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Emerging from the dark Olympic forests with a new album and a full bag of chanterelles, fish narc's Ben Funkhouser has shifted the damp melancholy characteristic of his earlier work towards the sun. Uncle is at once a cry of resignation ("say uncle!") and a declaration of seniority, a set of observations steeped in the blues of youth, delivered with Westerbergian inclination. Recorded and produced by Alex Farrar, the album's 11 tracks bear the hallmarks of his style: textured rock `n' roll somehow both raw and polished. Neither waxing pathetic nor sugarcoating, fish narc and the band are at peak form on Uncle, strumming out the complexities of aging with the conviction of a group that's fully found its footing in well-crafted rock and powerpop. Uncle KLP313, is a culmination of the punk rock musical work fish narc has done in his native Northwest environs. Says Funkhouser, "I feel like Uncle is the best record I've ever made. The songs grew without changing, the textures are spot on, and Alex [Farrar] and I saw eye to eye about almost everything. The album represents what I want for my band and songwriting and is the touchstone on which all my future work will be based." fish narc is a rocker and producer from the Pacific Northwest, recently relocated to Los Angeles. As a member of GothBoiClique, his innovative guitar playing became iconic of the group and helped shape the style of the movement that they pioneered. As a songwriter, fish narc leans more on influences from SST, K and the diy scene he grew up in. Catch him with a full band for the true intended experience. Previous records include WiLDFiRE in 2020, Camouflage in 2022, fruiting body [KLP295] in 2023 and frog song [KLP298] in 2025. This autumn fish narc will tour the United States with his punk horde.

Can a self-portrait be a collage? Can empathy be autobiographical? What's the point of living if we're not trying to understand all the horror and humor that surrounds everything? These are a few of the questions lurking under the bleachers of Wednesday's new album Bleeds, an intoxicating collection of narrative-heavy Southern rock that_like many of the most arresting passages from the North Carolina band's highlight reel so far_thoughtfully explores the vivid link between curiosity and confession. Bleeds is not only the best Wednesday record_it's also the most Wednesday record, a patchwork-style triumph of literary allusions and outlaw grit, of place-based poetry and hair-raising noise. Karly Hartzman_founder, frontwoman, and primary lyricist_credits Wednesday's tightened grasp on their own identity to time spent collaborating on previous albums, plus a tour schedule that's been both rewarding and relentless. "Bleeds is the spiritual successor to Rat Saw God, and I think the quintessential `Wednesday Creek Rock' album," Hartzman said, articulating satisfaction with the ways her band has sharpened its trademark sound, how they've refined the formula that makes them one of the most interesting rock bands of their generation. "This is what Wednesday songs are supposed to sound like," she said. "We've devoted a lot of our lives to figuring this out_and I feel like we did." Just like Rat Saw God, one of the defining rock & roll records of the 2020s so far, Bleeds came together at Drop of Sun in Asheville and was produced by Alex Farrar, who's been recording the band since Twin Plagues. Hartzman again brought demos to the studio, where she and her bandmates _X andy Chelmis (lap steel, pedal steel), Alan Miller (drums), Ethan Baechtold (bass, piano), and Jake "M.J." Lenderman (guitar) _ worked as a team to bulk-up the compositions with the exact right amounts of country truth-telling, indie-pop hooks, and noisy sludge. More than ever, the precise proportions were steered by the lyricism_not only its tone or subject matter, but also the actual sound of the words, as well as Hartzman's masterfully subjective approach to detail selection. Every image or scene is filtered through Hartzman's agile, writerly brain. The particulars deemed essential all contain revelations about Hartzman's specific obsessions and vulnerabilities, about the fragmented way she processes the world. Maybe sometimes the best way to locate truth or pain or dignity within your own life story, Bleeds suggests, is by crawling into someone else's.

