To those of us who grew up in the early 2000s, congratulations, you’re now old enough to be in the midst of a full-blown emo revival. One of the bands helping lead the charge is The Hotelier, a Massachusetts band that got a lot of attention with 2014’s ‘Home, Like Noplace There Is’.
In the first installment of the garrulous and altogether decent “Rob & Andy Talk…”, your two music editors discuss, ad neauseam, Joanna Newsom’s impact on modern film, art, and record making.
Teal Garrels is a super cool person, purveyor of greatness, and the onetime legendary publicist for such companies as Biz 3 and Sub Pop. She’s one of the reasons Cinema Spartan exists, if you don’t know your superfluous San Diego dotcom history
It’s difficult to imagine that the Toronto-based singer isn’t aware of her own voice’s incorporeal uniqueness, one that melts like gallium in the heat of her records’ warm production.
Hypnotic drumming, the mean baying of guitars, syrupy volleys of bass, and dominant, microphone searing vocals: these attributes would probably emblazon the scouting report of Brooklyn’s ferocious Fruit & Flowers, a band whose well-organized chaos is known throughout New York’s culturally rad music scene.
With “Happy Birfday Jeff” colorfully crisscrossed against the hull of her guitar – if you don’t know, that shit is legendary – the Massachusetts native killed with a dedicated barrage of Jameson drinking and killer singing.
It’s almost a weirdly timed shame that this album released during the whirlwind of surprise drops from Beyonce, James Blake, and Radiohead, because it is every bit as good (and really, better) than all of them.
Science-fiction, NASA, plumes of kicked up dirt behind the wheels of a DeLorean. Computer Magic’s hypnotic oeuvre revolves around themes of emotional wanderlust, illusory control, and the tenuous ebb of self-exploration.
It’s an accessible, high-energy record that feels of Southern California spontaneity. If an LP could kick flip while spiking a can of Saint Archer, this would be the one.
Splavender’s cozy summer vibes emanate coastal breezes and surfboard wax. They are our favorite band in the Beach Malaise genre. Hailing from the sunscreen slacked shorelines of San Diego, the band is the perfect seaside cocktail of hushed, spectral vocals and chill instrumentation.