Buscar:pop 3

Calgary songwriter Chad VanGaalen’s new album, ‘World’s Most Stressed Out
Gardener’, is a psychedelic bumper crop. A collection of tunes that does away with
obsessiveness, the anxiety of perfectionism, in favour of freshness and immediacy -
capturing the world as it was met while recording alone at home over a period of
years. “Don’t overthink it,” VanGaalen told himself again and again, despite the
push/pull love/hate of his relationship with songwriting. “I’m always trying to get
outside of the song - but then I realize I love the song.”
This is a record that gleams with VanGaalen’s musical signatures: found sound,
reverb, polychromatic folk music that is by turns cartoonish and hyperphysical - like
ultra-magnified footage of a virus or a leaf. Apparently, the album began life as a
“pretty minimal” flute record. (There’s only a vestige now, on ‘Flute Peace’, one of
three instrumentals.) Later it became an electronic record “for a while” and finally,
“right at the last second,” it “turned into a pile of garbage.” The good kind of
garbage: glinting, useful, free. Music as compost - leaves and branches ready to be
re-ingested by the earth, turned into a flower.
Throughout these 40 minutes, VanGaalen floats from mania to solace to oblivion,
searching for zen in all the wrong places. “Turn up the radio / I think we’re dead,”
he sings on ‘Nothing Is Strange’; or, on the inside-out rocker ‘Nightmare Scenario’:
“You’re stressed out when you should be feeling very well.” The singer’s mental
landscape is rotting and redemptive, beautiful in spite of itself - and his soundscapes
reflect this fertile decay.
He has been influenced by his instrumental work on TV scores (Dream Corp’s third
season began this fall) but still “nothing can really replace the human voice,” he
admits. Like Arthur Russell or Syd Barrett, it’s VanGaalen’s vocals that shine a path
through the swampland - from the cello-lashed ‘Water Brother’ to ‘Starlight’’s
krautrock pipe-dream.
These days, VanGaalen cherishes the privacy of the studio, the capacity to wander
around, get distracted, and “move at the speed of life.” Whereas once he would
obsess over mic techniques, now he puts the microphone in the same place every
time - trying to capture a song quickly, the idea at its heart. He’ll act on his
infatuations - for the flute, a squeaky clarinet, his basement’s copper plumbing
(remade into xylophones for ‘Samurai Sword’) - and then he’ll try to get out, “veering
away from responsibility,” before he overdoes his stay.
In the end, it’s like gardening. You have to live with your horrible decision-making;
the weather’s going to mess with you if it wants to; and if you plant a hundred
heads of broccoli, “now you gotta eat a hundred heads of broccoli - or watch them
go to seed.” But mostly VanGaalen just tries to be a deer: “I remember seeing some
deer come out in the Okanagan Valley once,” he says, “watching them wait for a
sunbeam to hit a perfect bunch of grapes - and then eating them right out of the
sunbeam. I’d recommend that.”
Initial LP copies pressed on clear with gold, red and blue high melt coloured vinyl.

Father John Misty is the nom-de-plume of Josh Tillman, who
has been recording and releasing solo albums under his own
name since 2003 and who recently left Seattle’s Fleet Foxes
after playing drums with them from 2008-2011.
When discussing Father John Misty, Tillman paraphrases Philip
Roth: “‘It’s all of me and none of me, if you can’t see that, you
won’t get it.’”
‘Fear Fun’, Father John Misty’s album from 2012 and now
available again through Sub Pop, began gestating during what
Tillman describes as an “immobilizing period of depression” in
his former Seattle home, when he had lost interest in
songwriting and wound up finding his voice by writing a novel.
After breaking from Seattle and settling in a spider-infested
Laurel Canyon treehouse, Tillman spent months demoing
songs, eventually liberating himself from his creative impasse.
With the help of LA producer/songwriter/pal Jonathan Wilson, a
wealth of talented musicians kicking around LA and producer
Phil Ek (who everyone knows has worked with Built to Spill,
Modest Mouse, Band of Horses, Fleet Foxes), ‘Fear Fun’
blossomed into a fully-formed expression of Tillman’s
unrestrained vision.
‘Fear Fun’ consists of such disparate elements as Waylon
Jennings, Harry Nilsson, Arthur Russell, All Things Must Pass
and Physical Graffiti, often within the same song. Tillman’s
voice has never been better and often sounds like Roy Orbison
at his most joyous, while the music maintains a dark,
mysterious yet playful, almost Dionysian quality.
Lyrically, his absurdist fever dreams of pain and pleasure elicit,
in equal measures, the blunt descriptive power of Bukowski or
Brautigan, the hedonist-philosophy of Oscar Wilde and the
dried-out wit of Loudon Wainwright III.
6-panel digipack CD. Gatefold LP.

