Suche:crash n burn

Their debut album, Why Trains Crash was released in June of that year to rave reviews. In 2023 they released their follow-up LP, A Company Sleeve, solidifying their reputation with critics and fans alike for all- killer/ no- filler indie rock. Their third LP, Never Felt Bitter, will be released on March 27, 2026. The music on Never Felt Bitter -- the quartet's first release for Chicago- based Forge Again Records--is the result of playing together on hundreds of nights in innumerable bars and clubs across Southern California and beyond. Over the years the band has honed a fearsome melding of pop melodicism and raw physicality. Their knack for crafting catchy anthems for outsiders and underdogs has made them one of the most respected underground bands in L.A.

British punk trio GRADE 2 return swinging with Talk About It, their third and most blisteringly realized album, out on Tim Armstrong"s storied Hellcat Records. It"s an 11-track surge that fuses classic punk"s bare-knuckle conviction with the disillusionment, identity crises, and quiet rage of Gen-Z-delivered by three Isle of Wight lifers who"ve been sharpening their edge since they fifirst bashed out covers at 14. Jack Chatfifield, Jacob Hull, and Sid Ryan have spent thirteen years turning raw instinct into a signature roar, and Talk About It captures them at full velocity. Their blistering track, "Cut Throat," distills their ethos: fifierce guitars, punishing rhythm, and a narra-tive of clawing forward while the world seems hellbent on pulling you under. "It"s about a world that takes more than it gives," the band says-and that tension becomes fuel, a rallying cry for anyone navigating a landscape that feels colder by the day. With Talk About It, GRADE 2 don"t just revive punk"s urgency-they embody it.

British punk trio GRADE 2 return swinging with Talk About It, their third and most blisteringly realized album, out on Tim Armstrong"s storied Hellcat Records. It"s an 11-track surge that fuses classic punk"s bare-knuckle conviction with the disillusionment, identity crises, and quiet rage of Gen-Z-delivered by three Isle of Wight lifers who"ve been sharpening their edge since they fifirst bashed out covers at 14. Jack Chatfifield, Jacob Hull, and Sid Ryan have spent thirteen years turning raw instinct into a signature roar, and Talk About It captures them at full velocity. Their blistering track, "Cut Throat," distills their ethos: fifierce guitars, punishing rhythm, and a narra-tive of clawing forward while the world seems hellbent on pulling you under. "It"s about a world that takes more than it gives," the band says-and that tension becomes fuel, a rallying cry for anyone navigating a landscape that feels colder by the day. With Talk About It, GRADE 2 don"t just revive punk"s urgency-they embody it.

There is a breaking point where the mind yields and the body takes command. This is precisely the territory of Frenetic Habits EP.

Asymetric80 lands at INDUSTRIAS MEKANIKAS with an unapologetic statement: a direct immersion into the aesthetics of collapse and extreme habits. The work places you in the center of a post-apocalyptic scenario, where survival no longer relies on calm, but on your ability to endure mechanical tension.

The sound is built upon solidity and saturation. You won’t find fragility here, but rather an architecture of EBM, New Beat, and Industrial Techno designed to dominate any sound system that dares to play it.

Side A establishes the hierarchy with Frenetic Habits. Far from linear, the track unfolds a broken, demolishing rhythm, generating a devastating sonic pressure that completely envelops you. It is a piece of constant drive, an armored machine advancing over the very ground you stand on. It is followed by Exile and Unmasked, which shifts the strategy towards depth: a hypnotic immersion where industrial textures densify, creating a dark atmosphere that traps you with no escape.

On Side B, Bleak materializes the heaviness of the environment. A slow-burning, corrosive track with deep bass, which you can feel advancing with the force of concrete. To close, Dementia releases the accumulated tension with overflowing kinetic energy; a final outburst of controlled aggression that closes the cycle with maximum intensity.

Frenetic Habits EP is a record of ironclad textures and terminal atmosphere. A work that documents not defeat, but the brute force needed to remain standing when everything around has come crashing down.

‘Açid Blüüs Räägs Vol.2’ is the latest evolution of the sound of last year’s Volume 1. The debut album was described by Joe Banks for Shindig! Magazine as; “Shivering slabs of drone blues transcendentalism…a burning junkyard of sheet metal blues… Hot stuff.” Volume 2 builds on the skronk blues guitar, sax and electronic drones of it’s predecessor, to explore cosmic free jazz, concrete exotica and dub, channelling influences of Moondog, Terry Riley, 75 Dollar Bill and Wolf Eyes. Playing like the imagined film soundtracks to a dystopian, re-wilded, post eco crash world in the style of Tarkovsky's ‘Stalker’ and ’Solaris’, Jodorowsky's surreal desert western ‘El Topo’, or the early novels of JG Ballard. This new collection sees the addition of minimal analogue drum machine loops as well as live instrumental contributions from the new players of the ever evolving Invocation band, plus some superstar guest contributors.
Featuring five brand new tracks, including the forthcoming single; ‘Cosmic Fanfare’, has already picked up BBC 6 Music support from Gideon Coe. The new album was mixed by Alex McGowan (aka Captain Future) of Space Eko Studios and features Invocation band regulars Rick Jensen of Apocalypse Jazz Unit, Skronk and Oneirologist on sax and bass clarinet, Will Emms aka Tiki Eerie on melodica, horns and claviola, plus special guest appearances from Duke Garwood on clarinet and Mikey 'Moondog' Chestnut of Snapped Ankles on bass synth. “….Acid fried kosmiche blues meets drone raag transcendentalism”. Jonny Halifax is a primitivist free blues outsider, sonic shaman of the acid fuzzed lap steel guitar, demented blower of the howling harmonica of doom. His new band project now combines avant swamp blues heaviosity with kosmic free jazz experimentalism in a fluid collective of godless raag brut improvisations - sonic visions of an hallucinatory apocalyptic near future. Inspired by Henry Flynt’s avant bluegrass experiments fusing country blues with eastern acoustic musical stylings, Spacemen 3’s contemporary sitar music, and the monolithic drone doom immersion of Sunn 0))), THE JONNY HALIFAX INVOCATION build hypnotic instrumental soundscapes using lap steel and homemade slide guitars, harmonica and alto sax. Underpinned by layers of acoustic and electronic drone instruments and fed through an arsenal of pedalboard electronics that would make Kevin Shields weep, the blues are transmogrified, unhinged, reduced and re-imagined as intoxicating, trance-inducing, feedback-drenched noise paintings. THE JONNY HALIFAX INVOCATION follows Jonny’s junkshop skronk blues one man band Honkeyfinger, and the Julian Cope endorsed gospel fuzz psychedelia of Jonny Halifax & The Howling Truth, whilst not forgetting his ambient drone metal side project; Deathenteredinerror. His musical CV also includes studio contributions to tracks by Andrew Weatherall’s Two Lone Swordsmen, UK metal behemoths Orange Goblin, Heck and Melting Hand.

Celebrating the 20th anniversary of its original release, Robyn returns with a special edition 2-LP vinyl reissue of her iconic 2005 self-titled album. Widely regarded as a pivotal moment in modern pop, this anniversary edition is pressed on a coke bottle-clear vinyl using the artwork from the Record Store Day release in 2005 which was limited to 2k. A must-have for longtime fans and collectors alike, it pays tribute to an album that helped shape the future of pop music.

Limited to 250 copies !

