started with a Del Shannon song called ‘Break Up’ and then I did all the writing around that. I\'m the kind of person that spends months on a song, but this song happened very quickly. I see this as quite an angry song.” **“Never Here”** “I talk a lot about memory on this album, and this song asks the question of just how reliable my memory can be and how, maybe, technology warps how I remember things. It\'s also, sonically, one of the heaviest songs on the record, which was really fun for me. The music that I really got into as a teenager was either from my sister\'s record collection, which was just mid-’90s American R&B like Aaliyah, TLC, En Vogue, and Ginuwine, or it was heavy music like Placebo and Queens of the Stone Age. It was fun to get into that a bit more with \'Never Here\' and to scream. I think that\'s the few times that I\'ve allowed myself to scream, which is a real release.” **“Unreliable Narrator”** “I\'ve come into this record with just tons and tons of questions, but not necessarily the answers. I wrote this song as, in my head, this album is a movie, and this was a plot point I wanted halfway through the record. It was inspired by this monologue Bret Easton Ellis wrote for Patrick Bateman in *American Psycho*. In the film, it\'s where Christian Bale\'s doing his 14-step morning routine and about how he’s not really there. I’m not a psychopath, but I think that idea of facade and wearing a mask, to any degree, is so relatable. I also thought halfway through this film of my album if I was to admit that anything I could be saying is unreliable would be quite fun.” **“Saccharine”** “I’ve made my whole career on love songs—that is my home. For this record, I’ve tried not to write too many love songs because I think that I could have done a lot of hiding if I did. But to me, this song is still quite revealing about myself. It has much more to do with myself than anyone else; it’s my fear of intimacy. I didn’t want this album to be sweet. It could have a sense of humor, but it had to be savage. This is very much about my inner saboteur and how I react when things become too sweet.” **“Confident Man”** “It’s funny: At school, I felt like an outsider because of my sexuality. I didn’t know I was gay at primary school, but it was always made apparent that I was a bit of a dandy. I was never invited to play football. I didn’t want to play football—I hate football—but it’s not nice to not be included, especially when I’m drawn to these boys for reasons I didn’t quite understand. But then, to experience that as an adult within the gay community, a community of outsiders… I don’t know. There’s that feeling of performative masculinity and of what confidence actually looks like. I think there’s something very insecure about feeling like you have to perform masculinity. What do people actually even consider masculinity? I think there’s something very confident about saying, ‘I don’t feel so confident.’” **“GMT”** “Jamie and I had gone to Australia. This was before COVID and we’d started the record. I had gone there to bypass the English winter because seasonal depression is real. We\'d started in Sydney and we road-tripped down to Byron Bay just listening to lots of music. We were listening to The Beach Boys and I started singing things in the car. When we got to Byron Bay, we ended up sampling The Beach Boys on the song. I was in this beautiful sunshine yet still pining for London a little bit. I think there is an inherent melancholy about London, which has been the driving force for so much amazing creativity. This was a jet-lagged love song about London.” **“Fruit”** “Funny enough, this is the hardest song to explain, because I think it kind of says it all. It\'s the very *Drag Race* moment of ‘What would you say to five-year-old Oliver?’ So it is talking to five-year-old me, but it\'s also very much talking to me today, because there is a part of me that is still five years old. I’m still a sensitive child, but now I’m hearing the things that I would want to hear.” **“Run the Credits”** “When I was talking about ‘Unreliable Narrator’ being a plot point, this was the song I wrote exactly for the end of the album. It was the note that I want to end on and mirrors the scariest thing I find in cinema, which is the open-ended ending. A Disney-style bow to close everything is so tempting, but there is nothing scarier than leaving it open-ended. Your imagination\'s always going to tailor-make the scariest outcome.”

Hideous Bastard, the debut album from Oliver Sim—best known for his work as songwriter, bassist,and vocalist of The xx—is set for release on September 9th via Young. Produced by bandmate Jamie xx, Hideous Bastard is the culmination of two years of writing and recording, inspired by Sim’s love of horror movies and his own life experience, unpacking themes of shame, fear, and masculinity. These themes are front and centre on new single “Hideous”. Enlisting the help of lifelong hero and “guardian angel”Jimmy Somerville on guest vocals, the single sets the scene for the forthcoming album and sees Sim speaking publicly for the first time that he’s been living with HIV since the age of seventeen. It debuts with a video by another personal hero, French director Yann Gonzalez, who has also collaborated with Sim on a forthcoming queer horror short film of the same name that premiered yesterday as part of the Semaine de la Critiqueat the Cannes Film Festival.

On “Tick Tock,” the second track on *Warm Chris*, Aldous Harding asks, “Now that you see me, what you gonna do? Wanted to see me.” The New Zealand singer-songwriter’s lyrics have always been veiled and poetically cryptic—and she’s made a point of not explaining the meaning behind any of it. But her fourth album feels assured and open in a way that makes you wonder whether the question is directed at an audience that\'s been wanting to learn more about this singular artist. There’s a lot to see here, and like a well-directed film, it benefits from multiple replays, with more nuances and hidden meanings uncovered on each listen. Across her four albums, you’ll notice a linear emotional evolution. Speaking to Apple Music in 2019 about her then-new album *Designer*, she said, “I felt freed up… I could feel a loosening of tension, a different way of expressing my thought processes.” The journey clearly continued. *Warm Chris* is as intimate and curious as ever, but it’s more grounded, more confident. If the tension was loosening on *Designer*, here, Harding has grown accustomed to the relaxed space and made herself at home. The album seems to deal primarily with connections and relationships. She reflects on a lost love during opener “Ennui” (“You’ve become my joy, you understand… Come back, come back and leave it in the right place”), hunts for faded excitement on “Fever” (“I still stare at you in the dark/Looking for that thrill in the nothing/You know my favorite place is the start”), comically complains on “Passion Babe” (“Well, you know I’m married, and I was bored out of my mind/Of all the ways to eat a cake, this one surely takes the knife… Passion must play, or passion won’t stay”), and accepts an ending on “Lawn” (“Then if you\'re not for me, guess I am not for you/I will enjoy the blue, I’m only confused with you”). On the whole, *Warm Chris* feels light and folksy, and the music is relatively simple—though not without its surprises. There are brass embellishments here, a psychedelic guitar solo there, even a brief foray into forlorn vintage blues on “Bubbles.” It leaves space for Harding’s voice to remain in the spotlight. Her vocal acrobatics are as strange and versatile as ever—she can shift from breathy, dramatically deep bass to ultra-fine, ultra-high falsetto in moments, sometimes for only a word at a time. She sounds innocent and paper-thin on the gentle “Lawn,” lively—and inflected with an unusual accent—on “Passion Babe.” Her delivery is so pronounced and hyperbolic on the heart-wrenching “She’ll Be Coming Round the Mountain” that it sounds like something out of a musical. And album closer “Leathery Whip” feels inspired by The Velvet Underground, complete with a deep Nico drawl (occasionally flipping to a Kate Bush-style nasal tone), backing harmonies, a jangling tambourine, and a cheeky refrain: “Here comes life with his leathery whip.”

An artist of rare calibre, Aldous Harding does more than sing; she conjures a singular intensity. The artist has announced details of Warm Chris new studio album, the follow-up to 2019’s acclaimed Designer. For Warm Chris, the Aotearoa New Zealand musician reunited with producer John Parish, continuing a professional partnership that began in 2017 and has forged pivotal bodies of work (2017’s Party and the aforementioned Designer). All ten tracks were recorded at Rockfield Studios in Wales, the album includes contributions from H. Hawkline, Seb Rochford, Gavin Fitzjohn, John and Hopey Parish and Jason Williamson (Sleaford Mods).

“When it’s just us two, it’s really easy to make music,” JD BECK tells Apple Music. “We play around, and the tracks come pouring out.” Instrumental prodigies DOMi & JD BECK certainly have a telepathic connection when it comes to creativity. First meeting in 2018 at the NAMM trade show in Southern California, where the two teenagers were individually invited to perform as part of a larger ensemble, Texas-born drummer BECK formed an instant connection with French keyboardist and Berklee student DOMi Louna (born Domitille Degalle). The pair soon began writing fast-paced, note-packed jams to upload to their Instagram, and by 2020, they had caught the attention of multi-instrumentalist Anderson .Paak. Swiftly signing them to his APESHIT label, he challenged the duo to release an updated body of work as a debut. “He basically told us we could do better than the album’s worth of material we already had,” BECK says. “So, we put together a wish list of collaborators and got to work.” The result is *NOT TiGHT*, a 15-track jazz-fusion odyssey of head-nodding hip-hop, psychedelic vocoder experiments, and rhythmic freakouts. “We just wanted to surprise ourselves with this album,” DOMi says. “This music is an expression of ourselves at our core.” Here, DOMi & JD BECK offer their thoughts on each of the album’s tracks. **“LOUNA’S iNTRO”** DOMi Louna: “We thought the album needed book-ending to help bring the listener in and then back out of the tracks. We already had the outro, “THANK U,” so we wrote these chords and added synth patches before sending it to violin, double bass, viola, cello, and harp players all around the world. It was like a mini online orchestra opening the album for us.” **“WHATUP”** DL: “We’ve had these chords since 2018, as they were part of a track that was going to be the intro for our original album. We kept playing around with it when we were locked down together during the pandemic, and after deconstructing it a few times, we decided to make a new tune. We added a drum solo section, and so now the record has two intros before we get into ‘SMiLE.’” **“SMiLE”** JD BECK: “I sing dumb little melodies a lot, and when I was in the bathroom on my phone one day in 2018, the melody just came to me. I put it together in my head and shouted to DOMi to quickly set it to some chords.” **“BOWLiNG” (feat. Thundercat)** JDB: “We met Thundercat around the same time as meeting each other. Whenever we were in LA, we would go and stay with him and take over his house. We always write a lot with him when we’re there—we must have 50 song ideas together already. Back in 2018, we’d all go bowling a lot, as it’s his favorite thing to do, and so we wrote this song about hanging out in the bowling alley.” **“NOT TiGHT” (feat. Thundercat)** JDB: “It’s probably the closest representation of our sound—just singing random melodic lines to crazy chord combinations. In 2019, we played it for Thundercat, and he loved it so much that he wanted to be on it. He became the first instrumentalist to collaborate with us, and it was incredible to have him soloing on the track with DOMi.” **“TWO SHRiMPS” (feat. Mac DeMarco)** DL: “We wrote the instrumental for this track while we were on tour in 2019. JD had a little drum machine, which he made a loop on, and then I added the keyboard parts and put it in a 9/8 time signature. We met Mac the same day we met Anderson .Paak in 2019, and by 2020, we were spending a lot of time at Mac’s house. We played him this instrumental, and he started singing along to it, just listing random sandwich names. The track was originally called ‘Sandwiches of America.’ We ended up rerecording new lyrics with him, but thankfully it’s still food-related.” **“U DON’T HAVE TO ROB ME”** JDB: “I’ve been playing gigs by myself since I was 11, and I got used to the element of danger, being in cities late at night. When DOMi and I started going out in LA, you could feel when there was danger, like one day we were in the parking lot of the bowling alley at 1 am, and this dude asked us for a cigarette, and it really felt like he might pull a knife on us too. It made us think about how we never have cash—only cards that we can cancel easily—so why even go through that trouble of robbing us?” **“MOON” (feat. Herbie Hancock)** JDB: “Andy made us write down all our goals for the record, and among them was a list of people we’d love to work with. Herbie was at the top of those names. One of Andy’s managers had a connect with Herbie, and he called us one day to say that Herbie had watched our videos on YouTube and was down to collaborate.” DL: “We were shitting our pants, as we knew we now had to come up with the best song we’d ever written. *Sunlight* is some of our favorite stuff that Herbie has done with the vocoder, and so we wrote ‘MOON’ to that same vibe. Luckily, we got him on piano, too, and when we recorded it together in 2021, we got to hang out with him, which was amazing.” **“DUKE”** JDB: “This track is a George Duke reference. We had been hanging out a lot with Earl Sweatshirt and his producer Black Noise, and they inspired us to put three of our loops together into one track and then record it as a new song. The record is full of crazy songs, and we needed something to chill after Herbie—a track that has a natural feel.” **“TAKE A CHANCE” (feat. Anderson .Paak)** DL: “We really wanted a feature from Anderson, as we’re huge fans of his, and so we had to come up with something unique and very pretty for him to sing and play on. JD wrote this hook, and when we played it to Andy, he just started rapping over the verses, and then we all sang on the chorus. The whole track was a bunch of surprises and sections put together, since Andy can fit over pretty much anything.” **“SPACE MOUNTAiN”** JDB: “When we first got to LA, I couldn’t get into any clubs, so the only thing we ended up doing, apart from making music, was going to Disneyland. We went on the ride Space Mountain a lot, and it felt like the perfect title for this crazy tune. The first section is a loop we wrote in 2019, where I recorded the drums through an intense compressor, and then the second half used to be part of the original intro to our first album.” **“PiLOT” (feat. Anderson .Paak, Busta Rhymes & Snoop Dogg)** DL: “We made this beat in 2020, before we signed with Anderson. We used to send him clips of what we were making, and the day after we sent him this, he emailed it back with him and Busta on it, which was amazing. Once we signed, we had Snoop Dogg on our dream list of collabs, and we thought he would be perfect for ‘PiLOT.’ He was down for it, so we went to Snoop’s studio for six hours one day and recorded it all super smooth. It was very cool to see him and Andy interact and write to our loop.” **“WHOA” (feat. Kurt Rosenwinkel)** JDB: “DOMi wrote the first part of this tune when she was 12. It was on a random Sibelius session that she played by accident, and I loved it. I knew we had to do a song with it, and Kurt felt like the perfect fit. We met him through the drummer Louis Cole when we were in New York in 2019. A week after he had the track, he sent it back with him soloing from beginning to end. It was perfect.” **“SNiFF”** DL: “The original title for this was ‘You Can Sniff My Butt.’ JD wrote it in 2018, all in one go in front of me—and it’s one of my favorite things he’s ever made. We played it at every show as a closer and people loved its pace, so it felt like a good idea to close the record with it too. It was one of the earliest songs we came up with together.” **“THANK U”** JDB: “This used to be a crazy loop in a 13 time signature, which was called ‘Dermatologist’ because DOMi had just learned what that word was. We wrote it in an Airbnb somewhere in 2018 and then, when we came back to it a few years later for this record, we realized it was perfect to send to the mini-orchestra who played on the intro. It rounds out the album really well.”

