December 22, 2025

Swim Into The Sound’s 13 Favorite Albums of 2025

December 22, 2025/ Taylor Grimes

What can I say about 2025 that hasn’t already been said across numerous publications, think pieces, and vent sessions? I guess I’ll start (selfishly) with my own experience as 2025 was a year of displacement, awkward liminal holding patterns, and stringing things together. About halfway through the year, I moved from North Carolina, leaving behind a place that felt “my speed” and was home to one of the most welcoming creative communities I’ve ever been part of. I also spent months looking for a job, facing down rejection after rejection, which is a uniquely demoralizing and confidence-destroying way to spend a year. Way I figure, all you can do in a situation like that is try to keep things light and moving forward.

The upside was that this lack of vocation meant lots of freedom and experimentation. At the beginning of the year, I instituted my own weekly column and monthly roundup just to keep myself writing regularly. I rekindled my love of photography and launched a new wing of this site dedicated to concert photos. I made a fresh batch of Swim Into The Sound merch (shirts, totes, lighters, stickers!) and tabled our first-ever event at a festival that has been nothing short of formative to my musical identity. We also made our first zine, hit 500 articles, and turned ten years old! It was a banner year in Swim Land that also happened to be our most-trafficked ever, all with fewer posts than last year, so I’ll chalk that up to quality over quantity. I couldn’t have done any of this without the beautiful Swim Team, and if you wanna know what music they liked this year (besides “Elderberry Wine”), you should click here. I hope this continues to be a place where cool people can share cool music they love.

In the end, I did find a job, and it's one that I am immensely excited to start in the new year. It’ll be a new chapter of my life and, presumably, this site as I find equilibrium in an entirely new environment. Now that I’m looking back, 2025 felt like a really weird self-contained bottle episode of sorts. Apologies in advance if things feel slow or disjointed in the new year. I think there’s still lots of “figuring stuff out” ahead of me, but at least now I feel some direction, which is a blessing after 12 months of floating around and trying my best.

Okay, but who the hell am I?

I am a dork-ass nerd who listens to way too much music. My choice for album of the year matters just as much as yours. You can read that statement as positively or negatively as you like, but I see it as freeing. We all have different answers to the AOTY question, from the lowly Taylor Swift devotee to the buzzy Bandcamp-only group that Pitchfork has exalted this year. To some end, those answers themselves are meaningless; what actually matters is why.

This year, I sat looking at some of my favorite albums of 2025 and questioned if it was all too expected. It’s not quite this, but many of these bands feel like related artists who tour together, play on each other’s songs, and could easily be played in sequence at a cafe that has let the algorithmic radio play out too long. Does it feel redundant? Am I offering enough trenchant insight to warrant this? Where do I get off?

If all the first-person language so far wasn’t a tip-off, “Swim Into The Sound’s Favorite Albums of 2025” is really just “Taylor’s Favorite Albums of 2025” dressed up to resemble the type of year-end list you’d find at a more buttoned-up publication. This is a tradition I’ve kept up for ten years, so there’s no stopping it now.

Ultimately, the goal for this type of article is to be as representative of my year as possible. Sure, it’s ranked, so I guess there’s some value judgment here, but make no mistake: this is a love fest. These are all records that I listened to endlessly and found comfort or catharsis in throughout the year. The goal is for me to look back and say ‘oh yeah, that’s what 2025 sounded like…’ I think a certain type of person might still find something new here, but at the very least, I hope you find a new way to look at an album you’ve already heard.

This year, we’re going with a baker’s dozen. Sure, it’s ranked, but the difference between, say, #8 and #9 on a list like this is about as nebulous as it gets. I can assure you I’ve got an even bigger list about a hundred albums long, and while it can feel funny to affix a number like “66” to a record, to me this is a celebration, not competition.

In so many ways, this was a terrible year of backsliding, regression, malicious intent, and horrible cruelty. I think it’s right to button things up with some positives before sending 2025 off to the annals of time—so long and good riddance. Here’s hoping we take the next step forward together, taking on whatever comes at us with renewed energy, vigor, and intent.

Look out for each other and love each other, it’s kinda all we have. In the meantime, here are 13 albums that helped keep me sane and understood in a year of free-floating dread and looming anxiety. Hallelujah, holy shit.

13 | First Day Back – Forward

For every “real emo” copypasta, there’s an equal and opposite reaction. For the ongoing Mom Jeans-ification of Midwest Emo, I like to imagine there’s a group like First Day Back upholding a more rigorous and truthful version of the genre, rooted in something more profound. Forward sounds like a forgotten classic, lost behind the shelves of a Pacific Northwest record store between Sunny Day Real Estate and Sharks Keep Moving. Throughout their debut, the Santa Cruz band tap into a second-wave style of emo that does my soul good to hear in the modern era. There’s no shortage of forlorn vocals or wandering instrumentals that offer plenty of space to contort in contemplation and writhe in regret. A true-blue emo release that should appease the oldheads and help the kids wrap their minds around a different way to approach these feelings. It’s overwrought because it has to be. After all, that’s the only way you feel anything at this age. And that is real emo.

12 | Ribbon Skirt – Bite Down

Early on in 2025, I was listening to an advance of Bite Down and was struck with the realization that it was one of my favorite records of the year thus far. In a world where the bands you know and recognize offer the false comfort of familiarity, here was a record I wandered into with zero knowledge or preconceived notions, and I found myself utterly floored by. While it’s technically the Montreal band’s debut, Ribbon Skirt was formed from the ashes of Love Language, so this new name and project feel like a fresh start that allows them to be even more intentional and fully realized. This is a band that knew what kind of music they wanted to make and achieved their vision with stunning clarity throughout these nine tracks. Bite Down is packed with dark, enchanting grooves that are even more mystifying to witness live. Lead singer Tashiina Buswa pens lyrics that can be cutting, angry, and funny all at once – a combination of emotions that feel like an appropriate way to face down the absurdity of life in the modern age. There’s betrayal, confusion, displacement, and, at the end of it all, the band summons a pit to swallow everything up and return the world we know into the gaping maw of the universe, washing it all away in the blink of an eye.

Read our full review of Bite Down here.

11 | Michael Cera Palin – We Could Be Brave

There’s a joke I like to say, and I can’t remember if I picked it up from somewhere or arrived at it organically, but it’s a bit of a sweeping statement: every band name is bad except for Mannequin Pussy. That’s true to the nth degree for Michael Cera Palin, a band whose name sounds like an emo group from a decade ago because they are. The crazy thing is, the music is so fucking good that it redeems the corny name to the point where I don’t even think about it until I’m saying it out loud.

To give a brief history of the Atlanta indie-punk group: they released two EPs at the waning crest of fourth-wave that I genuinely believe to be without flaw. Between COVID, lineup changes, and just about every obstacle you could imagine, We Could Be Brave is the group’s first official LP, and it’s everything I could have hoped for. The thing kicks off like a powderkeg with immaculate guitar tone and hard-driving bass, peaking in an ultra-compelling cry of “FUCK A LANDLORD, YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHERE I LIVE!” There’s an incredible spoken word passage, powerful singalong singles, a re-recording for the realheads, and a 12-minute closing title track to really send ya off with a kick in the pants. Throughout it all, the band is utterly restless and proficient, a perfect conduit for the transfer of energy that this type of music aims to achieve. The rare great emo album, the rare seven-year wait that was worth it, the rare god-awful band name that doesn’t give me a second of pause.

Read our full review of We Could Be Brave here.

10 | Greg Freeman – Burnover

I love the first Greg Freeman album. There was a whole summer where I kept I Looked Out on maddening repeat, wrapped up in its alien twang and distortion. It’s the exact kind of sound that’s in vogue right now, so it only makes sense that Greg Freeman is already onto the next thing. Greg’s second album, Burnover, is a dirty, dust-covered, shit kicker of an album, packed with lounge singer swagger, funny-ass phrases, and open-road braggadocio. Opening track “Point and Shoot” is something of a test to see how well the listener can handle Freeman’s off-kilter voice as he paints backdrops of blood-soaked canyons, senseless tragedy, and a wild west with the power to make you recoil. Beyond that, the horns of “Salesman” and the honky tonk piano of “Curtain” offer riches beyond this world. Mid-album cut “Gulch” revs to life with the heartland verve of a Tom Petty classic, encouraging you to hop in your car and hit 80 on the closest straightaway you can find. If the album’s charms work the way they’re intended, by the time he’s singing “Why is heartache outside, doing pushups in the street?” the question should not only make sense, but the answer should hit you like a punch in the gut.

Read our full review of Burnover here.