Father John Misty is the nom-de-plume of Josh Tillman, who
has been recording and releasing solo albums under his own
name since 2003 and who recently left Seattle’s Fleet Foxes
after playing drums with them from 2008-2011.
When discussing Father John Misty, Tillman paraphrases Philip
Roth: “‘It’s all of me and none of me, if you can’t see that, you
won’t get it.’”
‘Fear Fun’, Father John Misty’s album from 2012 and now
available again through Sub Pop, began gestating during what
Tillman describes as an “immobilizing period of depression” in
his former Seattle home, when he had lost interest in
songwriting and wound up finding his voice by writing a novel.
After breaking from Seattle and settling in a spider-infested
Laurel Canyon treehouse, Tillman spent months demoing
songs, eventually liberating himself from his creative impasse.
With the help of LA producer/songwriter/pal Jonathan Wilson, a
wealth of talented musicians kicking around LA and producer
Phil Ek (who everyone knows has worked with Built to Spill,
Modest Mouse, Band of Horses, Fleet Foxes), ‘Fear Fun’
blossomed into a fully-formed expression of Tillman’s
unrestrained vision.
‘Fear Fun’ consists of such disparate elements as Waylon
Jennings, Harry Nilsson, Arthur Russell, All Things Must Pass
and Physical Graffiti, often within the same song. Tillman’s
voice has never been better and often sounds like Roy Orbison
at his most joyous, while the music maintains a dark,
mysterious yet playful, almost Dionysian quality.
Lyrically, his absurdist fever dreams of pain and pleasure elicit,
in equal measures, the blunt descriptive power of Bukowski or
Brautigan, the hedonist-philosophy of Oscar Wilde and the
dried-out wit of Loudon Wainwright III.
6-panel digipack CD. Gatefold LP.

For Another Michael, it all boils down to trust. In mid-2017, the critically acclaimed indie three-piece packed their bags and collectively relocated from Albany, NY to a shared house in West Philadelphia. This move signaled not only the start of a new chapter for the trio, but also a deepening of the bonds that would come to define their captivating debut LP, `New Music and Big Pop.' "It's hard for a group of people to get closer than living together," says bassist and producer Nick Sebastiano. "The stronger our connection grew, the more it shaped the music we found ourselves making." It should come as little surprise, then, that `New Music and Big Pop' is Another Michael's most collaborative work yet. Recorded in a small A-frame house-turned-makeshift studio outside Ferndale, NY, the record finds the trio pushing their sound in a dreamier, more folk-influenced direction, building songs around vulnerable, intimate performances using an ethereal palette of breezy guitars, subtle keyboards, and layered harmonies. As on the band's early EPs, singer and songwriter Michael Doherty's mesmerizing voice is front and center here, calling to mind Robin Pecknold or Ben Bridwell in its reedy, crystalline timbre, but it feels more at home than ever before amidst the album's lush, Technicolor landscape, which the band partnered with producer and fellow housemate Scoops Dardaris to create. The result is a masterfully understated record that belies its status as a full-length debut, a thoughtful, poetic, collection all about growth and change, hope and faith, endings and beginnings, delivered by a band that's only just begun to scratch the surface of their story.

It is the simple thing that is so hard to do. This is the paradox that musician Lael
Neale has lived within throughout her development as an artist. It is the reason she
became enthralled with poetry. Poems are a distillation. Lael says, “this challenge to
winnow away what is unessential is the most maddening and, ultimately, rewarding
part of writing a song.”
Lael’s new album ‘Acquainted With Night’ is a testament to this poetic devotion.
Stripped of any extraneous word or sound, the songs are lit by Lael’s crystalline
voice which lays on a lush bed of Omnichord. The collection touches on themes that
have been thread into her work for years: isolation, mortality, yearning and reaching
ever toward the transcendent experience.
Lael grew up on a farm in rural Virginia but for nearly 10 years called Los Angeles
home. Those years were spent developing her songwriting and performing in venues
across the city but the right way to record the songs proved more elusive. She says,
“Every time I reached the end of recording, I felt the songs had been stripped of
their vitality in the process of layering drums, bass, guitar, violin, and organ over
them. They felt weighed down.”
In a moment of illumination, the solution presented itself: do the simple thing. In
early 2019, in the midst of major transition, she acquired a new instrument - the
Omnichord - and began recording a deluge of songs. Guy Blakeslee, who had been
an advocate for years, set up a cassette recorder in her bedroom and provided
empathic guidance, subtle yet affecting accompaniment and engineering prowess.
Limited to only 4-tracks and first takes, Lael had to surrender some of her
perfectionism to deliver the songs in their essence.
The first song she recorded was ‘For No One For Now’, which calls to mind the
agitated beat of driving fast on the freeway against the backdrop of the San
Fernando Valley’s bent palms. The song contrasts romantic idealizations with the
banality of folding sheets and toasting bread. It highlights her oft-thwarted attempts
to enjoy the day to day while her mind wanders off toward the dream, the ideal.
While Lael returned to her family farm in April 2020, Los Angeles is a player on this
album and ‘Every Star Shivers in the Dark’ is an ode to the sprawling city, the
outskirts of Eden. One can envision her walking from Dodgers Stadium to downtown,
observing strangers and her own strangeness but determined to find communion
with others. ‘Blue Vein’ is her personal anthem, a Paul Revere piece that gallops
through the town as a strident declamation. It is an amalgam of thoughts, concerns
and lessons as she nearly speaks the words, unmasked by flourishes, ensuring the
meaning cuts through.
Normally a morning person, Lael recorded most of these songs in the darkening of
the early evening, and so became ‘Acquainted With Night’.
CD in gatefold altpack.
LP first pressing on white vinyl.
Cassette with three-panel J-card in clear case.