Can a self-portrait be a collage? Can empathy be autobiographical? What's the point of living if we're not trying to understand all the horror and humor that surrounds everything? These are a few of the questions lurking under the bleachers of Wednesday's new album Bleeds, an intoxicating collection of narrative-heavy Southern rock that_like many of the most arresting passages from the North Carolina band's highlight reel so far_thoughtfully explores the vivid link between curiosity and confession. Bleeds is not only the best Wednesday record_it's also the most Wednesday record, a patchwork-style triumph of literary allusions and outlaw grit, of place-based poetry and hair-raising noise. Karly Hartzman_founder, frontwoman, and primary lyricist_credits Wednesday's tightened grasp on their own identity to time spent collaborating on previous albums, plus a tour schedule that's been both rewarding and relentless. "Bleeds is the spiritual successor to Rat Saw God, and I think the quintessential `Wednesday Creek Rock' album," Hartzman said, articulating satisfaction with the ways her band has sharpened its trademark sound, how they've refined the formula that makes them one of the most interesting rock bands of their generation. "This is what Wednesday songs are supposed to sound like," she said. "We've devoted a lot of our lives to figuring this out_and I feel like we did." Just like Rat Saw God, one of the defining rock & roll records of the 2020s so far, Bleeds came together at Drop of Sun in Asheville and was produced by Alex Farrar, who's been recording the band since Twin Plagues. Hartzman again brought demos to the studio, where she and her bandmates _X andy Chelmis (lap steel, pedal steel), Alan Miller (drums), Ethan Baechtold (bass, piano), and Jake "M.J." Lenderman (guitar) _ worked as a team to bulk-up the compositions with the exact right amounts of country truth-telling, indie-pop hooks, and noisy sludge. More than ever, the precise proportions were steered by the lyricism_not only its tone or subject matter, but also the actual sound of the words, as well as Hartzman's masterfully subjective approach to detail selection. Every image or scene is filtered through Hartzman's agile, writerly brain. The particulars deemed essential all contain revelations about Hartzman's specific obsessions and vulnerabilities, about the fragmented way she processes the world. Maybe sometimes the best way to locate truth or pain or dignity within your own life story, Bleeds suggests, is by crawling into someone else's.

Set in the pressure cooker of fresh adulthood, Jahnah Camille's defiant new EP My sunny oath! is a guitar-based grab at self-acceptance. Romping through alt-rock, lo-fi grit, and sardonic grunge with unflinching momentum, the new six-song collection channels Jahnah's era-agnostic songwriting influences, from The Sundays and Liz Phair to Minnie Riperton and Japanese Breakfast. Largely written before a breakout year including tours opening for Luna Li, Tops, and Blondshell, My sunny oath! is set in stormy self-development. Dreamily layered vocals, modern shoegaze sheen, and keyboard lines accompany Jahnah's ear-worming guitar parts and coyly detached tone, as she pushes through the muck of outgrown relationships, misogyny, and hometown anxiety with the help of producer Alex Farrar (Wednesday, Indigo De Souza, MJ Lenderman). The clear-eyed sonic expansion of My sunny oath! marks a decisively bold, exploratory new direction for Camille's sound with fearless hooks and swirling production abound. It's a messy, vulnerable, and inviting picture of early adulthood.

Set in the pressure cooker of fresh adulthood, Jahnah Camille's defiant new EP My sunny oath! is a guitar-based grab at self-acceptance. Romping through alt-rock, lo-fi grit, and sardonic grunge with unflinching momentum, the new six-song collection channels Jahnah's era-agnostic songwriting influences, from The Sundays and Liz Phair to Minnie Riperton and Japanese Breakfast. Largely written before a breakout year including tours opening for Luna Li, Tops, and Blondshell, My sunny oath! is set in stormy self-development. Dreamily layered vocals, modern shoegaze sheen, and keyboard lines accompany Jahnah's ear-worming guitar parts and coyly detached tone, as she pushes through the muck of outgrown relationships, misogyny, and hometown anxiety with the help of producer Alex Farrar (Wednesday, Indigo De Souza, MJ Lenderman). The clear-eyed sonic expansion of My sunny oath! marks a decisively bold, exploratory new direction for Camille's sound with fearless hooks and swirling production abound. It's a messy, vulnerable, and inviting picture of early adulthood.

Horse Jumper of Love thrive on patient and pummeling songs. Since 2013, the Boston trio of singer-guitarist Dimitri Giannopoulos, bassist John Margaris, and drummer James Doran have slowly stretched the fringes of indie rock across five full-length LPs. Their music unwinds with gutting emotional intensity thanks to Giannopoulos' impressionistic lyrics and how the arrangements violently lurch from delicate to bludgeoning. Disaster Trick, the band's new album out August 16 via Run For Cover, is their most direct and uncompromising LP yet. Its 11 songs tackle self-destructiveness and healing with jolting lucidity. Where the band's last LP 2023's Heartbreak Rules excelled with quiet, bare-bones songwriting, Disaster Trick cranks up the volume and boasts some of the most expansive arrangements of the band's catalog. Recorded at Asheville, North Carolina's Drop of Sun Studios with producer Alex Farrar, the recordings soar with searing guitars and a thunderous rhythm section. "I tried the quiet thing on the last album and I realized there's definitely two parts of me: I like really heavy music, and I like really gentle music," says Giannopoulos. "The two albums I was listening to the most, while we were in the studio were the Leonard Cohen's Songs From a Room and Hum's Downward is Heavenward." Disaster Trick is a dark record but it's never dour. There's a glimmer of hope and humor throughout these 11 songs, written with the grace that only time and growing up can bring. As he sings on "Death Spiral," "I know it sounds dramatic / But I must describe / The way that it felt." There's catharsis when it's needed most. "This album is a reflection on destructive behavior from a lens of more clarity," says Giannopoulos. "A lot of the songs came out of this point where things in my life were going well but I couldn't accept it. I was being a brat. Disaster Trick is me cleaning up my act a bit and reflecting on it."

