Detroit singer-songwriter Chloe Drallos’ established catalog as Zilched leaned heavily into shoegaze conventions, flecked with prismatic psychedelia and a remarkable talent for pop-informed songcraft that contrasted obfuscating density with effervescent clarity to brilliant effect. Stepping out from the shelter of a pseudonym and performing under her own name on The Cave, Drallos reveals a more organic, nuanced, inviting, and more terrifying perspective that delves into the primordial foundations of her innermost psyche, casting rays of brilliant illumination across chambers and grottos resplendent with glittering jewels of romantic prose and crystalline emotive structures in pursuit of a deeper understanding of self.

Stripping back the sonic density of her earlier work, The Cave is notably sparser from a compositional standpoint, but no less impactful, affording Drallos plenty of space to allow her voice and words to confidently capture the spotlight. From her position at the center, Drallos exudes an air of restrained grandeur that imbues The Cave with a haunted sensation, but one of great warmth and humanity more like a slumbering country manor, wood-paneled and populated with the dusty ghosts of absent residents that fill the rooms like sheeted furniture, rather than the pristine emptiness of a mausoleum. In that sense, The Cave is very much a place of shelter for a solitary soul to recede from the complications of the outside world and find respite, but also a place where demons nest behind folds of velvet shadows with claws outstretched and threatening to drag the undisciplined irrevocably further from the light.

Each track on The Cave is one of intent, and the diligently positioned instrumentation serves to enhance rather than overpower, an impeccable display of sonic mise-en-scène that provides context and embellishment in the manner of a gilded frame surrounding the layered brushstrokes of a classical masterwork. Opening with the smoky psychedelic drone of “And To Each Weekend” the album rises like heady incense from the crucible of longing and desire before blossoming into lush melodic foliage waving the the heat of a summer afternoon. As the tracklist ebbs and flows, Drallos captures the essence of daylight’s waning hours into the fleeting moments of the gloaming, where spirits permeate the veil between reality and perception. Acoustic guitar and shuffling rhythms invite mellow basslines to lounge in repose but never slip into the somnambulistic folds of indifferent lethargy, instead propelling a narrative of self-discovery that plumbs the beyond with inquisitive determination.

Drallos’ writing is in top form throughout The Cave, bursting with incredible vibrancy substantial enough to stand alone as printed word and pulling inspiration from the philosophical precepts of 20th-century romantic Joseph Campbell who taught generations to follow their bliss on a self-guided path to unbridled fulfilment. Drallos follows her bliss on a hero’s journey into the heart of The Cave, a journey of conquest refusing to shy away from the trials that forge her burgeoning mythology. From the violent carnality of “Rust” to the tender conquest of “Mirror Or A Door” and the confessional surrender of “No Vacancy,” Drallos wrestles with the Balrog of love in all its incendiary forms, embracing darkness in pursuit of self-actualization to emerge Christ-like from the tomb, transformed by the crushing weight and immeasurable beauty of understanding mined from the sacrifice of complete surrender to the overpowering totality of love’s unyielding abyss.

The Cave is bolstered by a triptych of surreal videos, underscoring the album’s thematic beats with dreamlike visuals that inhabit the liminal space between wakefulness and sleep, life and death, with the grace and mystery of heavenly bodies adrift in the void but bound by the invisible tethers of inexorable gravity, thrumming with smoldering symbolism that scalds the psyche through graphic impressionism and ephemeral ambiguity. Intricately layered slice-of-life footage, kaleidoscopic explosions of color, and moments of grotesque body horror form the visual language of Drallos’ beatification, an exorcism of mythical proportions filtered and magnified through the lens of individual perspective and personal intimacy.

The Cave is available now on limited vinyl via Life Like. Stream the album on Spotify and follow Chloe Drallos on Instagram.

Upcoming Shows

JUN 13 - The Field Office - Detroit, MI

Post-folk singer-songwriter Emma Ruth Rundle returns with “Powerless,” an intimate exploration of power dynamics that draws distinct parallels with the modern cultural climate to craft a narrative of unyielding defiance in the face of seemingly insurmountable imbalance.

Much of ERR’s catalog is deeply introspective, inviting listeners to admire the beauty and terror that dress the pillars of her inner psyche with the drama of classical masterworks lining gallery walls. “Powerless” is different, bursting forth from the restrictions of gilded frames to close the gap between textural canvas and the unavoidable, expansive context of cultural influence. Politically charged prose entwines with personal narrative, piercing the veil that separates the one from the many and opening a new creative frontier for ERR to express her uniquely singular perspective.

Opening on a substrate of delicate piano and muted guitar, “Powerless” positions ERR’s hushed vocals front and center as notes swirl around like decoupled petals carried aloft on the warming embrace of a spring breeze before exploding with cinematic grandeur into a crash of distorted guitar. The track leverages these sonic extremes to underscore an impassioned narrative of resolute perseverance. Swelling strings add layers and nuance as “Powerless” progresses, the composition blossoming amidst a bristling crown of thorns into an anthem of self-empowerment and a rallying cry for disenfranchised souls no longer willing to submit to the whims of an uncaring oppressor.

Like Lady Justice, ERR does not cower in the presence of that oppression. Standing tall in defiance, she brandishes in one hand a hammer, a tool for destruction, for creation, and an icon of solidarity wielded with impunity and righteous fury in the face of those who would seek to tear her down. In the other she carries a lantern, carried as a beacon lighting the way for herself and a community of others who refuse to go quietly into the dark, huddled masses moving as one, no longer fated to face the long night alone. The mood is one of hope, unbroken and unbowed, willing to do whatever it takes to reach the promise of a brighter dawn, together.

These Killing Times releases September 18. Preorder and presave the album here. Stream “Powerless” on Spotify and follow Emma Ruth Rundle on Instagram.

Upcoming Shows

OCT 10 - The Signal - Chattanooga, TN - Tickets

OCT 11 - Ponte Vedra Concert Hall - Ponte Vedra Beach, FL - Tickets

OCT 12 - 40 Watt Club - Athens, GA - Tickets

OCT 13 - Charleston Music Hall - Charleston, SC - Tickets

OCT 14 - Neighborhood Theatre - Charlotte, NC - Tickets

OCT 15 - The NorVa - Norfolk, VA - Tickets

OCT 16 - XL Live - Harrisburg, PA - Tickets

OCT 17 - The Stone Pony - Asbury Park, NJ - Tickets

OCT 18 - District Music Hall - Norwalk, CT - Tickets

OCT 19 - 3S Artspace - Portsmouth, NH - Tickets

OCT 20 - Higher Ground - South Burlington, VT - Tickets

OCT 21 - Empire Live - Albany, NY - Tickets

OCT 22 - Electric City - Buffalo, NY - Tickets

OCT 23 - Roxian Theatre Presented by Citizens - Mckees Rocks, PA - Tickets

OCT 24 - HI-FI Annex - Indianapolis, IN - Tickets

OCT 25 - The Intersection - Grand Rapids, MI - Tickets

OCT 26 - Turner Hall Ballroom - Milwaukee, WI - Tickets

OCT 27 - First Avenue - Minneapolis, MN - Tickets

OCT 28 - Wooly’s - Des Moines, IA - Tickets

OCT 29 - The Castle Theatre - Bloomington, IL - Tickets

OCT 30 - Bogart’s - Cincinnati, OH - Tickets

New Orleans saints M.A.T.B. (fka Miranda and the Beat) surge back with a fresh attitude on their latest single, “SPATZ,” a breakneck boogie-punk ripper that redefines their streetwise sensibilities in a cavalcade of mutated keys, jagged guitar, and helter-skelter rhythmic mania.