The Deadheads had never had much luck with spaceships. Their first mission had ended in a catastrophic engine failure, leaving them adrift in deep space for weeks. This time, their craft was hardly more reassuring. A hodgepodge of outdated technology and shoddy repairs made it more of a floating death trap than a reliable cruiser. As they began their descent toward the strange planet, the hull creaked and rattled, sending a wave of dread through the crew.

"Hold on," Matt's voice crackled over the intercom, without much conviction, as if he himself doubted they would make it out alive. Outside, a thick, grayish atmosphere swirled ominously, while the planet's gravity became far stronger than anticipated.

“Fuck, we’re gonna burn at the entrance!” M yelled, his hands flailing on the console as sparks flew from the control panel. The ship’s sensors were completely jammed, and the navigation system flickered intermittently, like a dying light. Below, the planet’s surface was a tangle of lava rivers and jagged rock formations, the kind of place no sane person would ever land. But the Deadheads had never pretended to be. They lived in a state of constant emergency.

As the descent intensified, the alarms blared. On the bridge, the screens lit up with red warnings and flashing messages: "SYSTEM ERROR," "UNSTABLE TRAJECTORY," "SUIVITY SYSTEM COMPROMISED." The lines of code scrolled by too quickly to be read, while a mechanical voice repeated relentlessly: "Imminent impact. Structural integrity at twenty percent."

The once pristine shell of the vessel began to disintegrate, with shards of metal breaking away and disappearing into the atmosphere.

With a final, piercing screech, the ship crashed onto the planet's surface, sending up a cloud of dust and debris. The crew was violently thrown from their seats, stunned but barely alive. They struggled to their feet amidst the wreckage, the ship reduced to a charred shell around them.

"Well," M said, wiping the dirt off his suit with a grimace, "at least the air is breathable." Matt scanned the hostile expanse stretching before them and smiled slightly. "Perfect. Let's hope we have better luck with the planet than with our ships."

With that, the Deadheads gathered their equipment and headed into the unknown, while the remains of their ship slowly sank into the unstable soil of the planet.

Capcom and Laced Records invite you to return to a world of Reploids and cyber-elves, betrayal and Bio-Metals...

Thoughtfully sequenced with a disc covering each of the Mega Man Zero games, and a fifth covering ZX and ZX Advent, this box set will allow fans to fully ensconce themselves in the series.

ultimatemaverickx returns as sleeve artist, producing lore-faithful, vibrantly colorful panels depicting memorable story moments and highlighting major characters in iconic poses.

The Mega Man Zero/ZX soundtracks' glorious mix of urgent acid house, ambient, face-melting metal, and even soaring pop feel downright prophetic in the modern music landscape. Transported from their '00s hardware origins to your turntable come the sounds of our present, broadcast from the past - and it rips.

Following releases on Longform Editions and her own Paralaxe imprint, Dania descends on Somewhere Press with crepuscular, quixotic pop that hits a sweet spot between Mark Clifford’s Cocteau Twins remixes and Massive Attack.

Parked next to Alliyah Enyo, Slowfoam, and Angel R, Dania’s found an ideal home at Somewhere Press, and »Listless« is her most confident, transcendent set to date. Her last few albums were steeped in meaning – a way for the Iraq-born, Tasmania-raised artist to explore her identity and probe the impacts of colonisation. Here, she gives herself more room to breathe, thriving in the mysteries of nighttime – a direct reference to her nocturnal existence as an emergency doctor in Australia. The album was completely composed in the midnight hours, but it’s not self-consciously dark in the way you might expect. Opening track »On a Grassy Knoll« is one of the prettiest – and poppiest – tracks Dania has released, cracking open her voice with thrumming harmonies that she complements with granulated, Guthrie-esque guitars and, most unexpectedly, half-speed drums. It’s the first time Dania’s used percussion, and it suits her extremely well.

In fact, even when the powdery breaks drop away in the album’s final breaths, you can almost hear an outline of where they might remain. On »Write My Name«, Dania loops her voice between waved strings and slippery piano phrases, and the hypnotic closer »A Hunger« is a thudding, sub-heavy 4/4 away from being Peak Oil-style contemporary dub techno.

But the big draw here is Dania’s batch of hazy dream-pop miniatures, like the Seefeel-adjacent »Heart Shaped Burn« (with Rupert Clervaux on drums), and the Bristolian »Car Crash Premonition«, that features a rolling bassline taking us right back to 1998. Very strong – peak listening if you’re into Bowery Electric, MBV, or Mark Van Hoen.

Bone White & Orange Splatter Vinyl. John Carpenters Soundtracks für die jüngste Halloween-Trilogie, die er zusammen mit seinen langjährigen Mitarbeitern Cody Carpenter und Daniel Davies komponierte, markierten die Rückkehr des legendären Regisseurs und Komponisten zur Filmmusik nach fast zwei Jahrzehnten Pause. Halloween (2018), Halloween Kills (2021) und Halloween Ends (2022) wurden alle von David Gordon Green inszeniert, der Carpenter bereits früh in die Vorproduktion einbezog und ihn schließlich als ausführenden Produzenten und Soundtrack-Komponisten für die Trilogie engagierte. Halloween Expanded, ursprünglich 2019 veröffentlicht, erscheint nun in einer brandneuen Verpackung und ist damit ein neues Highlight für Fans, das sie ihrer Sammlung hinzufügen können. Halloween aus dem Jahr 2018 war ein Erfolg, der die kühnsten Träume aller Beteiligten übertraf. Der Film startete mit den höchsten Einspielzahlen in der Geschichte von Blumhouse und den höchsten in der Geschichte der Halloween-Reihe. Es war unvermeidlich, dass bald zwei Fortsetzungen, Halloween Kills und Halloween Ends, grünes Licht erhielten. Green unterschrieb für die Regie beider Filme, wollte aber nicht davon ausgehen, dass John, Cody und Daniel für die Filmmusik zurückkehren würden. ,Ich nehme nichts als selbstverständlich hin", sagt er. ,Man hofft also, dass sie eine gute Erfahrung gemacht haben. Ich weiß, dass wir Spaß an dem Projekt hatten, aber man weiß nie, wie die zeitlichen und finanziellen Interessen der Leute aussehen und all diese Dinge. Die Realitäten des Geschäfts, des Filmemachens, laufen nicht immer so reibungslos ab. Aber es gab keine Probleme. Wir sahen uns an und sagten: ,Wie können wir das hinbekommen? Lassen Sie es uns noch einmal versuchen.` Zweimal." Die erweiterte Version von Halloween enthält mehr als 28 Minuten zusätzliche Musik aus dem Film und bietet ein noch vollständigeres, immersives Hörerlebnis. Das zusätzliche Material der erweiterten Ausgabe umfasst insgesamt 24 neue Titel, die auf zwei weiteren Seiten der Deluxe-Doppel-LP verteilt sind. Diese neue erweiterte Ausgabe enthält brandneues Artwork von Chris Bilheimer und ein exklusives 24x36-Zoll-Poster, das von Creepy Duck entworfen wurde. Erweiterte Versionen der Soundtracks zu ,Halloween Kills" und ,Halloween Ends" sowie ein Box-Set mit allen drei erweiterten Editionen werden ebenfalls am selben Veröffentlichungstag bei Sacred Bones erhältlich sein.

