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Tokyo at night. Neon signs hum like electric lullabies, and somewhere down a side street, behind a barely marked door, there’s a bartender who knows more about your taste in music than you do. No setlists. No requests. Just a turntable, a vast wall of vinyl, and a drink you didn’t order but somehow needed. This is where Daithí found Valentine . Or maybe where Valentine found him. Fresh from scoring films and crafting the kind of collaborations that get IFTA nominations, Daithí has returned with a single that sounds like it time-traveled straight out of a Milanese nightclub circa 1986 and landed flawlessly in 2025. This is not a nostalgia act. This is Italo Disco with an existential crisis. Valentine is what happens when you spend your nights in the kind of bars where music isn’t just background noise -- it’s gospel. This track doesn’t hit you like a love song. It sneaks up on you. The melody floats in like a half-remembered dream, the kind you wake up chasing but can never fully grasp. It doesn't surprise me one bit that in his 2 year hiatus from making solo records, Daithi's been making film scores. Valentine  isn’t about telling a story. It’s about making you feel like you’re inside one. THE ART OF INTENTIONAL LISTENING “In these tiny, dimly lit spaces, bartenders double as curators,” Daithí explains, describing Japan’s listening bars. “From huge shelves of vinyl, they’d carefully select a record, hold it up as if unveiling a treasure, and place it on the turntable for the six or seven patrons wedged into the room.” That sense of reverence is all over Valentine . Every beat, every synth swell, every carefully placed splice feels chosen, not just made. There’s patience in the production -- an understanding that space is just as important as sound. The foundation is classic Italo Disco: that four-on-the-floor heartbeat, the shimmering arpeggios, the sense that you should probably be wearing sunglasses indoors while listening to it. But it never leans too far into pastiche. Instead, it plays with tension; melding the excess of the ‘80s with the restraint of a modern producer who knows exactly when to pull back. VINTAGE EXCESS, MODERN PRECISION And the cool thing is, at a glance it's quite a simple track. (I mean, I couldn't have made it). But technically, Valentine is a triumph of layering. The synths strut in with the confidence of a Bladerunner John Hughes soundtrack, but there’s a slick, calculated minimalism that keeps it from feeling like a throwback. The percussion is crisp, giving the track a propulsive energy without overwhelming the mix. The sparse vocals don't so much tell a story as suggest one, leaving space for the listener to fill in their own story It's the musical equivalent of a perfectly ambiguous text message -- you can read into it whatever you need to. (And I think she's into me). And speaking of that voice; distant, like a transmission from a lost radio station broadcasting from the back of your brain. And again, simple. Just repeated lines but it's very alluring. It’s not guiding you; it’s inviting you in, letting you find your own meaning in the space between the notes. I really fuck with this actually. A Track That Defines the Album Valentine doesn’t just nod to Italo Disco—it revs the engine, throws it into overdrive, and speeds off toward some hazy, synth-drenched horizon. The track moves with the confidence of a late-night cityscape, where every neon reflection feels like a secret invitation. (See also: The Drive soundtrack if it actually knew how to have fun.) I'm a big fan of Daithi's old stuff. And seeing how this track feel's, It's a safe bet that the album planned for later this year will be played non stop. Valentine was a great present this febuarary. It's a sharp reminder that music isn’t meant to be consumed like fast food. It’s meant to be chased, savored, obsessed over. The algorithm might guess your taste, but it’ll never be a bartender in a Tokyo bar, holding up a record like it’s the Holy Grail, about to change your whole night, maybe your whole life, with the drop of a needle.

