Pitchfork Music Festival 2024 Recap

As far as music festivals go, Pitchfork tends to be one of the better ones. It may not be as gargantuan as Lollapalooza, as buzzy as Coachella, or as tapped-in as Rolling Loud, but you know what Pitchfork has that most other festivals don’t? Identity. 

For better or worse, Pitchfork is a festival designed around one of the world’s most influential music publications and the particular tastes of its readers. Since this festival is centered around such a longstanding entity, the lineup tends to be more curated and intentional than other festivals which often fall into the trap of trying to be everything to everyone. Sure, it’s easy to look at lineups for bigger festivals and imagine how cool it would be to see Megan The Stallion, Deftones, Ethel Cain, and blink-182 in the same place, but in practice, it’s sweaty, messy, overpriced, and you rarely get to “see” many of those artists in a genuine way. 

In contrast, Chicago’s Union Park also translates to a near-perfect festival layout, converting its 13.5 acres of grassy fields and tree-lined borders into wide-open spectacles and tucked-away stages that each feel like distinct areas. There’s ample room for the festival’s three main stages, food vendors, beer tents, merch stations, record stores, local artists, companies handing out free tchotchkes, and a smaller side stage dedicated to artist interviews. It can get pretty packed, but it’s never that hard to traverse, and you can generally get a pretty great view of any artist’s set, especially if you plan ahead a little bit. 

Location aside, the “indie”-leaning lineup of Pitchfork feels like it typically strikes a nice balance between up-and-coming bands, recent breakthroughs, and more enduring legacy acts of all genres. This year, the top-level headliners closing out each day were Black Pumas, Jamie xx, and Alanis Morissette. Directly beneath them, you had artists like Jai Paul, 100 gecs, Carly Rae Jepsen, and MUNA, all legendary projects to a very specific type of person. I personally was excited for Saturday’s shoegaze gambit, where the schedule flowed from Hotline TNT to Feeble Little Horse and Wednesday, each stacked one after the other like the promoters took a page directly from my Spotify Wrapped. 

I’ve only attended one other Pitchfork Music Festival in 2022, so I was eager to return and see what’s changed in the last couple of years. Going in, I was interested in how Pitchfork’s recent fusing with GQ under Condé Nast would impact the vibe, if at all. Truthfully, I wasn’t planning on  until Swim Into The Sound’s own David Williams approached me with a behind-the-scenes photo pass, and I didn’t want to miss out on that opportunity. Below, you’ll find thoughts from me, David, and Logan Archer Mounts on the weekend, along with David’s photography, all shot on 35mm film for maximum coolness. 


Day 1

My group ambled into Union Park at 1 pm on the dot, right as the first band was ramping up. The fields were empty, the sun was out, and all the vendors were at the ready with beer and hot dogs. It’s always fun to see festival grounds like this before they get trampled in and filled out by the crowds; there’s a sense of boundless possibilities knowing that three full days of live music await you. Black Duck prattled through a jazzy improvised set that felt like a nice way to roll into the day with relaxed vibes. Angry Blackmen were true to their name, bringing an aggro hip-hop energy that felt like it properly set the festivities off before ML Buch took us to gazy dreamland.

Rosali was one of the first acts on the lineup that I was actively excited for; her album from earlier this year is excellent and has one of the most striking covers of 2024. Exactly as I had hoped, Rosali brought the homespun southern rock vibes, with her backing band locked in for a couple of inspiring jams, including a particularly rousing version of “My Kind.” The group closed their set with “Rewind,” an absolutely undeniable song that was joyful to watch unfold live on stage after being obsessed with it since January.

After a quick lunch break (aka paying $20 for a chicken wrap), I caught slices of Billy Woods, Amen Dunes, and Sudan Archives, each of whom had their own commanding presence. Billy Woods and Kenny Segal kept the crowd on their toes with off-kilter beats and urgent lyricism while Sudan Archives strutted through a solo set of hip-hop-infused R&B, pulling out her violin at key moments and shredding a melody before sheathing it and returning to vocal duties. 

Back in May, we published a review of Amen Dunes' most recent album, which I quite enjoyed but leaned in a reserved, ambient direction. I was surprised to see him playing with a full band and playing such “band” type songs. Their whole set was super fun, oscillating between a DIIV-like grooviness and slightly more upbeat numbers that sounded almost like Future Islands.

Yaeji graced the Red Stage with a theatrical performance shelving out hit after electronic hit during the tail end of day one. Dressed in Shaq-sized cargo shorts and a black tank top, Yaeji moved and grooved through the summer sun with ease. Her blend of R&B, techno, and synth-pop had everyone’s attention the moment she started her set. The crowd erupted when one of her biggest hit songs, “Raingurl,” bled through the speakers, sparking an impromptu dance-off among the fans.
– David Williams

Yaeji to 100 gecs was a pretty lateral move, but definitely brought the Friday Energy that we needed and helped make it feel like the party was really starting in earnest. I watched about half of the 100 gecs set and realized I barely knew their latest album. I still enjoyed seeing “stupid horse” live and will admit that I got full-body goosebumps during the chorus of “Hollywood Baby,” but the set could only feel so “big” given that it was just two people playing songs off a computer. It's still cool to see 100 gecs live after following them for so long, but I’m not sure their set quite hit it home for me. 

I didn’t watch all of Jai Paul’s set, but I did walk by Red Stage just to see the man in the flesh with my own two eyes. I had places to be, specifically catching Jeff Rosenstock’s set over on the blue stage, which was exactly as energetic, shouty, and boisterous as any Jeff Rosenstock set I’ve ever witnessed. The crowd was jumpin, Jeff crowd-surfed while playing sax, and I ate a Chicago dog while taking it all in, a great way to cap off day one. 