Released by Hegoa Records and Night School Records.
Greatest Heads is the fourth album by the radical Basque- Berlinesque group Al Karpenter. A deconstruction of structured “rock” music, here Al Karpenter re-imagine “the band” to explore the intersection between Free music, afro-beat, the avant garde and gonzo rock.
If Theodore Adorno wrote “To Write Poetry after Auschwitz is Barbaric” in 1949, Al Karpenter attempts to answer the difficult question today; what kind of music can be done in the face of a genocide? Álvaro Matilla, Marta Sainz, Enrique Zaccagnini & Mattin’s response to the planet’s slipping into a vortex of hate is to create a music ecstatic, a music of protest bursting with multiple musical languages and glossaries, full of overlapping histories and thrilling tensions.
Greatest Heads posits a plurality of musics both in opposition and intertwined: Al Karpenter play rock instruments pulled apart in the studio in post-production. Distorted rhythm chunks bit-crushed and dissipated, segments of freedom oppressed by waves of sound invading from every direction. The interplay between the chief instrumentalists and renowned, storied sound artist Mattin creates something akin to ESP freedom-seekers Cro Magnon playing in Miles Davis’ early 70s groups, The Los Angeles Free Music Society tightening up into a clenched fist of plunderphonics and runaway percussion.
We Are All Karpenters opens Greatest Heads with the most straight-forward song refrain of the record accompanied by a band that soon crash into eruption, imagining Sun City Girls in full free rock mode.
The modulating synth sound soon sucks the band into its wake to create a spine-chilling climax of distorted sound, made fully orgasmic with mastering engineer Rashad Becker’s attention to detail. On Izugarrizko Buruak (Greatest Heads), Matilla intones in Basque over a mangled distorto-beat. A Brand New Astraphobia creates a black space for a heavily processed guitar to blow up before falling to earth at night, a gentle figure serenading the coming end.
On Side B, the band begins by being masticated by a brutal phaser, squelching and stretching the music into new territories. The overt message of Stop The Genocide! is besieged by violence before Worm City aggressively samples the ghosts of soul music, mixing in noise bursts, prepared piano and swiping, abstracted sound. Epic closer Perfect Love feels like a beat poetry performance on a burnt world, still grasping for community, for home, for some sort of human love. A Mad love, then; an angry love fuelled by solidarity and collaboration.
The band’s cascading layers of references and polyglottal musics attempt to create the perfect lover, alive with rage and disorientating ecstasy: Al Karpenter.

Zur Feier des 20-jährigen Jubiläums ihrer ursprünglichen Veröffentlichung kündigt Robyn eine besondere 2-LP-Vinyl-Neuauflage ihres ikonischen, selbstbetitelten Albums von 2005 an.

Weithin als ein Schlüsselmoment der modernen Popmusik angesehen, erscheint diese Jubiläumsausgabe auf Coke-Bottle-Vinyl und enthält das originale Tracklisting.

Ein Muss für langjährige Fans und Sammler gleichermaßen – diese Veröffentlichung rückt ein Album ins Rampenlicht, das die Zukunft der Popmusik entscheidend mitgeprägt hat.

Sydney's Lipstick Killers released just one single in their lifetime – the perfect ’79 pairing of “Hindu Gods of Love” and ”Shakedown USA”, released on both their own Lost in Space Records and Greg Shaw’s Voxx Records and produced by Deniz Tek of the band's heroes Radio Birdman - but a posthumous live album and a couple of archival releases followed. It was all incredible.

And it was all put together a few years ago on Grown Up Wrong!'s 2CD set Strange Flash! And while the 2LP version of that release included all the studio stuff and the live in LA 1981 set, there was no room for this brain-burning, chaotic live set from '79. Tour De Force, which was recorded for local radio station 5UV, captures the band as they were still emerging from the cocoon that was the Psycho Surgeons.

The Nuggets influences are there, but it's a Stooges influences which dominate proceedings, and definitive readings of both sides of the Psycho Surgeons classic 45 "Wild Weekend"/"Horizontal Action" are included alongside early Killers killers like "Teen Police" and "Sockman" and later faves like "Hindu Gods of Love', "Shakedown USA" and "Dying Boy's Crawl". The band's hot take on the Thirteenth Floor Elevators' "I've Got Levitation" is also featured. There's also plenty of tunes that were only ever captured on tape on this wild night, including "Human Crash", "Crush On You", "Head Off" and "Bully"!

Sydney's Lipstick Killers released just one single in their lifetime – the perfect ’79 pairing of “Hindu Gods of Love” and ”Shakedown USA”, released on both their own Lost in Space Records and Greg Shaw’s Voxx Records and produced by Deniz Tek of the band's heroes Radio Birdman - but a posthumous live album and a couple of archival releases followed. It was all incredible.

And it was all put together a few years ago on Grown Up Wrong!'s 2CD set Strange Flash! And while the 2LP version of that release included all the studio stuff and the live in LA 1981 set, there was no room for this brain-burning, chaotic live set from '79. Tour De Force, which was recorded for local radio station 5UV, captures the band as they were still emerging from the cocoon that was the Psycho Surgeons.

The Nuggets influences are there, but it's a Stooges influences which dominate proceedings, and definitive readings of both sides of the Psycho Surgeons classic 45 "Wild Weekend"/"Horizontal Action" are included alongside early Killers killers like "Teen Police" and "Sockman" and later faves like "Hindu Gods of Love', "Shakedown USA" and "Dying Boy's Crawl". The band's hot take on the Thirteenth Floor Elevators' "I've Got Levitation" is also featured. There's also plenty of tunes that were only ever captured on tape on this wild night, including "Human Crash", "Crush On You", "Head Off" and "Bully"!

Smut is the project of lyricist Tay Roebuck, guitarists Andie Min and Sam Ruschman, drummer Aidan O’Connor, and bassist John Steiner. Roebuck, Ruschman and Min started the band a decade ago in Cincinnati, Ohio. Since then, they’ve played alongside Bully, Wavves, and Nothing. After years in the Cincinnati DIY scene, they made their Bayonet Records full-length debut, How the Light Felt. The record was a revelation. Pitchfork called it “a rigorous, decade-spanning study,” and a “well-oiled spin on late-’80s guitar pop.” Under the Radar called it “pop perfection,” that “blends subtle hooks with wistful lyrics.” It was a record that explored grief through the lens of melancholic dreampop, using drum machines and layered, intricate melodies.
Tomorrow Comes Crashing, Smut's first record with O'Connor and Steiner, sees the band re-energized and trained on the limitless potential that comes with making music with people you love. Galvanized with a new lineup, Smut focused on creating a record that possessed the same towering intensity as the records that first got them into music: Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, Relationship of Command. The outcome is ten of their most intense, bombastic, and focused songs to date.
Catharsis bursts through the seams throughout Tomorrow Comes Crashing. “Syd Sweeney, ”inspired by the actress, is the record's centerpiece. It's about how profoundly strange it can be to be a woman, to be misunderstood by people who don’t even know you. The song is driven by chugging guitars and big, rolling drums. In other words: stadium rock about perception. Paramore meets Dookie. “She connects to the youth and the girls in the water/All she amounts to is someone’s daughter,” sings Roebuck in one particularly poetic moment. The song comes to a thrashing metal-inspired breakdown. It’s ecstatic.
To make the record, Smut recorded “as live as they could,” alongside Aron Kobayashi-Ritch(Momma) in a studio in Red Hook, Brooklyn, over the course of ten days. “We have so much energy right now,” says Roebuck. Right before they went off to New York, Roebuck and Min got married, with the rest of the band by their side. The recording was a true labor of love — driving from Chicago with all their equipment, returning from 12 hour studio days to sleep on friends' couches and floors, Roebuck completely blowing her voice by the end. Smut has always been DIY. Because they love it. Because they have to do it–there’s no other option. Tomorrow Comes Crashing is the culmination of that DIY spirit: making a record that completely encompasses the intensity, moodiness, and emotion of their journey so far.