9 | Florry – Sounds Like…

Sometimes, one sentence is all it takes to sell you on a record. In the case of Sounds Like…, there was a standalone quote on the Bandcamp page, rendered in hot-pink type, that reads, “The Jackass theme song was actually a really big influence on the new album.” Hell yeah, brother. Between the time it took me to read that and watch the homespun handycam music video for lead single “Hey Baby,” I knew I was in for a good time. Sounds Like… is an album that sweats, shouts, yelps, and stomps its way into your heart through nothing but the glorious power of rock and roll. Opening track “First it was a movie, then it was a book” is a joyous seven-minute excursion, complete with glorious guitar harmonies and countless solos – a perfect showcase for lead singer Francie Medosch’s scratchy, charismatic voice. Throughout the rest of the album, you’ll hear sweltering harmonica, walloping wah-wah, beautiful acoustic balladry, smoky, head-bobbing riffage, and sincere love songs. Sometimes ya just gotta sit back, let the guitars rock, and enjoy watching the frontperson be a wonky type of guy you’ve never seen before. While their sound is obviously very steeped in the tradition of “classic” rock, on this album, Florry sounds like nothing but themselves.

8 | Colin Miller – Losin’

Colin Miller might be the Fifth Beatle of the “Creek Rock” scene. He’s the Nigel Godrich to Wednesday’s Radiohead; the rhythmic center keeping time in MJ Lenderman’s band; the invisible fingerprint on a whole host of this year’s best indie rock records. On his second solo album, Miller proves that he’s also a knockout musician in his own right. While I enjoyed the singles, to me, the only thing you need to understand Losin’ is to start it from the top and take in that sick-ass guitar bend on “Birdhouse.” If that hits you, then you’re in for a treat.

Essentially an album-length eulogy, Losin’ is a record about Gary King, the beloved owner of the Haw Creek property, which served as artistic home for the aforementioned Wednesday, MJ Lenderman, and many more from the now-dispersed Asheville music scene. This is an album that wrestles, fights, makes up with, and finds painful coexistence alongside loss. It’s not just the loss of a father figure and a home, but a time, place, and person that you’ll never be again. It’s about how things will always feel different, and might feel bad, but will unfold all the same. The tasty licks help things go down easier, but this is a heartrending record made for moping and wallowing in the name of moving on. After all, it’s what those lost loved ones would have wanted.

Read our full review of Losin’ here.

7 | Geese – Getting Killed

Whenever life has felt hard this year, I can’t help but feel guilty knowing that I don’t have things that bad. All things considered, my struggles feel frivolous compared to what some have to deal with on a daily basis, and that worries me for the future. Put another way, I’m getting killed by a pretty good life.

It seems impossible to write about Geese without being a little annoying, but maybe that’s just because I know a lot of music writers and have read a lot of hyperbolic Geese writing this year. They’re the band saving rock. They’re the band holding up New York as an artistic center of the universe. They’re the ones topping lists and starting trends and getting people to wash their hair differently. Ultimately, I’m just glad that kids have a proper band to look up to who will lead them to Exile and Fun House and to start their own stupid, shitty rock bands that don’t go anywhere. We need more of those.

If anything, I am a Geese skeptic. If anything, I prefer the dick-swingin' classic rock riffage that was more abundant on 3D Country. If anything, I think this band’s most interesting work is still in front of them. Even still, it’s hard to deny the beauty of a song like “Au Pays du Cocaine,” the snappy drumming of “Bow Down,” the rapturous ascension of “Taxes,” or the pure, wacked-out fun of shouting “THERE’S A BOMB IN MY CAR!” Overall, Getting Killed may take a slightly slower pace than I would have wanted, but it’s nice to have a cool, weird rock band making cool, weird rock music that people seem to be excited about.

6 | Alex G – Headlights

Headlights is an album that feels like it was meant to exist as a CD in the console of your family car. It’s a shame this wasn't released between the years of 1991 and 1998. This is an album that has grown on me immensely over time, and much of that enjoyment comes from throwing it on and letting it play from the top. Headlights has a rough, road-ready quality that puts it in the league of albums like Out of Time or Being There – records meant to be thrown on repeat endlessly and live between the seats of a beat-up Dodge or the family van. Maybe listened in five to 15-minute chunks while running errands across town, maybe on a road trip blasting through the middle of the country. In any case, the tenth album from Alex G doesn’t necessarily stun or wow on the outset; instead, its power comes from these repeated visits, slowly growing, morphing, and solidifying over time into a singular thing. Definitely a grower, not a shower, but hey, who among us? After directing scores for two of the most interesting indie films of the past decade, Alex G seems to have picked up a couple of interesting lessons about restraint and leaving some sense of mystery. Headlights is a record that rewards patience with beauty, unlocking compartments and passageways for those willing to explore. In time, I think this record will work its way up my ranking towards the upper-crust of Alex G records, but maybe I’m just unavoidably 32, and this is the type of music I’m drawn to. Time will tell.

5 | Spirit Desire – Pets

In the weeks after Pets released, I distinctly remember asking myself the question, ‘Can a four-song EP be in the top ten on my album of the year list?’ Technically, Pets is really only three songs and one 90-second instrumental interlude, but I suppose that lightweight feeling is part of the appeal; less songs means less space for error, and when four out of four songs hit, you start to think of this as a 100% hit ratio. While the first song delves into the title at hand, reckoning with dead pets over shimmering keys and a nasally Canadian-emo accent, “Shelly’s Song” offers an immediate portal that cleanses the palate for what’s next. What’s next is “IDFC,” one of my favorite songs of the year and a track that connects to me with the same lightning rod intensity of something like “Assisted Harikari,” an absolute jolt to the system and the type of song that reminds me why I like music so much in the first place. Admittedly my buoy for this entire release, “IDFC” begs you to jump into the pit and scream your heart out, while “It Is What It Is” swoops in to mop up the sweat and spilled beer. I know Pets isn’t an album, but the enjoyment I’ve gotten out of these ten minutes outweighs entire LPs, adventures, and days of my life—a perfect excursion.

4 | Algernon Cadwallader – Trying Not to Have a Thought

It sounds a little hyperbolic, but when Algernon Cadwallader released Some Kind of Cadwallader in 2008, it more or less birthed the modern emo scene. There are still bands today that cite Algernon as an inextricable influence. Sure, emo music still has deeper ties to American Football and Rites of Spring, but Algernon was the Revival. In fact, they were so good, they couldn’t even top themselves. The group released Parrot Flies in 2011, then decided to take a hiatus in 2012. A couple of years ago, they did the Anniversary Thing and toured with the original lineup, which felt so good that they signed to Saddle Creek for Trying Not to Have a Thought. Never mind the Emo Qualifier; this record is the absolute best-case scenario for a band reuniting and recording a record, up there with Slowdive and Hum.

Perhaps one of the strongest things working in its favor is that this is decidedly not the band just trying to sound as close as possible to their fan-favorite album; instead, they’re taking those techniques and approaches and updating them to where they find themselves in life now, which is to say, grappling with an entirely different set of problems. While the early music was earnest and obscure, Trying is earnest and pointed. There’s no longer time to beat around the bush because there are real stakes. This record touches on everything: death, technology, work-life balance, and the 1982 non-narrative documentary Koyaanisqatsi. When those concepts seem too big, the band zooms in on hyper-specific examples, detailing them with colorful brush strokes that are impossible to rip away from.

On one song, vocalist Peter Helmis shines a light on millions of dollars of rocks that the city of Portland, Oregon, had installed to keep homeless people from sleeping under an overpass. One song later, the band recounts Operation MOVE, in which our own government dropped two bombs on a Philly neighborhood that housed the black liberation organization MOVE, killing six adults, five children, and leaving hundreds homeless. It’s pretty stunning to hear a band age this gracefully and create a work that feels like it stands alone. The decades separating the band’s first album from their most recent show that the members are all more mature, proficient, and outspoken. In the end, the band themselves sum everything up smack dab in the middle of the record, where they sing, “You’re ready all too ready ready to accept that this is the way it’s always been and so it must not be broke.” We are radiators hissing in unison.

Read our write-up of Trying Not To Have a Thought here.

3 | Ryan Davis & the Roadhouse Band – New Threats from the Soul

Ryan Davis is a verbose motherfucker. The average track length on his project’s sophomore album is eight minutes. Recommending that to a casual music fan makes me feel like those people who talk about decades-running anime series and say things like “it really picks up like 300 episodes in,” but I swear that, in this case, patience pays off. In fact, I don’t think you even have to be that patient: go listen to the opening song, title track, and lead single “New Threats from the Soul,” and you’ll pretty immediately understand what this album is “doing,” which is to say loungy, multi-layered sonic expeditions into the heart of the increasingly fragile American psyche. There’s synth, snaps, flutes, and claps. There are shaky statements of love, glimpses into a kingdom far, far away, and an unshakable disconnect between the life expected and the one being lived. At the center of it all, we find Ryan Davis attempting to piece a life together with bubblegum and driftwood, flailing as the band flings back into the groove.

