May 28, 2026

Cover Collector – May Purples

May 28, 2026/ The Swim Team

I don’t know about you guys, but I love a good album art collage. One of the first things I do every Friday is head over to tapmusic.net and render a 4x4 chart of the albums I listened to most over the past week. At the end of each month, I do the same thing with a 5x5 that recaps my previous 30 days of listening. By the time December rolls around, I look forward to recapping the last twelve months with a gigantic 10x10 grid in an unwieldy encapsulation of the 100 albums that defined my year.

Is it a little self-aggrandizing? Sure, but it’s also a fun way to see a quick snapshot of what my last week, month, or year has sounded like. At its best, this practice has led to fun conversations and solid recommendations going back and forth with friends as we bond over specific albums. Sometimes it’s that shared love over a deep pull from years gone by, other times it’s just noticing trends with a recent fave that seems like an unshakable presence week in and week out. At the very least, I suppose it’s satisfying to see a bunch of records that I feel an affinity toward lined up and embodying a specific stretch of my life.

At some point near the tail end of last year, I conceived of a more communal way to bring this love of album collage to life. Because, sure, getting a live readout of your listening history is cool, but this is also about album art, an essential part of the experience and something us music nerds can fixate on just as much as the songs that sit beneath the cover. As such, I’m excited to welcome you to the fifth edition of Cover Collector: a monthly installation where the Swim Team discusses some of our favorite albums based on album color. For May, we’re writing about posh purples.

Temple of the Dog – Temple of the Dog

If, like me, you are a Second Generation Grunge Fan, an album like Temple of the Dog seems impossible the first time you hear it. All the members of Pearl Jam *before* Pearl Jam had formed? Soundgarden’s Chris Cornell on lead vocals and an Eddie Vedder cameo *before* any of those guys had really worked with Eddie before? It seems insane, and it is. Temple of the Dog existed for about 18 months, recorded one album, played fewer than a dozen live shows, and launched its members into 90’s Music Royalty.

Tragically, the band was formed as a tribute to Andrew Wood, lead singer of Mother Love Bone and roommate of Cornell, who died of a heroin overdose in March of 1990. Grieving and directionless, bassist Jeff Ament described the band as “a really good thing at the time” for him and guitarist Stone Gossard, which put them in a “band situation where we could play and make music.”

Cornell had written the first two tracks, “Say Hello 2 Heaven” and “Reach Down,” before Wood passed, and lyrically those songs became ever more prescient in the aftermath. The music is jammier, heavier, and more melodic than the music the guys of Mother Love Bone and Soundgarden were making at the time, but the darker vibe of the music served as a perfect platform for Cornell’s otherworldly rock vocals.

The centerpiece and most notable track from the album, “Hunger Strike,” features the first lead vocal performance of Eddie Vedder, who had flown in to Seattle to audition for the new iteration of Mother Love Bone. Vedder sang the lead in his now-trademark low register, perfectly fitting the space that Cornell was aiming to fill. In Cornell’s words, “He sang half of that song not even knowing that I'd wanted the part to be, and he sang it exactly the way I was thinking about doing it, just instinctively.”

Temple of the Dog remains a colossal work of art in the scope of 90’s Grunge music, a testament to the healing power of creating art in times of pain, and a remarkable jumping-off point for the most influential titans of the era.

When my high school/college friend Colby Dorf passed away in 2024, Temple of the Dog was a huge comfort to me. I listened to “Say Hello 2 Heaven” and “Hunger Strike” on repeat for a week, and I played them both as loudly as local statutes would allow. I suggest, even if you aren’t in pain, that you do the same. Your neighbors deserve to hear Chris Cornell and Eddie Vedder trading melodies over huge guitars.

– Caleb Doyle

Method of Doubt – Total Soul Ignition

2025 saw a lot of stellar releases in the underground music community, and one EP in particular was a major standout to me: Method of Doubt’s Total Soul Ignition was my favorite hardcore release of the year. The purple-tinted cover, depicting a figure mid-two-step wearing a shirt that has the title emblazoned across it, feels classic and timeless. Even the elongated serif font the band chose to display their name is reminiscent of the font commonly used by hardcore titans Earth Crisis.

This EP spans four furious tracks, featuring guitars with just a hint of grit, snappy drumming, and urgent vocals that pack a punch without losing clarity. In a world that feels saturated with fuzz, excess reverb, and heavy compression, all of this caught my attention immediately. It’s a refreshingly crisp listen. The lyrics are a sharp stand against apathy, stating, “There’s got to be a different way, and I will live it out / Still in search of the quiet life / Still in search of the righteous life.” On the second track, the band follows this declaration with a snarling question directed at those in power: “Have you ever stopped to think, for once in your life, that you might not be right?” Method of Doubt offers up eight minutes of scintillating hardcore and doesn’t waste a single second.

– Britta Joseph

Olivia Rodrigo – SOUR

Summer 2021 felt like it was covered by an ecstatic purple haze. A cloud had descended, and every breath brought pain and exaltation into your lungs in equal measure. Everyone felt it. Olivia Rodrigo’s debut album, SOUR, was just that fucking good. I’m not speaking hyperbolically when I describe Rodrigo’s music as ecstatic. What makes her songs so good is that while, yes, they hurt, each song feels so fucking good. She’s not content for “drivers license” to just wallow in the agony of romantic euphoria being upended that she describes on the verses and choruses; she knows the song needs that chanting bridge declaring how much she still feels love for him during the small moments of sitting at red lights to make it hurt so damn good. Sure, she can be childish, like who doesn’t know Billy Joel? But who hasn’t felt a little childish in a breakup? They broke your heart. Why should you be charitable? That’s the other thing about Rodrigo’s music and why adults respect her songwriting so much: she reminds us we’re all a little childish.

– Lillian Weber

Prince – Purple Rain

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to talk about Purple Rain. Not only is this one of my favorite albums of all time, but it’s also easily the greatest soundtrack ever created. The film of the same title vaulted Prince from household name to international icon, a status he has held ever since. Prince’s star is a celestial one. Take, for instance, the vicious guitar solo on the ending of “Let’s Go Crazy,” or the monumental, career-defining ballad “Purple Rain.” The songs are transcendent, full stop. On Purple Rain, Prince kept climbing sky-high plateaus until he reached the very top of the mountain, something that only a select few artists ever reached.

My personal favorites, “I Would Die 4 U” and “Baby I’m Star,” bleed into one another back-to-back; the songs are jovial, glistening, and sound like a party I would never want to leave. Even the B-sides on the deluxe album that never made it to the official release, in the words of Martin Scorsese, are “pure cinema.” Tracks like “17 Days,” “Velvet Kitty Kat,” and “The Dance Electric” would be most pop artists’ best songs if we were being honest.

Since May is purple month over on Swim Into The Sound, it’s only right to write about “The Purple One.” No one, and I mean no one, has owned a color more than Prince. His Royal Badness has been the “Grand Poobah” growing strong for over forty years, steamrolling every other purple object in his path from lilacs to eggplants to Grimace. So, if the elevator tries to bring you down, put on Purple Rain. Game blouses.

– David Williams

A Day to Remember – Homesick

A Day to Remember’s tenure in the pop-punk and metalcore scene goes largely unappreciated for the run that they’re on. A band, formed in 2003, that’s kept the same lineup (for the most part) while still kicking 23 years later can garner respect from even the snobbiest of scene gatekeepers. While their more recent albums leave little to write home about, the Florida-based group’s early run is one for the history books. When discussing the best pop-punk units of all time, I firmly believe that ADTR remains strongly in contention, particularly with Homesick.

Homesick showcases ADTR’s patented seamless blend of infectious pop-punk choruses with crushing metalcore breakdowns at a time when the two genres were just beginning to converge. The band members find themselves at a thematic crossroads as well, as Homesick details their begrudging commitment to leave Ocala behind for a life on the road. The group’s range is on full display here, and it shines even in the sequencing of tracks where the circle-pit invoking “Mr. Highway's Thinking About The End” sits confidently before the arena-ready anthem “Have Faith In Me.” Ultimately, the record stands not only as an ode to the lives they left behind in Florida, but a vindictive lament to those who said they would never make it.

