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.
Punchbag, I Am Obsessed
The South London sibling duo take stock of the clutter in their life with a second EP of rave-infused pop-punk that may convince the listener that it was actually recorded in 2012.
Earl Sweatshirt / MIKE / Surf Gang, Pompeii // Utility
Working over Surf Gang’s emollient cloud-rap sound beds, both rappers’ blackly comic takes on the fall of mankind in the 21st century come together in a show of unity, utility, and futility.
Jessie Ware, Superbloom
Three albums into her tenure as a pure-pleasure purveyor, Ware leans into the featherweight grooves of the ABBA era for a smooth yet occasionally frictionless epilogue to the trilogy.
Sean Fennell
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.
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.
