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.
Failure, Location Lost
The spacey grunge trio’s fourth post-reunion LP avoids trends in favor of songs that penetrate the heart—it’s as if they’ve finally found the magic they’ve had in themselves from the start.
Kacey Musgraves, Middle of Nowhere
Awash in twang and thick pedal steel, the country star’s seventh album explores the solitary no man’s land that exists between the ending of one relationship and the beginning of another.
Kneecap, Fenian
With bigger melodies and broader synth soundscapes, the rage-rave rap trio’s second LP takes an unexpected turn inward as they continue to take the politics of the world at large to task.
Sean Fennell
Building off cosigns from the pillars of modern indie-rock cool, Nate Amos extends his 2024 label debut with an album’s worth of covers that meet the heights of the original recordings.
Capturing the perpetual boogie that makes his live show so impressive, Sturgill Simpson’s latest LP throws the throttle down, turns the choogle up, and stares the cold world dead in the eyes.
In their return to directing, Phil Lord and Christopher Miller manage to turn Andy Weir’s 500-page best-seller about the scientific method into a compelling IMAX epic.
Produced by Jeff Tweedy, Max Clarke’s fourth album tampers down the luster of past records, grounding aspects of the indie-folk songwriter’s music that once seemed impossibly pristine.
The songwriter and actress discusses going solo two decades into her music career and previews her new album’s single “Heartbreak City” for a “Neighborhoods” session outside the soon-to-be-demolished Taix French Restaurant in Los Angeles.
Well-observed, a bit absurd, and wholly singular, this “hobo stew” permits each instrument and each musical idea to embrace Callahan’s discursive lyrical and structural style.
The seven-piece rockers’ latest record serves as a sonic wayback machine to a moment when rock ’n’ roll was nothing more than a good time.
With Dead Man’s Wire in theaters, we look back on the filmmaker’s history of taking a unique approach to thorny material pulled from real-life news headlines.
It’s the way that Clint Bentley shows the subject’s entire life—in moments rather than scenes, in swirling Malick-esque vignettes—that engulfs the viewer.
Whether or not it represents John Darnielle’s earnest Broadway aspirations, the indie-folk band’s 23rd LP stands out for its amped-up orchestration and sweeping grandeur.
The cosmic Ohio band’s sprawling fifth album represents the best of the late-’00s indie-folk scene, with Zac Little proving that he very much earns his suspenders.
With the delusional male figure taking center stage in the writer/director’s ninth film, we get to the bottom of what exactly is wrong with all of these goddamn men.
Mike Figgis’ under-the-hood look at Francis Ford Coppola’s bizarro epic Megalopolis is a documentary that doesn’t know what it wants to be about a movie that didn’t know what it wanted to be.
Ditching the homespun folk-rock sound of their last record for otherworldly, jazz-infused transmissions, the group’s sixth LP is obsessed with the beauty and inefficiency of language.
Digging into the all-encompassing allegory, obsession, and physical and psychological beatings of the director’s near-30-year career—and how Caught Stealing struggles to fit into all of that.
Rooted in the horrors of our familiar pre-apocalypse, writer/director Julian Glander’s animated film blends the simple charms of an 8-bit video game with sketch-comedy chaos.
Defined by its air thick with hopeful yearning, the Oakland-based songwriter continues to find comfort in doing things on her own with her fifth album.
The filmmaker discusses his multiple approaches to profiling Stephen Malkmus, the “inscrutable” figure at the center of his new project.
Padded out with a personal essay, family photos, and outtakes, this re-release of Stevens’ album-length eulogy permits yet another return to the 1980s Oregon of the artist’s memory.
With his directorial debut, Andrew DeYoung answers the question of whether Tim Robinson’s familiar comedic formula can be sustained over the course of a feature film.
