With 232 pages and an expanded 12″ by 12″ format, our biggest print issue yet celebrates the people, places, music, and art of our hometown, including cover features on David Lynch, Nipsey Hussle, Syd, and Phoebe Bridgers’ Saddest Factory Records, plus Brian Wilson, Cuco, Ty Segall, Lord Huron, Remi Wolf, The Doors, the art of RISK, Taz, Estevan Oriol, Kii Arens, and Edward Colver, and so much more.
Saint Etienne, The Night
Over 30 years after their debut, the Vaseline-lensed electro-pop trio still titillates without any consideration of boundaries as they continue their recent shift toward spectral-sounding gravitas.
Daft Punk, Discovery [Interstella 5555 Edition]
Reissued in honor of its complementary anime film’s 20th anniversary, the French house duo’s breakout LP feels like a time capsule for a brief period of pre-9/11 optimism.
The Coward Brothers, The Coward Brothers
Inspired by Christopher Guest’s recent radio play reviving Elvis Costello and T Bone Burnett’s 1985 fictional band, this playful debut album proves that this inside joke still has legs.
A.D. Amorosi
With Basquiat: King Pleasure extending its run in Los Angeles through October, we spoke with the late artist’s sister Jeanine Heriveaux and friend Kenny Scharf about his legacy.
Joining forces with producer Dave Fridmann doesn’t so much surprise as it does add another notch to the nu-jazz saxophonist’s Orion’s belt.
Taken as a conjoined pair of menacing, neo-metal LPs, the aesthetic value of these early-’70s works—newly re-released and sonically punched up—is a meal in and of itself.
Harvey’s first album in seven years is a loosely knotted dreamscape of clanging church bells, thundering drums, and busted-up guitar sounds smoothed over with folk-tronic gauziness.
This collaborative solo record finds the Buena Vista Social Club member at a happy crossroads with his longtime country music influences and something of a freer, silkier sound.
The Scissor Sisters vocalist’s sophomore solo album proves to be an unstoppable force specked with glitter flakes and stardust.
Revisiting the iconic synth-punk duo’s 1988 LP on the occasion of its recent deluxe reissue, Rev recalls how nobody did it like Suicide—except for Bruce Springsteen, briefly.
With his fourth studio album, Archy Marshall painstakingly sculpts lyrics to sound like hastily made emotions—but they mostly come off as refrigerator-magnet wordiness.
Rather than attempting the corny “duets album” trend, this cosmopolitan take on earthen classics is an aptly communal sharing of sociopolitics and human interest rhetoric.
The band pushes through the immediacy of life’s end like they were kicking in a green room door on this statement of mourning, which rages with no time for subtlety.
The soundtrack to Alma Har’el’s 2021 concert film is a magnificent, elastic set of renditions of Dylan’s most beloved (and least played) mini-epics of ache, revenge, and recall.
With breezy R&B melodies and roomy Afrobeat arrangements to guide her, Monáe turns from robotic sci-fi to the earthly influence of Fela Kuti for her latest loll through Wondaland.
Even when highly orchestrated with the help of Burt Bacharach and Hal David, Warwick’s early singles have a certain raw quality to them allowing each song a subtle edginess.
The Goldfrapp vocalist is bound for the dancefloor on her debut solo outing.
On their ninth album, the Malian outfit moves further through their exploratory desert-blues aesthetic by interlocking their groove with the sounds of American country music.
We spoke with Kevin Rowland about the iconic new wave outfit’s first album of original material in over a decade, arriving July 28 via 100% Records.
Capturing Marc Almond and David Ball’s recent reunion tour celebrating 40 years of their debut disc, the pop icons span the distance from the dark electro of their origins to their more recent socially aware songwriting.
With their fourth LP, the D’Addario brothers have moved the needle from the hammy, theatrical rock-outs of their past to something more earnest and plainly emotional.
To celebrate its 20-year anniversary, this reissue package includes a 27-song live set from 2003—as well as the remastered sounds of a scabby record that all but blew out your CD player.
On their first record in 24 years, Tracey Thorn and Ben Watt balance the bedsit-melancholic intimacy of their earliest character studies with the chill club music of their later work.