This sort of energy is scattered all across New Threats from the Soul, each song offering a vast soundscape, hundreds of words, and enough of a runway to really feel like you’re along for the ride. Each track pulls you along, adding some lightness and brevity exactly where it’s needed as you are comforted, consoled, and compelled by the pen of Mr. Davis. There are just as many ravishing turns of phrase as there are striking instrumental moments, like the country-fried breakbeat on “Monte Carlo / No Limits” or the winding outro of “Mutilation Falls.” It all adds up to an album that you’ll keep turning over, parsing different layers of a dense text and coming up with something new each time.

2 | Wednesday – Bleeds

The new album from Wednesday is perfect. It’s also expected. Expected in that those who have been following the group for years pretty much knew what to expect from the band’s tightrope walk of country, shoegaze, and cool-ass southern indie. Expected that the band has refined this formula to the point of perfection. Expected that it earned them lots of media coverage, interviews, and sold-out shows after the album before this did the same. The only reason I’d still give an edge to an album like Twin Plagues is that everything felt that much more surprising and novel when it was my first time experiencing it. Even still, it’s a delight taking in the world through the eyes of bandleader Karly Hartzman, who writes, pound-for-pound, some of the most charming, personable, and compassionate lyrics of any modern artist. Her words hone in on small details that others might pass over, wielding them into pointed one-liners, surprising pop culture references, or brand-new idioms that just make inherent sense.

Bleeds still has plenty of surprises: an Owen Ashworth-assisted romp through a double-header of Human Centipede and a jam band set, a rough-and-ready crowd-churning rager, a Pepsi punchline to wrap the whole thing up. This is the most Wednesday album to date: a sort of album-length self-actualization brought about by five of the most talented musicians our United States has to offer. Each time I venture into the record, it is utterly transportive. As “Reality TV Argument Bleeds” mounts to a piercing scream followed by a blown-out shoegaze riff, it’s impossible to want to be anywhere else. This is Wednesday to a tee. The band has condensed their sound to the point of maximum impact, and while I look forward to many more live shows jumping around to “Townies” and singing along to “Elderberry Wine,” the mind reels wondering where they all could take this next, because the answer truly feels like it could be anywhere.

Read our full review of Bleeds here.

1 | Caroline Rose – year of the slug

Dear reader, let me ask you a question… Do you like the way things are right now? Are you happy with The Arrangement? Content to sit back, uphold the norm, and wait for things to get better? Odds are, your answer is something along the lines of ‘fuck no,’ and that’s why you’re here reading this. I’m speaking broadly, but only because this dissatisfaction is omnidirectional and widely applicable. We’re not solving any of the world’s systemic issues in the opening paragraph of a DIY publication’s album of the year roundup, but maybe we can break things down and make it feel more digestible.

This summer, news broke that Spotify CEO Daniel EK was investing 700 Million Euros into Helsing, an AI defense company that primarily makes drones and surveillance systems. As a response, hundreds of artists pulled their music off Spotify and users quit the platform in droves out of protest. The same thing happened a couple of months later when Spotify started running ICE recruitment ads while members of the organization were actively terrorizing citizens in Portland and Chicago.

It feels especially prescient then that when Caroline Rose announced year of the slug back in January, she specifically went out of her way to outline that the album would not be on Spotify or any other streaming platform besides Bandcamp. Similarly, when Rose took the album on the road, they only toured independent venues; the kinds of places that are simultaneously an endangered species and the backbone of the music industry. Between all of this –the AI music, the Live Nation monopoly, the merch cuts, the shrinking margins, and the execs who can only think in terms of statistics and streaming numbers– Rose carved out space to release a collection of songs entirely on their own terms.

year of the slug is a masterful, enchanting, intentioned, personable, honest, and singular collection of songs that function in the exact way an album should. Even just by breaking out of the Spotify Cycle of constantly-flowing new releases that treats music less like art and more like “content,” Rose made a record that you have to go out of your way to intentionally experience and listen to. This alone forces you to engage with the music on a more thoughtful level, experiencing the record on its own terms, not as part of a queue.

In that same album announcement, Rose explained the sort of philosophy behind the record, contrasting that, “in lieu of A.l. perfection, slug contains the sounds of my life–cupboards slamming, birds chirping, the garbage trucks that plague me every Thursday.” The result is a pared-down batch of songs that sound beautifully flawed and human.

The album was tracked on GarageBand through Rose’s phone, so things typically revolve around the most basic of musical ingredients: vocals and an acoustic guitar. While on one hand you could hear that and think “this sounds like unfinished demos,” it could just as equally evoke the stark, barebones imperfection of an album like Nebraska. I personally tend toward the latter, with the minimal arrangements only serving to highlight the elements that do come through. There’s no room for anything to get muddled or washed out. To borrow a phrase from the opening track, everything in its right place, especially the fuck-ups.

The songs themselves are brilliant, with Rose’s ear for melody and knack for sticky phrasing shining on nearly every track. Whether it’s the piercing hurt of “to be lonely” or the spaghetti western stomp of “goddamn train,” year of the slug is an album that delights in the simple pleasure of a sip of Mexican beer and the raw humanity of a Taco Bell order. What’s more, this is an album where I can glance at the tracklist, read a song title, and immediately call to mind what it sounds like. Can’t say the same thing for most records I listened to this year.

To close, I’d like to ask the same question I did at the beginning of this entry: Do you like the way things are right now? If the answer is no, I think it’s time to make a change. It doesn’t have to be all at once; it doesn’t even have to be multiple things. You don’t have to quit everything, leave society, and lead a hermetic life. Maybe it’s just as simple as taking the $10 you give to a company each month and directing it to an artist on Bandcamp to experience their album. I think that’s more rewarding than clicking on a stream, chasing “scalability,” following virality for the next big thing. This could be your next obsession, and that’s the only one that matters.

December 11, 2025

The Best Song(s) of 2025

December 11, 2025/ The Swim Team

I’m gonna be honest with you guys, I have no idea what I’m doing running this site. More often than not, it feels like I’m wingin’ it. All I know is geek out about music that I like and do whatever sounds fun.

A bunch of this year’s best interviews, reviews, and retrospectives were things brought to me by our team of talented writers. It’s their interests that spark things, their obsessions they want to share, and their Special Interest Guys they want to talk about. Most of the time, I’m just a dude who says ‘yes,’ sends a few emails, and does some editing.

This back-and-forth is also how great ideas get cooked up. All it takes is one suggestion, and suddenly we’re off to the races, instituting something like Hater’s Delight, making a wacked-out Valentine’s Day mixtape, or celebrating a decade of this site in the most specific possible way. Last year, in addition to something expected like a roundup of our favorite albums of the year, we also hosted a wrestling-themed smackdown of our favorite songs and a nerdy-ass peek behind the curtains, both of which were formulated by good-old-fashioned bullshitting and committing to the bit.

This year, when I asked the Swim Team if anyone wanted to write about their favorite songs of the year, the response was something along the lines of “don’t need to when ‘Elderberry Wine’ exists,” which received a slew of enthusiastic responses as we collectively turned over the idea of a roundup that’s just a bunch of people’s love for “Elderberry Wine.” Sure, there are other songs we liked this year, but in a way, something like this feels more applicable to 2025 than any countdown or assemblage of tracks ever could. Please pop your finest bottle of champagne, crank up “Elderberry Wine,” and enjoy these thoughts about, seemingly, our entire team’s favorite song of 2025.

Taylor Grimes | Wednesday – “Elderberry Wine”

When I saw Wednesday on the Bleeds tour this November, lead single “Elderberry Wine” was buried so deep in the setlist that I had almost forgotten about it. I was so wrapped up in revelry watching one of my favorite rock bands burn through tracks off their first four albums that the absence of their latest record’s lead single didn’t even register until the band started playing those opening notes, and suddenly the entire sold-out venue was singing along. While I’ll always admire them for their balance of head-bobbing heaviness and North Carolina country, “Elderberry Wine” stands as Wednesday’s purest distillation of the latter – a sparkling thing of beauty that shimmers like water and sparkles like mesquite BBQ. We’re lucky to be on the same plane as Wednesday.

My other favorite song of the year is “IDFC” by Spirit Desire.

Caro Alt | Wednesday – “Elderberry Wine”

Tested and approved activities for Elderberry Wining if you have never Elderberry Wined before: lazily tossing magnolia leaves into a campfire just to hear them crackle as the water in their veins evaporates while waiting for your friends to join you. Driving a U-Haul in the rain and arguing over the directions (you are absolutely going the wrong way) before accidentally stumbling upon the World’s Biggest Ball of Yarn on the side of the highway and forgetting why you were so mad. Ordering your third favorite beer at that one dive because they don’t have your favorite beer or your second favorite beer and realizing you’re kinda starting to like this beer the most.

My other favorite song of the year is “Sue me” by Audrey Hobert.

Grace Robins-Somerville | Wednesday – “Elderberry Wine”

From the creekside vineyards of North Carolina comes this bittersweet, full-bodied red with top notes of elderberry. Pop open a bottle at your next date night or game night (just don’t flip the board), and I guarantee everyone will get along just fine! Pairs well with pickled eggs, mostly-CBD joints, pedal steel, and premature nostalgia for the present. Do not consume elderberry wine if you are pregnant or operating a motor vehicle (electric or otherwise). A taste of the Carolinas in every sip!

