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.
Kim Gordon, Play Me
Fully embracing the trashy SoundCloud-era internet aesthetic as she raps, sings, and shreds over industrial clatter, this is the sound of an artist who’s still inspired by the cutting edge at 72.
The Notwist, News From Planet Zombie
This folksy, brassy new iteration of the German trio excels at melodies that yearn and churn with melancholy—yet still manages something celebratory.
Minnesota Artists United Against ICE, Melt ICE
This gigantic comp album featuring 110 Minnesotan artists raising funds for immigrant communities terrorized by ICE may also happen to be where you find your new favorite band.
Sean Fennell
The Drive-By Truckers frontman’s first solo album in over a decade both softens and complicates the alt-country band’s barroom-rock formula, distinguishing itself to mixed results.
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.