Brittney Parks’ *Athena* was one of the more interesting albums of 2019. *Natural Brown Prom Queen* is better. Not only does Parks—aka the LA-based singer, songwriter, and violinist Sudan Archives—sound more idiosyncratic, but she’s able to wield her idiosyncrasies with more power and purpose. It’s catchy but not exactly pop (“Home Maker”), embodied but not exactly R&B (“Ciara”), weird without ever being confrontational (“It’s Already Done”), and it rides the line between live sound and electronic manipulation like it didn’t exist. She wants to practice self-care (“Selfish Soul”), but she also just wants to “have my titties out” (“NBPQ \[Topless\]”), and over the course of 55 minutes, she makes you wonder if those aren’t at least sometimes the same thing. And the album’s sheer variety isn’t so much an expression of what Parks wants to try as the multitudes she already contains.

The Beths’ third album finds the Aotearoa indie rockers tighter and brighter than ever, packing chiming melodies and big, buoyant choruses. Elizabeth Stokes’ poignant vocals and diaristic lyrics continue to translate everyday foibles into memorable asides (“Here I go again, mixing drinks and messages”), while lead guitarist Jonathan Pearce proves animated at every turn (see the wild splay of a solo capping off “Silence Is Golden”). For all its noisy freshness, *Expert in a Dying Field* also plays like a studied parallel to the classic power-pop songbook, dispensing sunny harmonies and sharp dynamic shifts. Recorded mostly in Pearce’s own studio, this outing sees all of the band’s strengths balanced across the board. That means Stokes’ witticisms enjoy just as much attention as the fuzzy push-and-pull of the music, alternately driving ahead and pulling back with increasing precision. Stokes may label herself an expert in a dying field when singing about love on the opening title track, but The Beths make whip-smart indie rock look like a flourishing profession indeed.

On The Beths’ new album Expert In A Dying Field, Elizabeth Stokes’ songwriting positions her somewhere between being a novelist and a documentarian. The songs collected here are autobiographical, but they’re also character sketches of relationships -- platonic, familial, romantic -- and more importantly, their aftermaths. The shapes and ghosts left in absences. The question that hangs in the air: what do you do with how intimately versed you’ve become in a person, once they’re gone from your life? The third LP from the New Zealand quartet houses 12 jewels of tight, guitar-heavy songs that worm their way into your head, an incandescent collision of power-pop and skuzz. With Expert, The Beths wanted to make an album meant to be experienced live, for both the listeners and themselves. They wanted it to be fun in spite of the prickling anxiety throughout the lyrics, the fear of change and struggle to cope. Most of Expert was recorded at guitarist Jonathan Pearce’s studio on Karangahape Road in Ta–maki Makaurau, Aotearoa (Auckland, New Zealand) toward the end of 2021, until they were interrupted by a four-month national lockdown. They traded notes remotely for months, songwriting from afar and fleshing out the arrangements alone. The following February The Beths left the country to tour across the US, and simultaneously finish mixing the album on the road, culminating in a chaotic three-day studio mad-dash in Los Angeles. There, Expert finally became the record they were hearing in their heads. The album’s title track “Expert In A Dying Field” introduces the thesis for the record: “How does it feel to be an expert in a dying field? How do you know it’s over when you can’t let go?” Stokes asks. “Love is learned over time ‘til you’re an expert in a dying field.” The rest is a capsule of The Beths’ most electrifying and exciting output, a sonic spectrum: “Silence is Golden,” with its propulsive drum line and stop-start staccato of a guitar line winding up and down, is one of the band’s sharpest and most driving. “Knees Deep” was written last minute, but yields one of the best guitar lines on Expert. Stokes strings it all together through her singular songwriting lens, earnest and selfeffacing, zeroing in on the granules of doubt and how they snowball. Did I do the wrong thing? Or did you? That insecurity and thoughtfulness, translated into universality and understanding, has been the guiding light of The Beths’ output since 2016. In the face of pain, there’s no dwelling on internal anguish -- instead, through The Beths’ music, our shortcomings are met with acceptance. And Expert In A Dying Field is the most tactile that tenderness has been.

Subtlety is not The Chats’ strong point. Exhibit A is the blunt-as-it-comes title of the Queensland trio’s second album, a 13-song record in which only two of its tracks surpass the three-minute mark. Add the fact that bassist-vocalist Eamon Sandwith sings like a chainsaw, snarling and raging over a series of tightly coiled riffs that rarely dip under hyper-speed, and you have the sonic equivalent of a swift boot to the face. Recorded in six days, the album finds Sandwith’s everyman lyrical focus taking in subjects such as the cost of cigarettes (“The Price of Smokes”), hoon driving culture (“6L GTR”), and being busted for buying an under-14s train ticket (“Ticket Inspector”), all with a turn of phrase that’s unquestionably Australian. (“Starin’ at the ATM/It says insufficient funds/That’s just not good enough/’Cause right now I wanna get drunk,” he growls in “Paid Late”.) More sober themes occasionally pop their heads over the bar (“Emperor of the Beach” lambastes surfers who view the beach as their own), but even they’re delivered as delicately as a headbutt. And if you don’t like it? Well…you know what you can do.

For their first album as Gilla Band, (formerly Girl Band) the foursome has redrawn their own paradigm. Most Normal is like little you’ve heard before, a kaleidoscopic spectrum of noise put in service of broken pop songs, FX-strafed Avant-punk rollercoaster rides and passages of futurist dancefloor nihilism. Covid lockdown robbed Gilla Band of any opportunity to try the new material out live, but the pandemic also incinerated any idea of a deadline for the new album. They were free to tinker at leisure, to rewrite and restructure and reinvent tracks they’d cut – to, as drummer Adam Faulkner puts it, “pull things apart and be like, ‘Let’s try this. We could try out every wild idea.” The group also fell under the spell of modern hip-hop, “where there’s really heavy-handed production and they’re messing with the track the whole time,” says Fox. “That felt like a fun route to go down, it was a definite influence.” Most Normal opens with an absolute industrial-noise banger that sounds like a manic house-party throbbing through the walls of the next room as a downed jetliner brings death from above. What follows is unpredictable, leading the listener through a sonic house of mirrors, where the unexpected awaits around every corner. The common thread holding Most Normal’s ambitious Avant-pop shapes together is frontman Dara Kiely. Throughout, he’s an antic, antagonistic presence, barking wild, hilarious, unsettling spiels, babbling about smearing fish with lubricant or dressing up in bin-liners or having to wear hand-me-down boot-cut jeans (“It was a big, shameful thing, growing up, not being able to afford the look I wanted and having to wear all my brother’s old clothes”, says Kiely). Most Normal, then, is a triumph, the bold work of a group who’ve taken the time to evolve their ideas, to deconstruct and reconstruct their music and rebuild it into something new, something challenging and infinitely rewarding. It’s a headphone masterpiece. It’s a majestic exploration of the infinite possibilities of noise. It’s a bold riposte to your parochial beliefs on whatever a pop song can or should be. It’s the best work these musicians have put to (mangled) tape.

Like so much art created in the depths of isolation in the pre-vaccine pandemic era, The Mountain Goats’ 20th studio album fantasizes about escapism. In between writing best-selling novels, John Darnielle passed his time at home in North Carolina watching vintage thrillers, which inspired a songwriting jag that reminded him of his early days cranking out stream-of-consciousness home recordings. “I immediately started going, ‘Oh, he\'s getting ready for a big fight,’ and I get very excited about that,” Darnielle tells Apple Music. “I just kept taking notes on what the governing plots and tropes and styles are. I got really interested in that, about the weight of those things. This was very much going back into the strike-while-the-iron\'s-hot mindset, which produces different sorts of songs.” These familiar—even comforting, despite their brutal context—tropes of vengeance and hopelessness provided a unifying theme for the songs, recorded in January 2021 and produced by Bully’s Alicia Bognanno. While The Mountain Goats’ two prior LPs, *Getting Into Knives* and *Dark in Here*—both recorded just under the wire before lockdown in March 2020, in Memphis and Muscle Shoals, respectively—were steeped in the classic blues and soul of their birthplaces, *Bleed Out* is loud and brash in ways that fit the songs’ desperate characters and wanton violence, as well as their creators’ own pent-up aggression. “I’m always leery of the word ‘catharsis,’” Darnielle says. “I think it\'s more of a grail—because you can\'t have it, it starts to seem really appealing. And the bloodshed, that\'s kind of universal in Mountain Goats. Just something I like.” Here Darnielle unpacks the album, scene by gory scene. **“Training Montage”** “The Van Damme movies, all the kung fu movies have a training montage, most of the Rocky movies have a training montage. It\'s a myth about subjecting yourself to a period of austerity and discipline for some reawakening. I think it predates the action movie, this idea that you\'re going to retreat for a winter of hard times and emerge in spring as a beautiful, powerful flower, a season in isolation to refocus oneself on some goal—maybe a noble goal, maybe not. And also, to start it with just acoustic guitar and voice, it sounds like a very early Mountain Goats record until the drum hits.” **“Mark on You”** “‘Mark on You’ is a specific story about somebody who\'s going after someone. Either this or \'Training Montage\' was probably the first song I wrote for this, and I was like, \'Oh man, this feels like a vein.\' Revenge is something you can ardently want and you never have to be satisfied by what you get because you\'re not going to get it.” **“Wage Wars Get Rich Die Handsome”** “When you are writing about a desire to make everybody pay for something that\'s causing you pain, you\'re writing about something universal anyway. But especially if everybody\'s under a lot of pressure, then everybody\'s feeling that. The band was super into that one.” **“Extraction Point”** “To me, in some ways it\'s a tribute to a band called Silkworm. Their songs are all very cinematic. They\'re often voiced by a narrator, but who seems to be situated within a specific context. That\'s basically what I have always done, but mine usually exists more in a folk context, whereas this is much more of a rock song. What I really like about it is there\'s something that just finished happening and you have to put together the details of what it was. And it looks like it was pretty gnarly, but the song is pretty, it\'s triumphant. I wasn\'t sitting there trying to write a Silkworm pastiche, but I do think it comes out showing some clear signs of its pedigree. Silkworm is one of the best bands who ever existed.” **“Bones Don’t Rust”** “‘Bones Don\'t Rust\' is sort of a pretty classic spy/action-movie story. And that one, speaking of influences, I feel it\'s a Stan Ridgway sort of tune in a lot of ways. He\'s another guy who does a narrator who\'s telling you a story from inside his world and you have to put the world and the story together from the clues he\'s dropping. He also plays a lot with genre, especially with spaghetti western stuff and noir tropes; I think this one has a little of both of those. The speaker is somebody who\'s been in the business of maybe being an assassin, maybe just a guy who breaks people\'s knees. The guy who comes in and does the dirty work and is now a little on the older side but knows he will be doing this until he drops.” **“First Blood”** “I watched *First Blood Part II* in Portland, Oregon, in the \'80s. And to tell you the god\'s honest truth, I bought a tab of acid off somebody and ate it and went in the movie theater, but it turned out to be bunk. I just sat there waiting for it to come on and nothing happened. This song is extremely meta about the nature of action movies. And especially with action movies in the \'70s, there\'s so many of these—*Walking Tall* and *Death Wish*—like, \'Well, sometimes you got to take the law in your own hands.\' John Rambo, if a guy is going over to Vietnam to be a one-man army freeing a bunch of brothers, that\'s not how it\'s going to work out. They\'re bloody-minded fantasies. It makes the point that this sort of thinking is latent for a lot of people and eventually, those people get jobs on benches in courtrooms and stuff.” **“Make You Suffer”** “I’m fond of ‘Make You Suffer’ because it\'s sort of pretty. There\'s a lot of songs whose message is the message of \'Make You Suffer,\' but \'Make You Suffer\' just goes ahead and says it outright. It\'s got a lovely little midtempo shuffle to it, it\'s got a nice melodic hook, and I think it\'s one of the meaner songs I\'ve ever written. You know how the Zodiac Killer sent these greeting cards to the cops and you\'d open it up and it would be this really threatening thing about how many schoolchildren he was going to shoot on a bus? There\'s something of a Mountain Goats song in there, like: \'Oh, this looks like a friendly thing, until I open it.\'” **“Guys on Every Corner”** “That is a stakeout song that comes from a lot of these action movies, especially Italian ones, but also plenty of American ones—mafia or various mafia-adjacent things. I like the element of sort of a private militia that is lurking everywhere.” **“Hostages”** “That\'s my other favorite one after \'Extraction Point.\' I like the ones that explore something and stick with the mood for a long time and see where it goes. Both are kind of like Grateful Dead jams—they\'re extensive. And I have to say, I think that\'s one of my best choruses ever. Because it leans in—if you\'re going to have a hostage drama, it should be extreme. I once heard it in some action movie or another where a guy says, \'Only an idiot takes hostages,\' because there\'s no good way out of a hostage situation. It\'s one of the more explicitly cinematic songs that\'s not actually taken from a particular movie.” **“Need More Bandages”** “That\'s one of the weirdest songs I\'ve written since the tape days, in terms of the music. The chord progression is a little more angular than I usually go. I\'m so tethered to melodic development chord progressions, and this has a lot of half steps in it and stuff that I find pretty interesting, and rhythmically it\'s like that, too. It\'s kind of got sort of a post-punk feel to it that I like.” **“Incandescent Ruins”** “This one\'s kind of cheating, because it\'s more of a science-fiction film than an action film. It\'s not from any particular movie, but it sounds sort of like a *Westworld* sort of theme, some sort of post-robot-overlord future in which there are mazes to escape from and stuff. The one style of songwriting I do pretty good is to sketch this entire imaginary world just through its details. It\'s one of my sort of really obscure skill sets.” **“Bleed Out”** “I wrote it on Sunday morning. I remember I was deep in the writing zone at that point, and what that means for my family is that dad is going to check out sometimes and then you don\'t really actually have a dad in the house for the next three to five hours. I wrote all these verses and was sending them one at a time to Peter \[Hughes, bassist\] going, \'Well, you got to hear what I got working here. This is pretty fun.\' At that point we\'d been together for a solid week, and that\'s a part of the studio experience that is hard to explain to the outside world. There\'s always a great deal of emotion, because you\'ve been doing this thing where you\'re sharing some part of your creativity with these people every single day, but it\'s a profound communal sharing. Once we landed on that groove, we played it for a good half an hour, 40 minutes before we started recording. It\'s like *Get Lonely*—the band name and the title make sense. The Mountain Goats bleed out.”