Opening with ominous keys that warp and warble like flickering candlelight radiating from deep within Lestat’s crypt, “SPATZ” immediately sets an unnerving vibe that taps directly into the fight-or-flight instincts of the most primitive recesses of the human brain. Piercing notes fire off spurts of electric sparks that crackle amidst the skittering percussion, instigating an uncontrollable full-body sensation of involuntary motion, ticking with wild-eyed insistence that balances precipitously on the razor’s edge of a total psychotic meltdown. Snarling guitar chugs deep in the mix as Miranda Zipse makes her entrance in an explosion of unchecked bravado, unleashing line after line of pure, unfiltered confidence and magnetic aggression that threatens annihilation and commands obedience in equal measure.

In video form “SPATZ” lurches to life as an artifact of cursed lo-fi Y2K found footage, accessed illegally off a crusty USB drive scavenged from the gutter sludge just beyond the corner of Bourbon and Conti. Jagged scanlines and digital noise obscure frenetic cuts that smash together tight shots of the band and live performance with menacing moments of Zipse in full-on predator mode, pouncing on and pursuing the lens, awash in an eerie green glow like an otherworldly spectre hellbent for retribution and ready to party on her victim’s graves. After the credits roll and the jitters subside, the screen goes black for a period before taking a surreal turn, like a television left on in an empty room exhaling witching-hour public-access randomness into the dark.

“SPATZ” is available for preorder on limited 7” vinyl at Bandcamp. Follow M.A.T.B. on Instagram.

Upcoming Shows

JUN 16 - Tubby’s - Kingston, NY

SEP 3 - Holy Diver - New Orleans, LA

Taking their name from the violently unethical, drug-fueled human experimentation and mind-control program run by the CIA in the mid-20th century, Cleveland’s MK ULTRAS channel rough-edged, denim and leather authenticity through decades of punk and hardcore tradition into an engagingly wild-eyed explosion of malice and melody on their latest EP on Goodbye Boozy Records.

Right out of the gate, the Goodbye Boozy EP rips harder than a 6 liter GTR gassed up on a double shot of nitrous oxide. Raucous guitars and snarling vocals thrash and churn over a pummeling rhythm section pulling in elements from The Stooges’ psychedelic mania, Misfits’ brutal sensitivity, and Black Flag’s street-gang solidarity into a surging mosh full of piss and vinegar and loaded up on cheap pints.

Blasting through four tracks in just over 8 and a half minutes, MK ULTRAS never let the foot off the gas, tearing toward infinity with white-knuckle intensity. EP opener “No Difference” is an anthem for resolute self-reliance and a refusal to submit to the expectations of the status quo, themes that crop up later on the enthusiastically energetic “My Time,” fueled by a rubber-band bassline and shout-along gang vocals. “Chrome Crusher” blurs the line between the dangerous allure of flesh and steel with reckless abandon and a furiously beating heart hellbent for speed and satisfaction. Turning introspective on the closer, MK ULTRAS wrestle with small-town frustrations on “Day And Night,” bringing the entire EP into focus through the lens of youthful restlessness and an unyielding desire to seize life by the fistful in pursuit of truth and conviction.

Goodbye Boozy EP is available now on digital and limited 7” vinyl at Bandcamp. Stream the EP on Spotify and follow MK ULTRAS on Instagram.

Tenderloin punks False Flag channel the danger and lawlessness of San Francisco’s roughest neighborhood into a full-bore DIY blitzkrieg of raw, take-no-prisoners fearlessness and aggressive social commentary. The band’s latest single, “Never Gonna Be,” tempers that white-hot fury into a focused, alt-grunge slow burner that prowls the tumbling chaos of graffiti-scrawled alleys in pursuit of elusive salvation.

“Never Gonna Be” uncoils with serpentine menace; inky black and predatory and possessed of a venomous patience that slowly constricts like the heaving throes of chemical withdrawal. Pleading through locked doors for sanctuary, for love, for a fix, False Flag give voice to the vacuum of isolation and addiction in the teeming heart of the city. Guitars churn louder and louder, the rhythm builds in intensity, and the melody of the plea contorts into a throat-rending demand, simmering rage threatening to kick through the barrier with increasingly unhinged, bloodshot mania borne of true desperation before sinking, once again, alone into the fog.

“Never Gonna Be” is on False Flag’s latest LP, Art School, available on vinyl via I Hate Records. Stream “Never Gonna Be” on Spotify and follow False Flag on Instagram.

Upcoming Shows

MAY 16 - Mabuhay Gardens - San Francisco, CA - TICKETS

JUN 6 - Kilowatt - San Francisco, CA - TICKETS

Multidisciplinary artist Lauren Lakis has channeled the entirety of herself into her latest LP, Deadlights, a luminous expression of resilience forged in the crucible of life’s unpredictability and draped in tapestries of emotion that dress the cold marble of heart-wrenching loss with stirring beauty and uncompromising depth.

On the surface, Deadlights is an album about the unbearable weight of sadness and the untethered sensation that follows in the wake of a passing. But delving deeper finds Lakis offering so much more, candid expressions of vulnerability and unwavering courage that speak directly to the human spirit with inspiring authenticity and impressive skills. There is a tangible structure to the album, composed in a graceful arc that progresses through the stages of grief from the initial crackle of shock and anger, through the depths of anger and depression, to emerge at last into the light of acceptance a stronger person at peace with the nature of a reality irrevocably shifted. Mantras of resolve mingle with confessional prose embedded within compositions that effectively capture the disconnected, tidal physicality of shoegaze conventions, shot through with revelatory moments of crystalline post-punk and crushingly doomed distortion that lend accent and emphasis to Lakis’ downward spiral and ultimate redemption from the depth of the abyss.

Lakis sets the stage with “There,” basking in the fading glow of a setting sun, a moment of warmth and peace, finite in its progression toward darkness, but imbued with a childlike sense of comfort found in memories of a parent’s loving embrace. Turbulent rhythms and spiky guitar lines hint at the anger growing within and the feelings of helplessness that accumulate when faced with the inevitable, before exploding with kaleidoscopic brilliance on “Heaven Felt Too High.” Thick, rubbery basslines and prismatic melodies swirl amidst incandescent clouds of billowing emotion carried aloft by a soaring, repetitive hook striving on wax wings for the touch of unreachable salvation. “I Fall Apart” stands with defiance on a driving rhythm and a chiming guitar lead, shifting gears into a more defined narrative structure that highlights Lakis’ natural ability to dovetail impactful songwriting with engaging composition, weaving her story among towering pillars of sound with the vibrancy of windswept silk, tying together elements of alt-rock churn, jagged post-punk, and atmospheric shoegaze to grand effect.

Deadlights takes an abrupt turn into “The Other Side,” unleashing a dark and overpowering wall of grunge, replete with a blitzkrieg of fuzz and distortion that sways and staggers with disorienting weight. The track has a commanding presence as Lakis embraces anger with a defiantly individualistic stance, wrestling control away from the cold grip of a destiny defined by the unfeeling whims of fate. Once the adrenaline fades, Lakis slows things down with the somnambulist, intoxicated swirl of “It’s So Amazing,” a comedown moment that embraces the vulnerability that exists behind a façade of brash fortitude. The mask removed at last, Lakis pivots once again on the title track, “Deadlights,” her voice echoing from behind a dense wall of jaggedly atmospheric instrumentation, reaching out for a connection that evaporates into ether just beyond outstretched fingertips. A discordant solo strikes with the uneasy, full-body sensation of tears welling in the corners of eyes - this is the breaking point that clears the way for progression towards meaningful acceptance.

Tinted with umbral sentiments, “No One’s Around Now” gathers forward momentum with a driving motorik rhythm that unfolds like a stretch of open pavement in the desert twilight, beckoning with tenderness towards a new path as Lakis finds the strength to take the first solitary steps on a new personal journey, beginning with the liturgical procession of “Love Like A Dog.” Post-punk guitar and downtuned strings move with a funerary cadence, draped in mourning shrouds beneath a canopy of dark leaves pierced by heavenly rays of sunlight like Morse code from the other side, climbing towards conclusion on the wings of an ethereal chorus resplendent in the textural tranquility of love’s enduring presence. The closing moments of “I Want You Here” and “With That Body” are transformative, built upon mechanical beats and angular rhythms introducing industrial elements that flood the vacuum of absence with a sense of overpowering catharsis, baptizing the broken landscape with a deluge of emotion and clearing the way for liquid stillness, deep and expansive, fading into palpitations of a radiant heart haunted but enduring in the black.