– Brandon Cortez

The Reptilian – Full Health

In the grand scheme of things, an old adage holds true. I do not remember it word for word, but it’s something to the effect of: Proximity can breed fondness. I think. Either way, because my formative years were in the thick of DIY activity in the 2010s, it is with utter fondness that I remember records that fell out of the general looping zeitgeist. Whether they deserve it or not is to be argued elsewhere; my real point here is one of recollection. Full Health is a record hewn from a time when post-hardcore was about a raised brew in-hand, waved and spilled to mathy, noodley punk packed out in a small room where every word shouted was known, and falling down felt only half as good as getting back up. The Reptilian’s positing of up-and-down thrashy emo felt like it was at the center of all things, and Full Health certainly had its own center of gravity, existing as an eternal marker for the scene at the time, perfectly held and suspended in that indescribable feeling. As the band captures it on the album closer, “Aerosmith Kids,” when they sing:

Now I'm living for myself / Varsity blues can't bring me down and stop me in my tracks / Don't bring me down / My best friends write the best riffs / Don't bring me down. / We'll stay to the end.

– Elias Amini

Cave In – Jupiter

Part space rock, part post-hardcore, part metalcore, and all parts uniquely brilliant, Cave In’s second album, Jupiter, is a shining satellite that kicked off the new millennium in a way no other band could. It was originally released on the legendary heavy label Hydra Head with a number of different colored cover variations, but one of the initial two, and the one used for the 25th anniversary edition via Relapse Records last year, was the purple-tinted crater close-up that allows its entry into this list. Cave In remains a limitless band even through their latest album, 2022’s Heavy Pendulum, with Jupiter being a defining moment of their expansive artistic reach. Coming off the already ambitious Until Your Heart Stops just a couple of years earlier, Cave In dialed back the chaos and focused on more accessible (but just as proficient) metal music, straying from their original hardcore roots but laying the foundation for a new take on the nebulous post-hardcore genre. It’s an essential transmission sequence from top to bottom, but “Big Riff” is a standout moment of the band’s entire catalog, a piece of media more important than the moon landing broadcast. Jupiter widened the lens of what a band in a hardcore space could be capable of, and it still sounds cosmically enchanting today.

– Logan Archer Mounts

Say Anything – In Defense of the Genre

I have a love/hate relationship with the band Say Anything and their vocalist, Max Bemis. I’ve been listening to their music for over two decades, with my fandom reaching its peak during my teen years. The irreverent humor, inflammatory verbiage, and erratic song-writing, while feeling right at home in the ears of my teenage self, have somewhat soured and left me with complicated feelings towards the band and the man behind it in the years since.

All that to say, I feel as though Say Anything’s third studio album, In Defense of the Genre, is the perfect capsule of everything the band has ever had to offer, both the good and the bad. In Defense holds many of my favorite Say Anything songs, from the R&B-inspired bops “Baby Girl, I’m A Blur” and “No Soul” to the musically chaotic “That Is Why” and the album’s grandiose title track. One of the album’s most glaring issues is its length. At a bloated 27 tracks (despite its 23 features from the era’s most iconic emo singers), it doesn’t always stick the landing, and the cringeworthy tracks like “Died A Jew” just leave me feeling puzzled and intensely rolling my eyes twenty years later. I don’t even feel comfortable dropping the title of one of my favorite tracks on the album in this space (yeah, that one).

There’s a part of me that will always love Say Anything, always feel perplexed and challenged by Max Bemis as both a person and a songwriter, and come to the defense of the band’s second, third, and fourth LPs. I ultimately feel as though there's beauty in that kind of relationship. Clinging to the music we used to love and the people we used to be in our adolescence, both to the ends of comfort and of protecting a piece of ourselves we can no longer fully relate to, but identify with all the same. In Defense of the Genre, shortcomings and blemishes and all, will forever be a chapter of my life I will inevitably and intermittently again forever.

– Ciara Rhiannon

Future – DS2

I don’t care if it’s not majority purple, this counts. Come on, that’s literally purple drink. Check out that crisp purple logo in the top right. Did you know that the CD version of this album is made from a reflective, holographic-type material and features a 9-panel foldout? Really adds to the overall effect. There’s also a face hidden in the blue swirl that I didn’t know about until researching this right now, almost eleven years later (squint and you’ll start to see an eye right by the bottom corner of the logo). There was also a rumored textbook cover that bears the same image, but there’s also a 13-minute YouTube video where a guy attempts to track it down and calls it “lost media”, so maybe that was just a meme all along. Cover aside, holy shit does this DS2 still hit hard as fuck over a decade later. “Stick Talk”? Come on. That beat on “I Serve the Base”? Unforgettable. “Blood on the Money”? Cold as ice. “Thought It Was a Drought”? Get the fuck outta here. I had the absolute best summer in 2015 riding around and listening to this record, and it’s genuinely surprising how consistent and fulfilling it remains this many years later. Peak Future.

– Taylor Grimes

Hum – Inlet

It's a great feeling to know that your legends can still dunk. After years of wear and tear on the body, you'd expect a decline in hops because, as we say in the game, “Father Time comes for us all.” So when you see your OGs get up for one final slam that turns out to be an all-time posterization, you're forced to rethink everything you ever thought about life and existence. Well, that's what Hum did with 2020's Inlet. They emerged from a twenty-two-year hiatus with their best album. By the time Inlet was released, Hum-indebted heavy shoegaze and spacerock had really started to pick up steam, and this felt like a direct response as if to say, “I see what you kids are doing, but don't forget why you ever attempted this sound in the first place.” This is Hum and their tightest and most titanic. Their riffs have never been more pummeling, and Bryan St. Pere's drums have never been so thunderous. A perfect exclamation point to a career-long highlight reel.

– Connor Fitzpatrick

My Chemical Romance – I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love

In Julio Torres’ new special, Color Theories, he declares that purple is the color of mystery and intrigue. I bring this up because I think this is the only My Chem album that actually embraced that feeling, and it’s the only one with a kinda purple cover. My Chem had to end up in this series for me somewhere, so it’s here. When I think of I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love, I think about how it’s kind of bad. It’s an absolutely sloppy album, too wordy, too vampiric (not like their later albums), the fan lore is a bit obnoxious, and it gets a bit into Metallica in a way that sucks. But I love it.

Bullets has a real mythology around it. Gerard Way was in agonizing pain during the recording sessions. Mikey Way begged Geoff Rickly to listen to the songs at a house party, and Rickly essentially rolled his eyes. Ray Toro didn’t know the difference between lead guitar and rhythm guitar, so he rolled all of it into one. They almost poisoned themselves with spray paint fumes for a music video. Frank Iero got hold of a demo and couldn’t stop listening. The band stopped playing “Drowning Lessons” because they thought it was cursed. The CD declares that Gerard will suck your blood if you duplicate it. It’s messy and gross, and they eventually figured out how to do everything better on the next album, but that’s why it’s good. It’s a desperate project by desperate people. It’s their greatest trick. That’s why Houdini is on the cover.

– Caro Alt

MGMT – Oracular Spectacular

There are a handful of albums from each decade that now elicit pure, unadulterated nostalgia. For the late 2000s, MGMT’s debut album Oracular Spectacular fits the bill to a T. Work on the album initially began while the duo were still freshmen in college, before they signed to a label. Released in 2007, Oracular Spectacular remains instantly recognizable, with a sound that can immediately flood the listener with memories of a place, a feeling, or a very specific moment from 15-plus years ago.

Standout tracks are, of course, “Kids” and “Electric Feel,” which feel like decade-defining sounds of the late 2000’s, but the album still holds up beyond those nostalgia touchpoints. Some of the less synth-driven songs still sound great. A couple of my favorites are “Pieces of What” and “Of Moons, Birds & Monsters.” Turns out, if you want to encase 2007 in amber, it wouldn’t be yellow, but the purple-blue you see on the cover of Oracular Spectacular.

– Ryan Morrissey

Paw – Death to Traitors

This is grunge with a capital G, from the early ‘90s in Lawrence, Kansas. I’ve written before that this is proto divorced-dad rock, with lyrics like “Everyone is bored and boring / Not me, I am drunk and roaring.”