Smut - die Band aus Chicago, bestehend aus Sängerin/Texterin Tay Roebuck, Gitarrist Andie Min, Bassist John Steiner, Gitarrist Sam Ruschman und Schlagzeuger Aidan O'Connor - hat neue Energie getankt und sich auf das grenzenlose Potenzial besonnen, das entsteht, wenn man mit Menschen, die man liebt, Musik macht. In neuer Besetzung - "Tomorrow Comes Crashing" ist das erste Album von Smut mit O'Connor und Steiner - konzentrierten sich Smut darauf, die großen Gefühle einzufangen, die entstehen, wenn man sich zum ersten Mal in Musik verliebt. Das Ergebnis sind zehn intensive und bombastische Songs. Roebuck, Ruschman und Min gründeten die Band ein Jahrzehnt zuvor in Cincinnati, Ohio. Nach Jahren in der DIY-Szene von Cincinnati nahmen sie ihr Debütalbum "How the Light Felt" auf, das eine Offenbarung war. Pitchfork beschrieb es als "eine rigorose, Jahrzehnte umspannende Studie" und eine "gut geölte Drehung des Gitarrenpops der späten 80er". Under the Radar nannte es "Pop-Perfektion", die "subtile Haken mit wehmütigen Texten verbindet". "Tomorrow Comes Crashing" zeigt die Band mit neuem Elan. Der Song "Syd Sweeney", inspiriert von der Schauspielerin, ist das Herzstück der Platte. Es handelt davon, wie seltsam es sein kann, eine Frau zu sein und von Leuten missverstanden zu werden, die einen nicht einmal kennen. Der Song wird von tuckernden Gitarren und großen, rollenden Trommeln angetrieben. Mit anderen Worten: Stadionrock über Wahrnehmung. Paramore trifft "Dookie". "She connects to the youth and the girls in the water/All she amounts to is someone's daughter", singt Roebuck in einem besonders poetischen Moment. Der Song endet in einem Thrash-Metal-inspirierten Breakdown. Es ist ekstatisch. Um die Platte zu machen, nahmen Smut "so live wie möglich" zusammen mit Aron Kobayashi-Ritch (Momma) in einem Studio in Red Hook, Brooklyn, in zehn Tagen auf. Kurz bevor sie nach New York aufbrachen, heirateten Roebuck und Min, wobei der Rest der Band an ihrer Seite war. Die Aufnahmen waren ein wahrer Kraftakt: Sie fuhren mit ihrer gesamten Ausrüstung von Chicago nach Brooklyn, schliefen nach 12-stündigen Studiotagen auf den Sofas und Böden von Freunden, und am Ende war Roebucks Stimme völlig durch. Smut war schon immer ein DIY-Projekt. Weil sie es lieben und genau so tun müssen. "Tomorrow Comes Crashing" ist der Höhepunkt dieses DIY-Gedankens: eine Platte zu machen, die die Intensität, die Launenhaftigkeit und die Emotionen ihrer bisherigen Reise vollständig einfängt.

Smut - die Band aus Chicago, bestehend aus Sängerin/Texterin Tay Roebuck, Gitarrist Andie Min, Bassist John Steiner, Gitarrist Sam Ruschman und Schlagzeuger Aidan O'Connor - hat neue Energie getankt und sich auf das grenzenlose Potenzial besonnen, das entsteht, wenn man mit Menschen, die man liebt, Musik macht. In neuer Besetzung - "Tomorrow Comes Crashing" ist das erste Album von Smut mit O'Connor und Steiner - konzentrierten sich Smut darauf, die großen Gefühle einzufangen, die entstehen, wenn man sich zum ersten Mal in Musik verliebt. Das Ergebnis sind zehn intensive und bombastische Songs. Roebuck, Ruschman und Min gründeten die Band ein Jahrzehnt zuvor in Cincinnati, Ohio. Nach Jahren in der DIY-Szene von Cincinnati nahmen sie ihr Debütalbum "How the Light Felt" auf, das eine Offenbarung war. Pitchfork beschrieb es als "eine rigorose, Jahrzehnte umspannende Studie" und eine "gut geölte Drehung des Gitarrenpops der späten 80er". Under the Radar nannte es "Pop-Perfektion", die "subtile Haken mit wehmütigen Texten verbindet". "Tomorrow Comes Crashing" zeigt die Band mit neuem Elan. Der Song "Syd Sweeney", inspiriert von der Schauspielerin, ist das Herzstück der Platte. Es handelt davon, wie seltsam es sein kann, eine Frau zu sein und von Leuten missverstanden zu werden, die einen nicht einmal kennen. Der Song wird von tuckernden Gitarren und großen, rollenden Trommeln angetrieben. Mit anderen Worten: Stadionrock über Wahrnehmung. Paramore trifft "Dookie". "She connects to the youth and the girls in the water/All she amounts to is someone's daughter", singt Roebuck in einem besonders poetischen Moment. Der Song endet in einem Thrash-Metal-inspirierten Breakdown. Es ist ekstatisch. Um die Platte zu machen, nahmen Smut "so live wie möglich" zusammen mit Aron Kobayashi-Ritch (Momma) in einem Studio in Red Hook, Brooklyn, in zehn Tagen auf. Kurz bevor sie nach New York aufbrachen, heirateten Roebuck und Min, wobei der Rest der Band an ihrer Seite war. Die Aufnahmen waren ein wahrer Kraftakt: Sie fuhren mit ihrer gesamten Ausrüstung von Chicago nach Brooklyn, schliefen nach 12-stündigen Studiotagen auf den Sofas und Böden von Freunden, und am Ende war Roebucks Stimme völlig durch. Smut war schon immer ein DIY-Projekt. Weil sie es lieben und genau so tun müssen. "Tomorrow Comes Crashing" ist der Höhepunkt dieses DIY-Gedankens: eine Platte zu machen, die die Intensität, die Launenhaftigkeit und die Emotionen ihrer bisherigen Reise vollständig einfängt.

U.K. progressive post-rock supergroup Crippled Black Phoenix is a musical collective that has featured nearly 30 members in it's rotating roster. The constant driving force is multi- instrumentalist Justin Greaves (Electric Wizard, Iron Monkey Se Delan), who formed the band in 2004 with Mogwai bassist Dominic Aitchison. Creating what they describe as "endtime ballads" to signify both the slightly macabre nature of their songs & the unusual blend of styles as the final evolution in music. The band have made live shows a focus by performing in unusual venues across the world as well as using Victorian-era instruments in tandem with more modern instruments, often involving more than a dozen members onstage. In 2006, Crippled Black Phoenix released their first album, 'A Love Of Shared Disasters', followed in 2009 by 'The Resurrectionists' & 'Night Raider', but it was their fourth album released in 2010 on Invada Records - 'I, Vigilante' - an album of uncompromising soundscapes that garnered the band & album widespread critical acclaim within the media worldwide. On 'I, Vigilante', CBP create songs that feel both sky-crackingly epic & intimate at the same time. "We Forgotten Who We Are" is an 11 minute thundering storm which powers through sections of head-nodding chugging guitars to a sunrise of happy melody & back, "Fantastic Justice" is a staggering display of songwriting, with twists & turns that make the band sound like a mini orchestra - horns, strings, crashes & swoons with Greaves the dark conductor. The spoken-word opening to "Bastogne Blues" is perfectly evocative for a genuinely troubled song, CBP's command of bleakness is at it's strongest here; cinematic doesn't come close to describing the song's emotional resonance. When 'I, Vigilante' threatens to disintegrate into a black hole of misery, a faithfully screaming version of Journey's "Of A Lifetime" shows a sense of humour & some sweet guitar tones. This edition of 'I, Vigilante' is presented on black vinyl LP & is the first time the album has been released on single vinyl