Deadlights is available now on limited vinyl and CD via Riding Easy Records. Stream the album on Spotify and follow Lauren Lakis on Instagram.

Upcoming Shows

MAY 26 - Waterloo Records - Austin, TX - FREE SHOW

MAY 27 - Stable Hall - San Antonio, TX - TICKETS

MAY 28 - Rubber Gloves - Denton, TX - TICKETS

MAY 29 - Hotel Vegas - Austin, TX - TICKETS

MAY 30 - Wonky Power - Houston, TX - TICKETS

JUN 03 - Mood Ring Records - South Salt Lake, UT - TICKETS

JUN 05 - Six Below Midnight - Portland, OR - TICKETS

JUN 06 - Central Saloon - Seattle, WA - TICKETS

JUN 07 - Wild Child - Olympia, WA - TICKETS

JUN 10 - Knockout - San Francisco, CA - TICKETS

JUN 11 - The Sardine - San Pedro, CA - TICKETS

JUN 12 - Permanent Records Roadhouse - Los Angeles, CA - TICKETS

JUN 13 - Pour House - Oceanside, CA - TICKETS

Die Spitz’s tour of global domination continues unchecked with the release of a new, unsettlingly surrealist video for “American Porn” from last year’s incendiary Something To Consume; a scathing diatribe that rails against the plastic hypocrisy of the fading promise of an American Dream™ with the frenetic intensity of a razorblade dervish spiked with gleeful mania in witness to the crumbling facade of performative decorum.

Brilliantly directed by Emily Sanchez who also helmed the video for the band’s blisteringly violent empowerment anthem “Throw Yourself To The Sword,” “American Porn” aligns neatly with its predecessor, juxtaposing the track’s confrontational composition with a sensation of untethered ennui and slowly creeping terror that lurks below a linoleum and wood-paneled surface.

There’s an undeniable connection in both visuals and themes with Soundgarden’s iconic 1994 video for “Black Hole Sun,” but Sanchez sidesteps the warped, hyper-saturated psychedelia of the MTV staple in favor of muted tones and a tangible sense of cinematic realism that feels more like an A24 slasher directed by Wes Andersen. A flurry of vignettes introduce coexisting facets of modern life in a concentrated suburban dystopia. Body builders and drag queens share fences with AR-wielding housewives and boomer trolls, all suppressing their impulses while simultaneously airing their bloody laundry for all to see; cries for help that fall on ears too distracted within their own echo chambers of cognitive dissonance to recognize that the entire house is burning down around them, keeping up appearances for the sake of tradition and a set of values preached rather than practiced.

As the mid-track breakdown unfurls the visuals become increasingly more unhinged, racing toward destruction as the wheels come flying off in a downhill death luge towards the complete obliteration of normalcy. The band remains wholly desensitized to the overwhelming absurdity and theater of the macabre playing out around them. The cast of caricatures lose their minds, unable to stand on pretense any longer as gender roles and societal norms implode in a cartoon apocalypse of collective insanity, commoditized and served up hot with the unfulfilling blandness of a processed TV dinner.

Something To Consume is available now via Third Man Records and Bandcamp. Stream the album on Spotify and follow Die Spitz on Instagram.

Upcoming Shows

Apr 22 - Seattle, WA - Neptune Theatre - SOLD OUT

May 15 - Salt Lake City, UT - Kilby Block Party

Jul 17-19 - St. Paul, MN - Minnesota Yacht Club

Aug 1 - Chicago, IL - Lollapalooza

Aug 2 - St. Charles, IA - Hinterland Music Festival

Aug 5 - Los Angeles, CA - The Fonda

Aug 7 - San Francisco, CA - Outside Lands

Aug 9 - Portland, OR - Crystal Ballroom

Aug 11 - Boise, ID - Shrine Ballroom

Aug 12 - Salt Lake City, UT - Soundwell

Aug 15 - Englewood, CO - Gothic Theatre

Aug 14-16 - Buena Vista, CO - King Gizzard’s Festival Field of Vision

Sep 5-6 - Seattle, WA - Bumbershoot Arts and Music Festival

Sep 20 - Asbury Park, NJ - Sea.Hear.Now Festival

Nov 5 - Madison, WI - Majestic Theatre - SOLD OUT

Nov 9 - Toronto, ON - Danforth Music Hall

Nov 10 - Buffalo, NY - Town Ballroom

Nov 12 - Boston, MA - Paradise Rock Club - SOLD OUT

Nov 13 - Brooklyn, NY - Warsaw - SOLD OUT

Nov 14 - Brooklyn, NY - Warsaw - SOLD OUT

Nov 16 - Philadelphia, PA - Union Transfer

Nov 17 - Washington, DC - 9:30 Club

Nov 19 - Carrboro, NC - Cat’s Cradle - SOLD OUT

Nov 20 - Asheville, NC - Orange Peel

Nov 21 - Nashville, TN - Brooklyn Bowl

Feb 19 - New York, NY - Brooklyn Steel

On the final night of a co-headline Darker Spring Tour that brought together the legendary talents of 1980s post punk underground heavyweights Bolshoi Brothers (formerly The Bolshoi) and Theatre Of Hate, New York City post-goth trio Some Days Are Darker opened the evening with a showcase of prowess that joined gothic romanticism and neo-noir fatalism with a cinematic sense of scale.

Los Angeles was uncommonly still as the final moments of the golden hour receded into a bourgeoning twilight, towering buildings seemingly closing in over nearly vacant streets like the petals of a black rose in mourning for the passing of the sun beyond imposing pillars of a metropolitan mausoleum. The neon marquee of The Regent Theater crackled to life above the pavement, beckoning a flock of wayward souls to enter and congregate at the foot of a stage that would soon welcome a procession of drab majesties from the shadowy side of alternative music’s most heady eras.

Arrayed beneath searingly sanguine heraldry rendered in impossibly sharp script, Some Days Are Darker unfurled their set with powerful intention. Menacing basslines stalked amongst organic percussion, thrumming in harmony with the primal intensity of wild animals in predatory pursuit. Rising above the cataclysmic thunder, frontman Lear Mason’s chiming guitar and magnetic croon added nuance and refinement to the din, like the civilized brutality of an armored crusader in chivalrous devotion to the ephemeral mythology of a romantic ideal. Selections from Some Days Are Darker’s most recent EP TV-MA, new singles from their forthcoming full-length, and deep cuts from the genesis of the band played out with impeccable grandeur, as the immediacy of the sound drew in close new recruits and devoted disciples like so many dusty moths encircling a solitary flame.

By the time Theatre Of Hate took the stage the room was tangibly buzzing from the afterglow of Some Days Are Darker’s intoxicating spell. But that’s a story for another time.

Stream Some Days Are Darker on Spotify, and follow the band on Instagram.

Like their regal namesake, San Diego’s Louis XIV cultivated an air of mythic notoriety during their reign in the first decade of the millennium, fueled by boundary pushing imagery that defied the pearl-clutching sensibilities of the status quo and a complete lyrical immersion into the online underground alternative of the era, all wrapped up in a psychedelic gutter-glam sound so filthy it would have made Marc Bolan’s toes curl with glee. As the unquestionably sleaziest standard-bearers of an era that would come to be revered as “indie sleaze,” Louis XIV amassed a dedicated following, one that came out in droves to witness the band’s latest, limited series of reunion dates nearly 20 years after hanging up their crown.