Tossing down straight acoustic shots with electric guitar back, "Hello, Hi" rides through the valley of yer ol' Canyon legends, finding an isolated place to unspool Ty's copious reserves of nervous energy beneath an open sky. Swarms of harmony vocals caper among the clouds, but there's a rider on the horizon, crossbow trained upon his very heart: the engine driving all the relationships of life, whether down Broadway or over the cliffs at night! Whatever doesn't get killed is getting stronger all the time. A lean, mean deal, baked in saltwater and sunlight, compassion pouring out it's beautiful blue eyes.

Julien Ehrlich and Max Kakacek could hear the staggering differences in the songs they were writing for their third album as Whitney, SPARK—the buoyant drum loops, the effortless falsetto hooks, the coruscant keyboard lines. They suddenly sounded like a band reimagined, their once-ramshackle folk-pop now brimming with unprecedented gusto and sheen. But could they see it, too? So in the ad hoc studio the Chicago duo built in the living room of their rented Portland bungalow, a shared 2020 escape hatch amid breakups and lockdowns, Julien and Max decided to find out. Somewhere between midnight and dawn every night, their brains refracted by the late hour and light psychedelics, they’d play their latest creations while a hardware store disco ball spun overhead and slowed-down music videos from megastars spooled silently on YouTube. Did their own pop songs—so much more immediate and modern than their hazy origins—fit such big-budget reels? “We’d come to the conclusion we weren’t going to be filming Super 8 videos to this stuff anymore,” Julien remembers with a grin. “How about something more hi-fi, cinematic?” When the footage and the tunes linked, Julien and Max knew they had done it, that they’d finally found Whitney’s sound. SPARK reintroduces Whitney as a contemporary syndicate of classic pop, its dozen imaginative and endearing tracks wrapping fetching melodies around paisley-print Dilla beats and luxuriant electronics. What’s more, Whitney reduces three years of extreme emotional highs and lows into 38 brisk but deep minutes, each of these 12 tracks a singable lesson in what it is they (and, really, we) have all survived. The recalcitrant ennui of opener “NOTHING REMAINS,” the devastating loss of “TERMINAL,” the sun-streaked renewal of “REAL LOVE”: However surprising it may sound, SPARK is less a radical reinvention for Whitney than an honest accounting of how it feels when you move out of your past and into your present, when you take the next steps of your lives and careers at once and without apology. SPARK maintains the warmth and ease of Whitney’s early work; these songs glow with the newness of now. Listen closely, and you’ll notice frequent references to smoke and fire throughout SPARK, itself a double entendre for inspiring something new or burning down the old. Max and Julien were indeed in Portland for the Fall of 2020, when smoke from nearby fires choked the city at record levels. It was terrifying and tragic, but they pressed on. “We found a way to live while the world was burning/Real life was caving in,” Julien sings almost merrily during “BACK THEN,” an anthem for finding out what’s on the other side of hardship. In these dire days, scientists speak increasingly of serotiny, an evolutionary miracle that causes some trees to release seeds only amid a season of fire. That is how SPARK often feels—Whitney’s circumstances were so fraught on so many levels that they hung “the past…out to dry” and began again, finding a fresh version of themselves, their relationship, and their band after the blaze. Max and Julien are back in Chicago now, sharing a cozy walkup with a little studio, where they’re already building songs for the next Whitney album. They’re both in happy romances, too. Now that they let the past burn, everything is new for Max and Julien. SPARK is not only Whitney’s best album; it is an inspiring testament to perseverance and renewal, to best friends trusting each another enough to carry one another to the other side of this season of woe.

The notion of The Black Keys as some kind of neo-primitive blues machine risen from the swamp to bring you what rock was supposed to be has always been a little overstated: Like The White Stripes, they’ve always been highly style-conscious, not to mention more occupied with simplicity in concept than in practice—they work at it. *Dropout Boogie* feels of a piece with 2019’s *“Let’s Rock”*: catchy, concise, stripped down but polished, with references to glam (“Wild Child”), psychedelia (“How Long”), and post-Stones blues (the Billy Gibbons co-write “Good Love”). With 20 years as a band behind them, they have their story and they’re sticking to it. And the more sophisticated they get, the easier they make it sound.

by devi and rook cover photo by molly from medicine hat, edit by rook rares on patreon www.patreon.com/blackdresses

produced and recorded by myself (Jacob Matthew Christensen) in a bunch of different states inside a bunch of different rooms and closets and airbnbs and friends houses and ... yeah. here's what I got. i hope u like it :)

Because *High School* is a Tim Heidecker album, you’re always waiting for the punch line, or at least the moment when his earnestness crosses into parody. The twist here is that there isn’t really a twist—just 10 breezy, soft-rockish songs about the follies of adolescence and the bittersweet nostalgia that follows. Not that it isn’t funny: “Chillin’ in Alaska” ends with his cousin making a move on a girl before he can summon the nerve. The Kurt Vile-featuring “Sirens of Titan” mentions waterbeds not once but twice, but it also reflects on America’s decision to enter Iraq (“Should be an easy war to win, but you can never tell”) and how he was fiscally conservative until he went to college—flinty bits of reality that make the memories just a little uneasy. If he keeps this up, you might just call him a songwriter.

Since 2016, Tim Heidecker has chronicled the annals of adulthood on a series of supreme singer-songwriter albums. The crushing devastation of divorce and the existential malaise of middle-age, the minutiae of home ownership and the ritual of family vacation, child rearing and global warming: Heidecker has handled it all with humor and heart. But, there’s one pivotal lodestar of human development he has yet to mine — that’s right, High School. High School is Tim’s new album with first single “Buddy.” Produced by Heidecker, Drew Erickson, Eric D. Johnson and Mac DeMarco, High School sees Heidecker emerging as an increasingly playful and poignant story teller, infusing childhood tales with new gravity. This album chronicles not only the adventures and misadventures of life as a Pennsylvania teen in the early ’90s, but also how it felt to lose a juvenile sense of mystery and possibility as an adult. This album is about high school — and, really, the way it helped shape everything else. *NOTE: A free album download will accompany every ticket to Tim's No More Bullshit Tour* High School Tracklist 1. Buddy 2. Chillin’ In Alaska 3. Future Is Uncertain 4. Get Back Down To Me 5. I’ve Been Losing 6. Punch In The Gut 7. Stupid Kid 8. Sirens of Titan (feat. Kurt Vile) 9. What Did We Do With Our Time? 10. Kern River

070 Shake sounds like she’s in pain across *You Can’t Kill Me*. If love was an inspiration for the Jersey-hailing G.O.O.D. Music signee\'s follow-up to 2020’s *Modus Vivendi*, it is only to the extent that it has wounded her, caused her to wound someone else, or forced her to treat wounds of her own. The project is heavy and operatic (production credits list Dave Sitek, johan lenox, and Dave Hamelin, among others), and Shake sings frequently about relationships past (“Web,” “Stay,” “Medicine,” “Se Fue La Luz”), present (“Blue Velvet,” “Cocoon,” “Wine & Spirits”), and, in one instance—hopefully—future (“Invited”). What’s clearer than anything else across *You Can’t Kill Me* is that 070 Shake knows how to turn her pain into art. Or maybe it’s more like she tells us on “Wine & Spirits,” that “Life is about balance, war and harmony/Can’t have one without the other.”

During the disorienting first few months of the pandemic, Simon Green hit a creative block. The British electronic musician, better known as Bonobo, felt trapped and isolated working out of his home in east Los Angeles, starved for live music and human interaction. “I desperately needed to get into a different headspace,” he tells Apple Music. “Really, I needed to get out of the house.” Green began taking solo camping trips into the area’s remote mountains and deserts in an effort to get his creative juices flowing. “Exploring California was a great way of breaking the monotony of being indoors all day,” he says. “During this time of zero stimulation, I felt like I had to make it for myself.” *Fragments*, his moody seventh album, born from these adventures, is a tribute to the West Coast’s wide-open spaces. A laidback mix of mesmerizing techno, orchestral instrumentation, and hushed R&B balladry, the project is as sprawling, peaceful, and varied as the landscape itself. Here, he takes us inside the making of each track. **“Polyghost” (feat. Miguel Atwood-Ferguson)** “This began as a long, drawn-out, seven-minute techno track that didn’t make the final cut. But it was built on top of two important thematic elements: harp, which is played by Lara Somogyi, who I recorded and then sampled, and strings, which are played by Miguel Atwood-Ferguson. In the end, I decided to keep just those two parts because they weave throughout the rest of the record and drew everything together. The minute I did that, it became the obvious opener.” **“Shadows” (feat. Jordan Rakei)** “Back in 2019, before I even started assembling this album, I was working on a track that felt like a reference to guys like Theo Parrish and Moodymann—that swingy, old-school Detroit sound. I had been listening to that Andrew Ashong song ‘Flowers’ and felt like, with a vocalist, this could be in that same area. I reached out to Jordan, who helped me work out the structure—a bit of tension and release—and it wound up being one of the first tracks I had in place for this project. I’ve been sitting on it for almost three years.” **“Rosewood”** “A good ways into making this album, I started to feel like I had the record but I didn’t have a proper single. So I went through my iPhone notes and voice memos and found a little piano loop that jumped out at me. I pulled it into Ableton and put a little kick drum under it and immediately felt like it could be the seeds of something. For the hook, I found this R&B a cappella on YouTube that had this little lyric of ‘I won\'t leave you.’ And I knew that was it.” **“Otomo” (feat. O’Flynn)** “This features an archived folk recording of a Bulgarian bagpipe choir that, to me, feels like a huge sample. It’s this big, droning, ethereal, cathedral-y thing, and I hadn’t heard anything like it before. I felt like it deserved to have some big *moments* around it, so I reached out to my friend O\'Flynn, who does that so well—switching between tuneful melodies and percussive muscle. He wound up building an entire section for it, without even me prompting him, and it was perfect. It’s definitely the track that’s going to get played out in the club.” **“Tides” (feat. Jamila Woods)** “I’d been talking to Jamila and a few other vocalists about doing some collaborations, but nobody was feeling particularly motivated—it was too early into the pandemic. But then, in 2021, people came to life. Jamila texted me that she was going into the studio to record something, and it wound up being a demo that’s on the record. Hearing it really kick-started my creative energy. I remember when she first sent it to me, I was heading out for the night and was like, ‘I\'m going to wait to listen to this until I get home, when I can really give it my full attention.\' When I got back, I\'d had a couple glasses of wine, so I was in the perfect state. I hit play, and I was just...overcome. I almost cried. It was like suddenly there was an emotional centerpiece to the record. It changed everything.” **“Elysian”** “This one is named after Elysian Park, which is very close to where I live in LA. Because it was the pandemic and most things were closed, I spent a lot of time in the park, going for walks, cycling up to Angels Point, and so on. As this song came together, I listened to it while walking around in Elysian, so the tribute felt appropriate. It’s the midway point of the record, and felt like a good place to have a nice acoustic interlude. A moment of pause.” **“Closer”** “I was digging around in my archives and stumbled upon an old session recording with Andreya Triana, a singer-songwriter who I’d worked with back in 2009. I produced her debut album, *Lost Where I Belong*, in my apartment in London. I pulled some vocals from this one track ‘Far Closer,’ and it worked really well. I hit her up and was like, ‘Hey! Remember this vocal? I\'ve started sampling it again on this other thing.’ She got a kick out of it.” **“Age of Phase”** “Throughout this whole process, I was playing a lot with modular synths. It was a way of keeping the process exciting, to learn how to use different technology. ‘Age of Phase’ is basically exclusively modular synths, apart from the vocals, and that was a new thing for me. I wanted to create all these interweaving melodies and vocals and have everything reach this chaotic peak, before diving down into something really lush. I\'m going to try to deconstruct it for the live show and see how far I can push that idea.” **“From You” (feat. Joji)** “This one seems like it’s a bit of a curveball for some people. Maybe myself as well. But I was trying to do something that sounded a bit more like contemporary hip-hop and R&B. I was listening to Kehlani, SZA, slowthai, even some James Blake, and was really inspired by that blended sound. I\'d always wanted to work with Joji, because I think he\'s a really interesting musician, and when the parts all came together I was like, ‘Wow, okay, this is kind of a pop song. And I\'m kind of into that.’” **“Counterpart”** “This song came together early on and was exactly the mix of sounds I was looking for—a little bit techno, but quite melodic, with lots of modular synths. It was so fun to make that I was sad when I finished it, so now I’m working on a live version as well. I think it’s going to have multiple lives.” **“Sapien”** “This is my throwback to early-\'90s rave—artists like Mike Paradinas, Rephlex, and Future Sound of London, that era of melodic, ravey breakbeats. I sent the piano part into a modular so I could get all those choppy synth parts that are actually from a Rhodes piano, and then I went apeshit on drum programming at the end as a way to hearken back to that era of frenetic drum breaks. It’s one of the more abrasive moments on the record, which I really like.” **“Day by Day” (feat. Kadhja Bonet)** “This is a straight R&B jam, really. I had spoken to Kadhja for ages and we\'d sent demos back and forth. And the thing I like about this one is that it references earlier stuff of mine. It feels like it could be from the *Black Sands* era, which makes me feel like I’ve come full circle. I also like that it has a sense of optimism as the album closer, serving as a reminder that everything’s going to be all right.”