If the mainstream hadn’t had Nirvana, they would’ve had Paw. A&M picked them up on the strength of a demo recorded at Smart Sounds in 1992. With major label support, Paw released their debut album Dragline in 1993. Their sophomore release, Death to Traitors, came out two years later and treads similar territory, albeit with fewer off-genre intrusions. The record wasn’t significantly promoted due to internal difficulties at the label and never achieved major acclaim. This is surprising because every song in the hour-long album fucking rocks. Case in point, “Built Low” is a 6-minute cruiser, split perfectly into thirds with a 2-minute exposition, a 90-second breakdown, and a riff-filled instrumental outro. On first listen, you’d have no idea how long this song is. Like all really great bands, Paw broke up a few years later, with a smattering of reunion efforts afterward.

This album is just over 30 years old, released when the marketing machine was pre-internet, pre-iTunes, pre-Spotify, and pre-analytics. Compared to now, labels were basically throwing darts at a wall, drunk, with their eyes closed. Albums that sailed under the radar like this also tend to be preserved poorly. For example, the cover on Spotify, YouTube, and Discogs is a purple haze of storm clouds over a stampeding herd of horses. The image on Wikipedia is inexplicably red-hued and is not another version of the album, just a poorly digitized image. It’s hard to say how or why a band this talented falls through the cracks, but it’s a great example of why exploring and developing personal taste matters. It’s the only way to know for yourself what groups are being overlooked.

– Braden Allmond

Free Throw — Those Days Are Gone

If the emo genre were to have its own equivalent to a drinking song, one that nobody in the room could resist singing along to, it would undoubtedly be “Two Beers In.” Whether in a cramped basement or on the stereo between sets at a show, this beloved song instantly brings people together. But it’s far from the only recognizable track off of Free Throw’s debut LP, Those Days Are Gone. The entire record has become something of a modern classic amongst the scene, and it isn’t hard to see why.

Those Days Are Gone dives deep into the anger and grief-stricken reality of a love that didn’t last–a nearly universal pain. The contemplative intro to “Such Luck” quickly gives way to the guttural heart of the record, signaling to the listener that things are about to get uncomfortably honest.

Unlike earlier incarnations of emo that were steeped in figurative prose, Free Throw and their fourth wave counterparts tend to speak quite literally. Stories of heartbreak are sprinkled throughout the yelling and heaviness, and admissions of unhealthy coping mechanisms are sandwiched between twinkly guitar riffs. Nearly every song on the record makes space for both calmness and intensity, mimicking the whiplash one feels between anger and sadness. Those Days Are Gone feels like driving too fast, then slamming on the brakes, yelling at your phone, and staring into the distance. The final line of the record dwells on if things “could have stayed the same,” but deep down, we know that sometimes, it’s better to move on and begin healing.

– Annie Watson

Bladee – Gluee

For better or worse, I discovered Bladee through a Twitter meme- a video of a kid sleeping, and someone pours water on him- as he wakes up, they slap him across the face. Instead of screaming, what else could come out of this poor kid’s mouth but the undeniable intro to “Be Nice 2 Me.” I tracked the song down through the comments on the tweet, and thus began my journey into Drain Gang.

Gluee is Bladee’s debut mixtape, and, as a whole, one of the lesser-loved works by the world’s AutoTune Angel. And I can see why- much of what Bladee is doing on Gluee is much better executed in his later work as he becomes not only more confident in his rapping and singing but also in dialing in his AutoTune parameters. But it’s hard to deny just how unique Gluee sounds, not just in Bladee’s discography, but just in general. It is truly a marvel that this album exists. Here, we have a white boy from Sweden, taking in copious amounts of American rap and pop music via the internet, creating a sound that somehow captures the emotional undercurrent of it all, no matter how disparate the starting influences were. You can hear the braggadocio of Chief Keef, the rhythmic flows of Lil B, the digital haze of James Ferraro, the emotional vulnerability of the Beach Boys, often all in just one Bladee song- it really is incredible how he makes it sound so easy, so fresh.

In fact, it’s hard to imagine the current musical landscape without Bladee. What seemed to be just another internet curiosity turned out to be an artist who changed what music could sound like. Gluee, as amateurish as it can seem at times, planted the seeds for the whole Drain sound. Although Bladee’s influence can now be heard in more and more artists across the world, Gluee has a special, spectral vibe to it that isn’t quite like anything else. I can’t promise you’ll like it the first time, but I will promise that it will elicit a visceral reaction from you.

– Nickolas Sackett

The Buried Heart – Safe Harbor

One of the greatest gifts in this life, and one that I never try to take for granted, is how fortunate I am to call some of my favorite musicians my friends. Next year will mark a decade since my buddy Jack Wittich released his first EP under the project The Buried Heart. I am truly not exaggerating when I say Jack is one of the best musicians I know, and revisiting his first EP, Safe Harbor, only reminds me of how his passion for the game and his abilities as a creator have not faltered over the past decade.

The Buried Heart is a project that wears its influences on its sleeve; a cosmic amalgamation of emo, post-hardcore, Japanese video game music, and animated orchestration that has given this project such a unique feeling and scope. The five songs across Safe Harbor cover so much ground. While “Opia” has always been the standout track for me, “Veins,” “Dichotomy,” and “Flowers & Theft” can sling punches with the best of them in the hardcore scene and beyond. The heart of the EP, however, lies in the track “Garden,” a melancholic love letter to Jack’s younger brother, whom he lost far too young. Not only does this track cut deep as someone who has come to consider Jack a brother over the past several years, but its musicality is equal parts breathtaking and emotive on every listen.

Each time I’m treated to new Buried Heart music, whether it's the 2020 self-titled LP or various WIP demos, I’m thoroughly blown away by how much Jack has improved as a musician over the years and how obviously the magic was there from the start. If you’re lucky enough to be friends with some of your favorite artists, you know it's both a privilege and a gift to see their growth and to cherish these kinds of earlier works.

– Ciara Rhiannon

Glitterer – erer

While I think I’m still partial to the music and album art for Glitterer’s 2024 album Rationale, it’s hard to deny the striking design of erer. For this cover, the band embraced a prominent purple (hex code #992bd5 to be exact) stretched edge-to-edge that allows the red type band name and album title to pop out in a shocking contrast, smashed together, reading extra hypnotic and repetitive: “Glitterererer.” Below that, the album name is blown up to massive proportions, making it instantly recognizable from miles away. The band used this same color scheme to turn their name into a tricky little “face” logo and even gave them the namesake for their own “Purple Circle Records,” which they used to self-release this album. Beneath the cover, tracks like “Somebody” and “Stainless Steel” are instant career bests for Ned Russin & co. The tracks hit hard as fuck and sound great live, solidifying into a killer 25 minutes of punk music primed for shouting, sweating, and dancing along to.

– Taylor Grimes

Honorable Mentions

Hey, we can’t write about every album with this color, so here’s a list of some more that we feel like we should mention.

Erykah Badu - New Amerykah Part Two (Return of the Ankh)
Ben Seretan, John Thayer - Sunbeam of No Illusion
Alex G - I Saw The TV Glow (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)
Dehd - Poetry
Paramore - After Laughter
Cassandra Jenkins - My Light, My Destroyer
Bam Bam - Free Fall from Space
Teethe - Magic of the Sale
Cory Hanson - Western Cum
Infant Island - Obsidian Wreath
Footballhead - Overthinking Everything
Great Grandpa - Patience, Moonbeam
Chat Pile - Remove Your Skin Please
Buggin - Concrete Cowboys
Take Care - Southtowne Lanes
Shudder To Think - Pony Express Record
Boris - Heavy Rocks
Doomriders - Black Thunder
Paul Stanley - Paul Stanley
Fred - Fred
The Smiths - The Smiths
Edgar Froese - Aqua
Pallbearer - Sorrow And Extinction
Donovan - A Gift From A Flower To A Garden
Hot Mulligan - Why Would I Watch
Drug Church - Prude
Smashing Pumpkins - Gish
Cross My Heart - Cross My Heart
Fall Out Boy - MANIA

Collect some more Covers:

December 27, 2024

Swim Into The Sound’s 15 Favorite Albums of 2024

December 27, 2024/ Taylor Grimes

This year frightened me. Too often, it felt like things could turn on a dime at any moment. I’m talking about that sudden, drop-in-your-stomach type of worsening that is both abrupt and disorienting. There were also moments where it felt like everything was gliding along effortlessly: complete bliss, total contentment, and unadulterated happiness, if only for a short bit. 2024 was a year of bouncing around, saying “yes,” and trying to follow my gut. Quite often, it led me to some beautiful moments.