Mystic Knights opened the evening with a raucous set of big, sweaty, 4-on-the-floor rock n roll that represented a uniquely aughts head-on collision of indie rakishness and disco-ready danceable grooves. The band’s JET-set pedigree was in full effect, as the Knights ably demonstrated their uncanny knack for delivering a non-stop cavalcade of irresistible, unambiguous crowd-pleasers about hard partying, New York nights, and return trips to rehab. From gassed-up original material to a pitch-perfect Kasabian cover, Mystic Knights proved they’ve got what it takes to get the crowd primed and the party started for a wild main event.

Stream Mystic Knights on Spotify and follow the band on Instagram.

“I know, I haven’t aged a bit. Neither have you!” winked Mr. Jason Hill as the opening notes of “New Murder At The Old Chateau” drifted from the PA, setting the mood for an evening of cheeky misbehavior the likes of which haven’t been performed in Los Angeles for far too long.

Louis XIV is something of a curiosity in the post-woke era, a sleazy survivor of another age when PBR-fueled promiscuous debauchery was de rigueur, and the consequences for unchecked shenanigans were a just a hungover walk of shame at worst. Notoriously roasted by critics including a legendarily bone-headed Pitchfork review and dubiously labeled by NME as “music to flunk rehab to,” Louis XIV’s breakthrough sophomore LP The Best Little Secrets Are Kept stirred up controversy all the way from the cover art to the lyrical content. But the album’s complete submersion into playful early internet naughtiness, Suicide Girls adjacent subculture, and unfettered commitment to a charmingly louche brand of foppish bravado ultimately earned endorsements from Rolling Stone, Josh Homme, and even Ziggy Stardust himself, with Bowie extolling the virtues of the band in numerous high-profile interviews, indicating that these modern musketeers were much more than just surface-level schtick.

The years quickly melted away as the band launched into their set, a career-spanning celebration packed with self-aware sass and technical proficiency that reinforced the band’s bonafides with aplomb. Hill and Brian Karscig’s chemistry remained impeccably potent through call-and-response verses and dueling guitar pyrotechnics, augmented by a pummeling rhythm section with percussion unleashed by O.G. Mark Maigaard and Jake Pinto’s monumental low end. Hits and deep cuts alike came alive with fleshed out solos and expanded instrumentation like a luxurious Bourbon Era tapestry by way of a MySpace digicam photo collage, a fine showcase of Louis XIV’s divine right to occupy the indie sleaze throne. The band’s brand new single, “Statues,” found it’s place neatly within the classic catalog, sidestepping the one-track carnal fixation of The Best Little Secrets Are Kept and the bleak party monster nihilism of Slick Dogs And Ponies to update the baroque early foundations of their sound with an apocalyptic thunderstorm of indie-comedown hedonism in the face of total obliteration.

In the space between the band’s original hiatus and their brief runs of occasional reunion shows both Hill and Karscig have independently contributed their talents to new bands and legacy acts including The Killers and New York Dolls, as well as accumulating accolades for production and scoring for the big and small screens. Louis XIV is a collection of truly skilled professional musicians, and their impressive chops are the driving force behind their enduring appeal, elevating the intentionally low-brow subject matter with high-brow compositions that the band allows to run free on stage like a pack of wild mustangs. Even the horned-up lyrics have aged surprisingly well in today’s more enlightened age, imbued with an element of escapism to a time before the darker fringes of the internet burned away our collective mischievous innocence, ultimately stemming from a celebration of consensual sexual liberation and artistic self-expression enabled by youthful experimentation and egalitarian access to an uncharted digital frontier.

As the lights came up after the encore it was obvious the band had as much fun with this brief dalliance on stage as the crowd did on the floor. Here’s to hoping the boys make their way back around real soon.

Stream Louis XIV on Spotify and follow the band on Instagram.

Upcoming Shows

APR 4 - North Park Festival of Beers - San Diego, CA - TICKETS

Lindsey Troy’s latest era finds the incomparable firebrand expanding brilliantly beyond the iconic electric blues of her work with Deap Vally into deeply personal territory that lays bare her innermost psyche and continues to showcase the full spectrum of her engaging abilities as a songwriter. “Six Shades Of Grey” charts a different course than preceding tracks “I’ve Seen The Willow Trees” and “Love Is Deeper,” standing tall against the twilight of inner turmoil with steadfast resilience.

Dredging the depths of organic blues and chain-gang gospel, “Six Shades Of Grey” smolders with menacing intent, heady with the scent of distant flames and strong whiskey carried on the unsettling breeze of a moonless midnight, a funeral dirge for insomniacs relentlessly pursued by the tireless vampyre of ticking time and memory. The spartan composition conjures a haunted atmosphere, characterized by an otherworldly guitar tone and augmented by bone-chilling flashes of harrowing strings. Harmonized vocal tracks fracture reality into a gallery of distorted wraiths clawing from the void with unsettling multiplicity, whispering and wailing beyond the periphery like spectres at the feast, tugging in opposite directions with inescapable tenacity.

It is here within the six shades of grey that Troy finds herself a prisoner in her own mind and a slave to impulses beyond rational control, a solitary flame surrounded by the encroaching darkness. But for all the morose fatalism, Troy remains possessed of a spirit uniquely indomitable, a quality that has defined her artistic output across multiple projects. This enduring light of undimmable resiliency shines brightly on “Six Shades Of Grey,” transforming the track into a litany against fear that resists the little death of doubt and uncertainty in pursuit of the promise of a future unburdened.

Back-lit against the black, Troy exists merely as a glowing silhouette illustrating an all-encompassing sensation of hollowness and communion with the surrounding abyss. Static at the fringes crackles with nervous electricity as the backlight explodes with blinding intensity washing the entire frame in white-hot luminosity before being eclipsed once again behind the dark side of Troy’s orbiting presence. As “Six Shades Of Grey” builds on the back half, jagged forms of helter-skelter animation arise in chorus with the strings as Troy becomes fully illuminated for the briefest of moments, revealing a face upturned toward the light that refuses to succumb completely within the shadows.

Independent artists rely directly on fan support. Visit Lindsey Troy on Bandcamp for merch and music, and follow on Instagram for the latest on upcoming shows and releases.

Upcoming Shows

MAY 24 - Arroyo Secodelic Festival - Lodge Room - Los Angeles, CA - TICKETS

Lauren Lakis has a unique ability for rendering the tumultuousness and beauty of human emotion in song in a manner than defies easy categorization. The latest single from her upcoming LP Deadlights, “There,” is a showcase for these skills, tapping into the bittersweet saudade of memory with deft attentiveness and an immediately moving sense of empathy that does not compromise on weighty impact.

Building upon a foundation of heavy, churning guitar that Lakis has made an integral part of her signature sound, “There” quickly pivots in a brighter direction by introducing an element of childlike wonder that overflows from the undercurrent of densely composed gloom. Vocals rise and fall with a lullaby-like cadence, punctuated by brilliant beams of guitar that pierce their way through a canopy of sadness and solitude to allow glowing rays of hopeful sunlight to warm an upturned face swinging from the boughs below. Lakis is seeking recognition and solace, a yearning for the connection of warm intimacy and quiet comfort that exists uniquely between mother and child, left far behind on the road to adulthood. It is here that “There” exists, preserved in amber and given voice through Lakis’ remarkable songcraft. A refuge from the turbulence of existence and a desire to return, if only for a moment, to a time of innocence when the world was smaller and the shadows of fear and uncertainty would evaporate within the shelter of a parent's loving embrace.

Performing in the open surrounded by a springtime landscape lush with fresh growth and illuminated by the incandescent glow of the setting sun, “There” blooms as a visual representation of the coexistence of beginnings and endings captured behind the shimmering scanlines of analog memory. Interspersed with home movies of happy days and a recurring metaphor of rose blossoms as mile markers of joy and sadness along life’s winding road, “There” breathes with the calming sensation of catharsis that exists in the wake of overwhelming emotion and crackles with the electric sensation of fingertips run across the surface of a fading photograph, an enduring physical connection to people, places, and moments long past.