Bonobo has announced Fragments, a new album that will be released January 14, 2022 (Ninja Tune), along with a 2022 world tour. Along with the announcement, Bonobo has also shared the lead single “Rosewood.” Fragments is the most emotionally intense record that he - aka Simon Green - has ever had to make. It’s no surprise that it’s also his masterpiece. The album features Jamila Woods, Joji, Kadhja Bonet, Jordan Rakei, O’Flynn and Miguel Atwood-Ferguson. Born first out of fragments of ideas and experimentation, the album ultimately was fused together in a burst of creativity fuelled by both collaboration and Green’s escape into the wild. ​​The artwork for ‘Fragments" is by Neil Krug who returns after creating the art for 2017’s 'Migration’. Krug has also made a visualiser for ’Rosewood”. One of the biggest names in dance music, Green’s career includes 3 Grammy nominations and 2 million tickets sold for the tour supporting his 2017 album Migration. Migration was a top ten album in multiple countries, top five at home in the UK and a Billboard dance album number one in the US. He’s also a favourite mainstage performer at the world’s greatest music festivals. As part of the tour announced today Bonobo will play three dates at the legendary Royal Albert Hall in London in addition to dates in Brighton, Birmingham, Manchester, Leeds and Nottingham. Fragments is a series of 12 sonic affirmations, featuring some of the hardest and most hip-shaking grooves that Green has ever created. The ballads are perfectly placed throughout; they capture a world in flux and glow with hope. Coaxing the ideas out initially took some hard work. The constantly-touring Green creates best while on the move; the global shutdown forced him to stand still. Musical themes began to arise through Green’s exploration of modular synthesis, recordings he had made of harpist Lara Somogyi, his work with arranger and string player Miguel Atwood-Ferguson, his own playing of the Fender Rhodes and more, as the album was created, recorded and mixed by Green over the past two years. The album also came into focus as he sought refuge on solo adventures into nature, away from the shutdowns and wild fires and into the blazing California desert. “Tides,” featuring Chicagoan singer and poet Jamila Woods, acted as a catalyst, and the album began to click into place around it. “I knew I had a centrepiece, I knew how it was all going to sound,” he says. Working with Miguel Atwood-Ferguson, musical themes began to emerge. Recording orchestral musicians in actual studios helped bring the songs “out of the box” even more. A rhythmic framework started to come together too: the structures of UK bass music and rave began to seep into beats that would become tracks like “Otomo” (eventually co-produced by O’Flynn and featuring a sample of the Bulgarian choir 100 Kaba-Gaidi), and “Sapien.” The ”old school, Detroity, Moodymann and Theo Parrish inspired” “Shadows” was recorded with friend Jordan Rakei. “Rosewood,” “Closer” and “Counterpoint” each start with an ecstatic snap to them, but snake down surprisingly different paths. Somogyi's harp and Atwood-Ferguson's strings mingle together on the beatless “Elysian.” Two ballads flesh out the second half of the record: “Day by Day” featuring Kadhja Bonet and “From You” featuring Joji. It's about the dancefloor in many ways, about how “I remembered all over again how much I loved crowds and movement and people connecting with each other,” Green reflects. But the positivity isn’t just in the uptempo rhythms: even the most introspective and melancholic pieces have joy in them. “FRAGMENTS” LIVE TOUR DATES - 2022 North America 18-Feb: Wildhorse Saloon, Nashville, TN 19-Feb: PromoWest Pavilion at Ovation, Newport, KY 20-Feb: EXPESS LIVE!, Columbus, OH 21-Feb: Stage AE, Pittsburgh, PA 25-Feb: Great Hall, Brooklyn, NY 27-Feb: Royale, Boston, MA 28-Feb: Echostage, Washington, DC 02-Mar: Franklin Music Hall, Philadelphia, PA 05-Mar: Higher Ground, Burlington, VT 06-Mar: Mtelus, Montreal, QC 09-Mar: History, Toronto, ON 10-Mar: Royal Oak Music Hall, Royal Oak, MI 11-Mar: Byline Bank Aragon Ballroom, Chicago, IL 12-Mar: The Sylvee, Madison, WI 13-Mar: Turner Hall, Milwaukee, WI 15-Mar: The Palace, Minneapolis, MN 17-Mar: Mission Ballroom, Denver, CO 18-Mar: The Complex, Salt Lake City, UT 19-Mar: Knitting Factory, Boise, ID 21-Mar: PNE Forum, Vancouver, BC 22-Mar: Showbox SoDo, Seattle, WA 24-Mar: Roseland Theater, Portland, OR Europe 20-Apr: AFAS Live, Amsterdam, NL 21-Apr: edel-optics.de Arena, Hamburg, DE 23- Apr: UFO im Velodrom, Berlin, De 24-Apr: Palladium, Cologne, De 25-Apr: TonHalle, Munich, De 26-Apr: Xtra, Zurich, CH 28-Apr: Le Centquatre, Paris, FR UK 03-May: The Brighton Centre, Brighton, UK 04-May: O2 Academy, Birmingham, UK 06-May: Victoria Warehouse, Manchester, UK 07-May: O2 Academy, Leeds, UK 08-May: Rock City, Nottingham, UK 16-May: Royal Albert Hall, London, UK 17-May: Royal Albert Hall, London, UK 18-May: Royal Albert Hall, London, UK

sore thumb was made in February 2021 at Two Worlds Recording Studio Produced by Jade Lilitri, Billy Mannino and Tavish Maloney Mixed by Mike Sapone Mastered by Mike Kalajian Engineered by Billy Mannino Additional production by Daniel Maddalone and Gianni Gambuzza Songs written and composed by oso oso Cover photo taken by Alfred Barzykowski Jade Lilitri – vocals, guitar, bass, drums, aux percussion Tavish Maloney – guitar, aux percussion, vocals on “carousel” Billy Mannion – piano Josh Knowles – violin on “describe you” The making of this record is now a memory of a time that i holder closer to my heart than anything. Regardless of how I feel about these songs in the years to come, I am so happy this exists. Thanks for listening. Be decent. SPE Tavish Sloan Maloney

For any band, signing to a major label at the beginning of your career is a dream come true. For LGBTQ+ Los Angeles power pop-rock trio MUNA (musicians Katie Gavin, Josette Maskin, and Naomi McPherson all identify as queer), it was merely their first milestone. Great freedom and success came later, when they were dropped by their label after releasing two albums and just as quickly picked up by Phoebe Bridgers’ Saddest Factory Records. Now an independent band on their self-titled third full-length, they never sounded more confident. “\[*MUNA*\] has a lot to do with identity and agency and self-definition, the ideas that we project onto other people,” Maskin tells Apple Music. “It’s an interrogation of interpersonal relationships, and sexuality, and desire, and just trying to be a person in the world and present in your life.” Those complicated ideas are articulated with an eclectic musical nuance, from the country-folk of “Kind of Girl” and the Peter Gabriel-indebted “Solid” to the jagged, Robyn-esque synth-pop of “What I Want” and the playful pop of “Silk Chiffon.” “Music helps us feel less alone in our human experience, and I think we want people to feel that,” Gavin says. “There’s a hope that these songs can foster moments of connection and joy for people, like for our queer community—we want these songs to be a soundtrack to new experiences that aren\'t full of torment.” Below, MUNA walks Apple Music through their new album, track by track. **“Silk Chiffon” feat. Phoebe Bridgers** Naomi McPherson: “The song has been kicking about since the end of 2019. Katie wrote it, and at the time it was just the pre-chorus. The bridge lyrics were in the place of the chorus. It was synth-ier, but Jo and I had the instinct to make it feel like opening credits of a late-\'90s, early-aughts rom-com. We had been kicking around the idea of having someone feature on the second verse, and Phoebe came to mind—this was prior to us signing to her label. She loved the song and was so stoked to hop on it, which made us feel so, so good.” **“What I Want”** Katie Gavin: “This was a song that started as actually a Zoom co-write. I did it with Leland, who is an amazing songwriter and artist in his own right, and who has also done a lot of work on songs in the universe of *RuPaul\'s Drag Race*. I had a couple beats from Naomi, and I took them into the session and we both liked that one. After the session, I sent a demo to Naomi and Jo, and I remember Naomi freaking out and knowing that it was going to be a banger and wanting to work on it. I was a little bit scared of the song initially because of how much of a banger it is. There are strings in the chorus that were very inspired by \'Toxic,\' the classic Britney song.” **“Runner’s High”** NM: “MUNA’s anti-running song. The funny thing about this track is, I think, that the beat came about in the most peculiar way. During 2020, a friend of ours was letting us use her studio for very cheap, and we were trying to take making music very seriously. We wanted to do something where it\'s like, we had no songs that we were currently working on, so we came up with a game called \'the five-minute game,\' where each of us had to make a part in a five-minute period, and then someone else adds a part on top. The start of this song came from that game. And I don\'t think I\'ve ever heard a song that has this specific metaphor; obviously, it is one of a kind and the song slaps. So, you can run to it. We won\'t, but we hope that people do.” **“Home by Now”** Josette Maskin: “This came about in a pretty classic MUNA way. All the songs have different trajectories and paths, but this one was something that Katie wrote when we were on tour with Phoebe in the fall of 2021. We sometimes find that being on the road can be pretty inspiring. When you\'re away from your stuff and you don\'t have the obligation to work on an album that has a pending deadline, it can take you out of your element and inspire you in a way.” **“Kind of Girl”** KG: “For songs that I start on my own, there\'s two categories: I did it on Ableton, which was \'Home by Now,\' or I did it on an acoustic guitar, which is \'Kind of Girl.\' \'Kind of Girl\' I wrote in a bathtub. I wrote it from start to finish, chronologically, first the pre-chorus, then the chorus. I was thinking about the power that the words we choose to identify with have on the way that our story unfolds. How those affect what we think is possible and not possible and what we think is fixed or unfixed. We recorded just a bunch of layers of acoustic guitar and Josette\'s slide through a toy amp and built this world out.” **“Handle Me”** JM: “Katie wrote this song in January 2020. When we first did this song, Naomi and I were thinking a lot about, funny enough, 311—there’s a guitar part based on those early-2000s songs, something that would be on *The O.C.* Naomi felt really inspired about changing the drums and then I played the guitar part slightly differently and we tried to make it more of a lo-fi sexy track. I really fought for the song to be on the record, because I was like, ‘Oh, we don\'t really have a song in our discography that is sexy in this specific way.\' It shows a different side of MUNA.” **“No Idea”** NM: “‘No Idea’ started at the top of 2020. At the time we were toying with the idea of the third record being an alternative reimagining of the past wherein we were the biggest boy band in the late \'90s and early 2000s. But we are ourselves, and gay, we cast ourselves into that canon. I think of \'No Idea\' as our \'90s Max Martin moment meets a little bit of LCD Soundsystem and Daft Punk. Katie had written the song, it was pretty finished, but there wasn\'t a second verse. We had a session with Mitski; she came over to me and Jo’s apartment at the time, and we talked about disco. She thought the song was hot and fun to work on; she gave us a kick into the direction that the song found itself in.” **“Solid”** NM: “‘Solid’ has been around since 2018, 2017, I think. It just didn\'t have a place on the second record. It was in the archive for a bit and then it reappeared. It is one of my favorites. We’re always super inspired by \'80s music. I mean, who doesn\'t, that makes pop music nowadays? That artistic innovation, computerized sound, and synthesized sound. It was just fun to work on after all these years. It bops.” **“Anything But Me”** KG: “I wrote this song in my car. I had my laptop, and I was eating a burrito, and I came up with the first lines of the song and I was just like, ‘That\'s so stupid, but it\'s stupid in a way that\'s almost brilliant.’ This song is in 12/8, a really specific groove, and it has a buoyant energy. I had written the verse and the pre-chorus and had the basic groove down, and I sent it to Naomi and Jo. Naomi was like, \'There needs to be a section after the pre-chorus where you\'re doing something very like Shania \[Twain\] with the word “me,” holding it out and having a moment with it.\' We fleshed it out from there. When Jo and Naomi were working on it, they had some influence from Mariah Carey.” **“Loose Garment”** NM: “‘Loose Garment’ started because I was looking at furniture and I made a beat and called it ‘Teak Wood Nine.’ I sent Katie a bunch of beats that had wood and furniture names. We all love Imogen Heap and her collaboration with Guy Sigsworth. The band Frou Frou, they\'re a touchstone for us, both her solo project and that band; it felt like maybe \[the song\] could live in that universe. We switched the beat up and gave it a pulsating feel that motivated the song. It’s definitely a sad one. Cynthia Tolson killed it. She played strings on it and just went off.” **“Shooting Star”** KG: “This song was written literal weeks before we turned in the album. That\'s very MUNA. I always write until it is pencils down. I had written this on acoustic guitar, and it was this folky bassline guitar part that really turned Josette off, and I remember I wanted it. We always intended for this to be a 10-song record. There\'s a certain kind of guitar that we got obsessed with using, and I feel like we associate it a lot with the sound of music in LA: It\'s a rubber-bridge, vintage acoustic guitar, and Jo reworked the guitar part into something that was better. It was Naomi\'s idea to have kind of this Coldplay moment at the end where the song explodes into this more cathartic beat and arrangement, and that was really, I think, a big moment for that song as well.”

MUNA is magic. What other band could have stamped the forsaken year of 2021 with spangles and pom-poms, could have made you sing (and maybe even believe) that “Life’s so fun, life’s so fun,” during what may well have been the most uneasy stretch of your life? “Silk Chiffon,” MUNA’s instant-classic cult smash, featuring the band’s new label head Phoebe Bridgers, hit the gray skies of the pandemic’s year-and-a-half mark like a double rainbow. Since MUNA — lead singer/songwriter Katie Gavin, guitarist/producer Naomi McPherson, guitarist Josette Maskin — began making music together in college, at USC, they’d always embraced pain as a bedrock of longing, a part of growing up, and an inherent factor of marginalized experience: the band’s members belong to queer and minority communities, and play for these fellow-travelers above all. But sometimes, for MUNA, after nearly a decade of friendship and a long stretch of pandemic-induced self-reckoning, the most radical note possible is that of bliss. MUNA, the band’s self-titled third album, is a landmark — the forceful, deliberate, dimensional output of a band who has nothing to prove to anyone except themselves. The synth on “What I Want” scintillates like a Robyn dance-floor anthem; “Anything But Me,” galloping in 12/8, gives off Shania Twain in eighties neon; “Kind of Girl,” with its soaring, plaintive The Chicks chorus, begs to be sung at max volume with your best friends. It’s marked by a newfound creative assurance and technical ability, both in terms of McPherson and Maskin’s arrangements and production as well as Gavin’s songwriting, which is as propulsive as ever, but here opens up into new moments of perspective and grace. Here, more than ever, MUNA musters their unique powers to break through the existential muck and transport you, suddenly, into a room where everything is possible — a place where the disco ball’s never stopped throwing sparkles on the walls, where you can sweat and cry and lie down on the floor and make out with whoever, where vulnerability in the presence of those who love you can make you feel momentarily bulletproof, and self-consciousness only sharpens the swell of joy.