My other favorite song of the year is “I’m Your Man” by My Wonderful Boyfriend.

Cassidy Sollazzo | Wednesday – “Elderberry Wine”

I was a Wednesday skeptic once. And yes, it did fill me with shame. Then I went crazy off the “Elderberry Wine.” Then I read Karly Hartzman’s Vulture essay. Then I re-listened to the entire Wednesday discography 10 times over. Tears, contemplation, a skipped heartbeat here and there. Then, an awakening. Badda bing badda boom, skeptic more. Now that’s some powerful stuff!

My other favorite song of the year is “Stateside (with Zara Larsson)” by PinkPantheress and Zara Larsson.

Lillian Weber | Wednesday – “Elderberry Wine”

I was awestruck when I first heard this song, realizing it was Wednesday’s masterpiece. When you first hear Karly Hartzman sing “a strong / reputation for being someone always / someone always” before that single word “down” explodes in guitar fuzz euphoria, do you not feel ecstasy? What could be better… Wait. We’re not all talking about “Townies?” Oh, “Elderberry Wine!” Gotcha. What a song! (Is this whole pretense of thinking we’re talking about“Townies” because if I think too hard about Hartzman singing the lines about having your babies and tornado skies over those guitars that are simply romantic I will spiral at the idea of a love so true? Yes. Yes indeed.) What a chorus!

My other favorite song of the year is “make it last” by Total Wife.

Elias Amini | Wednesday – “Elderberry Wine”

There’s something about the toe-to-heel, side-to-side sway of “Elderberry Wine” that made it feel immediately nostalgic to me. Karly Hartzman finds herself amongst the likes of Hope Sandoval, Ben Gibbard, Mark Morrison, and Tracy Chapman (as well as many others) who’ve crafted a truly timeless single that can only age with splendor and grace. You may ask yourself, do we really need an entire article collectively stroking our shit to this song? To which I answer: quite frankly, yes. Yes, we do, that’s really how great this song is and how well it will stand the test of time (the rest of the album falls a bit short for me, but that's a different article). “Elderberry Wine” doesn’t simply deserve a crown for being the best song of the year; it deserves to be etched into music's grand and storied history.

My other favorite song of the year is “Si chiuse stanca la ferita” by Chevalier.

Jason Sloan | Wednesday – “Elderberry Wine”

A little sweet for my taste, but at least it went down easy. Even got through two bottles. Wait… this was supposed to be a song review? Fuck. I’m so fucjing drunk,

My other favorite song of the year is “You got time and I got money” by Smerz.

Braden Allmond | Wednesday – “Elderberry Wine”

The best wine is the one you enjoy the most, even if that’s a Miller High Life. Every time I hear “Elderberry Wine,” there’s a new flavor, an unplaceable pang, and a somehow ever-smoother finish. The song gives away its own secret in the first line: “Sweet song is a long con.” If you don’t think too hard about drinking, it just feels good, and you can overlook—or forget—the damage being done to your body. The song is cute, indie, romantic, and has a country gloss six coats deep. But every new line belies a little doubt: an impending car repair, stormy eyes, and a drink that doesn’t taste bad by a long shot, but it just doesn’t taste how it should.

My other favorite song of the year is “Are You There?” by Sport.

Logan Archer Mounts | Wednesday – “Elderberry Wine”

“Elderberry Wine” is a rare song that transforms your whole opinion about a band. I found Wednesday’s Rat Saw God to be one of the most overrated albums of 2023, and I couldn't understand at all what people were connecting to on it. Then, in the first swing of my Wednesday 180, MJ Lenderman’s Manning Fireworks landed in my number one (non-metal) album spot last year. That primed me to give the band another shot with their latest album, Bleeds, and I’m so glad that I did. I’ve revisited Rat Saw God in the months since Bleeds has been out, and I’ve certainly warmed to it more, but I truly believe “Elderberry Wine” is Karly Hartzman’s finest songwriting moment of her career, a miracle lap alt-country classic that’s the centerpiece of the excellent Bleeds album.

My other favorite song of the year is “Porcelain” by Neil Cicierega.

Katie Hayes | Wednesday – “Elderberry Wine”

It took me until this year to drink the Wednesday wine, and it started with this song. Warm guitar chords and wistful lyrics open the song, and I can feel my blood pressure mellow out. But it’s not necessarily easy listening. Tart with sorrow, a little woozy with loss, there’s a stunning depth to “Elderberry Wine” I didn’t hear anywhere else this year. I’ll toast to that.

My other favorite song of the year is “North Poles” by Samia.

Caleb Doyle | Wednesday – “Elderberry Wine”

The brilliance of Wednesday and Karly Hartzman is this: in a catalog full of fuzzed-out, heavy, twangy alt-Country, they still effortlessly lay down a highly effective pure Country Western track. The chorus of “Elderberry Wine” is one of the most profound earworms I’ve ever dealt with. I wake up thinking about how everybody gets along just fine. The lyrics are prime Hartzman yearn–up there with Dolly Parton’s “The Seeker,” and Hank Williams’ “So Lonesome I Could Cry.” It’s a perfect song, even if it was just the chorus and Xandy Chelmis’ pedal steel.

My other favorite song of the year is “SPIDERS” by Lola Young

September 19, 2025

Wednesday – Bleeds | Album Review

September 19, 2025/ Taylor Grimes

As a ride or die Wednesday Warrior for nigh on half a decade, the appeal of Bleeds feels entirely self-evident to me. As I’ve been spinning the countrygaze band’s sixth album throughout the summer, it was both comforting and easy to see connective tissue from all across their discography. Lead single “Elderberry Wine” is a fully-fledged country-fried love song whose sound was telegraphed by the band’s twangy Tiny Desk and Gary Stewart covers. Follow-up single “Wound Up Here (By Holding On)” assured audiences that this record wouldn’t be all sweetness and champagne bubbles, evoking the crushing desperation of 2021’s Twin Plagues between lyrics about a dead body washing up in a creek. If that song wasn’t angry enough for you, “Pick Up That Knife” is a searing (and funny) track where minor inconveniences and offhand interactions escalate to violence, bile, and self-inflicted lashings that collectively evoke 2023’s breakthrough Rat Saw God. Throughout it all, Wednesday crystallize the one-of-a-kind sound they’ve been honing since their inception, resulting in a brilliant collection of songs without parallel or compromise.

Even if you pick up Bleeds as a complete outsider, the transportive property of the opening song and de facto title track “Reality TV Argument Bleeds” should be enough to convince you of the band’s power. Much like “Hot Rotten Grass Smell” combined sensory language, clever references, and a shit-kicking dustbowl riff to drop the listener somewhere in the wilds of North Carolina, “Reality TV” begins with a slowly mounting beat that utterly transfixes. Drums, bass, and feedback from multiple guitars all coalesce, falling in sync and growing louder until a scream erupts from bandleader Karly Hartzman, piercing through everything as the band rips into a soaring guitar riff.

The first words we hear on the record are a gross-out glimpse of devotion as Hartzman sings, “Pickin’ the ticks off of you.” This visual, which feels like a sister lyric to a Samia song from earlier this year, is immediately undercut with a dismissive brush-off of “If you need me I’ll call you.” In the next verse, she paints a picture of being separate, observing something from one room over as she sings, “Reality TV argument bleeds / Through the floor when I go to sleep.” This speaks to the kind of observationalist approach that Hartzman takes throughout these songs, always watching, listening, and reassembling pieces of life into the music we hear on record.

As the song melts outward, we get brief snapshots into isolationist recoiling, blown engines, and some unnamed other’s “broke dick sincerity.” Ever the way with words, this first song disarms, enthralls, and reassures all at once, offering a three-minute foray into the world you’ll be inhabiting for the next 30-some-odd minutes. But not to worry, keep your hands inside the ride, and Wednesday will be more than happy to be your tour guide through the heartbreak, distortion, and sweltering southern heat. Welcome to Bleeds.

Reckless, self-destructive behavior fueled by youthfulness, boredom, or some combination of the two has long been a cornerstone of Hartzman’s writing. Previous tracks like “Birthday Song” and “Chosen To Deserve” are clear-eyed dirtbag anthems that hinge on the universal experience of making stupid decisions throughout your youth. As the songs recount high school acid trips, pure-hearted trespassing, and innocent-enough public urination, Hartzman looks back with surprising honesty and compelling empathy. While others might think back to their teenage exploits and cringe, Wednesday codify them into song and allow others to learn from their mistakes. Hell, even if you’re not learning anything, the small-town antics enrapture like getting caught in a good conversation at the local dive bar.