Deadlights releases May 8 via Riding Easy Records. Pre-order physical editions and pre-save on streaming here. Follow Lauren Lakis on Instagram.

Upcoming Shows

MAR 26 - Mohawk Austin - Austin, TX - TICKETS

Born from the blackness of Los Angeles’ darkwave underworld, Scimitar channel the tenets of classically gothic post-punk through the modern lens of the City’s unique cultural landscape to craft a brooding perspective on life lived balanced on the edge of a blade. As the first single from their upcoming LP, Errare, “Razors” introduces the band in its purest form, extending an invitation for a thrilling plunge into the abyss.

A menacing atmosphere billows with thunderhead malevolence across the track’s moody apocalyptic soundscape, summoned from the void by Scimitar’s potent alchemical synthesis of blistering crystalline guitars that flash and chime over a driving rhythm section that combines sinuous basslines with crackling, bone-dry percussion. “Razors” fully embodies the danger and allure of the shadowy post-punk netherrealm, flexing cool muscularity beneath acres of studded leather and a sinister sensuality wrapped in the skin-tight gloss of inky-black latex. A danse macabre of doom and desire, seared with burning neon across the midnight alleyways and urban catacombs in pursuit of a love that hovers ephemeral in the rearview mirror.

Captured with remarkable visual clarity, “Razors” juxtaposes the living expanse of the high desert against the bleakness of graffiti-scrawled urban decay with Scimitar always at the center, a triple-nexus of monumental personas that dominate with icy immediacy. Visions of rear-projected cityscapes and lend a cinematic dimension to the band’s presence, enhancing “Razors” with dramatic theatricality that conjures the suggestion of celluloid spectres to haunt the voids between the bodies of the living, awash in cascades of multi-colored sparks blossoming amidst the gloom. As visions of everything begin to merge and blur, the band races toward oblivion amidst a soaring guitar solo, glittering facets reflecting in the dark before crashing abruptly into silence beneath a highway overpass, concrete buttresses of the modern gothic cathedral.

Errare releases April 25 via Cigarettes And Alcohol RPM. Follow Scimitar on Instagram.

Upcoming Shows

MAR 25 - 1720 Warehouse - Los Angeles, CA - TICKETS

MAY 28 - Verboden Fest - The Coffin Club - Portland, OR - TICKETS

MAY 29 - Verboden Fest - Central Saloon - Portland, OR - TICKETS

MAY 30 - Verboden Fest - The Cobalt - Portland, OR - TICKETS

Surfbort stand as modern icons of unapologetic individualism, embodying a rebellious punk ethos forged at the riotous nexus of haute-culture and trash-couture. The band’s latest single from their upcoming LP, Reality Star, “Hot Dog” slaps with the satisfying sizzle of street sausages slathered in spicy squirts of special sauce.

Sliding a banging beat between the buns of an irresistibly greasy groove, “Hot Dog” struts with colossal confidence punctuated with perky guitar lines that give way to overpowering waves of densely deconstructed static feedback before breaking free once more to keep the pogoing proceedings nimbly bouncing along. Absurdist lyrics ooze with Dadaist sass, piling on sweet and savory references to East LA existence like so many disparate condiments squeezed and scooped with reckless abandon from oversized plastic vessels into a vividly lucid smorgasbord of flavors liberally spiced with audacious attitude. A junk food jam of the highest quality, “Hot Dog” feeds the need for instant gratification with a taste that lingers on the tongue and leaves you begging for a second helping.

The lunatic fringe of Silver Lake’s most creative denizens springs to hyperkinetic life in a Pooneh Ghana directed video that serves up a kaleidoscopic collision of skaters and queens and cowboys and nuns and anthropomorphic waterfowl in a tumbling parade of eclectic vignettes offering a glimpse into an idealized rendition of alternative LA street culture. Gleefully cartoonish and reverently irreverent, “Hot Dog” is a celebration of abject non-conformity and the tightly knit community of freaks and geeks that congregate on the Sunset shores of the City on the Edge of Forever, where the measure of authenticity is unabashedly marching together to the beat of your own drum.

Reality Star is available March 6 via TODO. Pre-order digital and vinyl here. Follow Surfbort on Instagram.

Upcoming Shows

MAR 15 - Radio/East - Austin, TX - Tickets

MAR 27 - Zebulon - Los Angeles, CA - Tickets

APR 03 - Night Club 101 - New York, NY - Tickets

APR 04 - Market Hotel - Brooklyn, NY - Tickets

Brooklyn psychonauts EVOLFO fearlessly chart a course for the outer fringes of sinister infinity at the liminal intersection of perception and reality on “Restless Seed,” the first single off the band’s upcoming third LP, Of Love.

The single edit of “Restless Seed” is an immediate psychedelic confection that opens with metallic dissonance clanging atop a nebulous groove that billows along lightspeed pathways, decorating the expanding abyss with blooms of marmalade haze and shuffling corduroy percussion. Smoky, detached vocals translate morse-code guitar lines transmitted within esoteric analog ciphers from the unplumbed depths of time and space, preaching salvation from technological shackles and extending an open invitation to experience perpetual communal bliss among the kaleidoscopic foliage of an intergalactic Eden. At under three minutes, EVOLFO offer just a tantalizing tease at the wonders the band has in store for the full-length track, a glimpse behind the shimmering veil that spans the passing moments until the release of the full LP.

Marooned on a wayward world three orbits removed from a garden variety G-Type Main-Sequence star located in an otherwise unremarkable arm of the Milky Way, a lone explorer finds their way through a glowing portal revealing a live performance of the tribal rhythms of Earth’s underground inhabitants. Entranced by the undulating sounds and mesmerizing gyrations of the terrestrial troubadours, the intrepid alien joins the revelry, embraced by a community of like-minded souls gathered in the universal celebration of life’s infinite diversity and infinite combinations.

Of Love releases April 24. Pre-order the album at Bandcamp, and follow EVOLFO on Instagram.

Upcoming Shows

APR 23 - Bottom Of The Hill - San Francisco, CA - TICKETS

APR 26 - Transplants Brewing Company - Palmdale, CA - TICKETS

APR 28 - Soda Bar - San Diego, CA - TICKETS

APR 30 - The Crepe Place - Santa Cruz, CA - TICKETS

APR 30 - Sierragrass 2026 - Ahwahnee, CA - TICKETS

MAY 02 - Gold Diggers - Los Angeles, CA - TICKETS

MAY 07 - TV Eye - Ridgewood, NY - TICKETS

Lo-fi gothic duo Jaguar 777 craft a dangerously alluring rock ’n’ roll dreamstate on their cinematic self-titled debut LP; fifteen tales of velvet and vice that coalesce into a hypnogogic neo-noir phantasm balanced precipitously at the liminal intersection of love, lust, and eternal damnation.

Jaguar 777 is a cinematic album, beckoning through an opioid haze exuding from beyond the illicit threshold of a rundown grindhouse on the edge of town; saturated with languid sensuality and punctuated by needle-sharp moments of existential terror that strike with feline ferocity before fading once again beyond the fringes of a chemically induced catatonia. Romance and carnality collide headlong in a slow-motion eruption of analog organ and shuffling rhythms that move with the ominous cadence of wavering spectres lurking from behind heavy folds of umbral tapestry and illuminated by the chilling gauziness of silver moonlight streaming through the rafters of a collapsed ceiling onto the stage like otherworldly spotlights from beyond.

Drawing notable inspiration from the sparse beats and menacing rhythms of Suicide viewed through the flickering lens of cinema noir and B-movie camp, Jaguar 777 elevate traditional midcentury rock n roll with a more sinister and deeply amorous approach. Sidestepping the macho aggression of Misfits, the inherent silliness of rockabilly goths a-la Messer Chups, or the Satanic doo-wop of Twin Temple in favor of a more authentic alignment with the surreal beauty of David Lynch and a provocative Russ Meyer-esque perspective, Jaguar 777 have managed to occupy a unique category of the classic murder ballad few others have previously dared.