Since putting out the haunted garage-dubstep classic *Untrue* in 2007, the British producer Burial has moved steadily toward abstraction: longer tracks, fewer rhythmic anchors, and digressive, suitelike structures that unfold more like stories than songs. Like January 2022’s *Antidawn*, October’s *Streetlands* represents the most extreme end of his sound, layering vinyl crackle, vaporous synthesizer melodies, and huge washes of reverb into static sound sculptures that feel like breather moments in zombie movies. And like zombie movies, they’re eerie but beautiful (the tinkling bells and liquid vocal sample in the first section of “Streetlands”), and occasionally hopeful until the violence hits (the climactic dissonance in the second half of “Exokind”). In a way, it’s hard to imagine he ever had anything to do with dance music, but it also makes a kind of poetic sense: like the underground garage and 2-step he came up with, *Streetlands* is music for shadows.

Burial finishes 2022 with a follow up to ANTIDAWN, the sublime three-track EP 'Streetlands' There is something out there . . .

For years, Alice Glass was known as the innovative founding member and exhilarating frontwoman of the culture-shifting, goth-y electro-pop duo Crystal Castles; each track on her solo debut showcases her experience. Now that she’s free from her former band and allegedly abusive collaborator Ethan Kath, *PREY//IV* is an exorcism of her past suffering. “Fair Game” is haunted spoken-word techno written from the perspective of an abuser, which she has publicly labeled “trauma core.” “Pinned Beneath Limbs” explores the societal silencing of abuse survivors; “Everybody Else” is an unsettling listen, albeit offset by Glass’ angelic vocal tone—disassociation soundtracked by a child’s music box. If *PREY//IV* is Alice Glass’ first steps into a newfound creative freedom, she’s allowing the listener to hear what it took to get here—human pain articulated through energetic electronics.

On the cover of her second album, LA indie polymath Sasami Ashworth—aka SASAMI—appears in the form of the Nure-onna, a mythical half-woman/half-serpent creature from Japanese folklore. It’s more than just a badass image: On *Squeeze*, SASAMI re-emerges utterly transformed and all-powerful. With the untamed opener, “Skin a Rat,” she unleashes a torrent of moshable nu-metal that obliterates any trace of the dream-pop artisan heard on her 2019 self-titled debut. “I feel a little bit like a sci-fi or fantasy novelist this time,” SASAMI tells Apple Music. “And in a lot of ways, this album is my first book, whereas my last album was more like my diary entries being leaked.” But the skull-crushing heaviness of “Skin a Rat” is just the first steep drop on a thrill ride that sends you careening through aesthetic shifts—a volatile mood-ring reflection of her existence as a queer woman of color and a working musician entering her thirties. “The songs are much less about explicit experiences and much more about feelings,” she says. “Narratively, this album is inspired by movies like *Parasite*, where there’s a lot of different genres—one second it’s a dark comedy, one second it’s a thriller, the next second it’s romantic, and then it’s a horror. It keeps you on your toes, and I wanted to make an album that has that same dynamic range.” Here, SASAMI guides us through *Squeeze*, one scene at a time. **“Skin a Rat”** “Making art during the pandemic, you’re not having experiences—you’re just drawing from memories of experiences. And so, knowing that I wanted to make these angsty, aggressive tracks, it’s natural that I went back to middle school and high school, when you’re at your most angsty and emotional and rageful. And so, nu-metal creates an emotional portal to that time for me. This song is basically about systemic oppression and reclaiming some of this violent discourse that’s usually aimed towards femmes and using sonic elements that are usually used by cis men. I also wanted to be very clear about who the album was for: Patti Harrison and Laetitia Tamko from Vagabon are screaming the lyrics with me, and I really wanted it to be an anthem for my community.” **“The Greatest”** “‘The Greatest’ was really influenced by power ballads—like Bonnie Tyler and Heart and Aerosmith. I wanted to touch on a lot of different types of emotions and sounds on the album, and I wanted to stretch out as far as I could in each direction. So, the syrupy schmaltziness of power ballads was really inspiring for this one. But because there’s this mission statement of anti-toxic positivity on the album, I wanted this to be kind of an un-love ballad. You can’t take dirty laundry and put it directly into the dryer without first putting it into the washing machine—you can’t skip straight to healing and brightness and happiness without processing the dark shit that’s going on. A lot of power ballads are about the absence of love, but this song is basically my grungy power ballad about how the absence of love can sometimes be a bigger force than love itself.” **“Say It”** “This song and a couple of other ones are basically about the pain of someone not communicating with you. I feel like it’s a very in-my-early-thirties sentiment—it’s basically saying, ‘I don’t even need you to apologize or tell me what I want to hear; I just want to communicate. Just tell me how you’re actually feeling and release the toxicity of not being honest with people.’ It’s kind of a communication jam.” **“Call Me Home”** “This song is about synthesizing that feeling of nothing being wrong, but you still blow everything up just to feel something, and how numbness and a lack of feeling emotion can be just as heavy and dark as feeling something outright. This song is an ode to the wanderer—it’s an ode to someone who has restless legs and needs to be on the move and needs to be feeling things in extremes.” **“Need It to Work”** “This is another song about a lack of communication and a lack of connection and how that can kind of fester, and how we can obsess over not getting that attention or getting that reciprocation of feelings. Making yourself vulnerable to someone and then not having that be returned can make you feel fucking crazy. I’m a Cancer, so when people don’t respond to my texts, I completely freak out.” **“Tried to Understand”** “I really wanted to make a heavy album, but at the same time, songs are kind of like children: No matter how much you want them to be something, you just have to support them and let them be whatever they want to be. I’ve made so many different versions of ‘Tried to Understand,’ and, at the end of the day, she just wanted to be like a folk-pop song. ‘Tried to Understand’ is kind of like turning the lights on for a second before something dark happens again.” **“Make It Right”** “I wanted to put together something that was snappy and punk but also had this kind of pop sensibility. This song bridges the gap between the lightness of ‘Tried to Understand’ and ‘Sorry Entertainer,’ so it kind of feeds both beasts in that way.” **“Sorry Entertainer”** \"Honestly, if you listen to the \[Daniel Johnston\] original, my version doesn’t deviate too much from that guitar part. I just heard the original and I immediately heard the metal version in my head. It’s like I read the screenplay of the scene and imagined the big-budget action movie of it. Of course, I couldn’t get explicit permission from Daniel Johnston, so I hope he’s not rolling in his grave over this one. I liked having this kind of pathetic-loner vibe with this really aggressive sound. I think that’s a feeling a lot of musicians are familiar with: ‘I have all this power in my instrument, but I also still kind of feel like a loser.’” **“Squeeze” (feat. No Home)** “I was a fan of No Home’s first record, *F\*\*\*\*\*g Hell*. When I heard it, I was like, ‘She is completely pushing the bounds of genre. She has total pop chops, but is also down to make the weirdest, freakiest aggressive music too.’ And so, I felt like she was a kindred spirit. When I make music, I usually create all the menus and touch every piece of food before it goes out in the restaurant, whereas with this one I wanted to kind of let go and see what happens when I bring someone in to collaborate in a deeper way. She wrote all the verses and, as a black femme in the UK, she has a different experience and perspective. I really connect to a lot of metal and heavy rock songs where the imagery and the lyrics are really violent, but oftentimes they’re objectifying women. So, I wanted to reclaim some of that language and create something on my terms, but with the aggression and rawness of the lyricism that we bring.” **“Feminine Water Turmoil”/“Not a Love Song”** “I feel like the first three-quarters of the record kind of deals with these concepts of human nature—like systemic oppression and unrequited love and desperation and rage and anger. And I wanted to end the album by floating into a more existential place. I feel like an instrumental track \[‘Feminine Water Turmoil’\] can help us to detach from the human language and these human ideas. And then ‘Not a Love Song’ is really a lot more about humans’ relationship with nature and questioning why we always center ourselves in everything, and maybe posing the idea to the listener that we could be in more humility and harmony with nature. I just wanted to end the movie with a more philosophical ending, as opposed to hitting a raw nerve. The song is like aftercare—it’s a respectful way to end an arduous, whiplashing album. I wanted to end it in a way that someone might actually want to listen to it again.”

Squeeze, the second full length from Sasami, surveys the raw aggression of nu-metal, tender plainspokeness of country-pop and folk rock, and dramatic romanticism of classical music.

“Often, for me,” Dan Snaith tells Apple Music, “the worst enemy of making music is thinking too much about it. I just *do* it, and what it is and why it is comes into focus later.” Doing, and making people dance, were the drivers for the Toronto producer’s first Daphni album since 2017’s *Joli Mai*. *Cherry* is a dazzlingly diverse set—there are bold expressions of house, techno, and disco here—with Snaith (who also releases music as Caribou and Manitoba) admitting it reflects the roller coaster of the early 2020s. “There are tracks on here that were made in the depths of the pandemic, when I was yearning for clubs to return and experiencing music collectively,” he says. “And there were tracks made as things started to reopen. I wanted something to play at my first DJ gigs and wondered what would connect people after so long away.” One of the record’s most striking characteristics is its directness. Tracks are relatively short—and cut deliciously to the chase. “They’re mostly without intros or outros,” Snaith says. “The music just careens between ideas and moods—as if under the control of a particularly mercurial DJ. I like that style of DJing anyway. Alternating between hypnosis—the same loop for a long time—and surprise. This album captures that, I hope.” Read on for Snaith’s track-by-track guide. **“Arrow”** “The loop that makes up this album is so simple but somehow alluring. It doesn’t need to do much of anything—it just needs you to keep staring at it. One of my favorite things about dance music is that, with the aid of repetition, small variations can seem momentous. I also like the idea that the album starts with no messing around—straight in at full speed—and then stands pretty much still throughout this track.” **“Cherry”** “This is one of the last tracks I made and, somehow, filled in a puzzle piece that I didn’t know was missing. As soon as I’d finished it, I knew that it was going to be a central track on the album. That twisting, turning synth line that’s both disorienting and compelling is like a musical ouroboros—the snake eating its own tail.” **“Always There”** “This is one of my favorite tracks to play out in my DJ sets, probably because it works when it shouldn’t. The textures in this track—the fast guitar lines, snaking reed instrument, and shakers—stand out immediately in a club, where people are used to dancing to drum machines and synthesizers. The arrangement makes you wait for things to drop a couple times, and often, when I play it in a club, I tease it out for much longer, so that the riff has been weaving in and out for a long time before it drops.” **“Crimson”** “I’m not much of a ‘gear’ person, but every so often, I come across a piece of equipment that sounds so fantastic and has so much character that it feels like it writes the music for you. The synthesizer playing the main blippy pattern here is an ARP 2600, and you can almost hear me moving the sliders on it as I try to lure the track to a climax.” **“Arp Blocks”** “The title here refers to the ARP 2600 that is the only instrument in this track. I don’t think I’ve ever released any music that is one live take of one instrument playing solo before. The ‘Blocks’ of the title refers to a piece of software that allowed me to control the 50-plus-year-old ARP synthesizer in a completely new way and get sounds out of it that would not have been previously possible, allowing the synth pattern to twist and turn and jump up and down to different harmonic registers.” **“Falling”** “People who know my music probably know that I have a hard time resisting a repeated hook—a mantra that takes on more meaning the more it’s repeated. This one could have stayed longer and been built out into a larger track, but to keep the pace fast, it sticks around for only a little over a minute before we’re on to something else.” **“Mania”** “A lot of the tracks on this album have a loose, playful feeling, and that really reflects how it was making them. Even though it’s just me in the studio, it’s still possible to capture that sense of jamming—putting one loop or sound together and then rushing to another piece of equipment and playing the first thing that comes to mind on it. This track came together pretty much in the order that you hear the elements being introduced into the track. There’s a point, halfway through, where the harmony changes and the track feels like it’s floating—that’s always a really nice moment when I play this out in a club.” **“Take Two”** “So much of my favorite dance music is about the search for a perfect loop—often a loop that harkens back to house music’s antecedent: disco. This track weaves a few different loops together. In fact, it started out as two different tracks that I realized, at some point, were in the same key, the same world—but hopefully sound like they could almost be the parts from a forgotten disco record. Music that almost sounds like a live band, but not quite.” **“Mona”** “I love techno that’s based around one repeated stab sound. The best of those tracks tend to last a long time and do very little other than roll along, using repetition as their central premise. This track sets up that way but is an example of how I decided to shift the focus of some of these tracks away from making arrangements that would be most effective in a club and stick to what’s most exciting on the album, where the shorter tracks mean that different sounds and vibes are flying by rapidly. Digital DJing means that it’s not hard to rearrange and extend the tracks you’re playing on the fly—when I play this track in a DJ set, it usually ends up being about twice the length it is here.” **“Clavicle”** “This track almost didn’t end up on the album. I’d put a version of it on my *Essential Mix* in 2020 and then mostly forgot about it. But just as I was assembling this album, a couple people asked me about it and if I was ever going to release it. I had finished all the other tracks on the album and was about to send the album off to have it mastered and just added this track in at the last minute. I’m glad I did!“ **“Cloudy”** “I grew up playing the piano as my main instrument. There was a time when I thought that I was going to try and make a living as a jazz pianist. I must have spent thousands and thousands of hours playing the piano when I was a kid—so much time that that familiarity will always be with me. The piano you hear on this track isn’t a real one—it’s a software emulation played on a controller keyboard—which is why I can warp it and give it the character that you hear, but feeling so at home with the sound of a piano is why I’ll always return to look for ideas there. There have been a bunch of people online asking what the piano sample is for this track, but it’s not a sample—it’s a loop that I played while noodling around in the studio.” **“Karplus”** “The word ‘Karplus’ refers to a delay effect named after Kevin Karplus and Alex Strong, where a short, pitched delay on a sound creates a note similar to the sound of a plucked string. I’m not sure whether what I’m doing with this track is really the Karplus-Strong effect though—it’s mostly just a drum loop through a phaser!” **“Amber”** “I love the big, chunky, awkward swing of this track. It’s a loop that always feels like it’s just about to topple over and collapse. When I first started going to clubs when I lived in Toronto, DJs from New York would come through town all the time, and when people like Masters at Work would play, people who could really dance would show up—not just people shuffling their feet and pumping their fists in the air like I, and most of us, do when we’re at a club. In my mind, this is the kind of loop that I can imagine getting the kind of reaction that I remember seeing from the dancers at those nights.” **“Fly Away”** “I’m always looking for those tracks that are like a breath of fresh air in a club—that, after hours of playing music with relentless, heavy kick drums, are melodic and euphoric. I made this track with that kind of feeling in mind, and it always has that kind of effect on the room when I’ve played it. People stop dancing and look around; they start whistling and shouting. It’s a great one to play at the end of the night, so why not at the end of an album?”