I left before Black Pumas started playing both because I didn’t care to catch their set but also because I was headed over to Subterranean to catch Hotline TNT’s aftershow, which was more like a pre-show since they were playing the next day. I watched the opening band, Graham Hunt, from the upper-level balcony, and then I was able to make it right up front for Hotline’s set, which was a swirling delight of hypnotic riffs and loud-ass guitars. I was beyond tired at the end of day one, but it was worth it to see a band like that play an entire set from less than ten feet away.

Day 2

Chicago’s own Lifeguard kicked off day two with the sort of youthful energy only achievable by a group of kids still approaching their twenties. At various points, the trio shifted around from a traditional lineup of guitar, drums, and bass to drums and two guitars, all rendered in an impressive and jagged post-punk style. The lead singer, Kai Slater, was on crutches, so he played the entire set seated, but with that loss of mobility came the opportunity to use one of his crutches during a solo, which was a helluva way to start things off as we sipped on our free coffee.

I caught parts of L’Rain and Kara Jackson before Saturday’s shoegaze onslaught. L’Rain brought the dreamy vibes with lots of slow post-rock builds, mellow beats, and gorgeous vocals layered on top of everything. I only caught a song or two from Kara Jackson, but they were jaw-droppingly beautiful. At one point, she interpolated SZA’s “Love Galore,” and the crowd let out a “Woo!” of recognition. 

Starting at 2:45, Hotline TNT rocked reliably, fusing together into one giant mass of riffage, and even broke out a few songs that they hadn’t played the night before. The crowd was consistently swaying and head-bobbing but didn’t seem to erupt into the same type of chaos I had witnessed at Subterranean, presumably because people were saving their energy for the rest of the weekend.

Feeble Little Horse were wild to see in concert after feeling like they were on the brink of breaking up after an untimely hiatus right as they dropped their second album. It was still too close to Black Country, New Road’s shakeup, and fans were bummed but understanding as we wished the band the best and hoped for their eventual return. Seeing a song like “Chores” live was an experience; there are so many janky little beats and knotty twists in their songs, it was impressive to see them break that all out live. At one point between songs, the guitarist stepped up to the mic and said, “These are songs from an album Pitchfork gave a seven,” which got a laugh from the crowd before he continued incredulously, “We’re like, ‘why are we here?’ Why do they want us?”

At one point, we were halfway through Feeble Little Horse’s set, and I was glimpsing over my shoulder to see Wednesday sound-checking on the Green Stage and felt like I was in my own personal slice of heaven. To be sandwiched between these two bands I’ve been listening to obsessively for years was almost too much for my brain and brain to compute. 

Shortly after that, Wednesday ripped through a scorching set of career-spanning material, rolling through songs from all three of their albums, plus a Drive-By Truckers song thrown in for good measure. They played a few new songs and lightly teased their upcoming album in an interview directly after the set, with Karly stating she’s even more proud of this batch of songs than their last but promising it very much feels like a continuation of Rat Saw God. Of course, the North Carolinians ended their set with the titanic “Bull Believer,” allowing the audience a chance to air out any anger and frustrations they might have had at that moment, either with life or just the state of the world. It was cathartic, it was twangy, it was beautiful.

De La Soul’s set was a celebration for hip-hop, and as DJ Maseo yelled over the microphone, “40 years of friendship!” Legendary rap group gave the crowd exactly what was advertised with a nostalgic trip down memory lane, performing their biggest hits, “Potholes in My Lawn,” and my personal favorite, “Me, Myself and I,” courtesy of the film Good Burger. Surprise guests Talib Kweli and Pharoahe Monche kept the crowd jumping nonstop. Posdnuos made it a point to tell the fans in attendance that it was his duty to bring it for them every night. De La Soul lived up to that reputation tenfold.
– David Williams

Between sets, I got to chat with MJ Lenderman and capture his portrait in 35mm film, which I like because the photos look cleaner and more classic. Film is timeless; there's a reason why movies today still look better shot in 35mm instead of digital. The portraits of him and the band give a vintage feel that, if you didn’t know better, you might not know if the photo was taken yesterday or 30 years ago. Lenderman's reputation of having an everyman demeanor was right on the mark as he couldn't have been a more gracious and friendly guy as he put up with my silly questions like "Who's your all-time favorite wrestler?" (Rey Mysterio and Mick Foley) or "What ‘dumb hat’ were you singing about that drew so much ire in "Taste Just Like It Costs?" (A golf visor). Truly a hat so hideous that it’s worthy to be sung about with such disgust. 
– David Williams

After screaming it out to Wednesday and catching Karly Hartzman’s post-set interview, it was time for a pulled-pork sandwich and Bratmobile, who brought hearty doses of Pacific Northwest riot grrrl energy. After that vent session, it was time to get a good spot for The Queen, aka Carly Rae Jepsen. We scootched up as close as we could comfortably get while still having ample room to dance and jump around for a solid hour as Carly jumped from one sugary confection to the next. I had seen her back in 2019, and this set was just as elating and life-affirming as the one I saw five years ago. 

Day 3

Day three started a little slower (because I’m in my thirties, and three days of music festing was beginning to take a toll), so we headed over to Union Park an hour or two after doors to catch glimpses of Joana Sternberg, Maxo, and Nala Sinephro.