This year contained some of my greatest personal strides, painful lows, and profound revelations. I experienced strife in my career (both internal and external) for the first time in like a half-decade. Over the course of 2024, this job wound up contorting my heart and warping my brain in really painful ways. It was uniquely distressing, but I’m free now and on to better things, which is all that matters. On a more light-hearted note, I also kept a mustache all year, so that felt like a real marker in my life. This year, I saw Sufjan on Broadway and got to take in Niagra Falls with my own two eyes. I saw 36 immaculate concerts and listened to a ton of incredible music. Oh, I also made a documentary with my buddy about a sick-ass band. That was pretty rad.

I don’t want to blather too much, but I do want to speak genuinely. I have felt more love and support this year than ever before in my life. Love from people who follow or write for this blog, love from friends and colleagues, love from people out on the street just passing by. I think it’s important to feel that love, recognize it, and spread it around as much as you can. I got fatter and happier and hairier and sillier and closer to who I want to be as a person. In those moments where I fell catastrophically short, I tried to take them as lessons of who not to be. I’ve felt an immense amount of appreciation, growth, and progress this year, and that’s only because I’ve allowed myself to open up and feel it. It’s really scary, but I swear it’s worth it.

Anyway, let’s talk about music.

This year, more than any other, the title of this article feels like a misnomer. In previous iterations, I’ve questioned what this publication’s “album of the year” truly means, but now that we have a sizeable team of writers, each with their own favorites, it’s evident that “Swim Into The Sound’s 15 Favorite Albums of 2024” is really just “Taylor’s 15 Favorite Albums of 2024.” In other words, this is a hyper-subjective list because it’s all from one point of view.

As I sat down to list out my favorite albums of the year, there was a clear tendency to lean toward the genres that seem to be my “beat,” meaning emo, punk, shoegaze, and indie rock. I listened to a ton of music this year, but I won’t pretend I listened to everything. As such, this won’t be the most diverse AOTY list you’ve seen all season (it contains albums from Gleemer, Gulfer, and Glitterer), but it will be the most singular because it’s all from the mind of one weird guy typing this into his soon-to-be-revoked work laptop from his childhood bedroom. These are the albums that stuck with me all year and made a difference. In some cases, they’re weeks-old releases that have already connected to something deeper. Regardless of how long they’ve been in my life, these are pieces of art that I’ve found refuge and understanding in–collections of songs that make me feel seen and heard; it only makes sense to hold them up so others can hear them as well.

To circle back to the beginning of this intro, it feels like we (collectively) have experienced several Events™ this year that have acted as drop-of-the-hat paradigm shifts. From presidential elections and assassination attempts to an avalanche of regressive policies, “natural” disasters, and forever wars that turn into forever genocides, there’s a lot to be upset about. With the rise in fascism, racism, and every type of phobia in the book, I think there’s been a lot of forced introspection, admission, and reconciliation over what’s happened in the last 360-some-odd days. I’m sure you had a few moments like that in your own life, and I’m sure that we’ll have many more in the coming year. To that end, at the onset of 2025, I’d love to be more explicit about where we stand: trans rights, free Palestine, healthcare + clean water for all, and defund the fucking police.

I want Swim to be a safe space for writers, artists, fans, and people to discuss things they love. To that end, let’s get the fuck into it and talk about the music that has soundtracked my year. As always, I hope you find something here to love because, at the end of the day, that’s all we got.

⭐️ | Carpool – My Life In Subtitles

I want to start this off with an album that feels like it’s on a secret third plane of AOTY existence: My Life in Subtitles by Carpool. This is a loud-ass, real-ass rock album. I’m talking guitar solos, vocal acrobatics, infectious moshpit choruses, piano balladry, the whole package. This album has shaped my year more than any other after spending all of 2024 with it and spending three days on the road with the band in an attempt to capture their amazing live show. It resulted in a 17-minute documentary and accompanying two-part essay. It’s all very DIY and scrappy from my heart, and it was infinitely fulfilling to create. I want to do more stuff like it.

If you want to know what record was truly indispensable for me this year, it was My Life in Subtitles. The rest of this is a numbered list, but Carpool had to start it off. In my Google Doc, it’s actually denoted with a “★” bullet point rather than a number, so if those 8k words linked above aren’t enough, I hope that star tells the rest of the story.

Read our full review of My Life In Subtitles here.

15 | Gleemer – End of the Nail

Even though it’s only a couple of weeks old, the new record from Gleemer has utterly floored me. The band has been iterating on a particular strain of shoegaze for three albums, plus a couple of EPs and adjacent projects, but pivot to something with distinct character here. On End of the Nail, the Denver group sound nothing but authentic. As you would expect from a cover like this, these are dark and frustrated songs that openly grapple with feelings of dissatisfaction and pain. There are still moments of dreamy shoegaze distortion, but there’s also a grungy emo edge that pairs well with Nick Manske’s cool-guy deliveries. This record sounds like your brain throwing itself against the walls of your skull, thrashing around until it either reaches a conclusion or tires itself out. There are individual phrases and riffs that land like punches in a back alley fight, but it all coalesces into an immensely satisfying listen.

14 | Glitterer – Rationale

How much can a band realistically fit into 21 minutes? When it comes to Glitterer, it turns out quite a lot. Rationale takes the once-solo project of Ned Russin and transforms it into a collaborative full-band effort where all the pieces gel together in a swirl of bass, keys, and disaffected bellows. Just like his tenure in Title Fight, Russin utilizes his signature shout and melancholy strum to evoke a powerful reaction from his audience, but this time, his creations are honed into finely pointed tracks that often hover around the one-minute mark. From the reclusive abandon of “I Want To Be Invisible” to the synthy strut of “Plastic” and the utterly heartbroken “No One There,” it’s astounding how much catchy relatability Glitterer is able to fit into these one-minute slices. Occasionally, they might leave you wanting more or waiting for a resolution, but after a while, you realize that’s preferable to overstaying your welcome.

13 | see through person – every way of living

For a good few years, see through person had exactly six songs to their name. Throughout chariot and sun, the trio fleshed out their own thrashy brand of emo punk built on jittery guitar slashing and Robin Mikan’s passionate wail. The songs were immediate, electrifying, and constantly circling around some deeper truth. On every way of living, that truth comes to bear with a record about self-discovery and trying to experience every way of living you possibly can.

While this process includes everything from moving across the country to experiencing fallout in your old friend groups, the most interesting moments on the record are the ones where Mikan writes openly about her exploration of gender identity and subsequent transition. We’re placed right there alongside her as family members use dead names and awkward small talk devolves into feeling out of place. This is all scored with jagged, ever-shifting instrumentals. Between Robin’s Fall of Troy-level heroics, you’ll hear Nikolas Kulpanowski’s bodyslamming bass and the bouncy dodgeball snare of Ethan Thomas. These are restless songs that exude an awkward, compelling, anxious energy. While see through person are tied to the emo music scene, their debut leans far more into mathy post-hardcore than anything else, an apt way to capture the frustration and elation that comes when you look inward and honestly ask yourself who you are. There’s a lot of feeling unheard, silencing yourself, and lonely reflection, but the band harnesses everything into these outpourings that are pure catharsis to hear. The inscription, written in emphatic all-caps, at the bottom of the album’s Bandcamp page summarizes things far better than I ever could, reading: “IN A DREAM YOU SAW A WAY TO SURVIVE AND YOU WERE FULL OF JOY. EVERY WAY OF LIVING.”