There’s a certain kind of album that doesn’t just ask to be played. It slithers out of your speakers, dims the lights, and starts rearranging the furniture. There’s something deeply untrustworthy about a world that insists on constant brightness. You see it everywhere -- social media feeds curated for maximum dopamine hits, pop songs scientifically engineered to be forgettable, life coaches telling you to manifest your dreams instead of confronting your nightmares. But some things live in the shadows for a reason, and Night’s Cross , the latest from Rosetta West, is proof that the best music doesn’t need to come with a ring light. Recording from what I can only imagine to be a wonderfully creepy house in the Illinois countryside (the kind real estate agents would optimistically list as "full of character") Rosetta West have delivered an album that doesn’t just embrace the dark; it moves in, signs a long-term lease, and starts levitating you while you sleep. Night’s Cross is the kind of record that feels discovered rather than released, like an artifact from another time or another place (maybe even another world.) WALKING WITH GHOSTS While their previous album 'Labyrinth' occasionally let in rays of light, 'Night's Cross' embraces darkness with the enthusiasm of a teenager discovering Gothic literature. But that’s not to say it’s some overwrought, self-indulgent descent into gloom. There’s a confidence here, a sense that the band isn’t drowning in the darkness but rather navigating it with ease. It's part blues, part rock, part whispered séance. But less "woe is me" and more "pull up a chair, let's talk about death." From the opening track "Save Me," which somehow manages to marry mongolian-throat singing-esque aesthetics with American blues (a musical combination that shouldn't work but absolutely does), to the hypnotic rhythms of "Desperation," the band weaves a tapestry of sound that feels both ancient and immediate. This is a really cool fucking band. Joseph Demagore doesn’t just sing; he exhales these songs like incantations, each note heavy with history and Jason X's bass work adds the kind of depth that makes subwoofers question their life choices, while Nathan Q. Scratch’s percussion feels less like keeping time and more like pulling the strings of something unseen. MUSIC THAT STARES BACK The real magic of Night’s Cross lies in its refusal to do what’s expected. The whole album's narrative threads wind through territory both familiar and strange. I mean, Alligator Farm alone presents itself as a blues rocker about reptilian romance (because why not?), while managing to feel simultaneously hilarious and deeply unsettling. This could have been a straight-ahead blues-rock stomper, but instead, it twists itself into something stranger -- grinning, menacing, and weirdly seductive. (Who knew replilian romace could be sexy). It’s the kind of song that belongs in the backroom of a bar where the bartender doesn’t ask questions. "Cold Winter Moon" and "Oh Death" form a conversational duet with mortality that feels less like traditional blues memento mori and more like an actual negotiation with death itself. Even Mary (Mary Christ?) makes an appearance, carrying enough Biblical weight to make Leonard Cohen nod in approval. The whole album carries this energy, like it knows something you don’t, but it’s in no rush to explain. It's incredibly charming. The album builds upon Rosetta West’s blues-rock foundation but pushes further into the hypnotic and the mystical in songs like ‘Dora Lee’ and ‘You’ll Be The Death Of Me’. Swirling organ tones, searing guitar solos, and haunting vocal lines. The whole thing feels like a fever dream you half remember when you wake up. And I can't stop listening to it. DELIBERATE OBSCURITY In a music industry obsessed with visibility metrics and social media presence, Rosetta West's steadfast independence feels like a quiet revolution. Their one collaboration with Alive Records stands as their sole concession to the mainstream, like a brief handshake with the modern world before retreating back to their musical cabin in the woods. I truly have a sort of perverse joy in how completely Rosetta West rejects the modern music machine. They don’t chase trends, and they sure as hell don’t care if their songs make it onto your “Vibey Chill Blues” playlist. This album exists entirely on its own terms, a rare breed in a world where every note of a song has to be A/B tested for maximum virality. 'Night's Cross' isn't an album you put on at parties (unless it's a very specific kind of party, in which case, invite me next time). It isn’t here to make friends. It’s here to whisper in your ear, pour you a drink, and make you question whether that shadow in the corner just moved. It’s a record for anyone who’s ever found themselves staring into the void and wondering if it might have a good story to tell. Rosetta West reminds us that some of the most powerful art comes from following your own strange star, even if (especially if) it leads you into the darkness. Just remember to bring matches -- you might need them for the ritual.