It is the simple thing that is so hard to do. This is the paradox that musician Lael
Neale has lived within throughout her development as an artist. It is the reason she
became enthralled with poetry. Poems are a distillation. Lael says, “this challenge to
winnow away what is unessential is the most maddening and, ultimately, rewarding
part of writing a song.”
Lael’s new album ‘Acquainted With Night’ is a testament to this poetic devotion.
Stripped of any extraneous word or sound, the songs are lit by Lael’s crystalline
voice which lays on a lush bed of Omnichord. The collection touches on themes that
have been thread into her work for years: isolation, mortality, yearning and reaching
ever toward the transcendent experience.
Lael grew up on a farm in rural Virginia but for nearly 10 years called Los Angeles
home. Those years were spent developing her songwriting and performing in venues
across the city but the right way to record the songs proved more elusive. She says,
“Every time I reached the end of recording, I felt the songs had been stripped of
their vitality in the process of layering drums, bass, guitar, violin, and organ over
them. They felt weighed down.”
In a moment of illumination, the solution presented itself: do the simple thing. In
early 2019, in the midst of major transition, she acquired a new instrument - the
Omnichord - and began recording a deluge of songs. Guy Blakeslee, who had been
an advocate for years, set up a cassette recorder in her bedroom and provided
empathic guidance, subtle yet affecting accompaniment and engineering prowess.
Limited to only 4-tracks and first takes, Lael had to surrender some of her
perfectionism to deliver the songs in their essence.
The first song she recorded was ‘For No One For Now’, which calls to mind the
agitated beat of driving fast on the freeway against the backdrop of the San
Fernando Valley’s bent palms. The song contrasts romantic idealizations with the
banality of folding sheets and toasting bread. It highlights her oft-thwarted attempts
to enjoy the day to day while her mind wanders off toward the dream, the ideal.
While Lael returned to her family farm in April 2020, Los Angeles is a player on this
album and ‘Every Star Shivers in the Dark’ is an ode to the sprawling city, the
outskirts of Eden. One can envision her walking from Dodgers Stadium to downtown,
observing strangers and her own strangeness but determined to find communion
with others. ‘Blue Vein’ is her personal anthem, a Paul Revere piece that gallops
through the town as a strident declamation. It is an amalgam of thoughts, concerns
and lessons as she nearly speaks the words, unmasked by flourishes, ensuring the
meaning cuts through.
Normally a morning person, Lael recorded most of these songs in the darkening of
the early evening, and so became ‘Acquainted With Night’.
CD in gatefold altpack.
LP first pressing on white vinyl.
Cassette with three-panel J-card in clear case.

Somewhere Between: Mutant Pop, Electronic Minimalism & Shadow Sounds of Japan 1980–1988 hovers vibe–wise between two distinct poles within Light In The Attic’s acclaimed Japan Archival Series—Kankyō Ongaku: Japanese Ambient, Environmental & New Age Music 1980–1990 and Pacific Breeze: Japanese City Pop, AOR & Boogie 1976–1986. All three albums showcase recordings produced during Japan’s soaring bubble economy of the 1980s, an era in which aesthetic visions and consumerism merged. Music echoed the nation’s prosperity and with financial abundance came the luxury to dream.