12 | Heart to Gold – Free Help

With soaring vocals, glimmering guitars, and a beefy rhythm section, Free Help is a pitch-perfect punk rock album. Press play on any of these ten songs, and you’re guaranteed to hear something hard-hitting, fist-balling, and filled with forward momentum. Outside the sturdy instrumental work, there’s an impressive economy of writing at play here: choruses where seven words are stretched across two bars, and it all works beautifully. There’s frustration and anguish, commitment and confidence, powerful strides, and meager progress. This is music for when you’re surrounded, overwhelmed, and backed into a corner. Shout it out.

Read our full review of Free Help here.

11 | Ben Quad – Ephemera

Sometimes, I question where else there is to go for Ben Quad. The Oklahoma group’s debut was my favorite emo album of 2022 in a way that seems hard to top, yet they’ve seemingly spent every moment since then on the fast track toward world domination. The band spent 2024 ripping sold-out gigs on multiple nationwide tours, all while covering peers and fourth-wave forefathers alike. By the fall, Ben Quad signed to Pure Noise Records and released Ephemera, venturing into the world of screamo with effortless mastery. It’s not like this post-hardcore pivot was too much of a surprise. It turns out 2022’s “You’re Part of It” wasn’t just a Piebald-referencing one-off; it was merely the first entry in a larger vent session that appears to have been a long time coming. With a list of influences that range from Underoath and Norma Jean to Youth Novel and William Bonney, there’s no question that these four know their shit, synthesizing two decades of metalcore and skramz into a cathartic five-song collection to help listeners air out every ounce of anger and frustration they feel towards the people that hold us down. There’s no more waiting for things to fall apart; it’s time for action, and Ben Quad is ready to soundtrack every motion.

10 | Bedbug – pack your bags the sun is growing

Anyone who has driven across the country can attest to how monotonous it can be. Hours upon hours of shooting straight down the highway with expanses on either side punctuated by gas stations and rest stops. While that’s often a repetitive experience, it can also be meditative and downright sublime. There are grandiose moments of beauty where the highway seems to stretch out to infinity and you feel connected to everything. That sense of wanderlust is precisely what the first full-band album from Bedbug aims to capture. Pivoting from their humble bedroom pop origins to something that more resembles Modest Mouse with midwest emo riffs, pack your bags the sun is growing is a sprawling release that looks off into the horizon, ever-searching for that glint of heaven. The crazy part is they actually manage to embody it on at least a few occasions.

Read our full review of pack your bags the sun is growing here.

9 | This Is Lorelei – Box for Buddy, Box for Star

Box for Buddy, Box for Star twangs to life with “Angel’s Eye,” a saloon-ready duet between an alien and a cowboy who fall in love in which bandleader Nate Amos sings both parts. An ambitious concept, but merely the opening salvo for a project like This Is Lorelei. Throughout the rest of the record, there are alarm clock wake-up noises, autotuned Steely Dan namedrops, music box breakups, and earnest Elliott Smith homage, all amounting to one of the most inventive, fun, and free-wheeling records I’ve heard all year. Despite the impressively diverse range of instrumentation and ideas, these are pop songs designed to be immediately enjoyed and endlessly returned to. After a string of numbered EPs and one-off singles, Box for Buddy, Box for Star arrives fully formed with a spirit of boundless exploration. This one’s for the losers, for the reformed stoners and ex-burnouts who realize there’s still more life to live. It’s affirming in the way all great music should be.

Read our interview with Nate Amos here.

8 | Ben Seretan – Allora

Just to establish the backstory: Allora was recorded in Italy back in 2019. Ben Seretan, flanked by Nico Hedley and Dan Knishkowy, ripped through the LP in three sweaty summer days, creating a piece that’s endlessly reaching out for the divine. The whole thing starts with “New Air,” an 8-minute expedition that opens with a guitar solo before a lyrical refrain that repeats and circulates until it takes on a meditative quality. It prattles forward like a song by Wilco or Yo La Tengo, settling into a groove and gradually building to something hypnotic and transcendental. Beyond that, there’s post-rock ramble, synthy spirals, dust-caked exaltations, and modern hymnwork. The whole thing is explosive and expansive, with one powerful movement after another.

In the excellent album bio by Caleb Cordes of Sinai Vessel, he explains that there was a period of time when Allora was simply known as Ben Seretan’s “insane Italy record.” While that’s a funny way to pitch an album, the more apt articulation is found in its name: Allora being an expressive Venetian catchall that translates to “at that time.” While Cordes lays out what “that time” meant to the people creating this album, it’s impossible not to think about the infinite times that lay ahead: all of the people who will pick this record up and discover it in the coming years, all the times over the past months I’ve ventured into Allora and found something different within its walls. No matter when or where you come to this record, I can assure you that it’s ready to meet you in the present until ‘this time’ becomes ‘that time.’

Read our full review of Allora here.
Bonus points for having one of the sickest tie-dye shirts I’ve seen all year.

7 | Merce Lemon – Watch Me Drive Them Dogs Wild

After an eventful summer zipping from the West Coast to New York, Chicago, and Rochester, I spent a month at my parent’s house back in Oregon. Just about every day, I’d get off my aforementioned soul-contorting job, sit in the backyard, and stare at the sky while listening to Merce Lemon. Some days, I would read a book or indulge in a backyard beer; other times, I would just sit and listen and breathe. It became a centering ritual for me, guided by songs like “Backyard Lover” and “Watch Me Drive Them Dogs Wild,” which proved to be wellsprings of empathy and beauty at a time when I needed them most. As a full-length experience, Watch Me Drive Them Dogs Wild is naturalistic and gorgeous, penned during a period when Merce Lemon was living off the grid gardening, farming, and sleeping outside as she looked inward to ask herself what she really wanted. The resulting album approaches the world with a sort of folksy reverence that makes you appreciate every atom of your surroundings. There are lyrics of birds and blueberries and mountains that tickle the sky’s belly. It’s a big, beautiful world, fleshed out even further by a standalone single and split of Will Oldham covers, all of which collectively prove that wonder is an infinitely renewable resource and beauty is always there, hiding in plain sight, so long as you’re willing to look for it.

Read our full review of Watch Me Drive Them Dogs Wild here.

6 | Oso Oso – life till bones

The fifth full-length from Oso Oso is a compact and unfussy indie rock album about how life continues even after the unthinkable. It’s littered with truths from the very first line, “I love you, but life is a gun,” acknowledging the soaring highs and painful lows of day-to-day existence. Whether he’s relaying charming dirtbag anecdotes, meditating on the passage of time, or memorializing the loss of a loved one, Jade Lilitri manages to make everything sound buoyant, with an unshakable brightness shot through every beat. There are anti-love love songs going toe-to-toe with actual love songs, because you can’t have one without the other. After nine tracks of these naturally occurring rises and falls, album closer “other people’s stories” questions exactly what it is we’re all doing here: “other people's stories got me feeling bored / yea, other people's stories aren't like yours / look at all the people, looking at their phones / with how much time left? life till bones.” It’s a series of lines that directly address the uncomfortable truth lingering at the center of it all. Like every other Oso Oso track, Lilitri delivers it with a smirk and a riff before jettisoning off to whatever’s next, acknowledging the bad and holding onto the good while knowing that neither are permanent.

Read our full review of life till bones here.

5 | Charli xcx – BRAT

2024 was the year Charli xcx became inescapable. A fair bit of that is internet echo chamber, but as someone who’s followed the pop star since she was on the periphery of the charts a decade ago, it’s been surreal to watch her ascend the ranks of Spotify’s top 500 and fully establish herself as a household name. BRAT is more than just a collection of really good pop songs; it’s a genuine event-level album seeded by feverish singles, bolstered by hot girl music videos, and chased with a remix album that brought new definition to every track. There was a sold-out tour, countless magazine covers and interviews, plus a whole damn season shaped by the vernacular and attitude of Charli. There was a bottomless supply of hot looks, silly dances, and sleazy parties, each with their own dizzying ripples of discourse, but I suppose that’s how you know you’ve made it. This resulted in seven Grammy noms, a #1 album in the UK, and unparalleled cultural impact–one that feels increasingly remarkable in the ever-splitering landscape of 2024. The impressive part is that, despite how vast and multi-faceted its impact, BRAT still felt true to Charli. The record is catchy, dancy, exhilarating, cunty, fun, raw, tender, and honest. I guess that’s the true magic of pop stars: living an existence that’s larger than life which normal-ass people can still relate and aspire to, then make their own.

