We discussed Richard Dawson in these pages a bit back in 2023. Simpler times, but Dawson was a lot more complicated. Perhaps he’s become a dad? (He isn’t keen on revealing how much autobiography is in his songs) In any case rather than warbling of “newly-whetted scramsax” and such he’s become the first musical artist in history to work IKEA into his poetics (on the touchingly frank “Removals Van“). There’s also mention of a zoom “with one of our most important clients” on “Bully.” The songs on End of the Middle are vivid little short stories, a series of sketched thoughts and images disarmingly rendered with shockingly free-form yet ear-wormy folky melodies.
Remember when Interpol first came out and part of their image was that they read books, the kind without any pictures in them? It created quite a barrier to entry for me and I nearly denied myself the fiery pleasures of an incredible band (I saw them at Primavera many years later and their show was just obliterating). Jules Reidy’s Ghost/Spirit is a rather gorgeous sound bath of atmospheric, trebly, trembling alt-folk, but do yourself a favor and don’t read the press materials about Reidy‘s highfalutin’ academic interests which span many dusty libraries, from St. Teresa to Mike Kelly to Simone Weil to Talk Talk. Alarmingly posh, but the music speaks for itself, rife with feeling.
I give all to her
til we overlap
dark matter dispersing
living in a lack of
til we overlap
there is space between
gravity that pulls to
voids and endless gaps
John Glacier is quite a sensation, the kind of artist that allows her poetry to quietly devastate, speak-singing circular lyrics that range from depressive to deadpan flexing that may or may not be a joke, over fairly raw instrumentation. Not sure if it’s indie or rap, but Like a Ribbon is end to end bangers from another planet, intellectually stimulating stuff that also speaks to your emotions, like on “Nevasure“:
Never mind me ’cause I’m icy
Let it thaw, have a meltdown,
have a drink till you say it raw
On the rocks, on the wave,
feelin’ like I’m never sure (Never sure, never sure)
I’ve gushed literal geisers of ink in these pages over Sweden’s mystical masked psych primitives Goat, and now they have caught me by complete surprise, teaming up with Ugandan futuristic rapper MC Yallah for a rich and tasty bit of fusion called “Nimerudi” — quite a jam, grounded in retro percussion that sounds like the The Stone Roses, or the “House of the Rising Funk” sample by Afrique that St. Etienne used on “Filthy.”
It’s been a minute since I got excited about country, but Chicago’s Tobacco City take me back to the classic weeping harmonies and pedal steel of The Byrds and Gram Parsons, with their own unique, gritty lyrics lending a tangy counterpoint. “Autumn” has me in a perpetual swoon.
We were smokin’ schwag behind the grocery store
We were huffin’ gas directly from the can
And I could barely stand
Dirty lakeshore breeze from the water treatment plant
Between our knees exactly as we planned
‘Cause there was nothing planned
‘Cause I never knew about leavin’
‘Cause I never knew about nothin’
It was autumn then
It was always autumn then
With summer on the breeze
I’m such a busy bitch these days, no time for anything. I take it personally when movies are three and a half hours long, and why can’t songs just be three and a half minutes like God intended? DJ Sabrina the Teenage DJ tracks tend to break the seven minute mark and I’ve tried to stay annoyed, but there’s something so unique about her — she locks into these house jams that are like one part sunny, celebratory 70s pop, one part soul, one part shivers of first-album Autre Ne Veut, all smeared together chillwave-style with a bit of lysergic motivational spoken word. She has followed up her divine Sorcery album with this little bit of heaven:
But actually if we can go back to Sorcery for a moment, I’ve had a track called “I’ve Been Waiting” on repeat — it feels like a hug of encouragement from God, or a ideal parent or a bestie that always believed in you. It’s wave after wave of full-body climaxes — play it as you blossom into your greatness.
Two Shell are hardly a household name, but I’m gonna postulate that they’re as much of a generation-defining act as Daft Punk or Fischerspooner. You might recall I spooged all over their album only last November, and now they’re doing it to me again with “Oops,” the tartest hyperpop Pez candy of 2025.
Mdou Moctar‘s Funeral for Justice was one of the albums of 2024; the songs were built around Mdou‘s insane electric guitar leads and the idea of recording acoustic versions would seem like folly, sheer folly I tell you. But they did it anyway on Tears of Injustice, letting the melodies settle, expand and breathe. Turns out the songs are already such classics that it’s a joy to sink into them, feel them all around you, like you’re sitting around a fire with your Touareg pals, singing and clapping and rebelling into the night. “Imouhar” in particular — which was designed to blow your fucking head off on Funeral for Justice — has been expanded into a subtle, emotional, unforgettable eight and a half minute experience.
Can a middle-aged shoegaze veteran who also spent considerable time in Oasis capture this bachelor’s heart? Against all odds, I find myself handing a red rose to Andy Bell this month. I was a big Ride fan even before their first album came out, saw them on their reunion tour circa 2017 (with a slightly gauche enormous logo on stage) and swooned to the old hits, but I had few illusions that the songwriting magic could still be there 35 years into our relationship. And yet — Pinball Wanderer. What can I say?
If you’re the type who goes out to clubs just to cry, please spend a little time with the lovingly crafted propulsions on Aeoui by London bloke Breaka (jazzy-sounding real name: Charlie Baker). “Are We There” is the record’s poignant booty masterpiece.
I don’t know why I didn’t fall deeper under the spell of Magnetic Fields back in the 90s — I even saw them open up for someone at the Troubadour, and liked them I think. I guess I’m the type that if I’m not an early adopter and a band gets popular behind my back I’m not likely to get on board. The upshot is I just got annihilated by “The Dreaming Moon” from their 1995 album Get Lost, which feels totally written for or about me…
We were young and in love
In a burning town
But the fire went out
I’m alone again now
And I finally know
How cool to be cold
With the dreaming moon
I’ll begin again
With another new name
And a whole new life
Full of fortune and fame
But in the 100th year
I’ll be right back here
With the dreaming moon