FLOOD

There’s a comfort to Alynda Segarra’s eighth album which, with the help of a dream team of collaborators, feels like a deep exhale hardly present throughout their varied prior discography.

Noah Weinman’s instrumental reworking of his last LP is an exercise in creative constraint, making it both frustrating and understandable to find it not quite transcend its status as experimental oddity.

The UK-based songwriter’s latest album casts a shadow of danger, sadness, and self-loathing over the brash, queer sexiness of its 2019 predecessor.

Jake Johnson’s directorial debut may be a bold, entertaining spectacle, but it never quite coalesces into anything worth remembering.

Recorded in March of 2022 at Brooklyn Steel, this live album goes a long way in expressing both the charms and limitations of Will Toledo’s bedroom-pop project over a decade since its inception.

Sam Beam’s career-spanning live album serves as an antidote to passive engagement as it has a way of putting into focus just how much we’ve been overlooking the songwriter’s genius.

Jack Tatum discusses how past, present, and future intertwine on his pop-influenced fifth album under the moniker.

With the help of a killer team of collaborators, Ella Williams constructs something close to an entire universe within her third LP’s brief 34-minute runtime.

The post-punky four-piece’s third record and Sub Pop debut hurdles toward you at breakneck speed, clear mission in mind.

The third collection of solo recordings from Big Thief’s guitarist weaves the mystical and everyday while meticulously obscuring the reality of either.

A record of quiet contemplation and deceptive disorder, the virtuoso guitarist’s fourth solo album contains both all and none of what came before it.

El Kempner discusses bringing a punky, live-band energy to their latest album—which is ironically also their most intimate.

The alt-country songwriter discusses how the comfort of experience—and the discomfort of honesty—shaped his latest LP with his outfit The 400 Unit.

The further you dig into the Canadian songwriter’s newest collection of sunset-folk, the more you realize how hard it is to sound this casual—and how much of a joy it is to see an artist continue to come into their own.

Even when presented in one big, unwieldy mass of 54 songs, Jeff Mangum remains as beguiling as ever.

Finally, a film specifically for those of us who don’t regret our In the Aeroplane Over the Sea forearm tattoos.

With his first post–Okkervil River solo LP out now, the songwriter digs into how the record was shaped by letting go of preconceptions.

The songwriter’s latest is a compilation of sorts attempting to wrangle with Yacina’s impressively deep catalog.

This self-titled LP is as close as an album can come to a kind of VR experience: alive, fluid, breathing in an artform that typically feels far more passive.

The Brooklyn-based duo discuss taking the time to chase the best version of their sound on their debut for Polyvinyl Records.