If you don’t know who Ria Rua is, you will. And if you do, chances are you’ve already accepted the inevitable: she’s about to be everywhere . Let's be real. Half the industry is just AI-generated beats and labels churning out ‘authentic’ artists like factory-assembled craft beer brands, but RIA RUA doesn’t fit on the production line. She’s the glitch in the system, the error message flashing right before everything crashes, and her latest single, ‘I Love That For You,’ is the sound of that beautiful malfunction. This isn’t some manufactured “alt-pop” act with major-label funding disguised as indie credibility. This is real . Real sweat, real nerve, and real “fuck you, I’ll do it myself” energy. The kind of music that doesn’t ask if you’re paying attention--it demands it. It's Nine Inch Nails at an underground rave, Enya’s evil twin, and anyone who’s ever been told to “tone it down” and decided to turn it up instead. THE SONIC REBELLION “I Love That For You” kicks off with a very cool dreamy twenty seconds intro, like a slow-building clatter of distorted synths and scattered percussion that sounds like Trent Reznor getting lost in a fever dream. It’s deliberately jarring, like stepping into a nightclub five hours too late, after the drinks have dried up and the only thing left on the floor is regret. Then Rua’s voice cuts through the chaos. Half-angelic, half-threatening. Like she’s whispering secrets into your ear while simultaneously daring you to get too close. The track builds with this delicious tension, teetering between industrial grit and pop sensibility. There’s this feeling of rising pressure as the song gets grittier and grittie r. This sinking melody is like a further descent into madness as RIA's dreamy dialogue echo's around it ultimately leading us to the repeated "I love that for you" line. God I hate that phrase. And this is catchy, bu t not in the nice way. More like a song that worms its way into your brain and lingers long after you’ve shut off the speakers. (Get out of head, Rua). FROM BACKBEAT TO CENTER STAGE When a drummer steps up to the hot seat, it usually eqates to something pretty amazing. (Looking at you, Dave Grohl). They’re the backbone, the engine room, the ones who make everyone else look good. And yet, Rua doesn’t just take center stage. She owns it. The rhythm of “I Love That For You” isn’t just something buried in the mix, it’s the pulse of the entire track. It jerks and shifts, stopping and starting like a car with a mind of its own, refusing to settle into any comfortable groove. Rua plays with expectation like a cat toying with a half-dead mouse -- tossing it in the air, watching it squirm, deciding when to finally let it drop. TECHNICAL BRILLIANCE IN THE BREAKDOWN If most pop music is a polished Instagram photo, all filters and flattering angles, then this track is a grainy, unhinged dick-pic sent at 3 AM. Rua’s production choices lean into raw imperfection; distorted vocals, off-kilter beats, moments of eerie stillness that make the eventual explosions feel all the more earned . The bridge is in fact my favourite. It's particularly haunting, layers of whispers and electronic glitches creeping in like bad thoughts at an inconvenient time. Then, just when you think you’ve found your footing, the track detonates , with drums that crash like a war breaking out inside your speakers. This is what separates Rua from the pack. She understands that the best music isn’t just heard -- it’s felt . It’s experienced in the pit of your stomach, in the back of your brain, in that little part of you that wants to make bad decisions just to feel alive. (Don't @ me) THE INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION Lyrically, “I Love That For You” is a beautifully disguised middle finger. Rua has spoken about the societal pressure to “settle down, work at a shop, and marry a local farmer”-- a fate that, for many, is considered the peak of stability.  The same fate that hits with the weight of every creative soul who's ever been told to get a "real job." Rua, instead, takes that expectation, twists it into a sneering mantra, and sets it against a backdrop of those industrial beats and haunting melodies. When she chants “I love that for you,” it’s not a compliment, more like a curse . It’s the sound of someone watching the world fall in line while refusing to take a single step in the same direction. Genre-wise, Rua exists in a fascinating limbo. Too electronic for rock, too aggressive for pop, too weird for the algorithm, yet too addictive to ignore. There’s a rawness here that nods to The Cranberries, a sense of unease that feels almost early Grimes , and a melodic undercurrent that, in a just world, would put her on every major festival stage within the next year. As debut singles go, “I Love That For You” doesn’t just introduce Ria Rua—it announces her, with the subtlety of a Molotov cocktail through a boardroom window. It’s bold, unpredictable, and completely unwilling to play nice. We love this for her. WHAT’S NEXT? With an album on the way and a growing fanbase already singing her praises, Rua stands as proof that the most interesting artists aren’t the ones who were destined for stardom. They’re the ones who took a different route entirely, carving their own path with a drumstick in one hand and a blowtorch in the other. If this is just the beginning, then buckle up. I'm excited. Rua isn’t here to join  the industry. She’s here to burn it down and build something better in its place .

