FLOOD

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.

The passion and pain of the Italian filmmaker’s latest feature, Challengers, fits into a career-long obsession with these same themes.

Maya Bon and Ryan Albert’s second LP of lush indie-folk is warm and inviting as ever, though the album’s impressionistic storytelling tends to keep the listener at arm’s length.

A film about a violently fractured nation seems like an apt note for the ever-polarizing director to go out on.

Fusing absurdist parody with heartfelt confessional storytelling, Vera Drew’s litigation-defying trans coming-of-age story keeps its focus on the truth.

Dev Patel’s directorial debut lives up to the potential of its vague, vibey trailers while avoiding most of the pitfalls of its often-clunky genre.

The Seattle four-piece has never sounded so in-sync musically as they confront their past instincts to always go for the laugh.

From lyrics, to vocals, to collaborations, Katie Crutchfield continues to outdo herself in almost every facet of her alt-country compositions on her fully confident sixth album.

Chernobyl director Johan Renck’s new Netflix film strives for moody contemplation but succumbs to blackholes of logic.

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.