Horse Jumper of Love thrive on patient and pummeling songs. Since 2013, the Boston trio of singer-guitarist Dimitri Giannopoulos, bassist John Margaris, and drummer James Doran have slowly stretched the fringes of indie rock across five full-length LPs. Their music unwinds with gutting emotional intensity thanks to Giannopoulos' impressionistic lyrics and how the arrangements violently lurch from delicate to bludgeoning. Disaster Trick, the band's new album out August 16 via Run For Cover, is their most direct and uncompromising LP yet. Its 11 songs tackle self-destructiveness and healing with jolting lucidity. Where the band's last LP 2023's Heartbreak Rules excelled with quiet, bare-bones songwriting, Disaster Trick cranks up the volume and boasts some of the most expansive arrangements of the band's catalog. Recorded at Asheville, North Carolina's Drop of Sun Studios with producer Alex Farrar, the recordings soar with searing guitars and a thunderous rhythm section. "I tried the quiet thing on the last album and I realized there's definitely two parts of me: I like really heavy music, and I like really gentle music," says Giannopoulos. "The two albums I was listening to the most, while we were in the studio were the Leonard Cohen's Songs From a Room and Hum's Downward is Heavenward." Disaster Trick is a dark record but it's never dour. There's a glimmer of hope and humor throughout these 11 songs, written with the grace that only time and growing up can bring. As he sings on "Death Spiral," "I know it sounds dramatic / But I must describe / The way that it felt." There's catharsis when it's needed most. "This album is a reflection on destructive behavior from a lens of more clarity," says Giannopoulos. "A lot of the songs came out of this point where things in my life were going well but I couldn't accept it. I was being a brat. Disaster Trick is me cleaning up my act a bit and reflecting on it."

Unknown Mortal Orchestra came to life in basements and bedrooms, the musical vision of Portlander-via-New Zealand Ruban Nielson that fused guitar-god riffs, choppy percussion, soul and funk. II, the sophomore album from UMO, emerged in an era rampant hedonism and isolationism and became the blueprint for everything Nielson has become renowned for. It was, and is, the solidification of Unknown Mortal Orchestra as an endlessly intriguing, brave and addictive band. Ten years on, it's back with an expanded edition. Written during a punishing, debauched touring schedule during which Nielson feared for both his sanity and health, II illustrates the emotional turmoil of life on the road, painting surrealist, cartoonish portraits of loneliness, love and despair. These conflicting themes are evident immediately; on the album's sleeve is an unnerving image of Janet Farrar, the famous British witch, Wiccan, author and teacher of witchcraft. The chilling refrain of opener "Into The Sun" sees Nielson deliver the line "Isolation can put a gun in your hand," softly, his words starkly intelligible above a warm, slow-burning melody that quickly brands itself onto your brain. His playful imagery ("I'm so lonely I've gotta eat my popcorn all alone") mirrors the melody, before a solo that borders on psychotropic ends II`s introduction. UMO is unafraid to dig deeper than the rest, their intoxicating, opiate groove bringing rock'n'roll's exaggerated myths to life. And as it unfolds, II does find Nielson reenergized. "One At A Time" and "Faded In The Morning" boast dizzying choruses and instrumentals; these crusty hunks could have been excavated from a lost 1960s treasure trove. "Monki" unravels over seven minutes like the yarn from a stoner's cardigan with an eye-frying pattern. "Dawn" is a minute of disconcerting noise that stands out between the nooks and crannies of the choruses, guitar solos, groove-heavy bass and drums that were recorded live by newly-recruited drummer Greg Rogove and Kody Nielson in a move away from the electronic percussion employed on album one. II closes with "Secret Xtians," a tender observational puzzle that fizzes to a satisfied end. In celebration of the album's 10th anniversary Nielson's complete collection from the II era is finally available in one compilation, and features the five acoustic tracks from the Blue EP as well as two additional B-sides. Unknown Mortal Orchestra was once Nielson's closeted concern. With an album that uses his singular musical imagination and extraordinary talent to parade his emotions with unyielding honesty, it is now a fully realized band operating at the peak of its powers ten years on.