I took a chance on Nala Sinephro from a friend’s recommendation as “a killer ambient artist,” which was enough to sell me. Although at my first Pitchfork Fest back in 2011, I caught ambient titan Tim Hecker on the Blue Stage, who played right around the golden hour while other, louder acts played on the mainstages, and I can’t say it was the perfect setting. Sinephro was much more than just drones, though; her band ran through spaced-out jazz and rhythmic electronic music as Sinephro alternated between harp and keyboards. It was a beautiful way to ease into day three, and I’m anxiously awaiting her new album in September.
– Logan Archer Mounts

Model/Actriz frontman Cole Haden started the band’s set by coming out, applying lipstick, then walking across the stage and posing with a purse before grabbing the mic. That was about all I saw before catching MUNA and Mannequin Pussy interviews on the side stage, which was a much chiller (and much needed) way to start the day on a relaxed note. 

From there, Jessica Pratt brought some of the prettiest vibes of the whole fest, with everyone in the band sitting, so it really felt like an intimate, laid-back show you’d catch in a backyard or a beer garden. “I look like a pallbearer,” Jessica Pratt slyly says into the mic, dressed in all black, practically melting under the hot mid-July sun. Fortunately, that heat didn’t stop her from delivering an intimate set that the crowd enjoyed with a hushed tone during the full hour, giving Pratt the space to clear out for her brilliant storytelling and gorgeous melodies.
– David Williams

Mannequin Pussy started a few minutes late and dealt with a couple of technical difficulties, but they are true rock stars and ran through their scheduled set exactly as intended. Missy is probably one of the best front people in music right now, dancing, posing, and strutting across the stage without missing a growl. At one point, Missy asked all the boys in the audience to raise their hands because she “wanted to see what kind of fucked up dude would go to a Mannequin Pussy Show” then asked us all to scream “pussy” as loud as they could and simply replied “pathetic” when it wasn’t loud enough. She then asked the entire crowd to scream the same thing simultaneously because everything’s better together, right? They played all the hits off this year’s I Got Heaven and slammed all their one-minute punk tracks back-to-back toward the end of the setlist for a full-throttle injection of adrenaline that kept the pit in constant motion. Simply one of the best. 

How many opportunities do you get to see a hip-hop pioneer live in the flesh? Grandmaster Flash is hip-hop’s Lewis and Clark, so this was a must-see set if only to see the face of the man who helped lay the groundwork for an entire genre. Grandmaster Flash was on DJ duty, spinning the 1s and 2s, keeping everyone’s energy up under the humid heat. Getting to hear the beat to “White Lines” live, one of the greatest straightedge anthems ever, was an absolute treat. Only second to Flash dropping in “Sweet Home Alabama” and then immediately shouting “FUCK A STATE TROOPER!” At the Visit Austin Interview stage, I got genuinely emotional listening to Flash talk about the birth of sampling and his “quick mix theory,” how he used to buy two copies of one record, mark them up with crayon to count how many times a record revolved with one beat loop, and switching between turntables to create the endless pattern. Also, he invented the turntable slipmat with the help of his seamstress mother because there was too much traction on his early decks for him to be able to do his scratching and backmasking. An absolute legend.
– Logan Archer Mounts

I generally think of MUNA as something not for me, but I’ll admit, watching the band bounce around the stage (and off each other) as the sun set was a pretty picturesque music festival experience. The songs started to blend together a bit toward the end of the set, but you know I had to show up and throw down for “Silk Chiffon.”

Care to witness a show based solely on chillwave vibes? Then look no further to the psychedelic rock group Crumb. Their song "AMAMA" was a personal favorite of mine, where it feels like you just get strapped in and feel the grooves from the jump. Whenever you see them, just know that they will have you swaying back and forth like one of those inflatable tubes you spot at random gas stations. 
– David Williams 

Les Savy Fav is exactly the type of band I want to see more of at Pitchfork. I grew up on 2000s indie rock, and even though Les Savy Fav wasn’t my most listened-to band of the time, I had always hoped they would get back out there after their hiatus began in the early 2010s. After an exhilarating performance on Riot Fest weekend in 2021, the NYC group brought the same energy back to Pitchfork, now on the heels of their excellent new album OUI, LSF. Like Model/Actriz earlier in the day, singer Tim Harrington spent most of the set in the audience, beginning minutes before the first note was even played by riding a Lime scooter around the crowd, then straight down the center to the barricade before jumping onto the stage. Harrington was covered in glitter with a neon-dyed hair/beard combo and a shirt that read “I’M JUST HAPPY TO BE HERE,” which was removed a few songs into the performance to reveal the same message scrawled onto his stomach. Whether they were playing their ten-week-old songs or their ten-year-old songs, Les Savy Fav was an uncontrollable ball of energy for the duration of their 45 minutes, raucously closing out the Blue Stage for the weekend. 
– Logan Archer Mounts

Brittany Howard brought electronic-infused funk rock to the Red Stage on Sunday night, going deep into her seemingly endless bag of skills. She quarterbacked the entire set, using each instrument at various points and playing each one with the confidence and panache you would expect from someone of her caliber. She pulled off an effortless and joyous performance that felt like the perfect soundtrack as the sun wound down to night. 
– David Williams

Finally, the inimitable Alanis Morissette closed out Sunday with a set that pulled heavily from Jagged Little Pill in addition to tracks from her entire repertoire, sometimes only playing a verse and a chorus of a song as a transition between two others. It felt theatrical, with potential inspiration from her Jagged Little Pill musical that’s been running the last few years. She had the crowd wrapped around the hand in her pocket the entire time; her voice is still absolutely unreal, and watching her close out such a fantastic and full weekend was special.

The Best of Q2 2023

Even though we’re halfway through, 2023 has been a hard year to define. As news cycles speed up, discourse spins out, and “content” mounts faster than anyone can realistically engage with it, staying up-to-date on new music can feel overwhelming. That’s where we come in. 