Sonically, Somewhere Between mines the midpoint between Kankyō Ongaku’s sparkling atmospherics and Pacific Breeze’s metropolitan boogie. The compilation encompasses ambient pop, underground electronics, liminal minimalism and shadow sounds—all descriptors emphasizing the hazy nature of the nebula. Out–of–focus rhythms wear ethereal accoutrements, ballads are shrouded in static, and angular drums snake skyward on transcendent tones. From the Avant–minimalism of Mkwaju Ensemble and Yoshio Ojima, to the leftfield techno-pop of Mishio Ogawa and Noriko Miyamoto (featuring members of YMO), and highlights from the groundbreaking Osaka underground label Vanity Records, these are blurry constellations defying collective categorization.

These tracks also exist in a space of transition when the major label grip on the Japanese recording market began to give way to the escalation of independents. Thanks to the idyllic economic climate and innovations in domestically–manufactured music gear, creators on the edges were empowered to focus on satisfying their artistic visions in the open headspace of home studios. While labels like Warner Music and Nippon Columbia explored new sounds through traditional channels, it was possible for Vanity, Balcony and other indie labels, not to mention self–released artists like Ojima and Naoki Asai, to publish their work via affordable media such as cassettes, 7" vinyl, and flexi–discs.

Expertly curated by Yosuke Kitazawa and Mark “Frosty” McNeill (dublab), Somewhere Between is a collection of music, much of it released for the first time outside Japan, that is bound more by energetic vibration than shared history, genre or scene. They are the sounds of transition and searching—a celebration of the freedom found in floating.

Note: The track “Days Man” by Yoshio Ojima is only available on the LP and Cassette versions.

Pop Smoke was the leading figure in the New York drill scene that has been exploding globally for the last year or so. Tragically he was murdered earlier this year, and this album is being published by his team post-humously. His single 'Dior' has previously charted in the UK top 40. His music has been streamed over 1.5bn times to date. The album reached number 1 in the UK, spent 20 weeks in the Top 10 album charts and was confirmed as the UK's biggest debut album of 2020. Released as a Deluxe LP Set.

It's tempting to think that you have all the answers, screaming your gospel every day with certainty and anger. Life isn't quite like that though, and the debut album from London four-piece TV Priest instead embraces the beautiful and terrifying unknowns that exist personally, politically, and culturally. Posing as many questions as it answers, Uppers is a thunderous opening statement that continues the UK's recent resurgence of grubby, furious post-punk music. It says something very different though - something completely its own. Four childhood friends who made music together as teenagers before drifting apart and then, somewhat inevitably, back together late in 2019, TV Priest was borne out of a need to create together once again, and brings with it a wealth of experience and exhaustion picked up in the band's years of pursuing 'real life' and 'real jobs', something those teenagers never had. Last November, the band - vocalist Charlie Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, bass and keys player Nic Smith and drummer Ed Kelland - played their first show, to a smattering of friends in what they describe as an "industrial freezer" in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. "It was like the pub in Peep Show with a washing machine just in the middle_" Charlie laughs, remembering how they dodged Star Wars memorabilia and deep fat fryers while making their first statement as a band. Unsurprisingly, there isn't a precedent for launching a band during a global pandemic, but among the general sense of anxiety and unease pervading everything at the moment, TV Priest's entrance in April with the release of debut single "House Of York" - a searing examination of the Monarchy set over wiry post-punk and fronted by a Mark E. Smith-like mouthpiece - served as a breath of fresh air among the chaos, its anger and confusion making some kind of twisted sense to the nation's fried brains. It's the same continued global sense of anxiety that will greet the release of Uppers, and it's an album that has a lot to say right now. Taking musical cues from post-punk stalwarts The Fall and Protomartyr as well as the mechanical, pulsating grooves of krautrock, it's a record that moves with an untamed energy. Over the top of this rumbling musical machine is vocalist Charlie, a cuttingly funny, angry, confused, real frontman. Uppers sees TV Priest explicitly and outwardly trying to avoid narrowmindedness. Uppers sees TV Priest taking musical and personal risks, reaching outside of themselves and trying to make sense of this increasingly messy world. It's a band and a record that couldn't arrive at a more perfect time.

