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 Locust, The Peel Sessions [Reissue]
Recorded in 2001, originally released in 2010, and newly remastered, there’s a bristling energy that runs through this EP that maximizes the weird terror of these 16 bursts of grindcore.
Mac Miller, Balloonerism
This unearthed material collects a cohesive set of world-weary character studies examining the slippery slide of self-medication—even if it’s only an interpretation of the late artist’s vision.
Frank Black, Teenager of the Year [30th Anniversary Edition]
Bolder, weirder, and less Pixies-like than his solo debut, this vast collection of contagious pop vibes and oddball character studies remains Black Francis’ finest musical moment on his own.
Josh Hurst
This 75-minute opus pays tribute to Baldwin’s righteous witness, applying his moral and spiritual rigor to Black experience in contemporary America with big ideas and vivid emotions.
The prodigious jazz band leader shifts from kinetic energy to meditative tranquility as he puts down the sax on a solo release that’s somehow both calming and jarring.
The celebrated Philadelphia rapper’s debut full-length is made up of masterpieces in miniature—two- to three-minute songs intimate in their scope and spare in their production.
Exposure is the dominant mode on the Chicago-based songwriter’s latest, in which her language feels more carefully chiseled, more focused and impactful than ever before.
Beyond being wiser than her debut, this sophomore LP is also sharper, meaner, funnier, more assured, more pleasurable, and more persuasive that Rodrigo is operating on a plane of her own.
Coalescing disparate genres, generations, and value systems into a big-tent pop blockbuster, Batiste’s latest streamlines musical and ideological sophistication into an LP designed for mass appeal.
The jazz fusionist plays to his strengths as a sample-based thinker and collage artist while also showing how he can wrestle his micro-moments into long-form works.
The teen punks’ debut is a set of sturdily constructed songs that blur the line between bubblegum tunefulness, power pop crunch, and punk abandon.
Kacey’s latest feels like several types of divorce album spliced together, at once messy, conflicted, and purposeful.
The jazz collective’s fourth album is first and foremost a dance record, bruising, visceral, and thrilling in its physicality.
Bird reconnects with his Squirrel Nut Zippers associate Mathus for the most straightforwardly old-timey music he’s made since the late ’90s.
The latest from Sir Paul is warm, inviting, a little weird, persistently tuneful, endearingly merry.
“Moon Piano” creates an environment that emanates tranquility without ever overstepping its bounds.
“Rumors” may seem almost like a deliberate provocation of the country purists.
HAIM has always made their music sound effortless, but here they sound genuinely unencumbered.
On “Petals for Armor” Williams is in full blossom, telling her story without requiring our permission.
Looking for a consolidated history of soul music in one handy package?
The narrative behind Aaron Livingston’s third full-length as Son Little is one of relinquished control.
It’s not exactly a Beck album without precedent; but maybe at this point, that’s asking too much.
A record that still “sparks shit” today.