Songs From The Harbour is the third studio album of original avant-rock and experimental ballads by the critically acclaimed World Sanguine Report (WSR) WSR’s new iteration, created collaboratively by celebrated musicians Andrew Plummer, Matthew Bourne, Ruth Goller, and Will Glaser, marks a significant milestone for WSR, and is due for release via revered label, God Unknown Records
There’s a quality about the album that echoes the likes of Tom Waits, Michael Gira, Nick Cave, and Captain Beefheart, hollerers and raspers, singing as if laid low by life, down and out. However, the sense of beat-up black and blues, of ramshackle rock, is deceptive. Songs From The Harbour was developed by vocalist/guitarist Andrew Plummer in close partnership with long-standing collaborators: versatile doyens of the jazz and Improv world, avant players par excellence, including Ruth Goller (bass, vocals), Matthew Bourne (harmonium), and Will Glaser (drums). On tracks like ‘She Is All', with it’s searing-hot guitars reminiscent of John Fahey’s Red Cross, they cut across each other, deceptively roughshod, but with subtle interplay, crashing,burning, bending and colliding with exquisite, geometrical correctness.

Die vietnamesisch-amerikanische Künstlerin th.y (ausgesprochen "twee") hat ihren Platz als aufsteigender Stern in der Pop-R&B-Szene eingenommen, ein weltweites Publikum gewonnen, Barrieren durchbrochen und eine neue Generation inspiriert. Ihre gefühlvolle Stimme und ihre mitreissenden Melodien haben ihr über 800 Millionen globale Streams und Auszeichnungen von Top-Publikationen und DSPs eingebracht. Ihr Durchbruchshit "Girls Like Me Don't Cry" (2022) wurde zu einem viralen Phänomen, führte die Global Songs-Charts von TikTok an und erreichte über 2 Milliarden Aufrufe auf YouTube Shorts. Im Jahr 2024 schrieb th.y Geschichte als erste vietnamesisch-amerikanische Solokünstlerin, die beim Coachella auftrat. Mit ihrem neuen Album "wings" begibt sie sich auf eine neue Klangreise, bereit, ihren Namen in der heutigen Popkultur weiter zu festigen.

2025 Repress

Veyl is proud to welcome back to the label one of the most essential and multidimensional producers today, Filmmaker. To date, the Colombian artist has delivered a plethora of revered releases from his breakout, The Love Market (2019), to his previous album on Veyl, Fictional Portrayals (2022). He consistently traverses genres from postpunk, EBM, synth wave and beyond to create a unique identity still firmly rooted in film culture. Now he returns with perhaps his most robust and powerful offering, Hollywood
Cult.

Comprised of 13 tracks, the album sees the producer elevate his sound to new levels, conjuring a world of haunting atmospheres and devious directions that take the listener through a journey of unparalleled proportions. Kicking off the album is the ritual-like
'Secrecy', which builds tension before exploding into a synth-driven race against time and introduces us to the world that lies ahead. 'Holy Wood' injects a heavy dose of body music for an infectious piece that bleeds perfectly in to the slow burning nostalgia of 'Generational Trauma'. Next, 'Western Malice' picks the pace back up with its evil energy that feels fit for the best horror scenes before 'Shocking Therapy' enters the picture with an exhilarating electro feel.


Now in the depths of the journey, 'Vessels Wine' continues the saga with a high intensity work that gives way to the stirring emotions of 'Peacekeeper Ripper' and the raw, blood lust of 'Criminal Rite'. Now entering the final phases, 'Spiritual Harvest' cleanses the palate before 'Elite Dungeons' comes crashing in with a lo-fi feel that puts you deep underground. 'Two Sets of Rules' charges back with twisted lines before 'No Fetish Without Evil' unveils post-punk strings that puts you in a trance before 'Hanging Finale' closes the release u ltimately fading out into the abyss. Repeat listens will be necessary and the whole album feels like a soundtrack to a dark new world that is perfectly fitting for any Hollywood Cult.

Blue vinyl. The legendary UK punk band Broken Bones is back with a stunning re-release of their iconic album Losing Control.

Hereditary is a 2018 American psychological horror film written and directed by Ari Aster in his feature directorial debut.

He later went on to direct Midsommar (2019) and Beau Is Afraid (2023). The movie stars Toni Collette, Alex Wolff, Milly Shapiro, Ann Dowd, and Gabriel Byrne.

When Ellen, the matriarch of the Graham family, passes away, her daughter’s family begins to unravel cryptic and increasingly terrifying secrets about their ancestry.

The more they discover, the more they find themselves trying to outrun the sinister fate they seem to have inherited.

The soundtrack for the movie was written, arranged, and produced by Colin Stetson. Aster tried to keep it simple for Stetson regarding the music, but he wanted one thing to be apparent: the music had to “feel evil”.

This 2LP is housed in a gatefold sleeve that includes liner notes by the director, Ari Aster.

Established in 2013, Falling Ethics celebrates its 11th anniversary with a limited double vinyl compilation featuring exclusive tracks from Oscar Mulero, Temudo, BLANKA, Not A Headliner & more. Be sure to check it out!

This band, and this album, function as critical missing links that takes one from The Fall to Yard Act, from Television and The Minutemen to Parquet Courts and Sleaford Mods, from punk as a sound to punk purely as an ethos. While any Van Pelt album is a stand alone album, the unique approach they take begs one to enter their world and dig deep in.

RELATED TO: The Lapse, Native Nod, St Vincent, Blonde Redhead, Enon, Jets to Brazil, Vague Angels, Ted Leo and the Pharmacists, American Football, Texas is the Reason.

‘The lines between post-hardcore, indie rock, and emo blurred on the two mid-’90s full-lengths from the Van Pelt.’ Pitchfork

‘New York City’s The Van Pelt are an influential, but too often overlooked indie rock band -- cult favorites for many an emo-inclined crate digger.’ Consequence of Sound

‘...should be mentioned a lot more than they are when you talk about the history of emo.’
Washed Up Emo

Back in the day there was this thing called an A&R guy. They would hang out at small venues looking to throw money at the next big thing. In the early 90s, everyone was looking for the next Nirvana of course. NYC's The Van Pelt had just released an album of anthems called "Stealing From Our Favorite Thieves" that seemed to be just that. The only thing is, they didn't want to sign. Legend has it $2 million was turned down over pierogies and coffee one Monday morning because The Van Pelt didn't want to risk crashing and burning. Instead, they were gunning for a long and stable stride even if that meant they would largely remain out of the public's eye forever.

Lack of willingness to play the game didn't mean people weren't waiting with baited breath for their follow up album though. In 1997 The Van Pelt released "Sultans of Sentiment", an album nearly devoid of the anthems and licks people were expecting. In fact, it's a complete bummer of an album that subjects the listener to the point on life's curve where the hubris of youth gives way to a cresting crashing defeat no kid with heart could ever have seen coming. Seeing as humanity are sick fuckers who revel in the misery of both themselves and others, the popularity of Sultans grew and grew and continues to win new loyal fans even today. It's for this classic album The Van Pelt has never fallen off the radar.