-LTD. LOSER EDITION-

This LIMITED LOSER INDIES edition is on GREY MARBLED Vinyl! It's tempting to think that you have all the answers, screaming your gospel every day with certainty and anger. Life isn't quite like that though, and the debut album from London four-piece TV Priest instead embraces the beautiful and terrifying unknowns that exist personally, politically, and culturally. Posing as many questions as it answers, Uppers is a thunderous opening statement that continues the UK's recent resurgence of grubby, furious post-punk music. It says something very different though - something completely its own. Four childhood friends who made music together as teenagers before drifting apart and then, somewhat inevitably, back together late in 2019, TV Priest was borne out of a need to create together once again, and brings with it a wealth of experience and exhaustion picked up in the band's years of pursuing 'real life' and 'real jobs', something those teenagers never had. Last November, the band - vocalist Charlie Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, bass and keys player Nic Smith and drummer Ed Kelland - played their first show, to a smattering of friends in what they describe as an "industrial freezer" in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. "It was like the pub in Peep Show with a washing machine just in the middle_" Charlie laughs, remembering how they dodged Star Wars memorabilia and deep fat fryers while making their first statement as a band. Unsurprisingly, there isn't a precedent for launching a band during a global pandemic, but among the general sense of anxiety and unease pervading everything at the moment, TV Priest's entrance in April with the release of debut single "House Of York" - a searing examination of the Monarchy set over wiry post-punk and fronted by a Mark E. Smith-like mouthpiece - served as a breath of fresh air among the chaos, its anger and confusion making some kind of twisted sense to the nation's fried brains. It's the same continued global sense of anxiety that will greet the release of Uppers, and it's an album that has a lot to say right now. Taking musical cues from post-punk stalwarts The Fall and Protomartyr as well as the mechanical, pulsating grooves of krautrock, it's a record that moves with an untamed energy. Over the top of this rumbling musical machine is vocalist Charlie, a cuttingly funny, angry, confused, real frontman. Uppers sees TV Priest explicitly and outwardly trying to avoid narrowmindedness. Uppers sees TV Priest taking musical and personal risks, reaching outside of themselves and trying to make sense of this increasingly messy world. It's a band and a record that couldn't arrive at a more perfect time.

Am 15.01.2021 erscheint das posthume Debütalbum „Shoot For The Stars, Aim For The Moon“ des New Yorker Rappers Pop Smoke erstmals auf Vinyl. Das Album debütierte auf #1 der US Albumcharts und schaffte es auch in Deutschland auf #9 der Charts. Über 20 Wochen nach Release befindet sich das Album immernoch in den Top 5 der US-Albumcharts. Unter anderem sind 50 Cent, DaBaby, Lil Baby, Roddy Ricch, Future, Quavo und Swae Lee auf dem Album vertreten

NEP was a loose multimedia collective formed in 1982 Zagreb, ex-Yugoslavia. The founder Dejan Krsic collaborated with various artists in a quest of re-thinking the stale concepts of art history, position of the author and the barriers between pop and elitist high culture. Heavily influenced by Walter Benjamin and Andy Warhol in theory and Brian Eno and Kraftwerk in music, Krsic created NEP as an umbrella term (meaning Nova Evropa or New Europe) of diverse rule-breaking activities, covering graphic design, music, photography, video, news-media and theoretical work. Musically NEP focused on experiments in ambient and tape-music, self-released and hard to find compilation tapes like "The Cassette Played Poptones" (1988). Deeply immersed in pop-culture, politics and art theory Krsic's search for perfect pop music with cutting critical edge peaked in 1989, the year 'Decadance' track was conceived in studio. Fox & His Friends published the single in 2017 with Snuffo Remix on B-side. It received rave reviews in music press like MixMag and DJ Mag and it is still played on dance-floors around the world. But the story around the NEP is musically (as well as artistically) much wider: for the first time Fox & His Friends team compiles best cuts from unreleased and rare NEP tapes, covering the period from 1985 to 1989 on POP NOT POP abum. Dejan Krsic is now famous graphic designer and art historian in Croatia. Other collaborators include Laibach and Borghesia photographer Jane Stravs, artist and TV director Gordana Brzovic, Jovan Culibrk, now Bishop at The Serbian Orthodox Church and Anja Rupel, singer of cult Yugoslavian synth-pop group Videosex as well as the other members of Videosex, Iztok Turk and Janez Krizaj who produced some of the tracks. Other collaborators were talented producers Robert Logozar and Davor Daga Devcic, singers Linda Cooper, Natalija, Alexx Kovacs... The list of collaborations is long. Some of the memorable moments on POP NOT POP album are early demo version of Decadance 'How Do I Dance To This Music?' with blue movies samples and drum machine experiments like early Cabaret Voltaire, then Krsic's reinterpretation of legendary Kraftwerk's Trans Europe Express anthem as 'Transcendance', or 'Radical Chic', where Dejan himself and Anja Rupel from Videosex make lovely couple of dandy-esque fashionistas, singing chart-friendly radio synthpop tune that contrasts the A-side (The 'NOT POP' side) - full of experiments, dark wave and industrial nods to Test Department and Cabs. B-side is 'THE POP' side that will surprise most of the NEP followers from their early experimental cassette days. Sunny, danceable, joyfull pop that reveals the many faces of NEP. As Kraftwerk today is more of a concept than a band, NEP does the same by re-writing its products (musical, graphical, theoretical, activist) and constantly puts them in permanent state of change or re-mix. In the future, only NEP logo will be enough to consider something an art piece, and NEP will be everybody who wants to, as their Art Manifest claims. Until that day comes, 'POP NOT POP' is a document of how the vivid and creative were art-scenes in socialist Yugoslavia. Some of the graphic work, cut-ups from theory and Manifesto are also included on this LP, designed by Dejan Krsic aka NEP himself. This release is made from the original master tapes and published for the first time on vinyl.