HIS HAPPINESS SHALL COME FIRST EVEN THOUGH WE ARE SUFFERING will conclude a trilogy of albums by Backxwash which began 3 years ago. The series is primarily auto-biographical, with fragments of stories from her periphery. With every record, Backxwash travels farther back in time, reliving and experiencing the anger and despair that she had not granted herself at that time. God Has Nothing To Do With This Leave Him Out Of It (2020) began as a candid processing of her experiences in her adult life in realtime, while her sequential record I LIE HERE BURIED WITH MY RINGS AND MY DRESSES (2021) was a reflection on her adolescent and early adulthood years. Whereas God Has Nothing was a study in mercy, in I LIE HERE BURIED Backxwash finds solace in being consumed by her malevolent behaviours. HIS HAPPINESS SHALL COME FIRST EVEN THOUGH WE ARE SUFFERING (2022) delves into environmental influences during her youth and times pre-dating her existence, concluding this therapeutic practice with a return to the here and now with a stronger sense of self than when she began this therapeutic and cathartic trilogy.

Heading into Band of Horses’ sixth album, frontman Ben Bridwell wanted to do things differently. He’d been hanging out with some younger musicians in his adopted home of Charleston, South Carolina, and liked their style. “They were making really beautiful sounding records in, like, a storage shack, basically,” he tells Apple Music. One in particular, Wolfgang Zimmerman, had sparked Bridwell’s imagination to the point that Bridwell found himself sneaking out to make demos with Zimmerman on the sly, away from the rest of the band. “It wasn’t a plot to overthrow the record,” Bridwell says. “But in the end, it did feel a bit like a mutiny.” The result is music that feels less like a departure from the band’s core sound than a reaffirmation of it: the anthemic choruses, the windswept grit, the mix of joy and melancholy.

On her expansive debut album, singer/songwriter/producer Hayden Silas Anhedönia introduces her alter ego Ethel Cain, a Southern anti-belle desperate to escape the smothering grip of familial trauma, Christianity, and the American dream. On *Preacher’s Daughter*, the Florida-reared conceptualist and recovered Southern Baptist finds a sense of freedom in darkness and depravity, spinning a seedy, sweeping, slowcore yarn of doomed love and patriarchal oppression with cinematic ambition. Cain allows the titular preacher the first word on droning opener “Family Tree (Intro),” then teases a little pop-star charm on the twangy “American Teenager,” before digging her teeth deep into sex, drugs, violence, and rock ‘n’ roll with the provocative pout of Lana Del Rey. She laments a lost love on the heartland heartbreaker “A House In Nebraska,” hitchhikes west on the sprawling Americana saga “Thoroughfare,” and spirals into Dante’s hell on the thunderous industrial nightmare “Ptolemaea.” Cain’s voice haunts and lingers like a heavy fog, long after she’s devoured by a cannibalistic lover—in a blaze of glam-metal guitar—on the album’s grandiose finale, “Strangers.”

For fans of ’90s indie rock—your Sonic Youths, your Breeders, your Yo La Tengos—*Versions of Modern Performance* will serve as cosmic validation: Even the kids know the old ways are best. But who influenced you is never as important as what you took from them, a lesson that Chicago’s Horsegirl understands intuitively. Instead, the art is in putting it together: the haze of shoegaze and the deadpan of post-punk (“Option 8,” “Billy”), slacker confidence and twee butterflies (“Beautiful Song,” “World of Pots and Pans”). Their arty interludes they present not as free-jazz improvisers, but a teenage garage band in love with the way their amps hum (“Bog Bog 1,” “Electrolocation 2”).

Horsegirl are best friends. You don’t have to talk to the trio for more than five minutes to feel the warmth and strength of their bond, which crackles through every second of their debut full-length, Versions of Modern Performance. Penelope Lowenstein (guitar, vocals), Nora Cheng (guitar, vocals), and Gigi Reece (drums) do everything collectively, from songwriting to trading vocal duties and swapping instruments to sound and visual art design. “We made [this album] knowing so fully what we were trying to do,” the band says. “We would never pursue something if one person wasn’t feeling good about it. But also, if someone thought something was good, chances are we all thought it was good. ”Versions of Modern Performance was recorded with John Agnello (Kurt Vile, The Breeders, Dinosaur Jr.) at Electrical Audio. “It’s our debut bare-bones album in a Chicago institution with a producer who we feel like really respected what we were trying to do,” the band says. Horsegirl expertly play with texture, shape, and shade across the record, showcasing their fondness for improvisation and experimentation. Opener “Anti-glory” is elastic and bright post-punk, while the guitars in instrumental interlude “Bog Bog 1” smear across the song’s canvas like watercolors. “Dirtbag Transformation (Still Dirty)” and “World of Pots and Pans” have rough, blown-out pop charm. “The Fall of Horsegirl” is all sharp edges and dark corners.

As frontman James Smith and bassist Ryan Needham were holed up in Leeds, writing the songs that make up Yard Act’s debut album, the pair weren’t thinking about a record until they almost had one in front of them. Instead, they were caught up in the sort of heady, creative whirl you get from a new group flexing their songwriting chops. “We knew we were writing a lot, but there was no form or structure to it; it was just loads of ideas,” Smith tells Apple Music. “It was when we started to realize how much material we had that we said, ‘All right, now is probably the time to go in and have a go at the album.’” That spirit of artistic delirium runs right through *The Overload*, where wiry post-punk grooves and buoyant indie anthems-in-waiting frame Smith’s wry, cutting observations on life in modern Britain. “We realized there was a theme running through the songs,” recalls Smith, “an anti-capitalist slant to the whole thing. We came up with this idea of an arc about this person’s journey trying to become a success and how that pans out.” *The Overload* is a thrilling snapshot of pre- and post-pandemic life, less a black mirror to the early 2020s and more a vivid, full-color one. Here, Smith and Needham guide us through it, track by track. **“The Overload”** James Smith: “The song was originally a really pounding house track that Ryan had sent, but I heard the beat differently and put this sped-up drum-and-bass loop over the top of Ryan’s bassline. As soon as I put that on it, the energy made more sense. There’s a chopped sample break running underneath the whole thing that really completed it and gave it that manic feel.” **“Dead Horse”** JS: “I was always pretty keen on this being early on in the album. It feels like the culmination of all the early singles, finally figuring out how to write in our own style.” Ryan Needham: “I think, lyrically, James had a little bit of extreme anger around the time of the Dominic Cummings \[a former Chief Adviser to the Prime Minister caught breaking public health restrictions during the first UK lockdown\] stuff.” JS: “Yeah, it did come from that little month of anger. The bass was on groove; it was really good. And the lyrics played well—there were some good lines in there. It represented where we had got to up until that point.” **“Payday”** JS: “This was written to fit in on the album to coax the narrative along. Originally, it was a really lo-fi demo and then we lost it. When we redid it, we built in all these 909 electronic drums and then Sam \[Shjipstone\] put this really mad funk guitar on it that was exactly what it needed. It is just one of the more straight-up songs, a vehicle to get onto some of the more creative stuff. I tried to be more abstract with the lyrics—didn’t want to do the overly talky thing, so I left a lot more space in the verses so that chorus can come through a bit.” **“Rich”** JS: “It’s a really simple bassline that I was hypnotized by. It was written when Yard Act had just started doing OK. As some of these crazier offers were coming in, I could see it maybe reaching a level where we became part of the culture and made a living off it. I pondered on this idea that music is one of those things where, if it *goes*, you don’t really have control over how much money you suddenly earn out of nowhere. For so long, you are on the bottom rung and money is tight, and then, all of a sudden, the floodgates open and you can make loads of money really easy. That was it, but applied to the narrative of anyone that has an idea that becomes popular.” **“The Incident”** RN: “This was loads of fun. It’s a bit of an outlier on the record—it’s what sounds most like us live. I had been listening to loads of stuff like Omni and stuff like Elastica—this wave of what everyone was calling post-punk bands at the time. I wrote guitars for this one, everything, I got carried away.” JS: “I think you came up with some really interesting, busy basslines for this one.” **“Witness (Can I Get A?)”** JS: “This predates this lineup and lockdown in terms of the lyrics and the bassline. It was sounding quite generic, a post-punk sort of tune from the really early days where we had a couple of jams in late 2019.” RN: “Then, we tried it like the Beastie Boys.” JS: “We wanted to do a hardcore song, but that wasn’t really working either. Then, we did that sort of Suicide drum thing with it. As soon as it went like that, it always reminded me of the start of ‘Doorman’ by slowthai \[and Mura Masa\]. We just wanted a really fun song to close the first side. There’s something about one-minute songs—they are underrated.” **“Land of the Blind”** JS: “Ryan sent this drum-and-bass groove, and I was instantly really smitten with it, and I wrote the lyrics really fast. It’s one which has most of the demo vocals on it. We were in lockdown and Ryan got his girlfriend—who clearly can sing, but she doesn’t consider herself a singer and doesn’t perform or anything—to do all the backing vocals. They just come out so human. If a proper singer had done them, it wouldn’t have sounded right. It really shaped the song.” **“Quarantine the Sticks”** JS: “This was one of the last songs written for the record, another one that joins the narrative. The basslines are really good on this—they dance between different keys, which makes it really unnerving, and it’s got Billy Nomates \[post-punk singer-songwriter Tor Maries\] doing backing vocals on it as well. It’s quite melodic and quite a strange melody, and my voice wasn’t really holding it on \[its\] own. But there was a hint of something there, so we asked Tor to sing on it.” **“Tall Poppies”** RN: “It started with that simple bassline and then it just went on—I looped that bassline. I would send James a loop and then, about an hour later, I would get back something fucking epic, like ‘Tall Poppies.’ There was no craftsmanship on my part; it was basically like handing James a trowel and some bricks and he comes back with a finished wall.” JS: “There was something about the motor of the bassline. The first thing I got from it was that it felt quite reflective and suspensive. Off the back of that, I had that spark for telling the story of this person’s whole life, from cradle to grave.” **“Pour Another”** JS: “This was one of the harder ones. Ali \[Chant, producer\] didn’t really like this one. He kept pushing it away, but we were adamant it was good and there was something in it. ” RN: “I wanted to have a bit of a Happy Mondays sort of thing. The lyrics are funny, and the humor carried it in that way.” **“100% Endurance”** JS: “We thought the album was probably going to end on ‘Tall Poppies,’ and then, at the last-minute, Ryan sent this new demo over and it became ‘100% Endurance.’ I wrote all the lyrics to a WhatsApp video loop of it playing on Ryan’s speaker in the studio. That is the audio we used on the recording. The first take I recorded on my computer that I sent to Ryan. It felt like we had finally figured out the album, which was interesting because when we went in that first week, we thought we might come away with four or five tracks and then see where we were at later in the year. We didn’t expect to finish the album in a week.”

Ever since 2013, when Sons of Kemet saxophonist Shabaka Hutchings first leaped onstage to join synth-and-drums duo Soccer96 in a spontaneous explosion of pure groove, the three musicians have been honing their gale-force attack. Dubbed The Comet Is Coming, the trio—Hutchings, drummer Max Hallett, and synth player Dan Leavers—first laid out its double-barreled jazz-dance fusion on 2016’s *Channel the Spirits*, then gave free rein to more psychedelic urges on 2019’s *Trust in the Lifeforce of the Deep Mystery* and *The Afterlife*, which followed six months later. With *Hyper-Dimensional Expansion Beam*, The Comet Is Coming delivers its biggest, most expansive record yet. Part of that might stem from recording at Peter Gabriel’s Real World Studios, where the three musicians tracked four days of improv sessions that Hallett and Leavers subsequently reworked into these 11 powerhouse jams. In contrast to the previous two albums’ star-gazing tendencies, *Hyper-Dimensional Expansion Beam* unleashes a focused blast of energy with the opening “CODE,” with Hutchings meting out stabbing arpeggios over the rhythm section’s heads-down stomp. They expand their range with every track. “TECHNICOLOUR” is a slinky detour into liquid funk, and “LUCID DREAMER” drifts on a cloud of ambient soul; album highlight “PYRAMIDS” taps the tunnel-vision intensity of early-2000s techno. “ATOMIC WAVE DANCE” is another big one, with spiky sax riffs set against jagged arpeggios and a driving 4/4 beat, while on “AFTERMATH,” they pursue krautrock down an almost ambient path. And listeners pining for the last albums’ offworld vibes will find an escape pod in the form of “ANGEL OF DARKNESS,” an unrestrained journey to their cosmic-jazz limits. The Comet Is Coming has never sounded tighter—or freer—than they do here.

When Melbourne indie rock trio Camp Cope first emerged on the alt-rock scene with their self-titled debut LP, guitarist/vocalist Georgia Maq, bassist Kelly-Dawn Hellmrich, and drummer Sarah Thompson were celebrated for taking down the inherent misogyny in the independent music scene. (“The Opener” from 2018’s *How to Socialise and Make Friends* tackled the subject directly and memorably.) Now on their third LP, the band has ventured into folkier territory: The midtempo “Blue” is a depressed confessional supported by ascendent, Chicks-style pop harmonies, while “Jealous” mirrors the oppressive sentimentality that follows a breakup, with Maq’s voice feeling out all the contours of her fractured refrain, a weeping “Oh, no.” The title track, “Running With the Hurricane,” is a fierce surprise: a bluesy, emo-adjacent shout-along single stuffed to the brim with the oppressive rush of a crush: “I get so bored thinking about anyone else!” Thankfully, it doesn’t sound like it.

This album was made entirely on Wurundjeri & Boonwurrung country, which we are grateful to live and work upon, we pay our respects to elders past & present.

Unfold, the lost follow-up album to Melody’s Echo Chamber’s self-titled debut, will now be available on LP. In their unexpurgated and unvarnished states, sometimes almost finished and sometimes in fragments, Unfold’s seven tracks demonstrate a splurge of righteous creation cut off at an inopportune moment and preserved like the ruins of Pompeii.