4 | MJ Lenderman – Manning Fireworks

At this point, I think even MJ Lenderman is sick of hearing about MJ Lenderman. I alone wrote like 3k words about his breakthrough Manning Fireworks, and this year was home to a bit of oversaturation for the Asheville rocker as he was subject to countless interviews, think pieces, magazine covers, profiles, and general writing. I’m reticent to add even another paragraph onto that tally with this blurb because sometimes it’s just not that deep. Lenderman makes hazy, funny, groovy indie rock that pulls inspiration from slacker greats of the 90s while simultaneously nodding to classic rock mainstays of the decades before that. MJ modernizes these influences and puts his own spin on things as he weaves tales of pathetic fuck-ups, dead-end wasters, and people who are too scared to try. It’s all delivered with a surprising amount of empathy and humor that makes these cautionary tales go down easier, plus a number of knockout riffs that make you want to hoot, holler, yelp, and wail. “She’s Leaving You”? Generational. “Joker Lips”? That’s a tasty lick. “Wristwatch”? I’ll never look at houseboats the same again. If I had one hot take to level at Manning Fireworks, it’s that the back half ventures into territory that doesn’t always land as hard for me, but even then, we have the masterful “Pianos” as a consolation. Despite all the hay that’s been made of Lenderman’s output this year, Manning Fireworks just plain rocks, and I’ve never had a bad time when I throw this record on. Lenderman is an artist who makes me hopeful for the future (both of music and in general) because I think his best work is still ahead of him.

Read our full review of Manning Fireworks here.

3 | Wild Pink – Dulling The Horns

Dulling The Horns is a disorienting album about the impermanence and beauty of life. Its lyrics are a beautiful Rorschach Test of observations, phrases, and memories filtered through the eyes of bandleader John Ross. Recorded live in-studio, the album still retains the wide-set heartland rock lens found on previous Wild Pink releases, but cakes on layers of dirt and distortion that gives everything a much more compact, classic rock feel. The lyrics are abstract and difficult to parse, but that makes them all the more alluring as you attempt to peer into the album’s inner workings.

Everything buzzes and crackles with an excitable energy that shakes off the darker expanses found throughout 2022’s ILYSM. Instead, Ross and co. opt to bask in the light that comes from a million miles away because, as he explains, “we get a little every day.” Whether they’re recounting sports esoterica or retelling the story of “Lefty” Ruggiero before throwing to a crunchy shoegaze riff, everything flows with a sort of dreamlike logic with its own internal reasoning. All the while, there are folksy truisms strewn throughout, helping ground things between incendiary guitar solos, pedal steel weeps, and disintegrating fuzz. Dulling The Horns feels like a car console CD destined to be sandwiched between Tom Petty and The War On Drugs as it sits primed for cross-country road trips and short jaunts all the same. As Ross poses questions like “How can there be / Really nothing in between / That big-ass moon and me?” he places the listener alongside him, prompting them to ask the same questions as they wait to get swept up in the next riff.

Read our full review of Dulling The Horns here.

2 | Gulfer – Third Wind

Given their decade-plus discography of mathy punk, midwest mastery, and monumental splits, it’s tempting to call Gulfer an emo band, yet everything on their fourth LP points elsewhere. Aptly titled, Third Wind sees the band set off from a fresh crossroads as guitarist/vocalist Joseph Therriault takes on principal songwriting duty. There are still glimpses of the band’s previous stylings strewn throughout, but for the most part, these are poppy indie rock songs with Rube Goldberg-like math-rock guitar riffs. It’s proggy but simple, with choruses that still manage to stick in your head despite the ornate instrumentation. There are left-field decisions that make each song feel distinct, like the winding whammy bar riff on “Cherry Seed” or the pummeling breakdown of “Too Slow” that expends all of its energy halfway through the song.

On tracks like “No Brainer,” the band hammers the same phrase over and over again as the instrumental rages around them, meanwhile, they take the exact opposite approach on songs like “Prove,” stretching the song’s title into an elongated “prooOOooOOooOOoo-ve” over some intricate guitar tapping that does my midwest emo heart good. There are love songs alongside reckonings of climate change and tales of exacting burnout-fueled revenge on an uncaring boss. It’s all assembled in a bleeding highlighter package of turquoise, yellow, green, and blue–an expired film strip that still manages to capture snapshots of absolute awe.

A few months after the release of Third Wind, Gulfer announced they were calling it quits, but not before dropping LIGHTS OUT, a five-song collection that only serves to further emphasize how high of a level they were operating at. While they’ll be forever missed, there’s no denying thst Gulfer went out on a high note. Bands should be so lucky to have a last album as good as this.

Read our full review of Third Wind here.

1 | Waxahatchee – Tigers Blood

I’m not sure what Tigers Blood is about, but it’s stunning. The sixth record from Waxahatchee captures the beauty of life in sun-dappled snapshots like a shoebox full of old polaroids or a night spent reminiscing with a long-lost friend. This is all run through with an undercurrent of delight and despair that feels true to life, a reminder that, while these events have passed, we can still appreciate and honor them for what they were. The songs are lush and elaborate, framed by sturdy drums and bass, splotches of banjo and slide guitar, plus additional guitarwork and occasional background vocals courtesy of MJ Lenderman. Pretty as it all sounds, the album is about people whose fire burns out at midnight. It’s about people who are beaten down, broken up, and bored. It’s about modest ways of life and individuals who are perpetually “Right Back to It” in the most Sisyphean sense.

Details come from allusions to the Bama heat and locks on doors that cost more than the beater parked out front. Much like 2020’s Saint Cloud, everything is still centered around Katie Crutchfield’s ironclad voice and poetic observations, but on this record, they take on a slightly more ragged alt-country tinge. Through the smoldering twang, a picture emerges of a humble, attainable lifestyle of living within your means, counting your blessings, and being thankful for what you have.

While the cover for Saint Cloud saw Crutchfield in a flowing blue dress perched atop a Ford with a truckbed full of roses, the cover for Tigers Blood sees her standing underneath a rusted-out neon sign. She’s wearing blue jeans and flannel over a red bikini top, plus a “KC” trucker hat that obscures her face as she stares down at the grass beneath her feet. The back cover of the vinyl focuses in on a snow cone, flush red with Tigers Blood dye–a simple pleasure in the final act of the good old days. A small consolation, but one we ought to indulge and find comfort in all the same.

April 01, 2024

The Best of Q1 2024

April 01, 2024/ Taylor Grimes

Today means something different to everybody. To some, April 1 is a fun day for goofs and gags; to others, it’s just another day we have to pay rent. To obsessive music writers, today marks the official beginning of “Q2” 2024. I know that makes me sound like a business bro or some hotshot market analyst, but I’ve found increasing validity in breaking up the year into four even chunks like this. Not only does this cadence make me more mindful of the passage of time, but it also acts as the perfect vantage point to look back and take stock of what has happened over the last few months.

Whenever I talk to people, even the biggest music nerds, a common sentiment is the feeling that it’s harder than ever to “keep up” with new music. I agree, but I also think that feeling means you’re putting too much pressure on yourself. Every week is an avalanche of new music, and it can be overwhelming to keep up with. Throw in the constant stream of new singles, music videos, tour announcements, splits, interviews, podcasts, and month-long album rollouts, and it’s no wonder why fandom can start to turn back on itself and feel like a job.

I’m of the mind that if you’re feeling that pressure, you need to reframe your relationship with music. New music will always be there, and you can’t possibly listen to everything. We here at Swim Into The Sound are passionate music geeks. We love sifting through press releases and keeping track of album cycles. We make playlists and try our hardest to check out new music each Friday. Sometimes, we take a month off, but it always comes back to our obsession and love for music in (hopefully) equal measure.