Kiwi Jr. is a phenomenal "rock" and/or "punk" and/or "indie-rock" (whichever you like more) band from Canada, made up of Jeremy Gaudet (mic, guitar), Brohan Moore (drums), Mike Walker (bass), and Brian Murphy (guitar). Cooler Returns is their second album, and their first for Sub Pop. Despite being a snapshot of the pandemic-infused beginnings of this decade, Cooler Returns is truly a whole lot of fun. RIYL indie-pop from down under, things that are smart/exuberant/catchy all at once. Buildings burning in every direction; macabre unknowns in your friendly neighbor's basement; undecided voters sharpening their pencils: under pressure we could call Kiwi Jr.'s Cooler Returns "timely." But what year is it, again? On Cooler Returns, Kiwi Jr. cycle through the recent zigs & looming zags of the new decade, squinting anew at New Year's parties forgotten and under-investigated small town diner fires, piecing together low-stakes conspiracy theories on what's coming down the pike in 2021. Put together like a thousand-piece puzzle, assembled in flow state through the first dull stretch of quarantine, sanitized singer shuffling to sanitized studio by streetcar, masked like it's the kind of work where getting recognized means getting killed, Cooler Returns materializes as a sprawling survey from the first few bites of the terrible twenties, an investigative exposé of recent history buried under the headlines & ancient kings buried under parking lots. Not so long since their debut Football Money in archaeological time, unending gray eons later in the dog years of quaran-time, spiritually antipodean Canadians Kiwi Jr return to disseminate this year's annual report to the shareholders, burying the incriminating numbers in the endless appendices of a longform narrative record, a 3,000 word tract for stakeholders to pore over. These stories - memories of Augusts past, unrepressed & transcribed fast - go down easier thanks to meaningful changes enacted in 2019's KiwiCares Pledge: delivering on a promise to transition from Crunchy to Smooth by 2021, the caveman chug of Football Money has been steamed & pressed with the purifying air of a saloon piano - operated with bow-tie untied - and a spring green side-salad of tentatively up-tempo organ taps & freshly fluted harmonica. A chronically detuned spin of the dial through swivel-chair distractions & WFH daydreams, an immersive ctrl-tab deluge cycling through popular listicle distractions like the unentombing of Richard III, or the deja vu destruction of the Glasgow School of Art, Kiwi Jr. sing this song to an indoor audience, crisscrossing canceled, every other prestige distraction source wrung dry, only songwriting remaining to deliver engrossing tales to the populace, just how I imagine it worked in the old days. Fixing loose ingredients into a sturdy whip, Kiwi Jr. beam in live from the 9-5, striding into 2021 with a mastered brainwave that comes equally from the back room of the record store as the penalty box. And how do we, left holding this box of deliberate entanglements, sign off to those as yet uninitiated, undecided, uncertain, unseen, absent return coordinates - Best Wishes, Warm Regards, Good Luck? Cooler Returns, Cooler Returns, C o o l e r R e t u r n s ! Cooler Returns was produced by Kiwi Jr., mixed and engineered by Graham Walsh (METZ, Bully) in Toronto, and mastered by Phillip Shaw Bova at Bova Labs in Ottawa, Ontario.