Opening with a spoken word intro that sets the mood for the album in dramatic fashion, Kacie Marie and Emmett O’Connor begin a delicate dance that crackles with tangible magnetism barely restrained against smoldering passions, threatening to engulf their enraptured souls in a damning conflagration of unquenchable lust and eternal ruin. Originally released in 2024, the striking slow-burner “Danger At My Heels” lays out the band’s thesis with aplomb, simmering with the sequined slink of an after-hours burlesque in a members-only underground speakeasy, teasing and threatening in equal measure behind undulating tendrils of fragrant smoke and glistening skin.

Even more so than the brooding moodiness of the album’s heady soundscapes, Jaguar 777’s sound is defined by Kacie Marie and O’Connor’s crooning duality, a pair of voices rising above the instrumental miasma entwined in the intimacy of an embrace that transcends the physical to conjure an atmosphere of slow fatalism at the altar of abject devotion. “Leave You Blue” embodies the sensation of a deep intoxication that lingers after midnight, pulling below the surface towards a dreamless sleep, as “Gates” welcomes doomed lovers to burn together as willing sacrifices to the flames. “Mirage” shimmers from the other side of the looking glass, and “Velvet On The Razor’s Edge” skitters on a spidery beat so dry and mechanical it would make Vega and Rev blush while diving deep within the abyss of a self-induced psychological crash out.

Jaguar 777 injects a celluloid levity to the album at key moments, lending a stylish element of wing-tipped edginess and gleefully composed reefer madness while balancing on a razor’s edge of confessional authenticity. “Upstairs In My Mind” twists with the howling mania of solitary paranoia, and “Death Ride” claws at the pavement like caged beast primed to pounce on unsuspecting prey. “Midwest Promo Man” creeps on a vintage rock n roll framework that smells of stale cigarettes and spilt whiskey lingering in a silent motel room after the hedonistic occupants have retreated into the daylight, and the mostly instrumental “The Flying Cowboy Rides Again” transmutes bold Giallo terror into a small-screen serial, the forgotten theme for a masked cathode ray vigilante from a bygone age. “Collinwood Yard” leans hard into gothic horror, replete with chiming bells and ominous wails that spiral towards an inevitable oblivion.

Settling into the album’s final moments, “Arrest Me” surrenders with tender vulnerability in the aftermath of tumultuous terrors. Vivid nightmares recede into the blissful sanctuary of a companion’s arms and promise of a love realized wholly and completely in its commitment and resilience before dovetailing, just as neatly, into the Badalamenti-ian soundscape of “End Credits,” a fitting conclusion to this silver-screen phantasmagoria of tragic romance.

Jaguar 777 is available now via Eleventh Hour Recording Company. Get the vinyl on Bandcamp on stream the album on Spotify. Follow Jaguar 777 on Instagram.

Upcoming Shows

FEB 13 - Grog Shop - Cleveland, OH - TICKETS

Regarded for a heady trifecta of doomy psychedelia reflective of their Pacific Northwest origins, Blackwater Holylight have conjured something of a reinvention on their latest LP, Not Here Not Gone, dressing the elemental pillars of the band’s established foundation with dramatic tapestries of remarkable sonic brilliance and a refined melodic emphasis to majestic effect.

Relocating from Portland’s misty forests to the sun-baked expanse of Los Angeles has made an conspicuous impact on Blackwater Holylight’s attitude, all but evaporating the obfuscating haze of perpetual gloom under the radiant warmth of an everlasting summer. The heavy, doom-adjacent perspective of the band’s earlier releases gives way to a more nuanced approach that turns towards the warmth of kalidescopic, light-dappled psychedelia like a field of wildflowers blossoming in heliolatry after the tumultuous inundation of a passing thunderstorm. But don’t mistake Not Here Not Gone as a trifling confection. Blackwater Holylight still firmly exist within primeval shadows, and from these umbral origins have begun to expand their presence like a fiery coronal halo burning beyond the void of a total solar eclipse. The effect is awe inspiring, a reminder of the celestial immensity in which mortals occupy the merest of moments, and the potential within which for individuals to shine brighter than supernova.

The A-side of Not Here Not Gone feels very much like an evolution, as Blackwater Holylight build upon the efforts of their established catalog with a newfound level of polish that draws from a well of influences and emotions plumbed from the depths of introspective reflection and the accumulation of life experience. Chiming, crystalline guitars glide above surges of downtuned riffs on album openers “How You Feel” and “Involuntary Haze,” while densely layered compositions define the weighty, rhythmic persistence of “Heavy, Why?” and the heaving, rolling cadence of “Bodies.” Persevering through it all, Blackwater Holylight refuse to surrender to the darkness, juxtaposing the terror of the abyss with an unquenchable fire that burns in furious resistance to the surrounding black like human souls crying out from the precipice of eternity. The effect is primal, and taps directly into the very core of one’s being to elicit emotions inherent to the human experience that stretch back with universal commonality from the earliest moments of our divergent evolution to the advanced realities of life in our modern age.

The experimental instrumental interlude “Giraffe” represents a turning point for the album, appearing midway through the tracklist with a thick, molasses groove over deconstructed industrial rhythms and a mesmerizing substrate of buzzing electronic distortion. From here Blackwater Holylight begin to reveal their hand in “Spades,” unleashing a massively devastating crunch of downtuned riffs and pummeling, thrashy percussion. Channeling the overpowering intensity of early grunge and desert rock into a head-on collision of Badmotorfinger and Blues For The Red Sun spiked with apocalyptic psychedelia, Blackwater Holylight incite a churning mosh of inescapable gravity, an event horizon of utter destruction that ends as abruptly as it began.

“Void To Be” burnishes sentimental prose to a brilliant glow as heroic guitar lines intertwine in the atmosphere, accented with subtle hints of delicate strings. “Fade” soars with unbridled freedom between the peaks of verdant mountains wreathed in mist, before settling comfortably back to earth in its final moments amidst the golden hour hue of the slowly setting sun and familiar sounds of the everyday.

“Mourning After” moves with the deliberate sorrow of a funerary dirge, swaying over a mildly unsettling undercurrent that tilts the axis of reality ever so slightly like coming to terms with life in the aftermath of an unexpected loss and finding the strength necessary to carry on. The album closes with a tremendous 7-minute dirge that accumulates like a thunderhead rising on the horizon, billowing with glacial immensity and heralding the impending onslaught of the entirety Mother Nature’s unbridled fury unleashed upon the earth with absolute impunity. Percussion gallops like the perilous arrival of Four Horseman astride mechanical steeds, unrelenting in their approach and staggering in the totality of terror brought before them. But out of the destruction ethereal vocals arise from the din, carried aloft on luminous guitars that pierce the gray canopy like gleaming swords of divine retribution, neatly vanquishing doom’s most notorious agents. In the wake of this cosmic conflict, Blackwater Holylight rests on a field of poppies as melancholy strings conjure memories of the past laid to rest with enduring reverence.

Not Here Not Gone is available now via Suicide Squeeze. Stream the album on Spotify and follow Blackwater Holylight on Instagram.