Our team of passionate freaks writers are the types of people to comb through new releases every Friday in search of their next obsession. We have playlists and last.fm charts and Topsters and rankings. We have albums we love that we want you to love too, and that’s what this article is for. Just as we did back in April, we will round up our favorite albums and EPs of the last few months so you can see what we’ve been obsessing over lately. Hope you find something new to obsess over.


billy woods, Kenny Segal - Maps

Backwoodz Studioz

To describe billy woods’s quasi-concept album as “all over the place” might initially come off as an insult, but I mean it in the most complimentary and, on some levels, literal way possible. Part-travel diary, part-anthropological exploration, Maps just might be woods’s most accessible yet ambitious work to date. “No Reservations, walked in like Bourdain,” he boasts on “The Layover,” shouting out the late celebrity chef and documentarian and nodding to how both Bourdain and woods himself view travel as an immersive practice. In the same track, woods’ trip to California isn’t a vacation– it’s a chance to convene with the past, complete with lyrical dues paid to both LL Cool J and the Black Panther Party. “Babylon By Bus” rolls out personal and world history on one long, non-linear timeline, deftly hopping from the 2011 NBA Championship to the Russian Revolution to 9/11 to the passing of woods’ grandmother. “Year Zero” pulls back the spatial and temporal lens even further, chronicling the dawn of man to the decay of the present in just a few bars (“Apes stood and walked into the future / March of progress end hunchbacked in front the computer / Sooner or later it’s gon’ be two unrelated active shooters / Same place, same time, great minds”). While the vastness of woods’ pen game on Maps is pretty sublime, some of his most striking moments are when he gets down to the small-scale specificities, particularly on the record’s back half– “NYC Tapwater” is the bittersweet comedown from life on tour, the comforts of his home city are inextricable from the past traumas it bears witness to and constantly under the threat of being paved over by the continuous march of gentrification; on “As The Crow Flies,” the homecoming narrative concludes with a scene of woods and his son, a reckoning with the responsibilities of fatherhood and the tandem joys and fears that come with it (“I’m at the park with the baby on the swings / When it hits me crazy, anything at all could happen to him”). billy woods can fit a whole world into a record, and it’s a blessing that we get to watch it spin.

– Grace Robins-Somerville


Bully – Lucky For You

Sub Pop Records

Based solely on 2020’s SUGAREGG, I already knew I’d love whatever Bully did next. What I didn’t expect was a raucous half-hour of pitch-perfect 2000s alt-rock featuring some of the most energetic hooks I’ve heard all year. First, she reeled me in with a Soccer Mommy-assisted lead single, then she hit us with the sunny “Days Move Slow” and followed that with the fuckup anthem “Hard to Love.” One by one, each single surpassed the previous, all culminating in Lucky For You, an album that captures the boundless exuberance of the last day of school. Much like Momma, PONY, or Charly Bliss, Bully’s Alicia Bognanno doesn’t shy away from a realistic portrayal of herself. She’s kind of a loser, she has fucked up, and she owns all that. Turns out putting that kind of honesty to fuzzy power chords and raspy choruses makes them feel all the more triumphant. 

– Taylor Grimes


Clearbody – Bend Into a Blur

Self-Released

If you were to distill my love for shoegaze into just a handful of styles, you’d likely wind up with the collection of five songs that make up Bend Into a Blur. You’ve got clear love for giants of the genre like Hum and Nothing alongside screamy doom shit and high-energy bops, all of which work into the genre from different angles for a release that’s succinct and singular. Tracks like “This Can’t Leave Us” sink their hooks into you by building up to their title in the most anguishing but beautiful ways; meanwhile, “Cordelia” feels tailor-made for windows-down summer drives and late-nite smoke sessions alike. For a genre that can so easily feel stale and repetitious, Clearbody manage to make the “gaze” suffix feel exciting, diverse, and exploratory. 

– Taylor Grimes

Read our review of “Cordelia” here.


Cory Hanson – Western Cum

Drag City Inc.

Let’s get it out of the way up top: Western Cum is a very funny name. The title for Cory Hanson’s third album is a signal flare that he doesn’t take this too seriously, but the music tells a different story. Hanson’s latest record follows a similar format to 2021’s Pale Horse Rider (one of our favorites of that year), featuring a batch of a half-dozen barn burners and one 10-minute psychedelic expedition placed at the penultimate spot on the tracklist. Western Cum also sees Hanson cranking up the Zeppelin worship tenfold for classic rock songs that range in scale from that of a housefly to a haunted ghost ship. As these desert mirages materialize and pass by the listener, it’s hard not to get swept up in the majesty of it all.

– Taylor Grimes


Easy Beach – Easy Beach

We’re Trying Records & Sleepy Clown Records

To some degree, people are right to groan about emo music. You’re right to roll your eyes at silly song titles, formulaic tapping, and uninspired singing, but at the same time, you gotta hand it to ‘em when people in this genre do something right, and Easy Beach’s self-titled record is emo done right. For an album that dropped on 4/20 and has song titles like “Elliott Spliff” and “Everbong,” it might seem easy to assume Easy Beach is “weedmo,” but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Easy Beach may be an emo band, and they may even smoke weed, but their music is actually closer to groups like Ovlov, LVL UP, or Truth Club than Mom Jeans and Prince Daddy. In just 23 minutes, this band constructs a thrashy style of punk rock that pummels you like a brick to the face… if being pummelled by a brick to the face was somehow catchy. There’s still a little bit of emo guitar tapping, but overall, this band seems much more concerned with making shreddy punk music fit for diving headfirst into the pit. Easy Beach is jam-packed with rambunctious energy and shout-along bangers with a well-placed interlude or two to help you catch your breath. If sweat isn’t dripping from your pores by the time the rapturous horns of “Sleep” roll around, then you’re listening wrong. 