LTD. LOSER EDITION

Kiwi Jr. is a phenomenal "rock" and/or "punk" and/or "indie-rock" (whichever you like more) band from Canada, made up of Jeremy Gaudet (mic, guitar), Brohan Moore (drums), Mike Walker (bass), and Brian Murphy (guitar). Cooler Returns is their second album, and their first for Sub Pop. Despite being a snapshot of the pandemic-infused beginnings of this decade, Cooler Returns is truly a whole lot of fun. RIYL indie-pop from down under, things that are smart/exuberant/catchy all at once. Buildings burning in every direction; macabre unknowns in your friendly neighbor's basement; undecided voters sharpening their pencils: under pressure we could call Kiwi Jr.'s Cooler Returns "timely." But what year is it, again? On Cooler Returns, Kiwi Jr. cycle through the recent zigs & looming zags of the new decade, squinting anew at New Year's parties forgotten and under-investigated small town diner fires, piecing together low-stakes conspiracy theories on what's coming down the pike in 2021. Put together like a thousand-piece puzzle, assembled in flow state through the first dull stretch of quarantine, sanitized singer shuffling to sanitized studio by streetcar, masked like it's the kind of work where getting recognized means getting killed, Cooler Returns materializes as a sprawling survey from the first few bites of the terrible twenties, an investigative exposé of recent history buried under the headlines & ancient kings buried under parking lots. Not so long since their debut Football Money in archaeological time, unending gray eons later in the dog years of quaran-time, spiritually antipodean Canadians Kiwi Jr return to disseminate this year's annual report to the shareholders, burying the incriminating numbers in the endless appendices of a longform narrative record, a 3,000 word tract for stakeholders to pore over. These stories - memories of Augusts past, unrepressed & transcribed fast - go down easier thanks to meaningful changes enacted in 2019's KiwiCares Pledge: delivering on a promise to transition from Crunchy to Smooth by 2021, the caveman chug of Football Money has been steamed & pressed with the purifying air of a saloon piano - operated with bow-tie untied - and a spring green side-salad of tentatively up-tempo organ taps & freshly fluted harmonica. A chronically detuned spin of the dial through swivel-chair distractions & WFH daydreams, an immersive ctrl-tab deluge cycling through popular listicle distractions like the unentombing of Richard III, or the deja vu destruction of the Glasgow School of Art, Kiwi Jr. sing this song to an indoor audience, crisscrossing canceled, every other prestige distraction source wrung dry, only songwriting remaining to deliver engrossing tales to the populace, just how I imagine it worked in the old days. Fixing loose ingredients into a sturdy whip, Kiwi Jr. beam in live from the 9-5, striding into 2021 with a mastered brainwave that comes equally from the back room of the record store as the penalty box. And how do we, left holding this box of deliberate entanglements, sign off to those as yet uninitiated, undecided, uncertain, unseen, absent return coordinates - Best Wishes, Warm Regards, Good Luck? Cooler Returns, Cooler Returns, C o o l e r R e t u r n s ! Cooler Returns was produced by Kiwi Jr., mixed and engineered by Graham Walsh (METZ, Bully) in Toronto, and mastered by Phillip Shaw Bova at Bova Labs in Ottawa, Ontario.

Kiwi Jr. are a phenomenal rock and / or punk and / or indie rock (whichever you like more) band from Canada, made up of Jeremy Gaudet (mic, guitar), Brohan Moore (drums), Mike Walker (bass) and Brian Murphy (guitar). ‘Cooler Returns’ is their second album and their first for Sub Pop.
Despite being a snapshot of the pandemic-infused beginnings of this decade, ‘Cooler Returns’ is truly a whole lot of fun. For fans of indie pop from down under and things that are smart / exuberant / catchy all at once.
‘Cooler Returns’ was produced by Kiwi Jr., mixed and engineered by Graham Walsh (METZ, Bully) in Toronto and mastered by Phillip Shaw Bova at Bova Labs in Ottawa, Ontario.

For years Supercrush confined themselves to the limitations of the
two-song 7’ single format, demonstrating a mastery of hyper efficient
song-craft, while leaving their audience wondering if a more expansive work would ever emerge.
SODO Pop answers that question, delivering on the promise of those 7’ singles and then some with 36 minutes of guitar pop alchemy. With a full-length album, the band is for the first time afforded the space to stretch out, allowing for explorations into more ambitious song structures, varied compositions, and additional instrumentation.
But those who enjoyed the of the brevity of the band’s early material needn’t worry, there are still plenty of compact two and a half to three minute gems here in the tradition of the group’s tried and true superpop formula.