In an era where authenticity is a brand strategy and vulnerability comes with a trigger warning, Orla Gartland's "Little Chaos" kicks the door in like a drunk friend at 3 AM. Messy, loud, and completely unapologetic. Nope, it's not my dating life. It's Orla Gartland’s addictive new single from her latest album " Everybody needs a hero ". It’s the indie rock equivalent of shouting “I’M FINE” while setting your kitchen on fire & serves as a middle finger to the perfectly curated disaster we've made of modern relationships. From the first few seconds; drums crashing like someone knocking over a drum kit on purpose, guitars distorted just enough to make your speakers sweat, Little Chaos lets you know exactly what kind of ride you’re in for. It’s a track that doesn’t just flirt with chaos; it takes it out for drinks and leaves it on read. (I'm not mad, you're mad.) The evolution in Gartland's sound is palpable, with the Irish singer-songwriter clearly finding her comfort zone in the discomfort of alternative pop-rock. This isn't just another indie artist discovering distortion pedals; it's a deliberate wade into deeper, grosser (more gross?) waters. Gartland has always had a knack for making her emotional unraveling sound borderline anthemic, but here, she’s fully leaned into the madness. The Aesthetic of Imperfection There’s something inherently brilliant about the way Little Chaos is built. The entire track is an exercise in tension and release. Layered guitars that should feel overwhelming but somehow remain razor-sharp, drum fills that teeter on the edge of collapse without ever fully falling apart. It’s a song that sounds like it was recorded in one emotional burst, but lean in a little bit and you'll hear it's surgical precision behind the mess. The mix keeps Gartland’s voice right  at the forefront, letting her switch effortlessly between raw, intimate confessions and full-blown, shouted catharsis. The production has that controlled imperfection; guitars that buzz with just the right amount of fuzz, basslines that slide in subtly beneath the chaos, and that genius a cappella break, where everything drops out for just a moment before the full band crashes back in. There’s real craftsmanship here. The way the guitars fade in and out like intrusive thought. That’s not accidental (I assume). The bridge’s gradual tension build, layering harmonies and synth textures until it practically demands  release. That’s the mark of someone who understands how to manipulate a listener’s emotions with sound alone. The chorus goes so hard too — an absolute riot of noise and melody, designed to be screamed in a room full of sweaty strangers. The last time indie rock felt this cathartic, Hayley Williams was still dyeing her hair every other week. TECHNICAL BRILLIANCE IN THE BREAKDOWN The heart of Little Chaos isn’t just its sound, it’s the unapologetic emotional wreckage it leaves behind. In a world where everyone is selling a picture-perfect version of their lives, Gartland goes the other way: “I wish that you could make all my decisions for me,” she sings, and suddenly, we’re all nodding in exhausted agreement. The track is an anthem for anyone who’s ever tried (and failed) to be an emotionally self-sufficient adult. And then there’s that a cappella break (Boy am I a sucker for these), a genius move that makes you feel like the entire song just stopped to take a breath before launching itself off a cliff again. It’s moments like these that show Gartland’s real strength: making you feel like you’re inside her head, just as she’s figuring things out herself. A Track That Defines the Album Taken in context, Little Chaos is just the linchpin in Gartland’s new album, Everybody Needs A Hero, a record that takes everything she’s been building towards and cranks it up to 11. Since her early YouTube days, where a teenage Gartland carved out her corner of the internet with bedroom covers and earnest originals, we’ve witnessed something rare: an authenticity that survived the algorithm. From 2015’s Lonely People - a Two Door Cinema Club-tinged slice of indie-pop, to the brutal truth bombs of You’re Not Special, Babe ( “ Life is short until it’s not / Honestly, it’s kinda long ” ), Gartland has made a career out of saying the quiet parts out loud. Now, with Everybody Needs A Hero , we’re seeing the full evolution of that raw honesty into something more complex, more nuanced, and infinitely more interesting. It’s an album that refuses to be just one thing. There are moments of pure indie-pop gold, like her collaboration with Declan McKenna on Late to the Party , where shimmering synths meet off-kilter beats. Then, there are tracks like Little Chaos , which feel like someone took a deep breath, said, “Screw it,” and threw themselves headfirst into a distortion pedal. Every moment of the album feels deliberate, but never over-produced. The imperfections are baked in on purpose, giving the whole thing a rawness that’s missing from most major releases. I LIKE IT. An Anthem For Today "Little Chaos" is more than just another indie rock track; it's a thesis statement for a generation caught between the pressure to have it all together and the reality that none of us really do; It's a permission slip to be messy, signed and delivered by an artist who understands that the most beautiful moments often come from embracing our imperfections & most importatnly, it's the soundtrack to your next emotional breakdown, and trust me, you'll want to dance through it.