The second track on Bleeds, titled “Townies,” is the latest in this long line of diaristic entries, acting as something of a spiritual successor to “Chosen To Deserve.” Opening with a light-hearted sway that immediately clears the air, the lyrics build a backdrop of local characters eager to supply drugs, leak nudes, and generally take advantage of the women naive enough to trust them. In Hartzman’s own words, the song is about “my friend in high school who got a rumor spread about her that she gave a handjob to a guy under a desk during AP English (which she later told me was true after I told her I wrote this song).” The track thrives in the murky waters of bumbling high school sexual experiences, specifically how callous both men and women can be in that environment, pressuring you while simultaneously shaming you for your choices.

There’s a surprising amount of sympathy extended to everyone involved, which is revealed gradually as the band peels things back layer by layer. By the end of the song, Hartzman admits, “I get it now / You were 16 and bored and drunk / And they’re just townies…” which trails off until the band brings back the seismic riff one more time, amplified tenfold, and the only catharsis or closure to be had at this point.

Similar scenes of teenage debauchery play out on “Phish Pepsi,” a re-recording of a song off Guttering that recaptures the original’s hazy, lo-fi sound and even retains the guest feature of Owen Ashworth from Advance Base. Finding herself back in a familiar place, a carpeted floor gives Hartzman a flashback to the last time she was here in middle school and rode her bike home drunk off a Four Loko. One of the album’s best punchlines comes in the song’s final verse, where our hero recounts, “We watched a Phish concert and Human Centipede / two things I now wish I had never seen.” Each word is lovingly mirrored by Ashworth, who adds his baritone sentimentality to every syllable. The dual narrator approach brings a level of sympathetic humanity to the whole thing, as well as the sense that our narrator isn’t in this alone.

🎄🎅Christmas Sidebar 🎁🎄

Thanks mainly to this feature from Ashworth, “Phish Pepsi” feels like a fun parallel to a cover of “Christmas Steve,” which MJ Lenderman and Karly Hartzman contributed to a compilation for Dear Life Records titled You Were Alone: An Owen Ashworth Almanac. In the original Advance Base song, Ashworth tells the (fictional) story of his cousin Steven, who took too much LSD one fateful Christmas Eve back in 1993 and is now “always kind of Christmassy.” This is far from the first holiday song to come from that project, but it is a nifty little ditty which Lenderman and Hartzman spin out into a stompy freak folk jam with charismatic ad-libs. For the Santa Heads at home, there’s also a second Christmas name-drop later on in Bleeds, making it the highest percentage of holly jolly energy in the band’s discography.

🚫🎁Christmas Sidebar OVER 🙅‍♂️🎅

After a middle gauntlet made up of singles like “Wound Up Here” and “Elderberry Wine,” the true heart of the record lies in track seven, “The Way Love Goes.” Much like “How Can You Live” before it, this song is a plainspoken reflection of romance that’s deceptively simple but designed to throttle the life out of you. Over a solemn guitar strum, Hartzman rattles off heart-crushing lines like “Feels like I’m almost good enough / To know you” and talks about how a relationship can glacially shift from an overt or implied promise into something that feels consistently underwhelming and disappointing for both parties. Halfway through, Xandy Chelmis’ ever-reliable pedal steel emerges to accompany the confessional. After all the anger, tension, ups, and downs, the song arrives at an honest assessment of affection, with Hartzman cooing, “I know it’s not been easy / And I know it can’t always be / And that’s the way love goes.” Whew.

On the other side of this emotional downpour, “Pick Up That Knife” is there to help pull us out of the mire. With lyrics of throwing up in a Death Grips pit and iconic one-off lines like “One day, I'll kill the bitch inside my brain,” this feels like a song tailor-made for meme pages or novelty bumper stickers. The repetitions of “They'll meet you outside” eventually give way to “Wasp,” a raging hardcore song that the band has been playing live for over a year already. Kicking off with a righteous flurry of a drum fill from Alan Miller, “Wasp” sees the band going full-tilt hardcore with Karly screaming the whole time, resulting in a cathartic outpouring of fury and indignation that rivals the outro of “Bull Believer.”

As the album enters its final leg, “Bitter Everyday” offers one last respite before a final gut punch. Gnarly lyrics of razor blades on water slides accompany a carefree guitar riff and tequila-swilling music video depicting a day spent out on the lake – the ideal kind of summer activity when you live in a place as hot as North Carolina. As sweetly as it’s all delivered, the lyrical throughline is nothing short of harrowing, as Hartzman lays out abject depression with lines like: “Abundant things in life keep getting fewer every day.”

What’s left on the other side of that pontoon boat adventure is a four-minute slow-burning ballad depicting a “Carolina Murder Suicide” with haunting fragility. As the house burns and collapses under its own weight, our narrator reflects on the transient nature of everything. It feels like a sun setting as the embers glow into nothingness.

But then there’s one more song.

Closing track “Gary’s II” isn’t just a sequel to the penultimate Twin Plagues song; it’s a true story and an exuberant ode to Gary King, the beloved owner of Haw Creek, the artist commune outside of Asheville where this band (and many others) spent their nascent years collaborating and honing their sound. King was similarly memorialized all throughout Colin Miller’s Losin’, but here he is painted in a charming light with a free-wheeling country song meant to serve as a palate cleanser from the otherwise devastating lyrics strewn throughout the rest of the record. The track tells one of the most direct stories in any Wednesday song, framed by plucky pedal steel and a rickety jug band momentum. The whole thing ends with a cutesy wink and a joke so good that it feels like a spoiler to include it here, so I’ll just leave that for you to hear yourself.

In my summer spent listening to Bleeds, I’ve been massively impressed with the shape of this record and the way everything flows. The band seems to have consciously returned to the headbobbing seesaw riffage found throughout Twin Plagues, and I’m over the moon about that. Sometimes things bend into more of a Rat Saw God storytelling direction, and elsewhere they point to a yet-untaken territory in the rocky wilds of the country music genre.

In many ways, Bleeds feels like the purest distillation of Wednesday’s sound. They know when to build things up and when to come crashing down; when to shoot you full of adrenaline or drawl the music out for maximum impact. Throughout it all, Hartzman’s lyrics are as astute and funny and relatable as ever, offering up a fresh platter of charming idioms and painful memories that are guaranteed to be lodged in the brains of indie music fans for years to come. As the band opens a portal into their own “sicko world,” the listener feels a welcome sense of recognition, and, for 37 minutes, is lucky enough to be a small part of it, even if just as a slack-jawed onlooker.

As someone who has spent the last two years living in North Carolina, I can attest to the region’s mystical power and otherworldly pull. My time spent there was a menagerie of soul-centering beauty, valiant people, nourishing relationships, and guiding moments. It’s a part of the country capable of precious stillness and abrupt violence. I’ll put it this way: after the years spent living in North Carolina, I can see why David Lynch decided to film Blue Velvet there.

As Wednesday weave together a patchwork of the mundane and profane, death and love exist in a perpetual dance, coexisting in the space between the rest stops, gas stations, and kudzu. Somewhere among the Cookout signs and quarries, this group found each other and came together to capture one minuscule splitter of a life still being lived. When listeners catch a glimpse of themselves in Hartzman’s songwriting, it can feel either like a warped funhouse mirror or a comforting salve. Maybe both. Above all else, the writing throughout this band’s discography feels like an affirmation to slow down and observe. To pause and remember. To document, archive, and share – because you just might find your people in the process. I’m already the type of person who believes there’s as much beauty in the sunrise over the ocean as there is in the alley with garbage juice trickling toward the drain. The only difference is, are you willing to look for it? After you’ve built up this reservoir of emotions and memories and stories, you might find yourself feeling similarly to the beginning of this record: simmering upward until it erupts from you in a great cacophony of noise. Whatever comes next is anyone’s guess.

June 13, 2025

Swim Into The Sound Turns Ten

June 13, 2025/ The Swim Team

As of today, Friday, June 13th, 2025, Swim Into The Sound is officially TEN years old! Since I just waxed poetic about the site for our 500th post a month ago, I’ll try to keep this short and sweet.

After going back and forth for a while debating how to best commemorate this birthday, I decided it’d be fun to ask the Swim Team what their favorite album of the last ten years was. We’re counting everything from 2015 to 2025, and because I’m a real dork with it, we’re also only counting the window that this blog has existed: from June 2015 to June 2025—the last ten years to the day. I’ve organized everyone's answers in chronological order (Thank you, Lillian), and we’ve got some fun stats at the end for the Heads (Thank you, Braden), so keep reading after the roundup.

Before we get to the proceedings, I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for being here; thank you for reading, sharing, writing, and supporting this little website. It means the world to me, and I am continually ecstatic to have this outlet to talk about the music that I enjoy and believe in. I think all the people you’re about to read would say the same thing. Thanks for ten years, and thank you for caring. As always, I hope you find something here to love.

Please enjoy this journey through the past ten years guided by your trusty Swim Team.

One Direction – Made in the A.M.