On December 26th, 2018, Emily Cross received an excited email from a friend: Brian Eno was talking about her band on BBC radio. “At first I didn’t think it was real,” she admits. But then she heard a recording: Eno was praising ‘Black Willow’ from Loma’s self-titled debut. He said he’d had it on repeat.
At the time, a second Loma album seemed unlikely. The band began as a serendipitous collaboration between Cross, the multi-talented musician and recording engineer Dan Duszynski and Shearwater frontman Jonathan Meiburg, who wanted to play a supporting role after years at the microphone. They’d capped a gruelling tour
with a standout performance on a packed beach at Sub Pop’s SPF 30 festival, in which Cross leapt into the crowd and then into the sea, while the band carried on from the stage - an emotional peak that also felt like a natural ending. “It was the biggest audience we’d ever had,” she says. “We thought, why not stop here?” Following the tour, Cross went to rural Mexico to work on visual art and a solo record, while Meiburg began a new Shearwater effort. But after a few months apart
(and Eno’s encouraging words), the trio changed their minds and reconvened at Duszynski’s home in rural Texas, where they began to develop songs that would become ‘Don’t Shy Away’. Loma writes by consensus and, though Cross is always the singer, she, Duszynski and Meiburg often trade instruments. Meiburg compares their process to using an Ouija Board and says the songs revealed themselves slowly, over many months. “Each of us is a very strong flavor,” he says, “but in Loma, nobody wears the crown, so we have to trust each other - and we end up in places none of us would have gone on our own. I think we all wanted to experience that again.” The album that emerged is gently spectacular - a vivid work whose light touch belies
its timely themes of solitude, impermanence and finding light in deep darkness. “Stuck / beneath / a rock,” Cross begins, as if noticing her predicament for the first time. Then she adds: “I begin to see / the beauty in it.” A series of guests contributed to the absorbing soundscapes of ‘Don’t Shy Away’, including touring members Emily Lee (piano, violin) and Matt Schuessler (bass), Flock of Dimes/Wye Oak’s Jenn Wasner and a surprisingly bass-heavy horn section.
And then there’s Brian Eno. Loma invited him to participate in the mantra-like ‘Homing’, which concludes the album and sent him stems to interact with in any way he liked. He never spoke directly with the band but his completed mix arrived via email late one night, without warning and they gathered to listen in the converted bedroom Duszynski uses as a control room. “I was a little worried,” says Cross.
“What if we didn’t like it?” But it was all they’d hoped for: minimal but enveloping, friendly but enigmatic, as much Loma as Eno - a perfect ending to an album about finding a new home inside an old one. “I am somewhere that you know,” Cross sings, above a chorus of her bandmates’ blended voices. “I am right behind your eyes.”
First LP pressing on dark green vinyl.

In the horror genre, sequels are perfunctory. As the insufferable film bro Randy explains in Scream 2, "There are certain rules that one must abide by in order to create a successful sequel. Number one: the body count is always bigger. Number two: the death scenes are always much more elaborate-more blood, more gore. Carnage candy. And number three: never, ever, under any circumstances, assume the killer is dead." Last Halloween, Los Angeles experimental rap mainstays Clipping ended their three-year silence with the horrorcore-inspired album There Existed an Addiction to Blood. This October, rapper Daveed Diggs, and producers Jonathan Snipes and William Hutson return with an even higher body count, more elaborate kills, and monsters that just won't stay dead. Visions of Bodies Being Burned is less a sequel than it is the second half of a planned diptych. It turns out, Clipping took to the thematic material of horrorcore like vampires to grave soil. Before the release of There Existed an Addiction to Blood, Clipping and Sub Pop Records divided the material up into two albums, designed to be released only months apart. However, a global pandemic and multiple cancelled tours pushed the release of the project's "part two" until the following Halloween season. Visions of Bodies Being Burned contains sixteen more scary stories disguised as rap songs, incorporating as much influence from Ernest Dickerson, Clive Barker, and Shirley Jackson as it does from Three 6 Mafia, Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, and Brotha Lynch Hung. Clipping's angular, shattered interpretations of existing musical styles are always deferential, driven by fandom for the object of study rather than disdain for it. Clipping reimagine horrorcore-the purposely absurdist hip-hop subgenre that flourished in the 1990s-the way Jordan Peele does horror cinema: by twisting beloved tropes to make explicit their own radical politics of monstrosity, fear, and the uncanny. The album features a host of collaborators: Inglewood's Cam & China, fellow noise-rap pioneers Ho99o9, Tortoise guitar genius Jeff Parker, and experimental LA drummer Ted Byrnes. The final track, "Secret Piece," is a performance of a Yoko Ono text score from 1953 that instructs the players to "Decide on one note that you want to play/Play it with the following accompaniment: the woods from 5am to 8am in summer," and features nearly all of the musicians who appeared on both albums. Since their last album, Daveed Diggs-the group's Tony and Grammy Award-winning rapper-has starred in the TNT science fiction series, Snowpiercer, voiced a character in Pixar's Soul, and portrayed Frederick Douglass in Showtime's The Good Lord Bird. Writer Rivers Solomon's novella based on Clipping's Hugo-nominated song "The Deep" has been nominated for the Nebula, Hugo, and Locus Awards, and won the Lambda Literary Award for best LGBTQ SF/Fantasy/Horror novel. Clipping's song "Chapter 319"-a tribute to George Floyd (AKA Big Floyd) the former DJ-Screw affiliated rapper who was murdered by police officers in May of 2020-was released on Bandcamp on June 19th and raised over $20,000 for racial justice charities. A clip of the song also became a popular meme on TikTok, generating over 50,000 videos in which teenagers rapped the song's lyrics ("Donald Trump is a white supremacist, full stop_") directly into the frowning faces of their conservative parents. The band also contributed a Skinny Puppy-esque rework of J-Kwon's "Tipsy" to Save Stereogum: An '00s Covers Comp.