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.
Damien Jurado, Reggae Film Star
The songwriter’s 18th LP is a haunted concept album that brings to life the tired hearts, souls, and minds of characters based in a distant, perhaps parallel, past.
Martin Courtney, Magic Sign
The Real Estate vocalist’s second solo LP can coast by in one moment before jolting you back to bygone days with a sharp turn of phrase or instrumental U-turn.
Wire, Not About to Die
For Wire fanatics, this often-coarse collection of Chairs Missing/154-era demos is a necessity.
Van Etten shares how visions of a fiery apocalypse—and The Sandlot—inspired her dark(ish) sixth album.
The duo’s third album carries a palpable maturity and heft, a natural progression from their last two releases.
Her fifth studio album finds Charli cherry-picking her favorite pop tropes and refracting them through her own singular lens, exercising restraint while doing so.
In our latest digital cover story, Britt Daniel shares how growing up hearing classic rock on the radio informed the band’s tenth album, Lucifer on the Sofa.
Barnett’s third solo record intermittently taps into her strengths, but it scans like a transitional record.
Too much of Lorde’s third album is carefree in attitude but too musically nondescript to leave an impression.
Eilish’s sophomore album looks inward to reckon with the aftershocks of her breakneck ascent.
Nicolas Jaar and Dave Harrington crystallize what made their debut so impactful while offering enough new detours to avoid retread status.
Michelle Zauner’s third album scans as a breakthrough, even though this is a band well past the breakthrough stage.
Bieber’s latest is a confident and disarmingly likable pop album.
The material on Mike Hadreas’ most recent LP doesn’t always call for the fidgety approach applied to it here.
“Whole New Mess” rips the sheen and pageantry away from the “All Mirrors” tracklist.
Killer Mike and El-P’s alchemy somehow sounds both pointedly different and substantially unchanged.
The fourth album from The 1975 is deeply troubled, bloated, and frequently brilliant.
The Strokes’ sixth album doesn’t disrupt their complicated pattern of interesting failures and boring successes.
In many ways, a classic Destroyer record: cavernous and twisty and rich with atmosphere.
A deeply wounded album that strengthens the steely fusion of trip-hop and R&B she mastered on her debut.
Jeff Tweedy’s relative calm in the face of turmoil is the defining force underlying the record.
Central to it all is a Justin Vernon with an altered disposition, more confident and looser—at times, he even sounds content.
“Anima” goes to great lengths to differentiate itself from Radiohead’s oeuvre.
Paak isn’t making bad songs, but his adherence to formula is beginning to define him.
“Our Endless Numbered Days” houses many of the most elegant, striking songs of Sam Beam’s career.
While Girlpool’s last album was sugary indie pop-punk, their new one paints in broader strokes.
It’s a fascinating bridge from the moody indie pop of Van Etten’s previous efforts to something a bit thornier, denser, more rewarding.
There isn’t a song here that couldn’t soundtrack the movie trailer for some teen tearjerker.
“Bottle It In”‘s pace is unhurried, strutting to a destination without much concern for how long it takes to get there.
The organic production has a real pulse to it, which gives the songs a spirited, fluid underpinning that feels uniquely suited to Noname’s reserved but dexterous delivery.
The intentions here are environmentally noble, but the songs collectively feel like a minor mood piece rather than the cohesive statement the band aspires to.
In a summer where scores of hip-hop heavyweights failed to whittle their work into a concise artistic statement, the sins of “Queen” are hardly glaring or unforgivable.
“Liberation” resurrects Xtina’s considerable presence as a vocalist, though her attempts at navigating the modern pop landscape still verge on aimless.
While Kanye’s lyrical performances are a marked improvement over his slapdash “ye” verses, “Kids See Ghosts” works best when he allows room for Cudi to shine.
“Love Is Dead” is saddled with a familiarity that’s as limiting as it is endearing.
“7” may be the most definitive—and enjoyable—break yet from the preconceptions of what a Beach House record should sound like.
For their second full-length (and debut on Woodsist), the Detroit folk-rock quartet stopped thinking too much and just went to the beach instead.
More a family reunion for the Cincinnati-bred band than an actual festival, Homecoming was a wild party with occasionally tender moments.
“Sex & Food” is at turns both understated and colorful, confident in what it wants to be but not afraid to wander into uncharted territory.
“Twin Fantasy” showcases Will Toledo sharpening his vision and instincts, marrying the raw passion of his early work with the increasingly impressive sheen of his newest material.