(But we're still feasting on his legacy) Phil Collins performs live. CREDIT: David Wolff-Patrick/Redferns/Getty The man who soundtracked multiple generations has decided to put down the sticks. Phil Collins, the drummer who became a voice that defined the 80s, who sold 150 million records like it was nothing, and made us all wait for that drum break in "In The Air Tonight," has declared himself "not hungry enough" to make new music. Coming from someone who's fed the world everything from Genesis epics to Tarzan's heartbreak, that's the end of an era. THE SILENCE OF THE DRUMS It's been a while since Collins gave us anything new - his last original work was the Brother Bear soundtrack in 2003. Since then, health issues have kept one of rock's greatest drummers from his kit, with his son Nic (carrying that Collins timing in his DNA) taking over during Genesis' farewell tour in 2022. The torch passes, even if the flame burns differently. Last summer, producer Simon Napier-Bell got everyone excited with a studio photo and promises of new music. But Collins himself puts it plainly: "I keep thinking I should go downstairs to the studio and see what happens. But I'm not hungry for it anymore. The thing is, I've been sick, I mean very sick." THE LEGACY THAT KEEPS ON GIVING This is the man who went from prog rock genius to pop superstar without missing a beat. The drummer who could out-play anyone while singing lead. The artist who gave us "Against All Odds," "Take Me Home," and "Another Day in Paradise" - songs that became more than hits, they became moments in time. From the intricate rhythms of early Genesis to the perfect pop of "Sussudio," from the raw emotion of "Face Value" to the joy of Disney's "You'll Be in My Heart," Collins didn't just create music - he created landmarks in people's lives. He's one of only three artists (alongside Paul McCartney and Michael Jackson) to sell over 100 million records both as a solo artist and as part of a band. That's not success, that's legend status. THE FINAL BEAT (For now, at least) While Collins might be done feeding us new material, his influence keeps showing up everywhere - from the drum fills that every drummer still tries to nail, to the way his production style shaped the sound of the 80s and beyond. His daughter Lily's touching tribute after Genesis' final show at The O2 reminded us that sometimes the best encore is knowing when to leave the stage. Phil Collins isn't just taking a look at himself now - he's taking care of himself. And after giving us everything from progressive rock masterpieces to pop perfection to Oscar-winning Disney songs, he's earned that right. Some artists leave a mark. Collins left a blueprint. TAGS: Phil Collins, Genesis, Music Legacy 2025, Drum Legend, Brother Bear Soundtrack, Genesis Final Tour, Nic Collins, Face Value Anniversary, Both Sides Anniversary, Music Icon, Rock Drummer, Progressive Rock, Pop Music, Disney Soundtracks, British Music, Music Industry News, Rock History, Genesis Band, Collins Family, Music Hall of Fame, 80s Music, Drummer Legend, Grammy Winner, Oscar Winner, Musical Legacy, The O2 Arena, Final Tour, Music Documentary, Classic Rock, Pop Rock History

(A running list of everything you need to hear - and probably can't afford) New albums are dropping faster than your New Year's resolutions, and it's becoming increasingly impossible to stay in the know about them all. If keeping track feels like trying to count raindrops in a storm, here's your lighthouse. From Lady Gaga's arena-ready "Mayhem" to underground gems that'll make your algorithm question everything it knows about you, we're tracking every notable release dropping this spring. Your 2025 Soundtrack Is About To Get Weird The heavy hitters are out in force this year: Bon Iver's bringing their signature cryptic energy, Black Country, New Road's back to bring orchestral anxiety to the masses, and Lucy Dacus is here to make you cry in public (again). But that's just the tip of the iceberg. THE FULL ROSTER: Blondshell's coming for your introspective moments, while Panda Bear 's here to twist your reality sideways. Destroyer's Dan Bejar never disappoints, and Charley Crockett 's keeping country weird. The Horrors are still horrifyingly good, Mdou Moctar 's confirming his guitar hero status, and Black Country, New Road are proving post-rock isn't dead, it just got more interesting. Sasami 's ready to blow your speakers, Japanese Breakfast 's got something for melancholy brunettes everywhere, and DJ Koze 's sorting your 3 AM soundtrack. Perfume Genius is bringing beauty to chaos, Deafheaven 's louder than your existential crisis, and Saya Gray 's definitely one to watch. Throwing Muses are back (thank god), Edith Frost 's in space (apparently), Yung Lean 's uniting the sadboys, Baths is cleansing your musical palette, Youth Lagoon 's rarely dreaming but frequently releasing, and Beirut 's studying losses while creating gains. This guide tracks all streaming and digital release dates FEBRUARY RELEASES February 20 Baalti: Mela EP [Steel City Dance Discs] February 21 Baths: Gut [Basement's Basement] Kelora: Sleepers [True Panther] Nao: Jupiter [RCA] Pissgrave: Malignant Worthlessness [Profound Lore] Porridge Radio: The Machine Starts to Sing EP [Secretly Canadian] Q Lazzarus: Goodbye Horses: The Many Lives of Q Lazzarus [Sacred Bones] Sam Fender: People Watching [Capitol] Saya Gray: Saya [Dirty Hit] Tate McRae: So Close