– Taylor Grimes


EXIT ELECTRONICS – BELIEVE ANYTHING, BELIEVE EVERYTHING

Avalanche

Okay, so teeeeechnically, this album was released about a week before our Q1 list went up. But I didn’t hear it until the beginning of June, so I’m including it here. I wanted to give a full-length review on the new Godflesh album PURGE (which rips), but the time didn’t work in my favor. Instead, I’m here to shout out the new EXIT ELECTRONICS album, one of the many monikers and side projects of Godflesh mastermind Justin K. Broadrick. BELIEVE ANYTHING is 45 minutes of obnoxious, distorted, bass-heavy music that is so in my lane, it’s surprising I didn’t hear it until after I recorded my last album of similar material. Broadrick has been an electronic and industrial maestro since the late ‘80s between Godflesh, Techno Animal, and Jesu, just to name a few. This is easily some of the most advanced and intense music he’s ever done; it’s like a burned CD of 128kbps Limewire MP3s skipping in the player of a 2003 Pontiac Sunfire. I assure you that’s a compliment.

— Logan Archer Mounts


Feeble Little Horse – Girl with Fish

Saddle Creek

The first time I listened to Girl with Fish was idyllic… not necessarily befitting to the music, but memorable nonetheless. It had been a bright summer day here in Portland, but by the evening, a batch of clouds had rolled in, making for a broody, overcast mood that marked the end to a weeks-long period of perfectly sunny weather. It was about 8:30 and still bright out despite the grey clouds now populating the sky. I decided to go for a walk to expend the rest of my energy and enjoy the last little bit of light we had left. By the time I had reached a nearby park, the clouds had started to spit ever so lightly, raining just enough to feel a cooling droplet every few seconds but not enough to need a jacket or an umbrella. I looked at my phone and realized it was just past 9 pm, meaning all the Friday new releases were now available to listen to here on the west coast. I navigated straight to Feeble Little Horse’s artist page and pressed play on their sophomore LP, which I had been anticipating for the better part of the year. As I walked around this park and nearby neighborhoods soundtracked by the off-kilter rock tunes, I inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of rain on hot pavement, a sense I hadn’t experienced much in my previous home of Denver. As the freaky, horny, warbly songs played out, I found myself firmly in the present. I didn’t know what was coming next in this album or my life, and for 26 minutes and 6 seconds, I found that incredibly freeing.

– Taylor Grimes


Frog Legs – It’s Been a Hard Year

Rabbit Snail Records

I’ve been listening to punk rock for a really, really, really long time. So long, in fact, that I have kind of a complex relationship to it– although punk is great, I often can’t find myself reaching for my Misfits records when it comes time to kick back with a beer and decompress. It’s just too… one-note these days. The novelty of sonic rebellion has long worn off, and only the truly time-tested punk music can make it through to my daily rotation of knotty emo-core, crusty d-beat and hardcore, stripped-back folk music, densely arranged power pop, and soaring jam-band indebted indie rock. All that changed two years ago when I was introduced to Frog Legs, a band of folk-punk rookies with bright eyes and big attitudes led by singer/bassist/songwriter Nano Siegert-Wilkinson. 

Their first EP was straight-up folk punk in the best way– sugary sweet punk rippers played with acoustic instruments at blistering tempos. On It’s Been a Hard Year, though, her ambitions spread beyond the realm of traditional folk-punk and bloom into enormous Springsteen singalong C-sections (“Motorcycle!”), lackadaisical power pop jams (“The Worst McDonalds Ever (Pts. 1 & 2)”), propulsive and neurotic rock (“Fear and Loathing in South Oakland”), and even tender bluegrass ballads (“Livestock” and “Moth Song”). Despite these musical departures from the raspy acoustic punk we’ve all come to know and meme, it’s impossible to forget that this is a Folk Punk Album. Every song oozes directionless rage and exhaustion via grisly and misanthropic metaphor (“It will bleed me til I'm dry / make a leather coach bag out of my hide”) or an unflinching, almost impolite directness (“Sometimes bad things happen just because”). It’s an emotionally arresting piece of art that will define the genre for years and might even succeed at Siegert-Wilkinson’s oft-stated goal of “bringing folk punk back to Pittsburgh, baby.” 

– Mikey Montoni


Frozen Soul – Glacial Domination

Century Media

Remember that one time Texas got too cold? Fort Worth’s iciest band, Frozen Soul, makes sure you’ll never forget. Glacial Domination is an avalanche-caliber crushing death metal LP that stays frozen on repeat. With features from Dying Fetus’ John Gallagher, Trivium’s Matt Heafy, and electro-metal duo GosT, the band delivers one anthemic, bicep-flexing, frost-biting track after another. This group may as well have called themselves something like Cold Thrower or Snowbituary.

— Logan Archer Mounts


Greg Mendez – Greg Mendez

For about a month, I listened to Greg Mendez’s self-titled record and couldn’t shake the phrase “Diet Alex G.” That’s a misnomer for a couple of reasons, sure Mendez’s voice sounds shockingly similar at times, but “diet” implies that it’s somehow lesser. In reality, Greg Mendez is a precious and careful folk album that weaves together nine deeply intricate tales into a compact 23-minute package. Standing shoulder to shoulder with the new albums from Ther and Infinity Crush, Mendez has created an honest and truly beautiful album that has rightfully placed him at the forefront of an already bustling Philadelphia music scene. With songs as brilliant as “Maria” in his holster, it’s only a matter of time before he ascends the rungs of the indie rock world into a strata all his own.