Released November 13, 2015

One Direction hated being in One Direction by the end of it, and in 2015, they broke up. They actually never formally did this, but they released Made in the A.M., which is the closest they could get to ending things. One Direction songs aren’t vapid, but they are vague, leaning into the searing Bo Burnham analysis, “I love your eyes and their blueish, brownish, greenish color” at their weakest. There’s always some love that they want but can’t have. Made in the A.M., however, feels uncomfortable in that structure. Songwriter and appointed Cheeky One, Louis Tomlinson, used that framework to craft a goodbye rather than their usual popstar mystique. Finality underscores songs like “Love You Goodbye,” “History,” and “Walking in the Wind,” becoming bittersweet letters to fans rather than their usual tortured, lovesick songs.

The whole album sounds Un-Direction as well, with a rounder, synthier, stomp pop sound, something that matched their contemporaries rather than their discography. I love Made in the A.M. for that weirdness, even that title —a begrudging nod to the fact that all this was recorded in the grueling early hours of the morning on their tour bus as they traversed the world without Zayn Malik. And then that was just it. A couple live performances, a lackluster rollout, no tour, and a promise that the band would come back once they were off a needed hiatus. Now, 10 years later, the band won’t and can’t come back, but in the words of One Direction’s final song, “A.M.,” it’s okay because “I'm always gonna look for your face,” and as a forever Directioner, I really will always look for them.
– Caro Alt

Aesop Rock – The Impossible Kid

Released April 29, 2016

After much intensive deliberation, I feel confident that Long Island rapper Aesop Rock’s seventh album, The Impossible Kid, probably holds the most emotional weight to me of the thousands of albums I’ve heard since June of 2015. Originally my #3 record of the year after its release, it’s a proof of concept that tastes change and grow stronger over the years, and an album you listen to a handful of times in a 365-day span doesn’t have to be confined to that timeline.

Aesop Rock has been my favorite rapper since 2012’s Skelethon, and when The Impossible Kid dropped four years later, I was out of college and living on my own, making the first real transition to conscious adulthood. While much of Aesop Rock’s lyricism is abstract and conceptual, this album is his most directly personal across his discography, referencing multiple stories from his childhood and tributes to longtime friends and family. Particularly the song “Blood Sandwich,” the second verse of which Aes raps about his older brother being denied tickets to see Ministry, deeply affected me. Hearing two of my musical loves intersect in this way resonated with me, as I had gone through a similar experience when I was younger.

Whether he’s criticizing the ins and outs of the rap world (‘Dorks’) or boasting about his cat (‘Kirby’), Aesop Rock shines on The Impossible Kid in a way that is so specific to this album only. From a technical standpoint, it almost feels like he’s still trying to one-up himself, like on 2023’s head-spinningly impressive Integrated Tech Solutions, and even his just-released Black Hole Superette. But to me, there isn’t a rap album that speaks more to nerdy, introspective, and emotional youths than The Impossible Kid.
– Logan Archer Mounts

The Hotelier – Goodness

Released May 27, 2016

In 2016, I worked my first full-time job as a residence director at a private college on Long Island. I didn’t live far from my alma mater, so I was in this liminal space of young adulthood, where many friends were still at school while I worked a day job taking care of people just like them. It was a year of transition. I was shedding relationships, beliefs, and happiness.

My constant was music. The LI emo scene was instrumental for me. I had left all of my childhood friends in the city to make new ones at college. We moshed to easycore, pop-punk, post-hardcore, and what is now called “mall emo.” Being away from old friends, I grew perpendicular to them and my younger self. I became way too into my head. I needed to get out of it and touch grass.

Goodness came out just over a year after I graduated college. I felt ennui on Long Island, in my job, in my relationships. I couldn’t envision a life for myself there; Brooklyn, changed but still mine, beckoned me. I quit my job over some bullshit miscommunication about my dog, and didn’t look back.

The Hotelier kept me company on that final drive back to my parents’ house. With Franklin the pug in shotgun and my life packed into the backseat and trunk of my Civic, I yelled “I don’t know if I know love no more” to “Piano Player” while I sped down the Southern State Parkway. I embraced agnosticism on “Two Deliverances,” meditated on “Sun,” and considered death on “Opening Mail for My Grandmother.” I mourned a forever-lost love on “You in this Light.” I felt that chapter of my life close on “End of Reel.”

Revisiting Goodness now, I bloom in gratitude for that time, for this album, and for my life.
– Joe Wasserman

Touché Amoré – Stage Four

Released September 16, 2016

It was brutally hot the day my grandpa died. I had driven to his house to say goodbye, knowing that this would be the last time. I clasped his fragile hand and smiled through the tears that burned like fire in my eyes, trying to memorize every painful detail of those moments. Afterwards, I dragged myself out to my car in a haze, sliding into what felt like an oven as I gingerly closed the door. The silence was deafening, and I couldn’t bear to sit with it. The only album I wanted to listen to was one that had already carried me through years of pain and grief – Touché Amoré’s Stage Four. The album is both sonically and topically heavy, tackling the loss of frontman Jeremy Bolm’s mother to cancer. My grandpa died from cancer as well, and as I watched him suffer and wither over the course of a year, I returned again and again to Stage Four. I found myself taking comfort from Jeremy’s words as my heart screamed that I, too, knew this pain. Dense and beautiful, each song soars to massive emotional heights and crashes into frantic, melodic choruses as brutally honest lyrics about grief thread through the entire record. I was fractured like glass on that hot September afternoon, but Stage Four pieced me back together.
– Britta Joseph

Bon Iver – 22, A Million

Released September 30, 2016

I was not thriving when 22, A Million dropped in September of 2016. I was living in a townhouse packed too-full of college dudes and scrambling to maintain a relationship that was winding down to its inevitable end. My undiagnosed scrupulosity (religious OCD) had reached a fever pitch, and I was functioning at peak neurosis, all atoms vibrating and neon.

I don’t know if any record has affected me so viscerally on a first listen. It might be over soon. God, I hope so. The new songs were beautifully damaged, everything pushed into the red, held together with desperation and scotch tape, as fragile as I was. While Vernon’s voice and the indie-folk-mad-scientist production were the first things to grab me, the occult symbolism and numerology proved genuinely unsettling; having grown up in a fundamentalist Christian sect, becoming obsessed with an album that quite literally takes you to hell and back was functionally my own bizarre, self-administered form of exposure therapy. I think 22, A Million is possibly one of the most influential records of the past decade, but I’m writing about it because it feels like it was made just for me. At the risk of overspiritualizing, its existence feels damn near providential. Well it harms me, it harms me, it harms me, I'll let it in.
– Nick Webber

Black Marble – It’s Immaterial

Released October 14, 2016

I sometimes accidentally Pavlov myself into enjoying things. Half a decade ago, I had one too many jumbo margs, promptly threw up on the sidewalk, then trudged three long blocks home. When I fell on my bed, I thought, “You know what would really help these spins? Some electronica from New York.” I don’t listen to electronica or anything adjacent. At least I didn’t use to. I fell asleep, and in my drunkenness, I looped the album and immediately lost my phone behind my bed. I was too uncoordinated to stop it from playing for eleven full hours (surprisingly, I wasn’t too drunk to plug my phone in beforehand). I woke up a changed man, with a newfound distaste for tequila and a burgeoning love for a genre I never paid much attention to before.

These tracks have been with me for most of graduate school, and I have memories—good and bad—for each. I listened to “Frisk” 27 times in a row, mid-Covid, figuring out a single statistical mechanics question. Black Marble conjures full cities and surrounding landscapes, using understated vocalizations that seep into and become part of their masterful, bass-forward, fully synthetic creations. Through years and mile-high waves of self-doubt, It’s Immaterial is the buoy that has kept me afloat.
– Braden Allmond

The Menzingers – After the Party

Released February 3, 2017

When I think about records that have had a profound impact on me over the last decade, the fifth studio album, After the Party, by American punk rock band The Menzingers always finds its way around the top of the running every single time. Introduced to me during our junior year of college by my best bud and all-around punk enthusiast, Avery, I was immediately arrested by The Menzingers’ effortless song structures, candid lyricism, Irish-Catholic sensibilities, and the way the band unapologetically exudes “Americana.” After the Party tackles the daunting themes of growing beyond your reckless years, facing a new decade of adulthood, and reconciling with the most regrettable aspects of yourself – delivering it all in a way that kicks my ass upon every subsequent listen, but always manages to keep me coming back for another round. As I stare down the barrel of thirty-years old just a month from now, I find myself coming back to the repetitious line “Where are we gonna go now that our twenties are over?” from the album’s opening track “Tellin' Lies.” I’ve never been more uneasy about entering a new stage of my life than I am now at the edge of my twenties, but I’m also holding on to this comforting notion that the party ain’t over. Even though ultimately deciding on my “favorite” album of the past ten years feels impossible, I can’t think of another album that so accurately represents those years, nor feels more ubiquitous across them than After the Party.
– Ciara Rhiannon