to What [RCA] Ted Lucas: Ted Lucas (Extended) [Third Man] Tim Hecker: Shards [Kranky] Youth Lagoon: Rarely Do I Dream [Fat Possum] February 27 Rebecca Black: Salvation [self-released] (Yes, that Rebecca Black) February 28THE BIG ONES: Darkside: Nothing [Matador] (The irony of that title isn't lost on us) Panda Bear: Sinister Grift [Domino] Mdou Moctar: Tears of Injustice [Matador] PLUS : The Chills: Spring Board: The Early Unrecorded Songs [Fire] Domestic Drafts: Only the Singer [Glamour Gowns] Edith Frost: In Space [Drag City] Everything Is Recorded: Temporary [XL] Ichiko Aoba: Luminescent Creatures [Hermine/Psychic Hotline] Kilbourne: If Not to Give a Fantasy [Hammerhead] Lucrecia Dalt: Cosa Rara EP [Rvng Intl.] Marie Davidson: City of Clowns [Deewee] The Men: Buyer Beware [Fuzz Club] Miya Folick: Erotica Veronica [Nettwerk] Shygirl: Club Shy Room 2 EP [Because Music] Unknown Mortal Orchestra: IC-02 Bogotá [Jagjaguwar] Yo La Tengo: Old Joy EP [Mississippi] MARCH MADNESS March 7 - HEADLINERS: Lady Gaga: Mayhem [Interscope] (Prepare accordingly) Bob Mould: Here We Go Crazy [Granary Music] Neil Young: Oceanside Countryside [Reprise] New music releases for Friday, February 28, 2025, include: Panda Bear: Sinister Grift [Domino] PLUS: Alabaster DePlume: A Blade Because a Blade Is Whole [International Anthem] Hamilton Leithauser: This Side of the Island [Glassnote] Jason Isbell: Foxes in the Snow [Southeastern] Marina Zispin, Bianca Scout & Martyn Reid: Now You See Me, Now You Don't [Scenic Route] Sasami: Blood on the Silver Screen [Domino] Star 99: Gaman [Lauren] Vundabar: Surgery and Pleasure [Loma Vista] March 14 Charley Crockett: Lonesome Drifter [Island] Circuit des Yeux: Halo on the Inside [Matador] Of Montreal: The Sunlandic Twins (20th Anniversary Edition) [Polyvinyl] Throwing Muses: Moonlight Concessions [Fire] March 20 Hiroshi Yoshimura: Flora [Temporal Drift] March 21 - SPOTLIGHT RELEASES: Japanese Breakfast: For Melancholy Brunettes (& Sad Women) [Dead Oceans] The Horrors: Night Life [Fiction] My Morning Jacket: Is [ATO] PLUS: Lonnie Holley: Tonky [Jagjaguwar] Phil Cook: Appalachia Borealis [Psychic Hotline] Selena Gomez & Benny Blanco: I Said I Love You First [Interscope] YHWH Nailgun: 45 Pounds [AD 93] Young Widows: Power Sucker [Temporary Residence Ltd.] New music releases for Friday, March 21, 2025, include: Japanese Breakfast: For Melancholy Brunettes (& Sad Women) [Dead Oceans] March 28 - THE HEAVY HITTERS: Deafheaven: Lonely People With Power [Roadrunner] Lucy Dacus: Forever Is a Feeling [Geffen] Perfume Genius: Glory [Matador] Destroyer: Dan's Boogie [Merge] APRIL BRINGS THE HEAT April 4 - THE ONES YOUR INDIE FRIENDS WON'T SHUT UP ABOUT: Black Country, New Road: Forever Howlong [Ninja Tune] (Because nothing says spring like existential British post-rock) DJ Koze: Music Can Hear Us [Pampa] (The soundtrack to your next 3 AM crisis) Florist: Jellywish [Double Double Whammy] (Finally, an album title that sounds like a typo but isn't) PLUS THE COLLAB WE DIDN'T KNOW WE NEEDED: Elton John & Brandi Carlile: Who Believes in Angels? [Interscope] (Your mom's gonna love this one) AND THE REST OF THE PACK: Barker: Stochastic Drift [Smalltown Supersound] Craig Finn: Always Been [Tamarac] David Longstreth, Dirty Projectors & Stargaze: Song of the Earth [Nonesuch/New Amsterdam] Djo: The Crux [AWAL] L.A. Witch: Doggod [Suicide Squeeze] Penelope Trappes: A Requiem [One Little Independent] Scowl: Are We All Angels [Dead Oceans] Sleigh Bells: Bunky Becky Birthday Boy [Mom + Pop] (What even is that title?) The Waterboys: Life, Death and Dennis Hopper [Sun] New music releases for Friday, April 4, 2025, include: DJ Koze: Music Can Hear Us [Pampa] April 11 - THE BIG ONE: Bon Iver: SABLE, fABLE [Jagjaguwar] (Justin Vernon continues his war against lowercase letters) PLUS: Ken Carson: More Chaos [Opium/Interscope] Röyksopp: True Electric [Dog Triumph] April 18 - EMOTIONAL DAMAGE INCOMING: Beirut: A Study of Losses [Pompeii] Julien Baker & Torres: Send a Prayer My Way [Matador] (Stock up on tissues now) Quickly, Quickly: I Heard That Noise [Ghostly International] Tunde Adebimpe: Thee Black Boltz [Sub Pop] New music releases for Friday, April 18, 2025, include: Tunde Adebimpe: Thee Black Boltz [Sub Pop] April 25 - THE "WHY ISN'T EVERYONE TALKING ABOUT THIS?" SQUAD: Broncho: Natural Pleasure [Broncho Worldwide] Nazar: Demilitarize [Hyperdub] Sumac & Moor Mother: The Film [Thrill Jockey] (Prepare for beautiful chaos) William Tyler: Time Indefinite [Psychic Hotline] MAY BANGERS: May 2 Blondshell: If You Asked for a Picture [Partisan] (Get ready to feel things) PUP: Who Will Look After the Dogs? [Little Dipper/Rise] (The real questions being asked here) Yung Lean: Jonatan [World Affairs] (Sadboys unite) New music releases for Friday, May 2, 2025, include: Yung Lean: Jonatan [World Affairs] PLUS: James Krivchenia: Performing Belief [Planet Mu] Sextile: Yes, Please. [Sacred Bones] May 9 Mclusky: The World Is Still Here and So Are We [Ipecac] (The most optimistic title of 2025?) May 16 - THE LAST HURRAH: Pelican: Flickering Resonance [Run for Cover] Rico Nasty: Lethal [Fueled by Ramen] (Spoiler: It will be) Spill Tab: Angie [Because Music] New music releases for Friday, May 16, 2025, include: Pelican: Flickering Resonance [Run for Cover] TAGS: Summer Releases 2025, New Music 2025, Bon Iver, Lady Gaga Mayhem, Lucy Dacus, Blondshell, Panda Bear, Destroyer, Charley Crockett, The Horrors, Mdou Moctar, Black Country New Road, Sasami, Japanese Breakfast, DJ Koze, Perfume Genius, Deafheaven, Saya Gray, Throwing Muses, Edith Frost, Yung Lean, Baths, Youth Lagoon, Beirut, Album Announcements, New Albums 2025, Spring Releases, Summer Albums, Indie Music, Alternative Music, Electronic Music, Experimental Rock, Post Rock, Folk Rock, Industrial Pop, Bedroom Pop, Indie Folk, Music Preview, Album Preview, Record Labels, Dead Oceans, Matador Records, Jagjaguwar, Domino Records, Sacred Bones, Fat Possum, Music Industry News, Upcoming Releases