What follows is a collection of our staff’s favorite albums from the first three months of 2024. Each writer has selected one release that they’ve been gravitating towards, all in the hopes that you will find something new to love or check out. Thanks to a massive influx of new writers, our team, and our taste has never been so diverse. You’ll see everything here, from throat-shredding heavy metal to laid-back lounge fare, twinkling emo, and pastoral indie rock. Go check these records out, save a few, and check them out in your own time. No matter how well you’re staying “up” on the new stuff, we hope you find something here to adore as much as we have.

Cheekface – It’s Sorted

As a Cheekface superfan, It's Sorted is not exactly the album I wanted… It's better than that. I think I wanted them to keep making the same irreverent indie rock album that made me fall in love with them (Emphatically No.) over and over again until it stopped hitting the same. Cult followings of indie artists can be a bit like stubborn children who don't know what's good for them. Instead, Cheekface gave me new things I didn't know I wanted: shiny pop productions to go with the big pop hooks, big vocal stacks, Metallica worship, a surprisingly vulnerable acoustic(ish) moment, and, "wait a minute, did you just trick me into liking ska?" Believe it or not, It's Sorted is the band's most cohesive record yet. The songs explore themes of identity in a country where we are often defined by our jobs (or something like that). While the production often takes wild creative liberties in different directions, it is always with purpose that serves the song (producers of songwriters, take note). The qualities that make Cheekface Cheekface are alive and well on It's Sorted. If anything, they are flexing (Mandy Tannen's basslines really are their largest muscle, haha) that Cheekface has gotten even better at being themselves. Ever since I found out that frontman Greg Katz has a degree in philosophy, I have been joking that Cheekface is like a modern Socrates. The band never really tells you what they think explicitly, but their lyrics will make YOU think, whether you like it or not. And I do.

Katie McTigue - @pacingmusic

Read our review of It’s Sorted here.

Faye Webster – Underdressed at the Symphony

After a stint of TikTok virality that seemed to be handpicked by the Algorithm Gods themselves, part of me wondered if a Faye Webster pivot was on the horizon. I was painfully aware of the primarily teenaged crowd watching the show through their phone screens at Webster’s Brooklyn Steel show last October and was curious if there was a part of Webster (or the Business Folk backing her) that wanted to lean into this demo to take advantage of the moment. Luckily for us, that’s not the way things rolled out.

Webster’s Underdressed at the Symphony sees a seasoned jazz pop veteran lean into the niches that make her great—trance-like jazz interludes and conversationally quippy lyrics—while also widening her sound through heavy synth leans, vocoders, and lyrical repetition. The record is a collection of songs about losing yourself (“Wanna Quit All the Time”), finding yourself (“Feeling Good Today”), and what happens in the in-between (“eBay Purchase History”). Webster paints a picture of her ever-changing state of mind while simultaneously leaving listeners enough room to fill in the blanks for themselves through vague enough lyrics and uncrowded instrumentation. Webster’s lyrics feel like you’re a fly on the wall of her internal monologue: half are things she’d say out loud, and half are thoughts she keeps to herself (two of my favorite lines being “And I’m looking at you talk like okay / Your eyes are so pretty by the way” on “eBay Purchase History” and “I’m feeling good today / I ate before noon / I think that’s pretty good for me” on “Feeling Good Today”). Webster packs this record with things that shouldn’t go together but do: cutesy-bop interludes, jammy synth loops, full-blown orchestras, existential crises, a Lil Yachty feature, and that classic almost-Hawaiian guitar tone we all know and love. Truly something for everyone from the reluctant queen of mellow pop.

Cassidy Sollazzo - @cassidynicolee_

Flesh Tape – Flesh Tape

Flesh Tape’s self-titled record was the first thing that I bought on Bandcamp in 2024, and it’s endured as my favorite release of the year so far. It’s great, noisy guitar rock music that makes me wish I owned bigger speakers. Since this cassette came through in the mail, I’ve been listening to it front to back nearly nonstop while playing Madden, letting the massive wall of distorted guitars take me away as I throw interception after interception. I have some stuff from Nothing and Hotline TNT in a similar rotation, and I think Flesh Tape fully stands next to them as a band in that lane. In particular, the back half of this record is incredibly strong, with “Catalytic Converter” and “Sunny” landing as my two standout tracks.

Josh Ejnes - @JoshEjnes

Friko – Where we’ve been, where we go from here

Recently on Twitter dot com, I saw Jordan Walsh say that the new Friko album, Where we’ve been, where we go from here, would fit seamlessly with the early 2000s Saddle Creek catalog. As I’ve listened to this album over and over and over, I haven’t been able to get that comparison out of my head. The Chicago band’s frontman, Niko Kapetan, channels all the best parts of a young Conor Oberst’s urgency, loquacity, and recklessly wobbly vocals. At the same time, drummer Bailey Minzenberger drives the songs forward with fervor and no shortage of delightfully messy cymbals. Clever time signature changes keep tracks like “Crimson to Chrome” and “Get Numb To It!” fresh where so many folky-emo bands have stumbled into monotony, and the lullaby-like “For Ella” and “Until I’m With You Again” follow haunting piano melodies down to the band’s tender core. While Friko forge a sound undeniably all their own, strands of my youth’s bygone styles have tied this comforting, chaotic record up as my favorite so far this year.

Katie Wojciechowski - @ktewoj

Read our review of Where we’ve been, where we go from here here.

From Flowers to Flies – We Built This Machine

It’s only natural to occasionally wonder where the people you went to school with ended up. I often think back to my time attending my alma mater, Sonoma State University, and the people I walked the halls of our music building with fondly. To my surprise, earlier this year, I discovered that three of those classmates, along with another friend, started a band together and released one of the most engaging and complex records I have heard thus far in 2024. Across every second of its uninhibited 45-minute runtime, listeners can expect prog-rock sensibilities, improvisational brass solos, scream vocals, variations of the Dies irae (to my absolute delight), and so much more. When a handful of incredibly skilled, dedicated music majors get together in a studio, the end result is, unsurprisingly, one of the most versatile and detailed rock-fusion records you’ll ever hear. Jam-packed with subtle references to their countless influences and overlapping eras of music, We Built This Machine stands as a brooding, genre-fluid experience from the heavy-hitting newcomers to the DIY music scene, From Flower to Flies.

Ciara Rhiannon - @rhiannon_comma

glass beach – plastic death

plastic death is a summer album. Who cares that it was released in January? This is the perfect soundtrack for a June evening, driven with the windows down while blasting this beautifully rambunctious album. The opening track, “coelacanth,” has my heart as it features a wonderful piano accompaniment, but the following tracks, “rare animal” and “commatose” are equally compelling. glass beach has done a fantastic job of expanding upon their previous album’s sound by pushing their technical and creative abilities, challenging the listener as they lead you through an hour of rhythmically complex and harmonically lush music. Whether you enjoy post-punk, shoegaze, fifth-wave emo, or an even more niche internet genre, plastic death offers all that and so much more.

Britta Joseph - @brittajoes

Read our review of plastic death here.

girlsnails – california kickball

In a year of highly anticipated releases, the debut LP by girlsnails stood highest among them. After stumbling across their 2019 self-titled EP last spring, I was immediately enraptured and impatiently awaited what was next from the Surrey/Vancouver, BC band. Delivering equal parts math rock and emo, the album leans into those genres but also plays loosely at their edges. The vocal work and albums’ mathier moments feel like a cross between Laufey’s stylistic jazz melodies and the more technical pieces of the American Football discography. With papercut penmanship, the band embraces a confessional diary-style lyricism that veers gently into abstraction more than once as the earnest pangs of regret peal in almost crystalline purity. Whether it's the tumbling finger dynamics and clear, lilting vocals on “ramune” or the immense instrumental builds and vocals runs on “say square,” california kickball is a run of just quality, occasionally anthemic, and frequently beautiful, jazzy, mathy emo that’s just as technically impressive as it is pleasant. For long walks where you can see your breath or half cloudy days spent lying in the grass, girlsnails has you covered.