SZA – Ctrl

Released June 9, 2017

Ctrl came out on my last day of high school. SZA’s full-length debut is now regarded as one of the most important releases of the 2010s, and it is certainly one of the most important releases of my 2015–2025. While a lot of albums from my teens exist in one fixed point of my memory, Ctrl has wiggled its way into every moment of change I’ve found myself in since its release. It played in my headphones on my flight to college, on my walk to my first class. It played at a consistent, low hum that emanated from my bottom bunk. I’ve screamed the words to “Prom” in mid-summer euphoria, windows down, sun out, ocean in my hair, driving a little too fast over the bridge. I’ve had pensive, tearful sunset walks to “20 Something,” wondering if I was ever gonna get my shit together. SZA has a way of making the most specific of situations feel universal, of summing up a generation's worth of anxieties into a few sparse lines (“Fearing not growing up / Keeping me up at night / Am I doing enough / Feels like I’m wasting time” couldn’t sum up my existential worries better). I mean, “Normal Girl”???? It’s like SZA ascended from the heavens and blessed girls everywhere with the soundtrack of their early adulthood.
– Cassidy Sollazzo

Manchester Orchestra – A Black Mile To The Surface

*Loma Vista Recordings and Favorite Gentlemen*

Released July 21, 2017

I sometimes get emotional thinking about all the people in my life who have loved me, who have cared for me when I was difficult to love or self-destructive. I’ve made it so hard on so many people, but I’ve been loved deeply. I especially appreciate this because we live in a culture that seems to communicate that love is earned. If you’re convenient, if you keep the scales balanced, don’t take more than you give. If someone can use you or extract something from you, then you’ll be loved. But I’ve been given so much grace. What the fuck.

Andy Hull has this ability to write songs about people who are ugly and hopeless, but you end up caring for them and identifying with them and wishing them well. You end up growing eyes to see the lonely and broken people around you. The folks that seem to get pushed out from the middle of the circle. This is the sort of album that makes me think maybe we can all learn to grasp Each Other and grasp God and grasp Love and actually make sure that none of us go it alone.
– Ben Sooy

Amen Dunes – Freedom

Released March 30th, 2018

Freedom is my favorite album of the last decade because, no matter how many times I listen to it, there’s always something new that I haven’t considered or noticed. It’s an elusive album for me. I can never quite put my finger on what's really going on with it. Is it a mystical bent on classic rock? Maybe it’s a long-lost adult contemporary album from the turn of the millennium, a dark and beautiful companion that might slide into a radio rotation filled with David Gray and Dido. Whatever it is, Damon McMahon gets it the most correct when on “Blue Rose” he sings, “We play religious music, I don’t think you’d understand, man.” He’s right, trying to wrap your mind around this music isn’t the point. It’s not present in our realm for the sake of classification and dissection; it’s here for experiencing and feeling. If your senses have not been graced by Freedom, then I suggest giving it a go on your next road trip, preferably a summer one, bonus points if it’s along the coast. That’s where you’ll sink into its essence.
– Connor Fitzpatrick

Parquet Courts – Wide Awake!

Released May 18, 2018

Although released in 2018, I didn’t get around to Wide Awake! until 2020. Global pandemic, lockdown, nationwide protests over police killings. You remember. In the early days, it was a time to escape the rhythms of modernity and sublimate myself into the couch, subsisting on government checks, homemade mai tais, and Mario Maker 2. It’s there in my complacent crysallis that this album came like a nasty right hook to the spirit.

Dense with aphorisms both didactic and daring (“Travel where you are, tourism is sin” from “Tenderness,” or “What is an up-and-coming neighborhood and where is it coming from?” from “Violence”), the record, and its title track, serve as a clarion call to move and embrace and rage and shake loose the complacency. The record sounds like Parquet Courts, but their collaboration with Danger Mouse pushed their “Sonic Youth by way of Pavement” sound to new heights, yielding such joys as the 70s dance rhythms of “Wide Awake” or the pristine, soaring hopefulness of “Freebird II.” Part political polemic, part personal wound-bearing, each track on Wide Awake!, from its opening screed (the Tom Brady-hating collectivists’ handbook “Total Football”), to its closing track (the drunken bar singalong anthem “Tenderness”) the album is an anathema for alienation, a record that proves more and more valuable as time goes on. We don’t need any more televised killings or a global pandemic to shake ourselves awake. We’ve got all the tools here.
– Joshua Sullivan

KIDS SEE GHOSTS – KIDS SEE GHOSTS

Released June 8, 2018

In a lot of ways, KIDS SEE GHOSTS was the last hurrah of an era. Still years out from Kanye West torpedoing his career down the toilet, the 2018 “Wyoming Sessions” that brought sudden turbo-charged energy to the hip-hop genre with five weekly records from GOOD Music artists, including the legendary Queensbridge MC Nas, and even this group representing the friendship between Kid Cudi and Kanye. I reminisce about this time period fondly.

Cudi and West have a cosmic spirit within them that rises to the surface on each song throughout. They both bring out the best in each other, much like legendary actors Robert De Niro and Al Pacino do in the crime thriller Heat. KIDS SEE GHOSTS is only seven songs, clocking in at 23 minutes with 0% body fat. Together, they produce a psychedelic blend of pure, unabashed artistry at its finest. “Reborn” is a spiritual masterpiece of two guys standing at different crossroads in their own lives. West tapped into a realness and heart with his lyrics, but Cudi steals the show, sounding like he’s found the peace that has escaped him for his entire life. The “Keep Moving Forward” lyric could have been a mantra Cudi used during his own dark days. This song is something I listened to almost religiously, and have applied this phrase to my own life to this day. Tough times don’t last forever; there’s always hope on the horizon if we keep moving forward.
– David Williams

Gouge Away – Burnt Sugar

Released September 28, 2018

Gouge Away’s sophomore album, Burnt Sugar, is the sound of drifting bodiless through a life. It is the only album I can listen to when I feel like no matter how much I scream or cry or beg nothing will change, like when I can’t bear to get out of bed in the morning but have to get up because I’m out of sick days at work after I’ve used them all up on the countless depression addled exhausted mornings before this one, like when I’m a ghost, because no other album makes me feel less alone. This album sounds suffocating, like a hand around your neck as Christina Michelle screams of the ways she tries to stay grounded. If you need an album to keep you company, I’d suggest a whiff of Burnt Sugar.
– Lillian Weber

The Happy Children – Same Dif

Released June 18, 2019

Aside from some ambient essentials and recent Beatles reissues, this semi-obscure album (if you didn’t live in Minneapolis in 2018) has filled my headphones more than any other over the past decade. A decade of scrobbling doesn’t lie. The Happy Children were usually a trio, founded in the late 2010s by Caleb Wright and Mitchell Seymour. The group bubbled up with a mix of damaged art rock and the washed-out electronics that Wright would bring to his future production work. Their parting gift was a compulsively listenable, dynamic octet of songs, mapping the beginnings of dozens of paths not taken.

Same Dif remains a small miracle of experimental pop and marvelous weirdo rock about loving your friends, released at the crest of a surging wave of Minneapolis DIY music. For some strange streaming reason, the piano-pop closing track, “Bubblegum,” has 25 times more streams than the banger single with a video. It’s a pinball machine of a record, full of oddly hued lightbulbs, chiming jingles, and generous sound design; refreshing in how baffling it feels for the songs to get stuck in your head for days. The Happy Children ended just in time, precisely when they meant to, with a marvelous swan song.
– aly eleanor

Purple Mountains – Purple Mountains

Released July 19, 2019

David Berman’s Purple Mountains is the authentic account of a man with nothing more to lose. There is a lot of pain found throughout the album with songs like “All My Happiness is Gone” and “Darkness and Cold” providing little to no hope or comfort. Berman’s songwriting on Purple Mountains is vulnerable, unflinching, and blunt—the most straightforward and least obtuse lyrics of his career. There’s little room for interpretation with lines like "the end of all wanting / is all I’ve been wanting" in album opener “That’s Just the Way That I Feel.” Thankfully, Berman’s opus is full of his signature humor and astute observations to balance out the ever-present sadness.

Self-loathing is often met with incredible self-depricating wit: "If no one's fond of fucking me, / maybe no one's fucking fond of me" Berman states on "Maybe I'm the Only One for Me.” Punchlines and comedic scenes regularly couple moments of despair. “I nearly lost my genitalia / to an anthill in Des Moine” is a really funny thing to say shortly after saying “this kind of hurting won’t heal.” This needed comedic relief on the bummer numbers takes a break when Berman pivots toward the mundane. Scenes of snow falling or grief-stricken recollections of his mother are treated sincerely, resulting in perhaps his most serene and beautiful recordings.