– Taylor Grimes


HMLTD – The Worm

Lucky Number

England hits another post-punk home run with the latest album from HMLTD (fka Happy Meal Ltd., ceased and desisted for obvious reasons). The Worm is an experimental, imperialistic, sci-fi concept record that begs one question: “Would you still love me if I was a worm?” At least, in this case, the worm is taking over an apocalyptic London like the plague, and the album tells the story of the townspeople’s experiences. It’s a danceable, oddball record that showcases the band at their strongest. Fans of Black Country New Road, King Gizzard And The Lizard Wizard, or Squid should be sure to take note of this one. And not just because lizards and squids are in the worm family (follow-up: I do not know this to be true).

— Logan Archer Mounts


Home Is Where – the whaler

There are a ton of dumb, memey ways one could talk about the whaler. From the 9/11 song to the Neutral Milk Hotel worship and possible Weezer homage, this record sometimes feels tailor-made to set up RYM weirdos to craft their most pithy one-liners, and yet… the whaler persists. The sophomore album from fifth-wave emo’s resident folk punk freaks is wildly inventive, sprawling, and probing in a way that makes it impossible to summarize in a single paragraph. Essentially a loose concept album about “getting used to things getting worse,” each song flows into the next while still retaining a circular life of its own. Each song is staggeringly diverse in instrumentation and inspiration, seamlessly incorporating sounds from midwest emo and folk to alt-country and post-hardcore. The lyrics are both urgent and poetic, begging the listener not just to scream along, but to really listen and understand. Even as things get worse, we can thank Home Is Where for being here and creating art that makes things just a little better. 

– Taylor Grimes


Hot Mulligan – Why Would I Watch

Wax Bodega

Yes, Hot Mulligan are yelpy, yes, they’re emo as fuck, and yes, they have songs with names like “Cock Party 2 (Better Than The First).” It’s almost like they’re challenging you not to take them seriously. Despite the seemingly infinite number of marks against them, the Michigan-based Post-Emo band makes music that exceeds any surface-level turn-offs. Following an excellent 2020 release that deflated like so many of the albums from that year, they kept the momentum (and spirits) up with a series of acoustic releases, EPs, covers, and one-off singles, but Why Would I Watch is the first proper full-length from the band in three years, and it’s a front-to-back ripper. I’ll save you any more song titles, but the band’s fourth LP is song after song of frantic outpourings, complete with intricate guitar work, group singalongs, and relatable lamentations. 

– Taylor Grimes


Indigo De Souza – All of This Will End

Saddle Creek

Indigo De Souza is a force of nature. The Asheville-based singer-songwriter is a confluence of immensely relatable sentiments, catchy choruses, and feelings that sweep through each song like a hurricane. Whether she’s reinforcing the importance of nature, venting about a shitty partner, or reflecting on the knowledge that comes with age, Indigo De Souza manages to make it all fit seamlessly within her vibrant, technicolor umbrella. There are crunchy shoegaze riffs, boppy dance numbers, and touches of twang that make each song feel distinct from the others surrounding it. One of those albums where any track feels like it could have served as a single, and I’m left to marvel at how many great ideas can be packed into one LP. 

– Taylor Grimes

Read our review of All of This Will End here


Innerlove. – Roscoe

Refresh Records

While everyone else was listening to, thinking about, commentating on, and participating in the “Pinegrove Shuffle,” I was listening to Roscoe. Much like Quinn Cicala and Ground Swell, Innerlove is a band directly descended from the Emo Kid to Alt-Country Pipeline. Underneath the twang and scent of alcohol, There’s an apparent reverence for the lineage of country music built atop a sturdy understanding of indie rock fundamentals. Every once in a while, a little bit of emo sensibility peeks through, and in that way, it’s a beautiful intersection of where I find my tastes midway through 2023.  

– Taylor Grimes


Jess Williamson – Time Ain’t Accidental

Mexican Summer

If you’ve ever been to Far West Texas, you’ll get why Time Ain’t Accidental is Marfa-coded: steel guitar and highway motifs scream “Wild West,” while Williamson’s coy voice and eclectic percussion choices keep these songs distinctly artsy. However, unlike many Angelenos who descend upon the quintessential artsy Wild West town, Williamson is originally from Texas, and she successfully cashes in on that authenticity in her most country-tinged offering to date. In Time Ain’t Accidental, she documents her extensive time living and loving in Marfa, telling the concurrent stories of an old love (like in “Stampede”) and a new one (like in the title track). Alongside thrilling tales of a poolside rendezvous and driving through a desert storm, she lays lyrical flowers on the grave of a former longtime love. It’s quite the feat, paying tribute to both relationships without one discrediting the other, but Williamson accomplishes it with grace. She reckons with the ruthless fallout of modern dating without ever losing her grip on love’s timeless potential, wide as the Texas sky. Out in Marfa, everything—the brutal and the beautiful—comes to light if you linger long enough.

– Katie Wojciechowski


Kara Jackson – Why Does The Earth Give Us People To Love?

September

Kara Jackson may or may not be the singer-songwriter that the world asked for in the year of our Lord 2023, but there’s no doubt she’s the one we need. Her earthy contralto voice weaves a spell over meandering chords until all of a sudden, the whole thing is basically jazz, and you’d hardly noticed—like the album’s second track, “no fun/party.” While I’d never say her music “sounds like” Joni Mitchell, Mitchell is the only fair, clear comparison I can think to make in terms of a jazz influence on what are essentially folk songs. Why Does The Earth… doesn’t waste a note, from the spare, unnerving “curtains” to the orchestral, heartbreaking title track that wrestles with the impossible question of loss. Some of Jackson’s songs, like “dickhead blues,” move a little slow, but stay with them; every track on this album offers unexpected gems in the form of vocal feats, twisting melodies, and razor-sharp wit. I honestly cannot believe this is her debut album!