While the Gallagher brothers are busy pricing out stadium tours they'll probably cancel anyway, Montana's finest export since... well, probably ever, are showing us how a reunion should be done. Silkworm are coming back. And they're doing it their way. Silkworm's Joel RL Phelps, Andy Cohen and Tim Midget, photo by Jon Solomon, Courtesy of Comedy Minus One THE SETUP (Or: How to Make a Reunion Actually Mean Something) After nearly two decades of silence, the Missoula-born indie rock architects are staging their first official shows since 2005. The news dropped via Vish Khanna's Kreative Kontrol podcast, where Andy Cohen and Tim Midyett casually announced what might be the most interesting reunion setup of 2025. THE LINEUP (It's Complicated, In The Best Way) This isn't your typical "get the band back together" scenario. Instead, Silkworm is offering us something more intriguing: an alternate timeline version of themselves. Original drummer Joel RL Phelps (who left in '94) is back, joined by Bedhead's Matt Kadane on keys and Jeff Panall behind the kit. It's like someone opened a portal to a parallel universe where the band's history took a different turn. As Midyett puts it: "It'll kind of be an alternate history 'Worm, where Joel never left, and Matt was in the band, and we met Jeff Pananall instead of Michael [Dahlquist]." There's something beautifully poetic about that approach, especially given the circumstances of their 2005 dissolution following Dahlquist's tragic death. THE DETAILS (Mark Your Calendars, Book Your Flights) Two shows are confirmed: September 25: Chicago (because of course) and September 27: Goner Fest, Memphis Silkworm circa 1997 THE CONTEXT (Because History Matters) This isn't completely out of nowhere - the band did play an impromptu set at Steve Albini's memorial gathering last year, a fitting tribute to their longtime collaborator and friend. But these upcoming shows represent something bigger: a proper return, albeit in an alternate form. Meanwhile, Comedy Minus One is releasing an expanded edition of 1997's "Developer," featuring the original Albini-recorded album remastered, plus Japanese bonus tracks and a Bob Dylan cover featuring Stephen Malkmus (eat your heart out Timmy Chalamet). THE BOTTOM LINE This isn't another reunion tour designed to fund someone's divorce settlement. Most bands come back to relive their past. Silkworm are coming back to explore their 'what ifs' - and somehow, that feels more honest than any greatest hits tour could ever be. September can't come soon enough. TAGS: Silkworm Reunion 2025, Indie Rock Reunion, Silkworm Chicago, Goner Fest 2025, Montana Music, Steve Albini, Developer Reissue, Comedy Minus One, Joel RL Phelps, Andy Cohen, Tim Midyett, Matt Kadane, Bedhead, Jeff Panall, Missoula Music, 90s Indie Rock, Alternative Rock, Indie Rock News, Music News 2025, Live Music Announcement, Vish Khanna, Kreative Kontrol, Concert Announcement, Music Reunion, Underground Rock, Indie Rock Classics, Matador Records, Stephen Malkmus, Bob Dylan Cover, Alternative History

In a dimly lit bedroom in Woking, 1972, three teenagers were making the kind of racket that would eventually reshape British music. One of them was Rick Buckler, and he just laid down his sticks for the last time. The drummer who helped turn mod from a fashion statement into a revolution has died at 69, taking with him one of the great untold stories of British rock. Richard Paul "Rick" Buckler, December 1977 (Steve Morley/Redferns) THE KID FROM WOKING WHO CHANGED THE GAME (Before the fame, there was just Stanley Road) Picture this: Sheerwater Secondary School, where three kids thought Chuck Berry covers might get them free drinks at the local pub. Buckler, alongside Paul Weller and Bruce Foxton, wasn't trying to start a movement. They were just trying to make noise. That noise became The Jam. The stats read like a fever dream: 18 consecutive UK Top 40 singles. Four number-ones that still sound like revolution: "Going Underground," "Start!," "Town Called Malice," "Beat Surrender." Then Weller pulled the plug in '82, without even a band meeting. Sometimes the biggest hits are the ones you don't see coming. LIFE AFTER THE JAM While Weller chased his solo destiny, Buckler kept time elsewhere. Time UK came and went. Sharp lasted about as long as its name. But you can't keep a good drummer down and by 2005, he was back behind the kit with The Gift, later joining forces with Foxton in From The Jam, proving some rhythms never really die. THE LAST WORD "I'm thinking back to us all rehearsing in my bedroom in Stanley Road, Woking," Weller wrote, finally breaking years of silence. "We went far beyond our dreams and what we made stands the test of time." From the notoriously prickly Modfather, that's practically a tearful embrace. Somewhere in Woking, a kid's probably picking up drumsticks right now, maybe even playing along to "Town Called Malice." They might not know Rick Buckler's name yet, but they're feeling his influence. Sometimes the loudest legacies are built in 4/4 time. TAGS: Rick Buckler, The Jam, British Music, Mod Revival, Paul Weller, Bruce Foxton, New Wave, British Punk, Woking Music, FromTheJam, Mod Culture, British Rock, 70s Music, Punk Rock, Drummer Tribute, Music Legend, UK Music, Post Punk, Mod Scene, British Invasion, Town Called Malice, Going Underground, Polydor Records, Music Obituary, Rock History, British New Wave, Musician Tribute, Drummer Legend, Mod Revivalist, British Music History