Upcoming Shows

FEB 13 - Casbah - San Diego, CA - TICKETS

FEB 14 - Last Exit - Phoenix, AZ - TICKETS

FEB 15 - Sister - Albuquerque, NM - TICKETS

FEB 17 - Radio/East - Austin, TX - TICKETS

FEB 18 - White Oak - Houston, TX - TICKETS

FEB 19 - No Dice - New Orleans, LA - TICKETS

FEB 20 - Handlebar - Pensacola, FL - TICKETS

FEB 21 - Drunken Unicorn - Atlanta, GA - TICKETS

FEB 22 - Eulogy - Asheville, NC - TICKETS

FEB 24 - Southern Cafe - Charlottesville, VA - TICKETS

FEB 25 - Metro - Baltimore, MD - TICKETS

FEB 26 - Johnny Brenda’s - Philadelphia, PA - TICKETS

FEB 27 - Meadows - Brooklyn, NY - TICKETS

FEB 28 - Widowmaker Brewing - Braintree, MA - TICKETS

MAR 02 - Westside Bowl - Youngstown, OH - TICKETS

MAR 03 - Black Circle - Indianapolis, IN - TICKETS

MAR 04 - Sleeping Village - Chicago, IL - TICKETS

MAR 06 - Hi-Dive - Denver, CO - TICKETS

MAT 07 - Hi-Dive - Denver, CO - TICKETS

MAR 08 - Aces High - Salt Lake City, UT - TICKETS

MAR 10 - Neumos - Seattle, WA - TICKETS

MAR 11 - Aladdin Theater - Portland, OR - TICKETS

MAR 12 - Starlet - Sacramento, CA - TICKETS

MAR 13 - The Chapel - San Francisco, CA - TICKETS

MAR 14 - Moe’s Alley - Santa Cruz, CA - TICKETS

MAR 21 - Pacific Electric - Los Angeles, CA - TICKETS

APR 18 - Roadburn - Tilburg, NL - TICKETS

MAY 06 - Ancienne Belgique - Brussels, BE - SOLD OUT

MAY 07 - MS Stubnitz - Hamburg, DE - TICKETS

MAY 08 - A Colossal Weekend - Copenhagen, DK - TICKETS

MAY 09 - Desertfest - Oslo, NO - TICKETS

MAY 10 - Monument - Gothenburg, SE

MAY 12 - Pod Minoga - Poznan, PL - TICKETS

MAY 13 - UT Connewitz - Leipzig, DE - TICKETS

MAY 14 - Desertfest - Berlin, DE - TICKETS

MAY 15 - Stummsche Reithalle - Neunkirchen, BE - TICKETS

MAY 16 - Obsidian Dust - Brussels, BE - TICKETS

MAY 17 - Desertfest - London, UK - TICKETS

MAY 18 - The Cluny - Newcastle, UK - TICKETS

MAY 19 - Stereo - Glasgow, UK - TICKETS

MAY 20 - The Deaf Institute - Manchester, UK - TICKETS

MAY 22 - Sonic Rites - Helsinki, FIN - TICKETS

Death Lens start the year off swinging with “Monolith,” an imposing hardcore anthem that stands tall, representing an evolutionary leap in the band’s high voltage sonic presence for their upcoming third LP, What’s Left Now?, and a confident step forward in their uniquely diverse East LA perspective.

Emerging from within the shuffling static of an analog dial tracking across the airwaves in pursuit of elusive meaning, “Monolith” blends the melodic Latin heartbeat of East Los Angeles with monumental hardcore rhythms and metallic six-string pyrotechnics that coalesce into a towering testament to the tenacity and fortitude required to overcome challenges and arise victorious. The blistering composition explodes with layers of electric attitude unlike anything the band has unleashed before, glistening with the impressive depth and blinding finish of a ‘64 lowrider polished to perfection into an icon of labor and artistry. Pummeling percussion moves in menacing lockstep with colossal basslines as frontman Bryan Torres unleashes a muscular blitzkrieg of confident bravado and leather-tough prose earned from years of self-reliance on the front lines.

The high-contrast video directed by Joél Verges captures the gritty, streetwise nature of Death Lens’ origins with Tarantino-esque flair. Shadowy underpasses illuminated by halogen streetlights burning like embers in the inky blackness set the stage for “Monolith” to rise above the urban foundation, colliding headlong with tight closeups emphasizing the intimate, confessional nature of the track’s unvarnished approach to the unrelenting pressures of survival in the city and the hard work required to stand tall and achieve one’s dreams.

What’s Left Now? releases April 24 via Epitaph. Pre-order and pre-save here. Follow Death Lens on Instagram.

Upcoming Shows

JAN 21 - The Observatory - Santa Ana, CA - Tickets

MAR 14 - Concord Music Hall - Chicago, IL - Tickets

MAR 15 - Majestic Theatre - Madison, WI - Tickets

MAR 16 - Fine Line - Minneapolis, MN - Tickets

MAR 18 - Delmar Hall - Saint Louis, MO - Tickets

MAR 19 - Bottleneck - Lawrence, KS - Tickets

MAR 20 - Summit Music Hall - Denver, CO - Tickets

MAR 23 - Neumos - Seattle, WA - Tickets

MAR 24 - Aladdin Theater - Portland, OR - Tickets

MAR 25 - Treefort Music Fest 2026 - Boise, ID - Tickets

MAR 27 - August Hall - San Francisco, CA - Tickets

MAR 28 - The Fonda Theater - Los Angeles, CA - Tickets

MAR 29 - The Observatory North Park - San Diego, CA - Tickets

MAR 31 - AREA15 - Las Vegas, NV - Tickets

APR 01 - Walter Studios - Phoenix, AZ - Tickets

APR 03 - Ferris Wheelers Backyard & BBQ - Dallas, TX - Tickets

APR 04 - Mohawk Austin - Austin, TX - Tickets

JUN 13 - Berlin Breakout 2026 - Berlin, Germany - Tickets

JUN 19 - JUN 21 - Farewell Youth Fest 2026 - Dresden, Germany - Tickets

JUN 26 - JUN 28 - Mighty Sounds Festival 2026 - Tábor, Czechia - Tickets

JUN 26 - JUN 27 - Vainstream 2026 - Münster, Germany - Tickets

2025 is wrapped up and what a year it was! The tidal surge of alt rock revivalists reached new heights, and sounds of the underground percolated with elements of new wave, 2nd wave ska, heavy metal, and raucous punk. Big name legacy acts including Deftones and The Hives released monumental slabs, and fiery newcomers Die Spitz, Rocket, Lambrini Girls, and Spiritual Cramp pressed their way to the front of the pack. N8NOFACE, Wet Leg, and Blackwater Holylight reaffirmed their positions as innovators with releases that challenged expectations and pushed boundaries in thrilling new directions. Here’s a rundown of some of THEEDADROCK.BLOG’s top albums of the year, and a playlist that collects this year’s best tracks.

Die Spitz - Something To Consume

Die Spitz is no fucks given maximum rock n roll personified, distilled to the highest proof and shotgunned in the back seat of Bandit Trans-Am on a full throttle hellride into oblivion. This year’s breakthrough on Third Man rips with an unabashedly female perspective and made a nuclear grade impact, leveling everything in their blast radius to reshape the very landscape of 21st century heavy music.

Read the show recap here. Follow Die Spitz on Instagram.

Flatwaves - Tell Me Secrets

Philly fourpiece Flatwaves unleashed their sophomore LP, Tell Me Secrets, a colossus of alt-shoegaze immensity that rolls and pitches with the elemental fury of primordial gods bending the forces of nature into beautifully rendered and endlessly expansive soundscapes.

Read the full review here. Follow Flatwaves on Instagram.

Frankie and the Witch Fingers - Trash Classic

Trash Classic a zeitgeist record that confronts hot button topics from economic malaise to technological paranoia with the fervent insistence of sonic revolutionaries slicing at the soft underbelly of modern day culture with intent to disrupt, deflate, and depose institutionalized inequalities that repress the human spirit with soulless indifference. But despite all the heady proclamations, Frankie and the Witch Fingers keep the proceedings buoyant, imbuing the band’s colossally dense helter-skelter psychedelia with a macrodose of DEVO-esque new wave mania and a propulsive sensation of unstoppable forward momentum that blazes like an array of scattershot fireworks.

Read the release show recap here. Follow Frankie and the Witch Fingers on Instagram.

Home Front - Watch It Die

Releasing late in the year, Home Front dove deeper into shadowy new wave with a greater emphasis on cinematic compositions and dramatic flourishes with Watch It Die, echoing the stylistic of perspectives of alt-rock pioneers The Cure and Echo and the Bunnymen with a distinctly hardcore accent that flexes with muscular confidence amidst the billowing gloom.