– Katie Wojciechowski


Kerosene Heights – ​​Southeast of Somewhere

No Sleep Records

On paper, there’s nothing extravagant about the debut album from Kerosene Heights; there’s no deep theme, intricate concept, or overarching message. Instead, what you get is a collection of 11 rippers that gnash, gnarl, and shred through waves of emo insecurities with a propulsive pop-punk energy. The record starts off with a half-speed crabcore bob, but ignites when lead singer Chance Smith barks, “1, 2, 3, GO!” in a moment that’s sure to summon a pit at every Kerosene Heights show until the end of time. Over the course of the record’s 35-minute runtime, we come to learn that Smith is their own worst enemy as they recount previous instances where they jumped too fast into romance, ruined someone’s birthday, or generally acted like a selfish dick. As the lyrics so eloquently put it on the second song, “I am the worst thing to happen to me.” While that all might sound like a bummer, what’s remarkable is how catchy Kerosene Heights manages to make these confessionals sound. The band’s peppy instrumentals keep the energy level from ever dipping below that of a sugar-free Red Bull. A fast, fun, and boisterous release that I keep coming back to like a bowl of candy.

– Taylor Grimes


Lana Del Rey - Did You Know That There’s A Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd?

Interscope

Lana Del Rey seemingly has no interest in normalcy, subtlety, or doing anything in a way that isn’t larger-than-life. Because of that, artists like her are a dying breed (as she puts it herself on “Sweet”: “I’m a different kind of woman / if you want some basic bitch, go to the Beverly Center and find her”). The sprawl, the filler tracks, the seemingly out-of-place lyrics that already feel dated by the time the record comes out– these are all things that you come to expect with each Lana album release cycle (and that’s not even mentioning the decade-plus fixation on her controversial career arc that has a nasty habit of overshadowing coverage of her actual music). Sometimes she’ll swing and miss, but the swings are always big. On Ocean Blvd., she’s knocked it out of the park. It’s her best work since 2019’s Normal Fucking Rockwell!, perhaps her best work, period. “A&W” alone feels like a monumental feat, an artist staring herself down and confronting her persona and the woman behind it– Where do tragic rock stars go when (thankfully) the 27 Club won’t have them? What happens to the Lolitas who get to live past thirty? Musically, “A&W” feels like the lovechild of “Hard Feelings/Loveless” by Lorde, “Nights” by Frank Ocean, and “Poor Places” by Wilco. Over its six-minute runtime, the slow-building piano ballad that time-lapses through the Three Faces of Eve culminates in a beat switch that transforms the track into a trap banger with a bratty, double-dutch hook and a mic drop-worthy kiss-off: “Your mom called, I told her you’re fucking up big time.” Grand, communal singalongs like “The Grants,” “Let The Light In,” and “Margaret” invite those nearest and dearest to Lana to sing about love in all its forms– romantic, platonic, familial –while whispery, introspective cuts like “Candy Necklace,” “Kintsugi,” and “Fishtail” show her at her most vulnerable and intimate. My personal pick for song of the summer, “Peppers,” is a stock “the sun is out, my man and I are hot as fuck, and we can’t keep our hands off each other” Lana song, and the way it seamlessly merges a trip-hoppy Tommy Genesis hook into a sample from “Wipeout” (over fourth-wall-breaking studio chatter that introduces said sample) is a stroke of genius. In short: the bitch is back and better than ever. 

– Grace Robins-Somerville


Militarie Gun – Life Under the Gun

Loma Vista Recordings

Ooh ooh! (There’s no other way I could have started this write-up.) I am so happy Life Under the Gun clocks in at just over 27 minutes; I was able to listen to the album on repeat enough times to identify it as one of my favorite releases of 2023 so far. Ian Shelton (of Regional Justice Center and the podcast I Don’t Care If This Ruins My Life with Drug Church’s/Self-Defense Family’s Patrick Kindlon) grazes hardcore like a poorly aimed bullet knicks the skin. Despite Life Under the Gun’s sonic lightness, its heavy themes of honesty, lethargy, and pressure are explored through the lens of hook-ridden guitar pop. After a few mix EPs (and the perennial banger “Pressure Cooker” with co-conspirator DAZY) under the Militarie Gun moniker, Shelton reveals his knack for songwriting extends to crafting a tight album that contains depth beyond catchy songs.

– Joe Wasserman


Miya Folick – ROACH

Nettwerk Records

I fell in love with Folick’s songwriting a couple of years ago when I first paid close attention to her lyrics on the 2015 track “Talking With Strangers” in reference to a potential friendship:

And half of my brain was totally afraid
That she’d hate me, never want to see me again
And half of my brain was equally afraid
That she’d like me, wanna be my friend

It felt, and still feels, so resonant with my own experience of trying to figure out myself and other people. Her introspections on ROACH pull at the same old threads of identity, meaning, and love, but now we find her an even more whole, interesting human with almost a decade more life experience backing her musings. On most of the album’s songs, Folick’s delicate, yearning voice takes center stage in layered harmonies over feather-light beats and eclectic synths. On “Get Out of My House” and “Shortstop,” she explores the optimistic side of leaving love that no longer serves her, while “Nothing To See” and “Cockroach” alchemize angst into catharsis. My favorite moments, though, are still the ones where she tackles something big. My two favorite tracks, “Oh God” and “Cartoon Clouds,” seem diametrically opposed, but I see them as a bit of a call-and-response—the former asking, only semi-ironically, if perhaps God could provide the meaning her chaotic life needs. The latter answers that same inner void with the simple, grounded conclusion, “Doesn’t it feel good to feel good?”

