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.
The Weeknd, Hurry Up Tomorrow
This hypnotic, 85-minute opus which Abel Tesfaye claims will be the final statement from his long-running moniker may be his biggest bonfire to his vanities—that is, until it flames out.
MIKE, Showbiz!
The NYC-based rapper’s ninth solo album toes the line between lo-fi, soul, jazz, and ambient electronics, adding a newfound sense of resolve to the grief explored on recent release.
Bonnie “Prince” Billy, The Purple Bird
Created in tribute to his friendship with producer Dave Ferguson, the youthful energy they channel together works well for a no-frills country record that gets so much done with so little.
Jon Pruett
The latest release from the Numero Group chronicles the pop sounds of the African country of Upper Volta in the ’70s.
The Nashville quartet choogle with the best of ’em.
The Long Island brothers practically have glitter in their blood.
The UK duo’s third album in as many years finds them pushing the boundaries of their sound.
Navel-gazing R&B is in high demand in 2016, but Blanco navigates this world like she’s the first person on Mars.
HBO’s new comedy series wandered into pay cable from the dank world of Vimeo.
Partly singing and partly talking, Anika presents an external dialogue of thoughts and dreams.
Everything is aflame on “Operator,” a vigorously aggressive dancefloor party fueled by a jarring punk ethos.
How do you follow up a sixteen-year-old plunderphonic pop masterpiece? With a neon-tinted mixtape.
Uchenna Ikonne on the little-known Nigerian rock scene of the 1970s.
Top Gunn!
The Conogolese rhythm aces’ hypnotic swirl of customized kalimbas and booming, trance-inducing percussion gets smoothed over—but only slightly.
On his third album, Morby continues to carve out a rarefied space.
What’s surprising here is not just how well these two acts sound together, but the heretofore-unknown third element that arises when they combine.
It’s an endless rush of sugar and data.
The band, a riotous mixture of Crazy Horse and The Dream Syndicate, excelled at drawing droning, melodic riffs and elongating them into eight-minute-plus excursions on their debut, and “The Rarity of Experience” dives right back in.
The guiding question here: how do you make a nearly forty-minute piece of music comprising only the sounds of a Whirlpool Ultimate Care II washing machine?
Nothing visionary here, but it’s a pleasant enough musical journey with a serious bummer of an ending—hopefully one vindicated by this reunited victory lap.
Imagine a world where pop songs are written on an acoustic guitar, amped up with a beater of an electric guitar, and then fashioned together with duct tape.
“W-X” provides plenty of fodder for hungry minds looking to go deeper into rarefied zones.