The second LP by California rock n roll unit SPICE expands their palette of damaged anthems and addiction poetics with a more bristling, visceral sound, distilled from years in the trenches of bands, break-ups, and breakdowns. Singer Ross Farrar explains their chemistry succinctly: "We all got in a room and this is what came out." Viv is named for a precursor project of bassist Cody Sullivan and violinist Victoria Skudlarek, but also alludes to broader notions of vividness, sonic, visual, and otherwise. Engineered by Jack Shirley and mixed/mastered by Sam Pura in Oakland, the mix achieves that rare balance of every element being elevated but distinct, with voices, strings, and drums each given space to blaze parallel paths. Opener "Recovery" captures SPICE at their stormy, weathered best, booming drums and East Bay riffs skidding out in a rockslide of rapture, regret, and bruised melody ("You sacrifice perfect days to laugh through the night / you have to get out of bed / and it's hard / and it's hard / it's so hard to admit"), peaking in Ian Simpson's poignant single-note vibrato guitar solo; Farrar agrees: "The guitar says what we cannot." Other tracks embrace the group's shredded pop potential ("Any Day Now," "Dining Out," "Live Scene") and their speedway ripper mode ("Threnody"), with detours into oblique instrumentals ("Melody Drive") and orchestral balladeering ("Ashes In The Birdbath"). But what unites and ignites these songs across different energies and arrangements is their specific sense of emotion. Rawness refined into reckonings, approaching truth, born of cold mornings, bad luck, and too many wrong turns. Waking up where you're not supposed to be, living a life you don't recognize. The album ends with no end to its narrative, still fighting, still slipping. Farrar calls "Climbing Down The Ladder" a "relapse song - telling people you're okay but you're still fucking up." Heartbeat drums march under heartbroken guitars in an elegant downward spiral of defeat, delusion, and desperate hope, dreamed more than believed: "I said it was the last time / but I was up so high / 100 miles / 1000 miles / no me in sight / I saw into the next life / I wasn't dead / I felt so vivid in the next life."

The second LP by California rock n roll unit SPICE expands their palette of damaged anthems and addiction poetics with a more bristling, visceral sound, distilled from years in the trenches of bands, break-ups, and breakdowns. Singer Ross Farrar explains their chemistry succinctly: "We all got in a room and this is what came out." Viv is named for a precursor project of bassist Cody Sullivan and violinist Victoria Skudlarek, but also alludes to broader notions of vividness, sonic, visual, and otherwise. Engineered by Jack Shirley and mixed/mastered by Sam Pura in Oakland, the mix achieves that rare balance of every element being elevated but distinct, with voices, strings, and drums each given space to blaze parallel paths. Opener "Recovery" captures SPICE at their stormy, weathered best, booming drums and East Bay riffs skidding out in a rockslide of rapture, regret, and bruised melody ("You sacrifice perfect days to laugh through the night / you have to get out of bed / and it's hard / and it's hard / it's so hard to admit"), peaking in Ian Simpson's poignant single-note vibrato guitar solo; Farrar agrees: "The guitar says what we cannot." Other tracks embrace the group's shredded pop potential ("Any Day Now," "Dining Out," "Live Scene") and their speedway ripper mode ("Threnody"), with detours into oblique instrumentals ("Melody Drive") and orchestral balladeering ("Ashes In The Birdbath"). But what unites and ignites these songs across different energies and arrangements is their specific sense of emotion. Rawness refined into reckonings, approaching truth, born of cold mornings, bad luck, and too many wrong turns. Waking up where you're not supposed to be, living a life you don't recognize. The album ends with no end to its narrative, still fighting, still slipping. Farrar calls "Climbing Down The Ladder" a "relapse song - telling people you're okay but you're still fucking up." Heartbeat drums march under heartbroken guitars in an elegant downward spiral of defeat, delusion, and desperate hope, dreamed more than believed: "I said it was the last time / but I was up so high / 100 miles / 1000 miles / no me in sight / I saw into the next life / I wasn't dead / I felt so vivid in the next life."