Ostensibly, the sun is shining on Two Door Cinema Club. Heralded by lead single “Wonderful Life,” their fifth album is called *Keep On Smiling*, and its artwork features a vibrantly illustrated beachside scene. It’s an upbeat mood enhanced by plenty of the music here. The Bangor trio continues to find fresh ways to decorate a light base of indie guitar pop with strands of funk, electro, and disco. Recalling early singles “Something Good Can Work” and “What You Know” with its hurtling riffs and ebullient bounce, “Wonderful Life” carries an indelible chorus that counsels letting go of anger. “Everybody’s Cool” is four minutes of glimmering disco escapism, and the striding funk of “Blue Light” celebrates hard-won freedom and change. That spirit is partly a product of the times, with many of the songs written during the early months of 2021. Constraining in so many ways, lockdown did at least offer the band the chance to work without some of the anxieties of deadlines and schedules. “The whole world wasn’t completely open at this point, and I guess we weren’t under serious pressure to do a record from anyone,” bassist Kevin Baird tells Apple Music. “The world had stopped setting targets. We were feeling the same sort of human condition that everyone else was feeling, like, well, whatever, let’s just get through the next couple of months and do something that\'s like, ‘Well, why the hell not?’ Why don’t I learn to bake some bread? Why don’t we just go and pass around some ideas and write a song?” Much of the record then came together with live dates penciled in the diary and a sense that the world was finally beginning to open up again. But if *Keep On Smiling*’s brightness is the sound of a band excited to be emerging back into the sunlight after the horrors of the pandemic, it naturally carries some scars and bruises. Liberation and relief have come at a cost, and it’s hard not to discern COVID’s effects imprinted on lines such as “We\'re having our cake/And eating the big slice/We’ve got the hunger/Without the taste” (“Blue Light”). Edging towards soft-rock balladry, “High” finds singer/guitarist Alex Trimble simmering with frustration as he rues disappeared days and tries to wriggle free of a situation that won’t let him be his true self. On the head-nodding electro-rock of “Lucky,” good fortune is something that can dissipate and break down quickly like so much of modern life—so enjoy it while you can. “We’ve always been at our best when, on the surface, it comes across as extremely bubblegum optimistic, but at the same time, there is a much darker tongue-in-cheek layer beneath,” says Baird. “You can choose to stay on the surface—upbeat music, colorful titles—and escape the crazy world that we live in today. At the same time, if you want to dig deeper, our message is a little bit like the lunatics have taken over the asylum and all there is left to do is smile—perhaps through gritted teeth.”

Once, New York City’s Interpol was thought of as the progenitor of the early-2000s post-punk revival, known for their ability to distill vintage sounds and morph them into nostalgic innovations. But a couple decades, endless world tours, and international success can change a few things. *The Other Side of Make-Believe* is singer/bassist Paul Banks, guitarist Daniel Kessler, and drummer Sam Fogarino’s seventh studio album (recorded with their longtime collaborator Alan Moulder, and their first time working with producer Flood), their first written remotely. It is also an evolution for the band, who made room to experiment with piano-forward songwriting (“Toni,” “Something Changed”); huge, layered drums (“Renegade Hearts”); mathy time signatures (“Into the Night”); and experimental bass (“Passenger”). It’s Interpol like you’ve never heard them before. Thematically, the album—and its title—reflects the unstable status quo of modernity, its optimistic qualities and its detrimental ones. “I\'m very fascinated with musing on the human imagination and our proclivity to come up with stories to make sense of reality,” Banks tells Apple Music. “On the one hand, that\'s beautiful, distinguishes us from other species, and allows all of fiction and film and art, this abstract thinking as a way to wrestle chaos into sense. But I feel like there’s something of a downside to it—self-delusion and self-deception that takes over with reality is too cold and frightening. The world we live in right now, there’s a lot of tension between what is true and what is false.” Below, Banks walks Apple Music through Interpol’s seventh studio album, track by track. **“Toni”** “‘Toni’ is one of two songs that Daniel wrote with a piano as the core. It was actually one of the songs that we wrote remotely, then we got together for in-person sessions: 10-day, two-week stretches of just jamming all day. ‘Toni’ was a song that really took shape in one of those live sessions. We got Daniel mic’d up on a piano and had to make a decision: Are we going to make this a rock song? Is this going to have electric bass and electric guitar? Or is it just going to use sound effects? We decided we were going to use traditional instrumentation, and what it turned out to be is fun. It felt like a natural beginning to a record.“ **“Fables”** “This one has a very fun drumbeat. What Sam does on the drums is probably one of my favorite elements of the record. And I love that it\'s not in a hurry. The world was so messed up while we were writing this record, with the pandemic. Some of these songs feel hopeful, and those themes of resilience and strength and human ingenuity felt more appropriate for me to write about. \'Fables\' is one of those songs that has a message of construction rather than destruction, which I think would often characterize my lyrics.” **“Into the Night”** “It was a real challenge to work with Daniel\'s strange time signature with this. It’s a 13-beat bar and sometimes it\'s a 15-beat or a 13-beat loop. Trying to write a bassline and a vocal to what Daniel had done was really cerebral. Daniel’s part had this great Zeppelin swag to it. Or, like, The Mars Volta, this real hot-blooded thing. It came about in a nice organic way, all around and lyrically. It\'s one of my favorites and it has an emotional payoff that I\'ve hoped to achieve. I don\'t know if we always do, but this song does.” **“Mr. Credit”** “It’s a fever dream about relationships and power dynamics. That one is odd. The first-person character is not to be trusted in that song.“ **“Something Changed”** “\[‘Something Changed’ and ‘Toni’\] weren’t written as partners, but they were the two songs based around piano. I think it got some people talking like, \'Is this going to be a piano record? What\'s going on? Is this the new Interpol sound?\' And no, it\'s part of the new Interpol sound, but it\'s not all of it. I just feel like that was a good idea. I also think both those songs sound mature and very self-fulfilled.“ **“Renegade Hearts”** “This is one song that Flood had not been 100% sold on what we were trying to do. He felt like the song could do something else, and that focused on drums. He wanted to explore different rhythmic expressions to underpin the chord progression. So he and Sam worked closely and came up with what you hear. It was no easy or simple task. Flood put in work on that song. It\'s still one of my favorites, I just wouldn\'t have anticipated it was going to go where it went.” **“Passenger”** “As the song ends, you hear Daniel’s guitar switch from a verse to a chorus again as it fades, and I think that change is one of the most beautiful things that he\'s written. It’s a very effective guitar line. I love how the vocal and Daniel’s guitar diverge from the verse to the chorus. I hear it like a flower blossoming. I hear this weird Sabbath-y hip-hop influence, a sort of scary drum loop. If you start that drum loop two beats later, it becomes a bit more of a conventional rock thing. And it was just one of these times where it was like, \'Guys, turn it off and listen to it from this downbeat.\'” **“Greenwich”** “That\'s another one of those times where Daniel\'s guitar riff is very intellectual and strange. I wanted to find some swaggy way to do a bassline over it, which I think really worked out, actually. It\'s one of my favorite songs on the record. I love the chorus. It is very sunny. The post-chorus was difficult: Right now, you hear a male and a female voice in the outro and they\'re doing something that\'s quite low-key, satisfied, and content.” **“Gran Hotel”** “We had a chorus going into rehearsals and we had the intro and we had most of the music, but that was it. When we had Daniel\'s guitar and we had the drums and it was time for me to deliver the bass, the engineer Richie Kennedy, I think he said it literally as blunt as \'Do you have anything else?\' It sparked something in me. We rolled another take, and I wrote the bassline on the fly. The entire outro happened in 45 minutes after everyone had gone home one day; it’s just a new bassline and two new guitar parts. It was a pretty cool moment.” **“Big Shot City”** “It’s one of Daniel\'s coolest riffs on the record; it evokes the choreographed waving of a matador\'s red flag that they use to tease a bull. It evokes this velvety substance to me, blowing in the wind. We had a lot of discussion about how the song should be laid down. Daniel was very committed to the idea of the bassline staying in one lane until the outro, and I think that makes the payoff even more special.” **“Go Easy (Palermo)”** “Daniel’s working title was ‘Palermo.’ I wanted the bass to sound like The Cure, where the bassline unto itself is something you might want to hum. I don’t know if I accomplished that, but it was what I was aspiring to. I used to envision an audience singing along, and it was really a profound thing. I regret indulging in that. It felt like a premonition, singing that song and having an audience singing it back. It would always give me literal chills. The lyric was very resonant for me, this idea of going easy, meaning to be kind to yourself on your journey.”

If fate didn’t quite ordain the circumstances for Interpol’s seventh album, it was at least fortunate that the band had happily concluded their Marauder cycle on stage in front of 30 thousand-odd Peruvian fans. Rather than be sent scrambling like so many other musicians on tour or promoting new music, when lockdown clamped in March 2020, Interpol quickly got into a productive mood. Coming from a group whose early work was characterised by Polish knife-wielders and incarcerated serial killers, you might expect Interpol’s pandemic record to be an emotional tar pit — doubly so, given the presence of towering producer-engineer duo Flood and Moulder on the boards. But Banks felt the call to push in a “counterbalancing” direction, with paeans to mental resilience and the quiet power of going easy. “The nobility of the human spirit is to recover and rebound,” he says. “Yeah, I could focus on how fucked everything is, but I feel now is the time when being hopeful is necessary, and a still-believable emotion within what makes Interpol Interpol.”

The contradiction of Bill Callahan’s 2010s output is how an artist seemingly so stoic and withdrawn could be so completely in love with everyday life. His performances get more nuanced and his metaphorical power richer every album, whether it’s the image of his infant daughter suspended angelically above the ground because everyone wants to carry her around (“First Bird”), or the way a horse inside a house reminds him of the way we have to ”bow our heads to get in and out of what we’re living in”—a mix of American surrealism and Buddhist humility he can safely call his own. And for a singer who once said that the only time he felt part of the world is when he was alone in his room (Smog’s “Ex-Con”), now he can’t wait to get out with the stroller for another trip around the neighborhood (“Natural Information”) with a horn section and backup singers in tow. Peace, love, and fun—and evidently hard-won.

From the beautiful to the jarring, intrepid explorer Callahan charts a passage through all kinds of territory, pitting dreams of dreams against dreams of reality. When he makes it back to us, his old friends 'n acquaintances, we are reminded how much of a world it can be out there - and in here as well, where we live everyday.

The vibey, moody LA rock quartet (guitarist/vocalists Emily Kokal and Theresa Wayman, drummer/vocalist Stella Mozgawa, and bassist/vocalist Jenny Lee Lindberg) formed in 2004, albeit with a slightly altered lineup—which is to say, its members, now into their forties, have been playing together for nearly half their lives. Throughout that time, Warpaint’s hallmark was their electric live chemistry, its members known to shut their eyes, zone out, and jam with cosmic synchronicity. Their fourth full-length arrives after a six-year hiatus, during which its members pursed their respective solo projects and otherwise settled into their adult lives. But their inexorable bond brought them back together, although this time, songwriting and recording transpired mostly over remote Zoom sessions in makeshift home studios. Elements of the thousand-yard-stare desert rock and wallowy post-punk of their early records remain (the downcast “Trouble,” the lurching “Proof”), but there’s a newfound warmth to *Radiate Like This* inspired by motherhood, stability, and friendships that have stood the test of time and touring. Think chilled-out grooves for road trips to Joshua Tree, laidback love songs about sun and rain and eternity (and the occasional request to send nudes).

Listeners expecting the stylish soul-funk of Sault’s 2020 albums *Untitled (Rise)* and *Untitled (Black Is)* might be momentarily thrown by the cosmic choral-and-orchestral suite of *Air*, but thematically, it fits: Like all their music, *Air* is, at heart, a study of Black artistic traditions, in this case early-’70s Alice Coltrane (“Solar”), the soulful ambience of Stevie Wonder’s *Journey Through the Secret Life of Plants* (“Heart”), even a little of the modern-classical side of artists like Anthony Braxton. And as sci-fi as the sound can seem, the core feeling is one of uplifting Earth—a message confirmed as equally by the skyward arc of the strings as by the prayer-like recitation on “Time Is Precious.” Or, as producer Inflo tells Apple Music, not fantasy, but “art in reality”—air.