Follow Home Front on Instagram.

L.A. Witch - DOGGOD

DOGGOD represented a dynamic turn for L.A. Witch, as the band continues to move beyond the heady but nearly obfuscating reverb of their self-titled debut LP, embracing cleaner production that showcases their growing technical prowess and confessional songwriting. On DOGGOD the band has nearly completely shed all but the most fundamental elements of that original sound, realigning their approach with the architectural, high-contrast brutalism of post-punk and darkwave’s haunting angularity.

Read the full review here. Follow L.A. Witch on Instagram.

Lambrini Girls - Who Let The Dogs Out

On their debut LP, UK riot grrrls Lambrini Girls have crafted a full-bore modern punk record that tackles hot-button issues with the head-on intensity of a rogue heat-seeking missile covered in hastily scrawled Sharpie tags and splattered tip to tail in vitriol soaked rainbow glitter. Who Let The Dogs Out is unabashed 21st Century Brighton rock, blasted at maximum volume from the boardwalks to the back alleys, championing working-class struggles that radiate outward from a resolutely feminist origin into biting commentary on modern existence that addresses a broad spectrum of societal maladies.

Read the full review here. Follow Lambrini Girls on Instagram.

Native Sun - Concrete Language

New York’s Native Sun have been causing a ruckus for some time, building a notorious reputation for wild live sets and a dynamic sound that fuses uncompromising fury with textual nuance. With the long awaited release of their debut full-length LP, Concrete Language, Native Sun have proven themselves worthy of cementing their hard earned place at the forefront of modern alternative rock.

Read the full review here. Follow Native Sun on Instagram.

Rocket - R Is For Rocket

R Is For Rocket stands on a hopeful platform. Vividly composed tales of youth and young adulthood on the precipice of the unknown swirl and and burst with fiery insistence and optimistic intent, resolute in the face of turbulence on the path towards a future of one’s own design. It’s a timeless perspective, and one that neatly compliments Rocket’s approach to using distinct sounds to craft stories that rise above passing trends to tap into the wider communal experience of growing up that remains a common thread across the generations.

Read the full review here. Follow Rocket on Instagram.

Spiritual Cramp - RUDE

Rude sands off some of the harder edges and direct references to the band’s immediate influences, but in doing so makes room for Spiritual Cramp to find space for their own identity to flourish in between, like tenacious vegetation working itself into the cracks and cavities of the hard paved surface of the urban landscape. Building on the muscular blitzkrieg of their self-titled LP, Spiritual Cramp lean hard into big guitars and driving rhythms, embracing a more straightforward approach as the core pillar of Rude’s rock n roll circus.

Read the full review here. Follow Spiritual Cramp on Instagram.

Wet Leg - Moisturizer

Moisturizer doesn’t break the mold, largely because it doesn’t need to. Wet Leg’s breakout debut was a lightning rod of boundary pushing, zeitgeist shifting alt rock that crackled with a timeless immediacy resonating far beyond the frequencies of most buzzy young bands. Seemingly aware that lightning doesn’t often strike twice, Wet Leg bottled that initial spark and went to work harnessing the resulting electricity, honing their sarcastic edge to stadium-sized proportions while amplifying the furiously beating heart that drives their inexhaustible appeal.

Read the full review here. Follow Wet Leg on Instagram.

Honorable Mentions

• Deftones - Private Music

• The Hives - The Hives Forever Forever The Hives

• Pink Floyd - Pink Floyd at Pompeii – MCMLXXII

Like Ramones said, “New York City really has it all,” and for native NYers, transplants, and urban romantics alike The Big Apple stands tall as arguably the greatest city on Earth, a boundless wellspring of creativity, ingenuity, and promise. In the grand tradition of celebrating New York’s bonafides in story and song, Gymshorts unleash a pogoing blast of punky energy that revels in the magnetic allure of big city life with a streetwise perspective.

In true Gymshorts fashion jagged, warp speed riffs and maniac percussion bump and shuffle in a high octane mosh with rubberband basslines, rolling and tumbling their way towards a chugging breakdown that winds tighter and tighter before exploding outwards in all directions like a bundle of springs unleashed into a padded room, a burst of helter-skelter projectiles that effortlessly capture the perpetually unpredictable momentum of the City That Never Sleeps. Blasting off a laundry list authentic New York experiences, Gymshorts juxtaposes highbrow institutions like The Met with the ubiquitous presence of corner bodegas, standing up each as equally essential pillars of the New York experience, fueled by a buffet of quintessential cuisine from an exquisitely folded New York slice to the singularly satisfying bacon egg and cheese.

Gymshorts leads a whirlwind tour of New York’s most iconic destinations in the accompanying video, visiting Times Square, Zabar’s, Citi Field (let’s go, Mets go!) and beyond while making pit stops at every deli, diner, and graffiti scrawled bench in between, capturing a street-level view of the City’s multifaceted essence in a way that only a resident can, embracing the grit and grime in equal measure to the glitz and glamour. Joined by esteemed Brooklyn comedian Shane Torres and featuring a cameo with scruffy Sunshine Coast punks The Chats, “Heaps New York” perfectly encapsulates the extraordinary chaos of living in the City and highlights a deeply rooted affinity for the Five Burroughs that spans the globe and beckons countless souls to come and chase their dreams.

“Heaps New York” is on Gymshorts’ next LP, That’s A Lot Of Milk!, coming in 2026. Preorder the record at Bandcamp and follow Gymshorts on Instagram for the latest.

Originally released on Some Days Are Darker’s 2020 EP Love + Truth, “Take Me Anywhere” represented a foundational element in a developing post-gothic sound that joined textural arrangements and fatalistic prose with cinematic drama to craft a simmering neo-noir atmosphere lush with the melancholy of exquisitely doomed romance. Revisited with a full lineup and constructed under the druidic tutelage of legendary desert production wizard Dave Catching, every element of “Take Me Anywhere” has been dialed up for maximum impact on this brilliantly updated reimagining for their forthcoming LP, Black Box Warning.

Subtly accelerated with a percussive insistence that gently but forcefully presses into the red, Some Days Are Darker race towards inevitable oblivion with steel-eyed determination, one hand gripping the wheel and the other resting on the exposed thigh of a lover light years away in the passenger side bucket seat. As the world outside rushes by in a frenzied blur the interior remains still as a tomb, a glass-paneled sarcophagus built for two, threatening to shatter under the silent cacophony of unspoken words and thunderous emotions pounding from within with sledgehammer force.

Cavernous synths articulate a love language that embraces the unmitigated beauty of the moment in full recognition of tangible love’s brief mortality and the eternally enduring presence that lingers in the psyche like a spectral presence long after voluntarily turning one’s back on the fires of passion. Chiming guitars and perfectly rounded basslines coalesce into a siren’s song beckoning from the other side of the looking glass, an irresistible temptation to surrender to a chemical dalliance with the night that explodes in a sweeping finale, a bittersweet parting cast into the void on the tenderness of an impassioned lie.

Reflecting on the Numan-esque automotive isolation of the original video, “Take Me Anywhere” swaps the blindingly desolate expanse of the southwestern desert for the towering urban claustrophobia of a streetlight streaked Manhattan after midnight. Where the former video positions Some Days Are Darker frontman Lear Mason as a driver in total control of his journey, the latter places him alone in the back seat, a solitary passenger under glass ferried from station to station on the shadowy whims of unseen vices and pervasive restlessness veiled in the umbral shroud of a voluntary addiction to an insatiably self-destructive wanderlust.

Black Box Warning releases in 2026. Stream “Take Me Anywhere” on Spotify and follow Some Days Are Darker on Instagram.

Upcoming Shows

DEC 05 - Hart Bar - Brooklyn, NY - Tickets

DEC 06 - Song and Dance - Syracuse, NY - Tickets