Elias Amini - @letsgetpivotal

Glitterer – Rationale

I’m a little shocked to say that Glitterer’s third record, Rationale, is my favorite of the year so far, given I was never a Title Fight girlie. These songs sucker-punch punks with pop perfection. My favorite track, “No One There,” smuggles one of the best hooks of the year under the guise of a vocal cord-straining shout of the title. Not only are the songs catchy as hell, but the hooks are full of probing questions about how best to exist around each other. From the incredible one-two of “There I was again / making everything about me in the end,” which opens the album, to the life-affirming “this is what I’m supposed to do / nothing else I know is true / ‘cause passion is arbitrary” on “The Same Ordinary.” If you’re craving pit-stirring shout-alongs, Glitterer has you covered.

Lillian Weber - @Lilymweber

Gulfer – Third Wind

I’m starting to get the sense that emo music isn’t the coolest genre in the world. It's embarrassing, unsustainable, and not a label that many bands lean into or wear with pride. When I first discovered Gulfer back in 2018, Dog Bless quickly became a formative math rock release, an album that also felt like it capped off an era of emo in a way that is really only visible in retrospect. One pandemic later, Gulfer has released a self-titled record, a split, and a handful of sparkling singles that all built out the Montréal group’s precise sound. Turns out that was also the proper amount of time to marinate and mutate into something that pushes far beyond the restrictive realms of emo or math rock. Third Wind is a spectacular indie rock album that sees a band exploring the bounds of their influences to create something wholly unique in a space where that sort of exploration is not always well-received or rewarded. There’s so much to love here: the immaculate poppy sensibility of “Clean,” the autotuned articulation of the climate crisis on “Cherry Seed,” the hardcore outpouring of “Too Slow,” and the hypnotic repetition throughout “No Brainer.” How about the way lead singer Joe Therriault plays with his word choice on “Prove,” stretching the song's title out, lilting back and forth on the “oooooo” until it becomes completely unrecognizable. This is all backed by unparalleled instrumentation that, yes, has a background in emo and math rock, but also feels indebted to shoegaze and indie rock in a way that makes it feel far more than the sum of its parts. A new act for a band who already proved themselves to be some of the greatest to ever do it.

Taylor Grimes - @GeorgeTaylorG

Read our review of Third Wind here.

Hannah Frances – Keeper of the Shepherd

Hannah Flores has been releasing emotionally naked folk records for over half a decade, reckoning with the loss of her father across five projects, but her latest feels like a reintroduction. On Keeper of the Shepherd, Frances doesn’t grab your attention so much as she takes your face in both hands and holds your head to hers. Take the opening track “Bronwyn,” where a full rock band crackles and coils around her multi-tracked howls in an all-consuming whirlwind that calls to mind the best of fellow full-voiced powerhouses such as Weyes Blood or even Joni Mitchell. Repeated Christian imagery throughout the deceptively jaunty title track and “Vacant Intimacies” captures how truly distant the love of God can feel beside the fresh absence of someone whose love was tangible. Yet each of these seven songs comes with a personal revelation on how to live not just with loss but how to live as your own person. There’s a tendency in art to mythologize suffering, but Keeper of the Shepherd is a document of healing and moving forward. Hannah Frances knows that the most beautiful art often comes from a place of clarity and confidence that suffering cannot support, which is why on “Haunted Landscape, Echoing Cave,” even as she mirrors the climax of its bookend, she simply declares, “I am leaving.” We’d all be wise to follow her.

Wes Cochran - @ohcompassion

Knifeplay – Pearlty (2024 Remaster)

Knifeplay’s uniquely raw and emotional shoegaze is the perfect soundscape for quiet days inside, long car rides in dreary weather, and abrupt moments of self-understanding. Pearlty originally came out in March of 2019, only about 1,800 short days ago. In that time, Knifeplay has accomplished the difficult feats of releasing their 2nd full-length album, getting signed to a label, and remastering an already amazing album. The timing of the remaster is a bit poignant to me because I started graduate school around the time Pearlty came out. The album is so heavy with emotion that it could drown me if I let it. It’s sonically in the sweetest spot of ambient and active. My personal favorite songs to get lost in are “Suffer” and “Lemonhead,” both of which are just long enough to fully re-contemplate dropping out of school for the nth time. Pearlty’s remaster has given me some new perspective on my “life timeline” and has soothed months of accumulated burnout. It is a beautiful product of a band’s attention to the details of their craft, and for me personally, it is a signpost that says, “Five years down, you’re almost there.”

Braden Allmond - @BradenAllmond

Tapir! – The Pilgrim, Their God and the King of My Decrepit Mountain

Somewhere in the confluence of centuries of myth and folk music is Tapir! (exclamation point required). After unfolding over the past couple of years, the London six-piece strives heavenward on The Pilgrim, Their God and the King of My Decrepit Mountain, their debut record presented as a three-act musical quest. The first two “acts,” released in 2023, fell under my radar, so I encountered the LP in continuity, not piecemeal — I encourage you to do the same. Not because Tapir!’s pastoral anthems can’t stand on their own, but because of the feeling that flows in as the final chord of the 7-minute closer “Mountain Song” rings out. The band recognizes the subservience of narrative to composition and allows the orchestration to speak for itself. Lore and lyrics capture equal aspects of the story being told; the group is wise enough to opt for balance over proggy density. As they swim through seas of sound and summit the grassy knoll, the listener is guided every step of the way by a comforting presence, ephemeral and silent. Get lost in the fantastic, knowing Tapir! will help you safely return from your travels.

Aly Muilenburg - @purityolympics

Read our review of The Pilgrim, Their God and the King of My Decrepit Mountain here.

Theophonos – Ashes In The Huron River

Absolute societal degenerate type shit. Years-long diet of sewer rats type shit. Prison stabbing blood loss type shit. Seedy cult ritual docuseries type shit. Black tar cartwheel type shit. Scanners-level cranial burst type shit. Sludge-flooded dungeon type shit. Crime scene photo developer type shit. Wearing the skin of your enemies type shit. Kool-Aid Man Kamikaze piloting himself into the walls of the factory that made him type shit. Convicted criminal pump-up playlist type shit. Thinking about car bombing the DMV type shit. Nightmarish boss battle type shit. Hydroplaning into Hell type shit. Boot-stamping every proud boy in the tri-state area type shit. Laser removing a tattoo you got to cover up the scar of an unconventional piercing type shit.

Logan Archer Mounts - @VERTICALCOFFIN

Waxahatchee – Tigers Blood

The sixth album from Waxahatchee’s Katie Crutchfield, Tigers Blood, brings the singer/songwriter’s country sensibilities to the forefront. While it's not the first Waxahatchee record to draw upon Crutchfield’s Southern upbringing, the feeling is omnipresent throughout this album. Deep into her career, Crutchfield’s songwriting continues to get better and better. In addition to the wildly catchy singles, Tigers Blood is full of great tracks, one after the other. Additionally, Crutchfield’s phenomenal voice is aided throughout the album by the recurring presence of MJ Lenderman on guitar and backing vocals. We may only be a quarter of the way through the year, but Tigers Blood has set the bar high for 2024.

Nick Miller - @nickmiller4321

Yard Act – Where’s My Utopia?

Everyone I know had a shit winter. Whether you’ve got SAD or are just sad, the lonely months seem to hit deep this year. All winter, I was grabbing for fuzzy comforts like Greg Mendez, Nirvanna The Band The Show, or the “Hell Naw” dog. I was trying to shake the doldrums, but nothing could get ‘em loose – until I listened to Yard Act’s riotous, effusive, and nimble new record. Plenty of punk-adjacent bands have made their dance records in the past few years (Turnover and Parquet Courts being the ones to commit the hardest), but nothing has been as wide-open, voracious, and filled with pure joy as this record. It’s the celebration of reinvention, an ode to the bloom. It’s filled to the brim with danceable hooks – like the chorus of “Dream Job,” which sounds like a sample from an iconic disco song that doesn’t exist, or the earwormy, ever-descending chorus of “Petroleum” – because, as spelled out in lead single “We Make Hits,” “We’re all gonna sink. And we just wanna have some fun before we’re sunk.” Where’s My Utopia? answers its titular question with a shapeshifting joy-spreader of an album. It’s an intellectual, physical, and emotional utopia that can only be found on the dance floor. An invitation to shake the doldrums while we still can.

Joshua Sullivan - @brotherheavenz

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