“Just to be able to get together and make some music was enough of an impetus to pour lots of enthusiasm into recording and writing,” Hot Chip’s Alexis Taylor tells Apple Music. “We had so much pent-up energy that came out in the recordings.” The 11 tracks that make up the group’s eighth album see Hot Chip pushing further into thumping, danceable territory on the infectious “Down” and “Miss the Bliss,” while other numbers like “The Evil That Men Do” and “Out of My Depth” touch on a new vein of introspection and social commentary. “We were responding to an uncertain time,” guitarist Al Doyle says. “We were hoping that, with these tracks, we’d all be able to come together and enjoy the music once more.” Read on for Taylor and Doyle’s in-depth thoughts on the album, track by track. **“Down”** Alexis Taylor: “This was the first track we made, as Joe \[Goddard\] came into the studio with a sample from Universal Togetherness Band’s track ‘More Than Enough’ at the start of our session, and we all got to work right away responding to it. The song summarizes what it feels like to be back together with your bandmates and having fun at work, in the studio.” Al Doyle: “It came together very quickly. Everybody was throwing themselves at different instruments, and it didn’t really change from the original demo that we made in two days. It became a touchstone for a lot of the other songs on the record because it has this infectiously raw and raucous energy to it.” **“Eleanor”** AT: “‘Eleanor’ was written towards the end of the album. We were responding to Joe playing a few chords on the CS-80 synth in the studio, and I wrote the words right there and then. We can usually all tell when a song we’re making is going to be a single—we had the same feeling with ‘Over and Over’ and ‘Ready for the Floor.’ There’s an excitement about throwing in as many good ideas as you can and helping to make that single happen. This song was a bag full of hooks and we’re all very proud of it.” **“Freakout / Release”** AT: “Joe had an idea that, the whole way through this song, a bass riff should continue to play, going from loud to quiet and vice versa, in the same way that ‘Seven Nation Army’ by The White Stripes has a riff that drives the whole setup. That led to us getting the instrumental ingredients and the explosive moments of the track together, but we struggled with the rest of it.” AD: “We knew there was a really good song, but we couldn’t figure out how to find the best version of it. Then we had the idea to see what Soulwax would do if they were given the song, and they ultimately came up with something that we all really liked.” AT: “The lyrics are about people being stuck and locked down, and perhaps they’re freaking out at home. But we’re also talking about a moment of release, a moment of being able to freak out publicly with other people in a crowd, and we were projecting forward to when we could do that together by playing this song.” **“Broken”** AT: “I was feeling emotionally quite exhausted at this point in our writing period, and I had a few friends of mine who were going through difficult times in their personal lives too. I wanted to sum up that feeling of approaching desperation and trying to find the language to express yourself, since then somebody might be able to support you. It came together quite quickly in the studio, which was exciting because we all contributed to it as we were recording. Musically, we were thinking of George McCrae, Robyn, and ABBA.” **“Not Alone”** AT: “This was, perhaps, the last song we wrote on the album. Joe had recorded this very heavily processed vocal sound at home, and the words I’m singing in response to him are partly about having your outlook changed by collaborating with somebody new and also about questioning the morals and values of those you might have once idolized. It’s all pretty hidden away in the song, but it was what I was thinking through at the time.” **“Hard to Be Funky” (feat. Lou Hayter)** AT: “I thought of this as a solo track first, before playing it to the band. I came up with the demo and I was imagining Bill Callahan singing it in his low voice, since when I think of giving a track to someone else, I can explore a different facet of how I write. The track is playing with the idea of what it means to be funky and how that is intrinsically linked to the idea of sexiness.” AD: “We collaborated with Lou Hayter quite spontaneously, since she only lives around the corner from the studio. We wanted somebody else’s voice and perspective on the chorus, and we knew she would do a great job, so we called her in. She nailed it all in one afternoon.” **“Time”** AD: “‘Time’ went through a hell of a lot of iterations. Joe and I worked on it a bit as a separate venture, and then Alexis had this very catchy chorus that came out as a response to that. We ultimately let it be something that was quite dance-floor-oriented, since we wanted it to be representative of that side of Hot Chip.” **“Miss the Bliss”** AD: “Joe had been working on this for a while. The track has a choral aspect of group vocals, and he decided that it would be fun to get his brother to come in and do some of the backing for it. Having him in the studio was fantastic because he’s a wonderful spirit that we have known for years.” AT: “Joe’s kids and my daughter and my younger brother and various other friends joined in, too, to create a choir of voices. The song is all about offering support to each other and encouraging people not to be afraid to reach out if they need to.” **“The Evil That Men Do” (feat. Cadence Weapon)** AT: “We have written songs that are political before, but nothing quite so overt as this. The song is telling men that they need to recognize and take responsibility for their own behavior and the behavior of those who came before them. We can’t ignore the atrocities that continue to go on around us. We had Cadence Weapon opening for us on tour in America and Canada years ago, and we got in touch to ask him to add a verse for us based on the themes I was writing about. What he came up with was perfect.” **“Guilty”** AD: “This was a satisfying one to write, as I was just testing my bass guitar in the studio one day and I played the main four chords that we ended up using in this track.” AT: “It sounded really good, and we responded to Al’s bassline with the other elements of the song. It felt like mid-’80s Prince musically, and I was trying to write about the things that go on in people’s heads while they’re asleep—how they can compartmentalize their thoughts to be so different from who they are when they’re awake.” **“Out of My Depth”** AT: “I wrote most of this track at home on the guitar and then came straight into the studio so we could all build on it from there. That was a good way of starting a song because it didn’t already foreground a potential style. We ended up coming up with something quite psychedelic then, with a krautrock feel to it. It’s a good song to end on, as it summarizes a lot of the themes of the record: telling yourself that if you’re approaching a place that’s emotionally bleak, there are ways to get help and get yourself out of that headspace of feeling trapped. It’s a necessary message to end on.”

When it came to making their second album, *Anywhere but Here*, Sorry wanted to home in on the tricks they’d learned while touring their 2020 debut, *925*. Live, the songs from that record had been pulled in exciting new directions, and the five-piece led by North Londoners Asha Lorenz and Louis O’Bryen wanted to make sure their new material was approached with a similar sense of possibility. “We did the first album more in the studio, and then, when we played it live, it sounded way bigger, and we were like, ‘It’s annoying. We didn’t capture the new bits from playing live,’” Lorenz tells Apple Music. “That’s where this record was born: We wanted to make sure we got everything out of the song.” It’s a process that lends *Anywhere but Here* its sense of exploration, each song feeling part of the same piece while traversing different genres. To that end, the album takes in fuzzy ’90s rock, minor-chord orchestral folk, indie-disco darkness, and twisted ballads, all unified by the recurring themes of love and loss. “It’s a lot about learning to let go of things and trying to see the humor in sad things,” says Lorenz. “It’s kind of a second coming-of-age.” Here, Lorenz and O’Bryen take us through it, track by track. **“Let the Lights On”** Louis O’Bryen: “This was probably the last song we wrote for the album. We knew that the album needed a bit more energy in places, so we went into it with that in mind. It made sense to put at the start because it’s like opening credits for the album.” Asha Lorenz: “It feels a bit separate from the rest of the record, so it was nice to have that. And it starts the record with ‘I love you,’ so it’s kind of funny.” **“Tell Me”** LO’B: “This is a song that me and Ash wrote the parts for separately. It was two songs originally, and we liked sections of each of those songs, and the lyrics of those two songs worked well together, so we merged them together and played it with the band loads. It’s about reflecting on a relationship or something that has impacted you. I see it like when you think back on the more fiery aspects of a relationship, maybe not toxic but maybe just that kind of side of things. It’s reflecting on that stuff.” **“Key to the City”** AL: “Louis had a guitar riff that was the verse. He played it, and then all the lyrics just flew out. We demoed it, and then we knew that we wanted to put it on the album. It’s a sad, fuck-you kind of song.” **“Willow Tree”** AL: “This is more like a lullaby. It started with a guitar riff, and then me and Louis demoed it but wanted it to sound more like a Kinks-y kind of song. We’d written all the parts before, and then we got the band to play it, and it took on a new life. I imagine it as a little character on the flute or something. This one has a character inside of it.” LO’B: “We wanted the album to ebb and flow and make sure that it went on the right journey and space, the light and darkness out in a good balance—that was important to us.” **“There’s So Many People That Want to Be Loved”** AL: “This was a song I had lyrics for before, and then me and Louis did a demo of it that was really stripped back, just guitars and vocals. But then, when we brought it to the band, we wanted it to be like ‘Perfect Day’ by Lou Reed, and it’s also inspired by the Daniel Johnston song ‘True Love Will Find You in the End.’ We wanted it to be a good balance of humor and not giving up—it’s sad but also that you can see yourself in all the people in the choruses. We added some strings and stuff at the end that made it a bit cooler. We listened to a lot of David Bowie and tried to incorporate a lot of shit from that as well.” **“I Miss the Fool”** AL: “We demoed this around the same time that we did ‘There’s So Many People…’—they were kind of written together. Louis added some nice string bits in the chorus, and we built it up from the main lyric, and then they added some cool stuff, like the opera sample bits. It was written in a similar style to how we wrote songs on the first album, in terms of the process.” **“Step”** LO’B: “We wrote this in the studio that \[record label\] Domino have in Wandsworth. Ash was playing drums, and we were just jamming out, and Campbell \[Baum, bassist\] came and played saxophone. We went back and forth with this song, but I think something about it just stuck with us. We’d go back and listen to it, and it sounded like it had to be on the album. We fell in and out of love with it a bit, but then, in the end, it became an important song for the album.” **“Closer”** AL: “This was written around the same time as ‘Step.’ It’s a bit more grunge-y, a more indie kind of vibe. We wanted to have lots of different types of songs on the album, and we picked the genre that we thought would be the best vehicle for the song to drive.’” LO’B: “We didn’t take playing live that seriously at the start. It was secondary to recording. But now, we see them as both as important as each other—and that really influenced parts of the album.” **“Baltimore”** AL: “We started this one in the Wandsworth studio. We had a live take, but we hadn’t really edited it, and then we brought it to James Dring, who we produced the last record with, because it felt like we needed a bit more time on it. We organized all the guitars at the end and added a few new guitar bits and some synths and organized it so that it kind of went on a proper trip.” **“Hem of the Fray”** AL: “This was written around the vocals and the riff, but then, when he brought it to the band, it took on a new vibe. Then Louis added some sample bits that sound quite dark and Underworld-y. It’s got a cool atmosphere to it, and I think it’s captured quite well by Ali \[Chant, producer\].” **“Quit While You’re Ahead”** AL: “This was written in the first bit of the lockdown. I went to Louis’ house to stay there for a week, and we wrote this. It was kind of a dark time, but I was making it a bit comedic using the catchphrase of the title. It’s kind of a sad song and taking the piss out of some catchphrases. It’s just funny. You can’t really quit while you’re ahead when you’re ahead, because you’re ahead.” **“Screaming in the Rain”** LO’B: “This was one that me and Ash wrote apart and then worked together on it, and it all worked really well together. This is one of the songs that we’re still trying to nail, I think. In my mind, this song has loads of different characters which it could be. The one on the album, the character is a bit sad, and then the character that I think we’ll do for the next one is a bit happier, but more of an alien or something.” **“Again”** AL: “We really like the Portishead track ‘The Rip,’ the way it holds onto that note and it’s like a wave that doesn’t stop. We wanted a track to hold onto a different note—the idea of holding onto the note and you’re wanting it to change, but it doesn’t really change. I think that’s a lot of what the album was about: different forms of repetition but not thinking, at the time, that you’re getting a different outcome. But then you are, and time is moving forward, and we just have to go through these things in life. It’s just a shedding of the skin. We put it at the end because it sheds the whole skin of the album, and I’m sure all these things will happen again, but with different lights on them.”

London once again features as a prominent character on Sorry’s second studio album, Anywhere But Here. "If our first version of London in 925 was innocent and fresh-faced, then this is rougher around the edges. It's a much more haggard place," Louis says. Earwigged conversations, text messages, snatched speech recorded underground; the city’s discarded words fed into the lyrics which map the experience of urban life on a young and frustrated generation. Produced alongside Portishead’s Adrian Utley in Bristol, the result is an angular, acerbic, bittersweet triumph.

In 2005, Swedish singer/songwriter Jens Lekman released *Oh You’re So Silent Jens*, a collection of the songs he’d written from 2003 up until that point. Filled with wry if gently despondent observations and potent melodies, the album placed him among indie pop’s upper tier of troubadours—but in 2011 it was taken out of print, vanishing some of his most beloved songs from availability. *The Cherry Trees Are Still In Blossom*, an update of *Silent* that blends bits of those early-2000s recordings with newly laid-down tracks, breathes new energy into songs that already sparkled because of their tightly knotted lyrics and Lekman’s deadpan yet melodic delivery. *Cherry* warmly updates Lekman’s earliest material in a way that allows longtime listeners to reflect on his two decades of musical growth while also inviting newer audiences to listen to cuts like the gently undulating “Maple Leaves” (here, with a live string quartet swapped in for the original’s sample-heavy track) and the brightly world-weary “Black Cab” on endless repeat.

All my friends were playing in these bass-guitar-drum bands,” speaks Jens Lekman, casting his mind back over twenty years to his first rudimentary experiments with sampling using his father’s old cassette recorder, and an instinct to create music that would set him far apart from his Swedish pop peers. “I’m going to sound like Scott Walker. But I’m going to do it in my bedroom.” Works of sweeping, maximalist, orchestral wonder sung in a sumptuous tenor, weaving lifts from obscure fleamarket vinyl records with by turns burningly romantic and mordantly funny true-life tales from the sleepy-shadowy suburbs of Gothenburg – Lekman’s early songs come from a different time, a different place. An era when the internet was young, limitless and disruptive, sample culture was turning music inside out, and anything felt possible. After initially finding an audience through peer-to-peer file sharing sites, Lekman signed to Secretly Canadian Records in 2003, and went on to release a slew of cherished material, including three cult limited-edition EPs – Maple Leaves, Rocky Dennis and Julie – later collected on the 2005 compilation album Oh You’re So Silent Jens. His DIY fantasias found their fullest and most celebrated form in 2007 on his second album proper, the exquisite Night Falls Over Kortedala – Lekman’s self-professed “dream record”. It went to number one in Sweden and was later hailed as one of the 200 best albums of the 2000s by Pitchfork, as well as one of the top 100 albums of the 21st century so far by The Guardian. Now, like Oh You’re So Silent Jens, it no longer exists in its original form. Oh You’re So Silent Jens enigmatically disappeared in 2011; Night Falls Over Kortedala followed suit in early 2022. Lekman’s impulse for giving old music fresh life and context has led him to remake the records under new names, each delicately positioned in dialogue with the past – the same albums, just different. The Cherry Trees Are Still In Blossom and The Linden Trees Are Still In Blossom are a pair of lovingly and painstakingly assembled reduxes each keeping the same core tracklisting, spirit and source material as the originals, but blending brand new versions of some tracks, in part or in whole, together with many tracks left largely as they were. Both records are fleshed out with rare, previously unreleased, and even previously unfinished old songs, as well as other contemporaneous material such as cassette diaries. On The Cherry Trees, two of Lekman’s best-loved early breakout singles are completely reimagined – ‘Maple Leaves’ as a tender ballad burnished with warm strings; tragi-comic illegal taxi ride to oblivion ‘Black Cab’ in two different versions, a handsome full band pop song and a gentle acoustic lullaby. The Linden Trees repackages all the true-life tales, magic, and mystery of Night Falls for a new age, yet in wholly familiar form, from the joyous ‘The Opposite of Hallelujah’ to hilariously uplifting missive ‘A Postcard to Nina’ and open-hearted love-song ‘Your Arms Around Me’. Taken together, the new albums form a sort of belated farewell to Lekman’s formative days as a bedroom Scott Walker, panning for sample gold in stacks of vintage vinyl. Albeit not a farewell to the original albums themselves, which will live on in fans’ record collections, and perhaps illicit corners of the internet. Spread to the wind. “I feel like these new records are like portals that can lead you to the old records if you want,” Lekman reflects. “I think that they can lead you to another time and a place, where you could work with music in a different way.”