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

Frog, 1000 Variations on the Same Song
The NYC indie-folk duo’s sixth album is a wonderful rumination on the perceived limitations of songcraft, using its 11 tracks to demonstrate the infinite approaches to universal themes.

The Altons, Heartache in Room 14
The Southeast LA band takes bold risks on their sophomore LP, blending Latin soul, Motown blues, psychedelic rock, bolero, and just a bit of their punk roots with a vintage production sheen.

Horsegirl, Phonetics On and On
On their Cate Le Bon–produced second album, the Chicago trio reflects the fragmentation and uncertainty of geographical change by experimenting with a more minimalist, primitive palette.
Sean Fennell

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.

40 years after it hit theaters, we revisit the Coen brothers’ twisted tale of love and comeuppance, a debut that remains an astonishingly clear-eyed statement of purpose.

After releasing their powerful fourth album I Got Heaven near the beginning of 2024—and keeping that momentum up as they took over the world one gig at a time—our latest digital cover stars take stock of their biggest year to date.

Jesse Eisenberg’s second directorial effort is passionate, harsh, and at times even agonizing, all in service to themes of generational suffering—and a little bromance.

We sift through all seven films in the found-footage horror anthology franchise to highlight the best segments.

Addressing the tension between complacency and contentment, John Ross’ fifth LP embraces chunky, feedback-laden chords and a more abrasive live-band sound than he’s ever explored.

Evolving from slight bedroom-pop to vast gothic country, the Pittsburgh native’s ambitious third LP sees her escape any limiting qualifiers with a withering exit velocity.

Despite the antics that often undercut it, this sixth record is the most expansive, dense project that the ever-unknowable Aaron Maine has ever put together.

Pascal Plante’s psychological thriller is the opposite of the tidy serial killer fare true-crime addicts are used to—and that may be the point.

We dissect director Fede Álvarez’s contribution to the long-running sci-fi series and how its goo and gloom compare to that of the six titles that came before it.

The Dublin rockers’ fourth album fully puts to bed any argument claiming predictability, with producer James Ford helping to lift these 11 tracks far beyond the band’s post-punk usual.

In which we make five wildly reckless and critically irresponsible claims about how well Henry Selick’s 2009 adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s horror fable holds up.

Caleb Cordes provides a thoughtfully nuanced thesis statement for his heartland indie-rock project as he paints a portrait of an artist working under the long shadow of late capitalism.

Lee Isaac Chung’s blowsy sequel to the also-pretty-blowsy 1996 action hit has its moments, though those moments are usually the twisters.

Jeff Nichols’ new film inspired by the rugged late-’60s photography of Danny Lyon is little more than some guys looking really, really cool.

Recorded in a centuries-old pub in Ireland, the extensive third album from Josh Kaufman, Anaïs Mitchell, and Eric D. Johnson is a firm commitment to the bit as the trio perfects their chemistry.

Ishana Night Shyamalan’s debut feature is at its best when it embraces its own absurdity, yet often crumbles under its own weight.

John Rossiter subdues his experimental instincts for sweeping heartland rock on his boldly reflective seventh LP.

On the heels of 2021’s Drive My Car, the Japanese filmmaker takes a passive look at all the shit that inevitably flows downstream when capitalism disrupts community.

With Jane Schoenbrun’s new film about fandom and nostalgia getting a significant boost from its carefully curated soundtrack, King Woman’s Kris Esfandari and Florist’s Emily Sprague weigh in on the movie’s magic.