That being said, their swan song "The Speeding Train" was recorded while they were working on their third album. In any other age, in any other way, this song would have been a hit. The Van Pelt broke up mid-recording, released Speeding Train as a single, and the rest of the songs from that session didn't see the light of day until they were released in 2014 as the "Imaginary Third" lp.

Why are we here talking about them today in 2023? Because in preparation for the release of "Imaginary Third" The Van Pelt started playing some reunion shows. Soundchecks revealed to them that this band has a voice that was prematurely muted by their inability to see clearly in the thick of it. Returning to explore just what that is 25 years later has led to this first collection of 9 songs, "Artisans & Merchants". This is not a reunion album. This is vindication for that decision made over pierogies and coffee decades ago. The Van Pelt is a band in it for the long haul, free from whatever trappings the mayflies of trends and markets may bring.

For lovers of The Van Pelt, listening to "Artisans & Merchants" is like hearing the voice of a dear friend you haven't seen in years, a friend you used to share countless beers with over banter that went nowhere other than delivering a solid night. Your friend is older, they've changed. In some ways you're worried for them, looks like they might be teetering on the brink of something. In other ways it's the same old them, a nugget of a soul too unique to ever be altered. It's for those unfamiliar with The Van Pelt though for whom we should be truly jealous. This is a stand alone album, incredible vital song writing in and of itself regardless of the long history this band has. The climax of the single "Image of Health" perhaps describes the beautiful desperation best: "And you never felt more alive / Than when the priest came to read you your rites!"

The exact relationship between Henry (T-Bone Burnett) and Howard Coward (Elvis Costello) remains ambiguous. They often referred to themselves as “One and a Half Brothers,” which might hint at their height difference or imply they were not actually siblings but were involved in an elaborate ruse. Their musical partnership, known as The Coward Brothers, was initiated by Smiley “Doc” Snipson, who discovered Henry Coward in 1956 and signed him for a UK tour. The brothers' hit single, “My Baby Just Squeals (You Heel),” was followed by less successful records and a controversial Cold War-themed song. To preserve their fading fame, Snipson orchestrated their supposed death in a plane crash, but they were actually in hiding on a Caribbean island, secretly recording music and sending it back to Snipson. When their funds ran out, they returned to Miami and made sensational claims about writing famous songs, leading to a brief stint as songwriters for Bill Bogguss. They later resumed recording, but their partnership eventually fractured, leading to years of estrangement. Their music, from early rock and roll hits to later, more introspective songs, is compiled in the album, The Coward Brothers. After years of silence, their story was explored in a radio program, revealing the complexity of their relationship and their enduring bond. Despite their tumultuous history, their music remains a testament to their unyielding spirit. The Coward Brothers are Elvis Costello and T-Bone Burnett. The Audible Original radio play, The True Story Of The Coward Brothers, is directed by Christopher Guest, and stars Howard Coward, Henry Coward, Harry Shearer, Edward Hibbert, Rhea Seehorn, Stephen Root, and Kathreen Khavari.

Wer hat Macht? Wie wird sie genutzt und ausgeübt? Und wie, verdammt noch mal, kann man sich Macht - gerade in unseren Zeiten, in denen wir uns so oft ohnmächtig fühlen - zurückholen und sich selbst ermächtigen? Mit ordentlich Wut im Bauch, rotziger Stimme, mächtig Fuzz auf der Gitarre und einer unbändigen Punk-Rock-Energie, sucht das Berliner Duo CAVA auf ihrem neuen Album "Powertrip" Antworten auf diese drängenden Fragen. Ihr Zweitwerk, das auf Buback erscheint, vereint lautstarke Messages gegen Sexismus, Klassismus und Kapitalismus mit der so wichtigen Perspektive nicht cis-männlicher Akteur*innen in der Musikindustrie. Kurzum: "Powertrip" ist eine Kampfansage an das Patriarchat und all seine schmerzhaften Begleiterscheinungen.

Plastic Crimewave Syndicate returns with one collective foot in overdriven space-biker scuzz rock, but the other bigfoot kicking upward into new galaxies of synth punk, no-prog, and freek funk. Yes, dare we say it, the new PCWS LP, Tales From the Golden Skull, GROOVES--but from the perspective of the Japan n' Kraut/Eurorock undergrounds, coated in some nasty Windy City grime. Aided by the Chicago Cosmonaut Couriers Crew, ala famed renaissance man Mac Blackout (synths/horns/electronics), Przemyslaw Krys Drazek (trumpet) of longtime zone-jammers Drazek Fuscaldo/Mako Sica, Will MacLean on Moog keytar (!-- of local Silver vocoder-ed Apples lovin' treasures Protovulcan), plus the oldest-school synthlord Bil Vermette, who's been modulating since the 70s. We'll call Tales From the Golden Skull a near-concept lp (aren't they always?) that looks back at fallen friends and collaborators, and then into the unwritten golden future (as PCW himself hit the golden 50). The sonic journey dips into dark textural valleys, and chugging riffs rising to thee fiery heavens, as the thundering-but-subtle rhythm section of Jose "Beast but Best" Bernal and Rob "Dead Feathers" Rodak know when to crash and when to burn (one). Sir PCW lays down his trademark big muff-blastage and echo-cries, to channel the despair and feral bark of the mighty Vega/Hammill/Iggy/Dickie P/Haino/Mojo-Risin/Mizutani, but also knows when to shut up for some layered instrumental Embryo/Harvester/Fausty trance rock and dabbed/dubbed out "not-quite-shoegazin" calmness in the eye of the Ur-storm. This might be the most expansive, detailed yet furious PCWS LP yet, recorded at Rec Room studios with Eric Block, who has done all from a band with Sonic Youth's Steve Shelley to recorded Rhys Chatham 100+-peeps guitar orchestras. So strap the headphones on and absorb the tales of this spaced ritual-rock opus. Artwork - Steve Krakow

Since first bonding over Slowdive at a Texas karaoke bar six years ago, musicians Uriel Avila and Jonathan Perez have grown trauma ray into Fort Worth's foremost flag bearer of crushing shoegaze. A five-piece rounded out by bassist Darren Baun, drummer Nicholas Bobotas, and guitarist Coleman Pruitt, the band's debut album, Chameleon, captures their evolving sound at an apex of majestic devastation. A fusion of downer hooks, gauzy melancholia, and bulldozer riffs, the album heaves and crashes across 50 minutes of stacked amplifier alchemy. Lyrically the songs trace similarly lofty and brooding terrain; Avila says "The theme is death. And a chameleon, like death, can shape-shift in and out our lives in different forms." Chameleon opens with "Ember," dreamy and distant, alternately anthemic and apocalyptic, defeated and deafening. Lead single "Bishop" perfectly encapsulates trauma ray's depth and dimension, ripping out of the gate with "the biggest, baddest, saddest wall of sound." Lyrics about being burnt at the stake and "tossed in the flame" float above a stop-start assault of precision distortion, eventually expanding into a lush, heavy, sorrowful end coda. "Spectre" is a mysterious, introspective dirge, envisioned as a "mellow, slowcore, Duster-thing," all feeling and heavy fuzz chords (with no lead guitar). Avila wrote it, "to be a hymnal" from the perspective of someone who won't let go - a ghost, an ex, a shadow self. Although the album is rich with subtleties, graceful lulls, and "breaths of air," the band's three guitar attack is its defining force, a power flexed to its peak on "Bardo." Perez's intentions were blunt: "I wanted to write a riff that was hard as fuck." The result is alternately mean and eerie, veering between noisy one string bends and surging headbang, mapping a middle ground between Unwound and early-Deftones. One of trauma ray's greatest gifts is their ability to make doomy, sledgehammer heaviness sound like an earworm, without production tricks or gimmicks: "Riff, verse, chorus, three guitar parts - that's all you need." This quality is particularly apparent on the title track, a churning slab of amplifier worship, swirling chords, and heavenly, defeated vocals about not belonging, shape-shifting, and death ("A twisted face / Void of attention / An empty space / In your reflection"). "U.S.D.D.O.S" closes the album, swaying across seven minutes of grey skied guitar and haunted voice, subtly thickening as it deepens. Feedback and shrapnel gradually begin raining down, like a satellite disintegrating in the atmosphere. Titled as an acronym after a poem by Chilean writer Roberto Bolaño that loosely translates to "a dream within a dream," the melody softens, smears, and then disappears, slowly swallowed by the gravity of eternal descent. Chameleon is a masterpiece of craft, balance, melody, lyricism, and gravity, flexing a fresh vision of loud-quiet-loud architectures and the vertigo depths of blasted harmonics. From Slowdive to Nothing, to Hum and beyond, the band absorb and expand on their influences into a rare and dedicated alchemy. trauma ray's cinematic tempest is a gathering storm only just taking flight.