In a generation where even our depression has to be aesthetically pleasing for TikTok, here comes a band that sounds like they recorded their frustration in a garage and didn't bother to sweep up first. It's gloriously messy, deliberately unpolished, and exactly what I need right now. Imagine Renton’s iconic Trainspotting monologue, but instead of heroin and consumer goods, it’s about peeling yourself off the mattress to face another day of late-stage capitalism. That’s Shark School’s “Choose Life” -- except this time, the existential crisis has distortion pedals and a drum kit that sounds like it’s personally offended by you. GET UP OR GET FUCKED Shark School -- Nora Staunton, Peggy Ford, Meg Bruce, and Cathal Curran -- have spent the last couple of years opening for bands like NewDad and The Love Buzz, quietly amassing a reputation as the group most likely to shake you out of your algorithm-induced brain fog. Their message? Stop wasting away on your mind-numbing bullshit. Less of a suggestion, more of a demand, delivered with the subtlety of a car alarm at 4 a.m. The track opens with what might be the most relatable lyrics of 2025: "Today was a pretty shit day, didn't get much done." It's the kind of line that makes you wonder if they've been reading my diary. If that doesn’t hit you where it hurts, congratulations on your functioning attention span. The guitars kick in like they’ve just discovered caffeine and bad intentions, thrashing forward with the kind of raw, unpolished energy that’s been sorely missing from a music industry obsessed with sounding like a Spotify mood board. (See also: The increasingly tragic decline of real punk rock in favor of TikTok-friendly sad-boy loops.) THE SOUND OF GIVING UP (IN STYLE) Musically, “Choose Life” is what happens when you take the fuck it, we ball mentality and shove it through a fuzz pedal. The guitars don’t so much enter the song as ambush it, while the rhythm section barely holds the chaos together, like a drunk trying to argue their way past a bouncer. The whole thing is superbly messy, the sonic equivalent of knocking over a pint and deciding to just let it spill . And yet, underneath the scuzz, there’s something real sharp about it. The hooks are there, buried under all that distortion like a middle finger to anyone who expects their punk rock polished. It’s Mannequin Pussy meets SPRINTS meets the sound of your last frayed nerve snapping in half. TECHNICAL BRILLIANCE IN THE BREAKDOWN The band’s press release promises the track will have you “nodding your head in approval so hard that you’ll wake up with whiplash." If nothing else, you’ve got to respect the confidence. In a world where most indie bands are still trying to perfect their “effortlessly cool” slouch, Shark School are too busy swinging guitars around their heads to care. It’s the same energy that made Wet Leg a household name, except instead of ironic detachment and twee double entendres, it’s pure, unfiltered exasperation. Less “Look how quirky we are,” more “For the love of God, please wake the fuck up.” The production is deliberately raw, with guitars that sound like they're being played through amps that have seen better days -- and that's kinda the point. The rhythm section doesn't just keep time; it sounds like it's trying to beat time into submission. It's the sonic equivalent of throwing your phone across the room and feeling better for it. THE ART OF NOT GIVING A F*CK Since forming in summer 2023, these Galwegian garage rockers have become festival favorites, turning heads at Beyond The Pale, All Together Now, and Electric Picnic. Their rise feels less like careful career planning and more like a series of fortunate accidents (which, again, is exactly the point). “Choose Life” makes me wanna just beat up a guy (A bad guy). It hits like a brick through your bedroom window at 3 AM It’s not here to be liked, playlisted, or neatly categorized. It’s here to kick down the door, shake you by the shoulders, and remind you that feeling something—anything—is better than flatlining through another endless scroll. Renton’s monologue in Trainspotting told us to choose life , but somewhere along the way, life got replaced with never-ending content, dopamine loops, and brands trying to convince us that rebellion comes in a limited-edition colorway. Shark School aren’t selling you anything. They’re just here to make a noise loud enough to drown out the bullshit—if only for four minutes. WHAT’S NEXT? Catch them at the Workman's Cellar on October 4th, where they'll presumably continue their mission to save us all from our "mind numbing shit" -- one riff at a time. Your neck may not thank you, but your soul will.