Celebrate our tenth anniversary with the biggest issue we’ve ever made. FLOOD 13 is deluxe, 252-page commemorative edition—a collectible, coffee-table-style volume in a 12″ x 12″ format—packed with dynamic graphic design, stunning photography and artwork, and dozens of amazing artists representing the past, present, and future of FLOOD’s editorial spectrum, while also looking back at key moments and events in our history. Inside, you’ll find in-depth cover stories on Gorillaz and Magdalena Bay, plus interviews with Mac DeMarco, Lord Huron, Wolf Alice, Norman Reedus, The Zombies, Nation of Language, Bootsy Collins, Fred Armisen, Jazz Is Dead, Automatic, Rocket, and many more.
Depeche Mode, Memento Mori: Mexico City
The live album tied to the new-wave icons’ new concert film shows how a lifelong band persists through loss while maturing their dusky music and a deep connection to their audience.
Prince & The Revolution, Around the World in a Day [40th Anniversary Edition]
Besides its crystal-clear sound, the draw for this expanded singles collection is its curios such as the 22-minute “America” and Prince’s serpentine contribution to the We Are the World album.
La Luz, Extra! Extra!
Reworking tracks from 2024’s News of the Universe LP, Shana Cleveland emphasizes themes of change, non-determinism, and acceptance on an EP that aptly feels a little lonely.
Jon Pruett
Their music, which favors beats and atmosphere over songwriting, make them an ideal fit for the dub treatment.
While so much of Callahan’s past songwriting has felt like poetic exercise, this time autobiography shines through.
The record is kind of fascinating in its obsession with the “boogie”—both as a verb and as a musical genre.
Attempts to unpack the legacy of one of Chicago’s favorite sons could veer into a novel-length investigation—but an overview of what made him an essential voice is on Technicolor display here.
Pratt’s melodies hold nary a wasted chord or unwanted phrase.
Steve Gunn’s latest has more palpable emotion and literary bent than ever before.
Pearls Before Swine’s quasi-historical mystery album is hard to grasp, its songs coming in waves of breath and snippets of sound.
Decades after the mainstream’s punk pivot, Mascis is still the master.
Hair-raising, skin-crawlingly good stuff, if you’re into jammin’ on the one, passin’ the pipe, or just rocking back and forth in a violent trance.
“Wanderer” is a triumph of raw emotion, old direction, and new meaning.
“MITH” feels drawn to the elephant in our nation’s ugly-ass living room.
A 1-2-3-go punk-pop record in the Buzzcocks vein with a nice little bend in the tempo, as if you just got zapped by lightning.
A two-man mixtape of psych, guitar pop, soul power, and good times.
Rhys has an ideal voice for these space-age ballads and cosmic troubadour rambles.
Wooden Shjips are still chasing grace through repetition; they simply have a broader palette to work with this time.
A fuzzy, funky, cosmic party record.
What’s really on display here is Czukay’s maddening restlessness.
Belle and Sebastian are best now not at conjuring melancholy afternoons looking out the window, but at celebratory disco epics that get people dancing on the tables.
The schizophrenic energy of Ought’s early albums is harder to find here, but it’s not gone.
“Live at Lafayette’s Music Room” offers a window into one of the most acclaimed (and equal parts ignored) bands of the 1970s.
