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.




Photo by Michael Muller. Image design by Gene Bresler at Catch Light Digital. Cobver design by Jerome Curchod.
Phoebe Bridgers makeup: Jenna Nelson (using Smashbox Cosmetics)
Phoebe Bridgers hair: Lauren Palmer-Smith
MUNA hair/makeup: Caitlin Wronski
The Los Angeles Issue

Ben Kweller, Cover the Mirrors
Dedicated to his late son, the former grunge-pop wunderkind crafts something both touching and infectious as it moves through the stages of grief like landmarks on an epic summer tour.

Lil Wayne, Tha Carter VI
Upholding his fascination with the crunch and snap of shiny alt-rock, Weezy’s sixth chapter of his ongoing soap opera is as eclectic as its list of features might suggest.

Shura, I Got Too Sad for My Friends
Electro-pop and dreamy grooves are largely replaced with rich ’60s-style folk-pop on the artist’s isolation-inspired third album, wherein self-doubt feels like a secondary character.
Margaret Farrell

The music industry, like history, repeats itself, which is why Greta Van Fleet feels deceptively refreshing—at least to talk about.

The American rap group—or boy band, if you ask them—have found the right balance of vulnerability and abrasive freneticism.

“Sweetener” is a pop remedy for anxiety, while also explicitly detailing its crippling nature.

Ross from Friends’ debut indulges in humor and the minutiae of legacy, handling the details with care.

“Hive Mind” solidifies The Internet’s sound as a newly formed molecule, sharing skills and attributes like electrons in a covalent bond.

More playful than cannibalistic, Jenny Hollingworth and Rosa Walton want you to join them in the supermarket of their dreams.

Parquet Courts are practicing a kind of self-care: the self-care of rebellion, of questioning, of not taking things at face value.

Tinashe is confident and proud, but at the end of thirty-six minutes there doesn’t seem to be a clear understanding of who she is.

A hodgepodge of contemplations on love at its best and worst.

Over fortified vocal harmonies, punching rock drum beats, and growling guitars that ring like fire alarms, Dream Wife have conceived a pointed but fun debut.