Since first bonding over Slowdive at a Texas karaoke bar six years ago, musicians Uriel Avila and Jonathan Perez have grown trauma ray into Fort Worth's foremost flag bearer of crushing shoegaze. A five-piece rounded out by bassist Darren Baun, drummer Nicholas Bobotas, and guitarist Coleman Pruitt, the band's debut album, Chameleon, captures their evolving sound at an apex of majestic devastation. A fusion of downer hooks, gauzy melancholia, and bulldozer riffs, the album heaves and crashes across 50 minutes of stacked amplifier alchemy. Lyrically the songs trace similarly lofty and brooding terrain; Avila says "The theme is death. And a chameleon, like death, can shape-shift in and out our lives in different forms." Chameleon opens with "Ember," dreamy and distant, alternately anthemic and apocalyptic, defeated and deafening. Lead single "Bishop" perfectly encapsulates trauma ray's depth and dimension, ripping out of the gate with "the biggest, baddest, saddest wall of sound." Lyrics about being burnt at the stake and "tossed in the flame" float above a stop-start assault of precision distortion, eventually expanding into a lush, heavy, sorrowful end coda. "Spectre" is a mysterious, introspective dirge, envisioned as a "mellow, slowcore, Duster-thing," all feeling and heavy fuzz chords (with no lead guitar). Avila wrote it, "to be a hymnal" from the perspective of someone who won't let go - a ghost, an ex, a shadow self. Although the album is rich with subtleties, graceful lulls, and "breaths of air," the band's three guitar attack is its defining force, a power flexed to its peak on "Bardo." Perez's intentions were blunt: "I wanted to write a riff that was hard as fuck." The result is alternately mean and eerie, veering between noisy one string bends and surging headbang, mapping a middle ground between Unwound and early-Deftones. One of trauma ray's greatest gifts is their ability to make doomy, sledgehammer heaviness sound like an earworm, without production tricks or gimmicks: "Riff, verse, chorus, three guitar parts - that's all you need." This quality is particularly apparent on the title track, a churning slab of amplifier worship, swirling chords, and heavenly, defeated vocals about not belonging, shape-shifting, and death ("A twisted face / Void of attention / An empty space / In your reflection"). "U.S.D.D.O.S" closes the album, swaying across seven minutes of grey skied guitar and haunted voice, subtly thickening as it deepens. Feedback and shrapnel gradually begin raining down, like a satellite disintegrating in the atmosphere. Titled as an acronym after a poem by Chilean writer Roberto Bolaño that loosely translates to "a dream within a dream," the melody softens, smears, and then disappears, slowly swallowed by the gravity of eternal descent. Chameleon is a masterpiece of craft, balance, melody, lyricism, and gravity, flexing a fresh vision of loud-quiet-loud architectures and the vertigo depths of blasted harmonics. From Slowdive to Nothing, to Hum and beyond, the band absorb and expand on their influences into a rare and dedicated alchemy. trauma ray's cinematic tempest is a gathering storm only just taking flight.

SITW’s fourth studio album is a satirical celebration of mistakes. A joyous lambasting of everyone and everything that’s wrong in the world, against the real-time backdrop of global uncertainty, corruption and political unrest.

A London Charivari. Rough Music. A gleeful old-fashioned cancelling. A Chaunter’s delight. 14th Century recording demons collecting mistakes in a sack. Women mugging rich merchants. Nettles being pissed on. Shit food at Lent. A terrible plan. An undoing. The aftermath of a car crash. Catching people doing something they shouldn’t. Nursery rhymes reimagined as death threats. Behind the sarcastic acerbic delivery, Nicola Kearey and Ian Carter convey thoughtful, essential interpretations encouraging us all to check ourselves, through the multi-layered music of cities through time.

This is about as far away from pastoral folk music as you can get.

In their typical wry city-weary style, a beady eye is cast over those committing wrongs in plain sight, with Kearey narrating a series of tales of people fucking up, or being fucked up, with some brief respite in Lavender - one of London’s oldest street melodies - the album being named after the 14th Century story of Tittivilus, the recording demon, who collects scribes’ mistakes (pokes) and the idle chatter of the “liars with their hairy tongues” congregation.

Despite this seriousness, the album’s working-class dry gallows humour carries a stoic “if you don’t laugh you’ll cry” feeling amongst the corruption, scandals and barefaced lies we all observe on a daily basis, with a warning that “only you can fix your deficits” and “it’s your words and deeds that matter…and let me tell you, they speak volumes”.

The core of the record imagines a sound of traditional London music, where the musical continuum is unbroken by the population decimated by the world wars, or by gentrification and social cleansing that has forced communities apart, and yet absorbs all the influences of all the communities that call London their home.

Carter and Kearey attempted sessions at The George Tavern, Whitechapel, and in Spitalfields, at Denis Severs’ House, and a restored weaver’s townhouse, carrying the aesthetic of the record in their heads as they moved from location to location, before settling into an old factory building and their own workshop. The resulting sparse and economical sound is harsher, more present, more essentially them. It is a mighty haranguing that demands your attention.

The deluxe edition of Ministry's "Twitch" highlights their early industrial sound with tracks like "Just Like You" and "Over The Shoulder." It includes remixes and extended versions such as "All Day Remix" and "Over The Shoulder (12” Version)." This edition offers a deeper dive into the band's innovative and brooding style.