– Katie Wojciechowski


Nourished by Time – Erotic Probiotic 2

Scenic Route Records

Did you hear? Disco is back, regarded more highly than ever. Unfortunately, it’s also been sanded down at the edges, a mere shell of its former bombast. Elsewhere, shards of the most recalcitrant strands of tasteless late-aughts radio rock are being fashioned into a Frankenstein’s monster of futuristic pop (your mileage may vary). The re-evaluation will not be televised; it will be served up on your Discover Weekly or your For You page. For those seeking a third way, a retro-futurist middle ground between the mawkishly tasteful and pure abrasion, look no further than Erotic Probiotic 2, a sleek dance-pop album with the melodic sensibility of Houston rap’s warbling hooks at the turn of the century. “Daddy” is a winking inversion of heartbreak and “grindset” mentality, while “Rain Water Promise” marries vaporous synths and skittering 80s drums. This is club music for the introverts, emo for the club kids. It’s vulnerable, funky, lush, and, above all, too weird to fade entirely into the background.

– Jason Sloan


Superviolet – Infinite Spring

Lame-O Records

Confession time: I was never a Sidekicks Guy. Maybe I was just a few years too young, maybe if I’d listened to more Iron Chic in high school I would have gotten there, but regardless, I showed up late to the party. Luckily through a string of excellent singles, Lame-O co-sign, and persistent Orgcore gf, I found myself eagerly anticipating Steve Ciolek’s new project Superviolet. Slightly folksier, a little prettier, and much more mature, Infinite Spring feels like a best-case scenario for what happens when you age out of a certain music scene. These songs are loving and naturalistic, concerned with memories, feelings, and human connection above all else. Songs like “Overrater” and “Blue Bower” bring the power pop energy, while tracks like “Good Ghost” and “Wave Back” manage to be some of the most touching and life-affirming pieces of music I’ve heard all year. A beautiful album that showcases an effortless artistic evolution into something entirely its own.

— Taylor Grimes


ther – a horrid whisper echoes in a palace of endless joy

Self-Released

A quietly familiar feeling bubbles up after spending just under 30 minutes listening to a horrid whisper echoes in a palace of endless joy, the second album from Philadelphia’s Heather Jones, a.k.a. ther. Perhaps an emboldened hope, a bit of dread, mixed in with the terrifying wonder of each passing day. Jones writes elegantly and broadly about the mundane, the personal, and the ethereal, shaping into an approximation of life itself. Album opener “1 kid” sets the stage for the diorama of memories and music that ensues. A lyric like “How strange to be born in a time like now / When everybody’s freaking out” grasps at a perpetual absurdity, stretched over every decade and sinking in whenever you find yourself listening. Jones’ questioning lies unanswered; silence is left to speak. There’s no way to wrap your head around the strangeness — it simply always is. a horrid whisper is reminiscent of the various works of Phil Elverum while approaching similar themes in wholly distinct ways. “big papi lassos the moon” sifts through the uncertainty of passing days and the relentless forward motion of time. It starts with David Ortiz and lands on the ambient hope of finding peace within the cosmic complications of life. Pedal steel, cello, and baritone saxophone swirl around pensive guitar melodies yet never swallow the central focus on Jones’ vocals and lyrics. ther has found a place of spectral, overwhelming beauty on a horrid whisper; a place that can’t be understood but still feels like home.

– Wes Muilenburg


Water Damage - 2 Songs 

12XU

Water Damage kind of feels like the perfect name for a band that employs a lot of warped and warbly sounds in their recordings. Austin’s self-proclaimed “drone supergroup” returns for their second album, 2 Songs, and it’s not just a clever name. We’re given two album-side-length bangers that sit between kraut-, noise-, and psych-rock in their near-20-minute runtimes. Comprised of members from Black Eyes, Shit And Shine, and Swans, the band’s lo-fi journeys are as hypnotic as they are haunting, immersive as they are antagonistic, with the two “reels” being titled ‘Fuck This’ and ‘Fuck That.’ Easily one of the most exciting newer bands I’ve discovered this year.

— Logan Archer Mounts


Wednesday – Rat Saw God

Part of me feels like I barely need to sing the praises of Wednesday. The North Carolina band has spent the past few years rapidly climbing the ranks of indie rock with increasingly prolific interviews, reviews, and sold-out shows, gaining an army of fans along the way. Part of me also feels like I already said my piece on this band’s body of work with my massive Countrygaze essay from last November. Despite how much has been written about this band and their latest album, Rat Saw God is a five-star knockout of shoegaze epics, dirtbag love songs, and deep south morality tales that all coalesce into a hot and hazy collection of songs that sound unlike any other band. 

– Taylor Grimes


Worry Club – All Frogs Go To Heaven

Self-released

For the longest time, I kept spinning All Frogs Go To Heaven just trying to figure out how I would even define this music. Emo? Dance? Surf? There’s a little bit of screaming on some songs, while others lean into a boppy HUNNY style of music that would have popped off on Tumblr in 2017. No matter the case, this release grabs you right out of the gate with a two-note riff that gets you in the groove and keeps you (willingly) suspended there for the remaining five tracks. Eventually, I realized the closest thing I could compare Worry Club to is Oso Oso: sunny and lightweight indie rock songs with the occasional drop of emo. Where Worry Club differs is how quickly they rev up to a full-speed throttle and how well they pair a melody with the rapid, robotic guitarwork. Ultimately, Worry Club are in a lane all their own where allowing yourself to be emotional is just as important as dancing through the pain.

– Taylor Grimes