The sophomore effort from Gray/Smith refines their petroleum-based, hard-lullaby sound with a decidedly dusty precision. To call this pair's brand of country-rock détournement "cosmic" would be too breezy: L. Gray and Rob Smith prefer to stare into sunken depths, channeling their recondite affections for lay-by mauve zones and red-dirt guitar wanderings. Formed in the outer-edges of Kings and Richmond counties circa 2020, Gray/Smith is something of an East-Coast involution. L. Gray (guitar and vocals) and Rob Smith (drums, guitar and vocals) are both trusty veterans of "band's bands" like Pigeons (Soft Abuse), No-Neck Blues Band (Revenant, Locust), Rhyton (Thrill Jockey), and The Suntanama (Drag City), freewheeling groups known for mining from polyglot sources: rough-hewn folk and the spiritual avant-garde, bargain-bin hard rock and and collector's-choice psychedelia alike. On their first, self-released LP Gray/Smith, serendipitously recorded at Gary's Electric at the top of 2021, the pair trained their assured chops onto the great American song-form, honing a murky but tight approach that variously cribs "urban cowboy" and finger-picked primitivism. A string of cryptic appearances soon followed, including a short-lived residency at a now-shuttered vodka dive; a micro-tour with Coloradan songstress Josephine Foster; and a series of backyard and barroom gigs sharing stages with compatriots like Stella Kola, Blues Ambush, Samara Lubelski, and Wednesday Knudsen. Heels in the Aisle is the slipshod, burnt-out, mid-'70s unter-prog comedown to their debut's backwoods, bushy-tailed, early-'70s, country-rock meanderings_expect more unrestrained riffs, artful studio wizardry, and worn-down introspection. Joining the ranks of bloodshot-eyed, blues-rock medleys à la Canned Heat's "Parthenogenesis" and Grand Funk's "Into The Sun," "The SDSPS" is the nearly side-length opening cut, an expanded song-cycle condensing and riffing on the themes of their debut. "Help Me" ventriloquizes Pomona College outlaw Kris Kristofferson's slow-roaring ballad of libidinal woe. On the flip side, "Verrazano Tile" and the title track pay heed to lower bays of Staten Island, while their arrangement of the traditional Zimbabwean tune "Guabi Guabi" is a bright Dead/Feat-like jaunt with blissed-out wah-wah pay-off. "Gaslight Boulevard" is lean, mean, and eight-beers-in space rock, and the closing track "Kekule's Ring" is a slack-jawed, wistful crash back down to earth. All this, packaged in a luxe, expertly-printed sleeve photographed by downtown artist Lary 7 and designed by Eric Wrenn (Sophie's Oil of Every Pearl's Un-Insides).

"A Music from the Netflix Film THE DIRT A 14 Classics + 4 New Songs recorded for the Soundtrack A Including “The Dirt (Est. 1981)” Featuring Machine Gun Kelly

2LP Gatefold Jacket on Black Vinyl"

Jade Hairpins waste no time fulfilling their second album's titular demand. From its harmony-drenched opening note to its baroque-anthemic conclusion, Get Me the Good Stuff is positively loaded with musical ideas, an absurdist buffet of sound and aesthetic that comes with one hell of a floorshow as the Hairpins stack those ideas higher and higher, almost daring them to crash to the floor. Instead, those elements - punksploitation, power pop, baggy, funk, and Italo disco are just some touchstones - are not only held aloft, they defy gravity and convention. These pyrotechnics are, in true Jade Hairpins fashion, something of a sleight of hand. While the music swaggers and gallops, Get Me the Good Stuff grapples with anxiety and self-doubt, obfuscating pain and alienation with sparkling wit and some straight-up ravers. Get Me the Good Stuff opens with one of those, "Let It Be Me," in which Jonah Falco shouts lyrics about being alone with one's shortcomings against guitars, synths, and harmonized vocals that are on the verge of closing in. The song is just over 90 seconds long, hitting with the gnarled-barb ferocity of punk and the gleeful insanity of theatrical art rock. It is, in other words, overwhelming. Or it would be if Jade Hairpins - Jonah Falco and Mike Haliechuk - weren't remarkably nimble in their ability to bring unity to sounds by placing them in competition against each other. When those sounds are adjacent, like the glam and disco that saturate "Drifting Superstition," the thrill of those universes colliding in the heat of an absolutely filthy clavichord line turns its lyrics, about the habit of solving personal problems by ignoring them, into a winner's anthem on the order of Bowie or Hot Chocolate. Get Me the Good Stuff arcs towards unequivocal joy as Falco, Jade Hairpins' primary lyricist, breaks these cycles and attempts to run away with his dreams. The arc is roughly analogous to how the album came to fruition. Four years removed from Harmony Avenue, an album of material that proved too strong to be contained within the narrative universe of Fucked Up's Dose Your Dreams, Jade Hairpins have gelled as a live act - with Tamsin M. Leach and Jack Goldstein centering them on stage - and planted their flag in the UK punk scene in which Falco has embedded himself. Working out new material live, Falco noticed that crowds were digging into his unfinished lyrics, and the album tightened around the anxieties of being in the spotlight, of being worthy of attention. At times, those songs are eager to please, like the album's title track in which a winking self-deprecation rubs up against the self-congratulatory bombast of Freddie Mercury, Falco simultaneously turning heads as a shooting star and a burning car. Elsewhere, as in "Better Here Than in Love," Jade Hairpins pitch themselves towards creating gorgeous soundscapes that exist nowhere else, channeling postpunk through the glimmering haze of '80s Japanese electronic music. Theatrical and personal, absurd and true-to-life, playful and serious, Get Me the Good Stuff is album of tremendous personal and artistic growth that signposts towards dozens of potential futures to come. It's not only worth the attention, it continuously rewards it.

Jade Hairpins waste no time fulfilling their second album's titular demand. From its harmony-drenched opening note to its baroque-anthemic conclusion, Get Me the Good Stuff is positively loaded with musical ideas, an absurdist buffet of sound and aesthetic that comes with one hell of a floorshow as the Hairpins stack those ideas higher and higher, almost daring them to crash to the floor. Instead, those elements_punksploitation, power pop, baggy, funk, and Italo disco are just some touchstones_are not only held aloft, they defy gravity and convention. These pyrotechnics are, in true Jade Hairpins fashion, something of a sleight of hand. While the music swaggers and gallops, Get Me the Good Stuff grapples with anxiety and self-doubt, obfuscating pain and alienation with sparkling wit and some straight-up ravers. Get Me the Good Stuff opens with one of those, "Let It Be Me," in which Jonah Falco shouts lyrics about being alone with one's shortcomings against guitars, synths, and harmonized vocals that are on the verge of closing in. The song is just over 90 seconds long, hitting with the gnarled-barb ferocity of punk and the gleeful insanity of theatrical art rock. It is, in other words, overwhelming. Or it would be if Jade Hairpins_Jonah Falco and Mike Haliechuk_weren't remarkably nimble in their ability to bring unity to sounds by placing them in competition against each other. When those sounds are adjacent, like the glam and disco that saturate "Drifting Superstition," the thrill of those universes colliding in the heat of an absolutely filthy clavichord line turns its lyrics, about the habit of solving personal problems by ignoring them, into a winner's anthem on the order of Bowie or Hot Chocolate. Get Me the Good Stuff arcs towards unequivocal joy as Falco, Jade Hairpins' primary lyricist, breaks these cycles and attempts to run away with his dreams. The arc is roughly analogous to how the album came to fruition. Four years removed from Harmony Avenue, an album of material that proved too strong to be contained within the narrative universe of Fucked Up's Dose Your Dreams, Jade Hairpins have gelled as a live act_with Tamsin M. Leach and Jack Goldstein centering them on stage_and planted their flag in the UK punk scene in which Falco has embedded himself. Working out new material live, Falco noticed that crowds were digging into his unfinished lyrics, and the album tightened around the anxieties of being in the spotlight, of being worthy of attention. At times, those songs are eager to please, like the album's title track in which a winking self-deprecation rubs up against the self-congratulatory bombast of Freddie Mercury, Falco simultaneously turning heads as a shooting star and a burning car. Elsewhere, as in "Better Here Than in Love," Jade Hairpins pitch themselves towards creating gorgeous soundscapes that exist nowhere else, channeling postpunk through the glimmering haze of '80s Japanese electronic music. Theatrical and personal, absurd and true-to-life, playful and serious, Get Me the Good Stuff is album of tremendous personal and artistic growth that signposts towards dozens of potential futures to come. It's not only worth the attention, it continuously rewards it.