The loss of love, God, and spirit permeate Purple Mountains, but penultimate track “Storyline Fever” (a top 5 Berman song, if you ask me) gives us a glimmer of optimism that makes the album worthy of repeat listening: “you got to find a way to make it work / 'cause defeat is where your demons lurk.”
– Russ Finn

Walter Mitty And His Makeshift Orchestra – Puddles of Alligators

Released September 6, 2019

When I was first introduced to Walter Mitty and His Makeshift Orchestra, I had largely outgrown my hardcore/mall emo phase and was going through my indie fuckboy college era. That said, my frame of reference for “indie” was relatively narrow, mostly guided by whatever my Tumblr feed was currently obsessed with: Mac DeMarco, The 1975, Arctic Monkeys – not necessarily “indie” in the traditional sense, but I took the feed as bond. You can only imagine how my world was changed when I learned of DIY culture through Walter’s music, how everyday people were making art while working jobs or going to school, playing shows at houses and garages, printing shirts in their backyards. I’m blessed to have been introduced to DIY culture with Walter’s music, which I still listen to over a decade later. Puddles of Alligators is a collection of B-sides and loosies, some of which are staples with the Walter heads, while others made their debut with this release (the backyard performance of “Mellow” went platinum on my YouTube, years before this collection dropped). Even in a collection of loosies, Walter’s sharp songwriting and rhythmic guitar shine bright. And knowing that it’s just a bunch of buddies making music together, without a studio or contract forcing them to, makes it nothing short of magical.
– Nickolas Sackett

Charli xcx – how i’m feeling now

Released May 15, 2020

At the end of 2019 and the start of 2020, I graduated from college, married my forever wife, and started my first big-boy job, all in the span of four weeks. I was working as a design engineer for a small company in a small Texas town outside of Austin. I was fresh on the scene and eager to please, which meant that once I was able to work from home, I was working all the time. I don’t remember exactly when I first listened to how i’m feeling now, but I do remember the shift that happened to me once I did. Before Charli, my go-to focus music was Frank Ocean’s Blonde and the soundtrack to Prince Avalanche. how i’m feeling now became a companion during the early mornings alone at the office, playing catch-up, and throughout the nights working from home while my wife was on a night shift. Charli’s familiar pop music sensibilities stuck me in the glue trap for the ripping saw-blade production to leave my eyes darting side to side, trying to trace its path. My After Charli Period has been filled with the PC Music universe, a massive amount of Whole Lotta Red, months of hard bop and free jazz, and whatever is playing on NTS Radio. This album is important to me because it marks a shift in my brain – a shift in how I see and value music. What was once a single-sided experience of sound waves hitting me now has the ability to be a two-way street. I realized that someone has to be wriggling around in that glue trap for the songs to really have impact.
– Kirby Kluth

Slaughter Beach, Dog – At the Moonbase

Released December 24, 2020

I’ve always loved the way that training lineage is tracked in Brazilian jiu-jitsu, providing a family tree of student/teacher relationships that directly connect modern practitioners like Mikey Musumeci to Carlos Gracie and the sport’s creation. Although Gracie passed away before Musumeci was born, we can examine this lineage and see how his impact was still felt through osmosis, with the knowledge the old master passed on to his students working its way down the line to those pursuing the sport today. Rock music doesn’t feature this same kind of rigid hierarchy, but I think it’s at its best when you can discern a similar sense of history from it. This is why At the Moonbase is such a special record; it’s the place where Slaughter Beach, Dog’s sound transcends the current moment and connects with the legacy of all the great singer-songwriters who came before it.

There are some more obvious sonic connections here—for example the way the spoken word delivery on tracks like “Do You Understand (What Has Happened to You)” and “Song for Oscar’s” bring to mind the work of Craig Finn—but even beyond that, the storytelling throughout the record calls back to the tradition of artists like Harry Chapin and Jim Croce (not to mention there is literally a song called “Van Morrison”). The album serves as a continuation of a bardic style that for so long has been a bedrock of popular music, doing so with a fresh sound pushed forward by Jake Ewald’s incredible arrangements. “A Modern Lay” is a masterclass in songwriting. “My Girl” does so much with so little. Not one bad song on the record. Thank you Slaughter Beach, Dog.
– Josh Ejnes

Porter Robinson – Nurture

Released April 23, 2021

Sometimes a record comes along at the right place and the right time, setting off a chain reaction that completely shifts how you view music and the world around you. It was the spring of 2021, and the northeast weather was starting to loosen its cold grip. I had just received the first dose of the COVID vaccine, and I began to see some of my friends in person again for the first time in over a year. Coming from someone who listened almost exclusively to heavier music at the time, the soundtrack of my reintroduction to the world came from a sonically unexpected place: a glitch pop album.

I consider Nurture to be a landmark record in my journey not just as a music listener but also as a human being. I found myself moved by Porter’s lyrical articulations of feeling alive for the first time and holding what you love close to your heart amidst a comforting blanket of electronics. It shifted my brain from a sizably individualistic worldview to a more communal mindset, guiding me to fully appreciate and support the people in my life that made me who I am. The record encouraged me to seek out more versions of this glitchy yet exciting style of music, leading me down the road of alternative music and eventually landing me into a more well-rounded musical palette. I feel indebted to this album for making me a better person and giving me the confidence to confront my fears head-on.

TLDR: If you knew me before Nurture, no you didn’t.
– Samuel Leon

Wednesday – Twin Plagues

Released August 13, 2021

Even though this prompt was my own damn idea, I had the hardest time whittling down to decide what album was truly my favorite of the last decade. At times, I found myself waffling between Psyhopomp, New Hell, and a slew of emo bullshit (complimentary). Ultimately, I wound up pulling Wednesday’s sweltering third album, Twin Plagues. I’ve written at length about my love for this record as well as this band, and it’s been an affirming thrill to watch this crop of North Carolina artists rise to worldwide indie rock prominence over the last few years. While I have love for everything that came afterwards, Twin Plagues will forever hold a special place in my heart as an album that helped me through a dark time and inspired me to find the strength to pull myself out of it. The true testament is that I can listen to the record today and not be dragged back into those depths. I still get swept up in the shoegaze crush of the opening title track. I still am mesmerized by the seesaw riff in “Handsome Man.” I still think “How Can You Live” is one a goddamn miracle of a song. Much like Sufjan’s Michigan pointed me to Detroit years before, when I found myself moving to North Carolina in 2023, I looked to Twin Plagues as a sort of affirmation that I was heading in the right direction. After two beautiful years in this state, it turns out I wasn’t wrong.
– Taylor Grimes

Alvvays – Blue Rev

Released October 7, 2022

I’ve been listening to power pop and indie rock for longer than I’ve known what either was. R.E.M. was the first band I ever knew the name of, and from that point on, I was raised on a steady diet of ’80s and ’90s alternative courtesy of my Gen X parents. I’d hazard a guess that the masterminds in Alvvays had a similar upbringing because Blue Rev plays like a crash course in the sound of the first twenty years of my life. The guitars alternate between a supercharged fuzz and the vibrant jangle that I fell in love with as a child in the backseat of a beat up Honda Civic. Every synthesizer feels handpicked to evoke a specific memory in my mind. Oh you like shoegaze? Hit play and you’re immediately hit with “Pharmacist.” Maybe you’re a lifelong new waver - that’s okay, “Very Online Guy” and “Velveteen” have you covered. If the R.E.M. shout perked your ears up, crank “After the Earthquake” up to max volume and then wonder why you’re still reading this instead of bouncing off your own walls.

All that would mean dirt though if it weren’t for Molly Rankin’s constant towing the line between wry wit and genuine pathos as both a singer and songwriter. In true power pop tradition, she’s able to wring both a laugh and a tear from her listeners, sometimes even with one twist of a phrase. On Blue Rev, she invokes heroes that range from Tom Verlaine to Belinda Carlisle to weave 14 perfect vignettes of loneliness, longing, and waiting. As someone who was entering their third decade far too used to disappointment, wasting time waiting for life to start, hearing an album I’d been anticipating for almost half a decade knock it out of the park was a near revelation. I’ve changed a lot in the two years since Blue Rev’s release, and my taste with me, but if I ever do reach back, it’s likely with Alvvays: all my favorite records and the boy I was rolled into one 38 minute package that ends with a dare: “Now that you’re around, take another shot.”
– Wes Cochran

Arm’s Length – Never Before Seen, Never Again Found

Released October 28th, 2022

This one grew on me in ways that growth is painful, yet cardinal. Akin to when you’re forced to accept that someone will never be the same as they once were, putting down your suffering dog, the bone-stretching growing pains while lying in your middle school bed at 3 AM. It feels like I’ve ached through a great deal of that sort of growing in recent years, in that same sense: that growth is often painful, yet essential.

What they don’t tell you about entering your mid to late twenties is the heap of emotional weight you suddenly bear as your frontal lobe fully develops, plopping all your demons and skeletons front and center for you to deal with amidst the rest of your shiny new adult responsibilities. Never Before Seen, Never Again Found found me tangled in uncomfortable growth, and even though it’s an emotionally painful listen, it’s completely necessary. The album is vulnerable in every way that I hope to be, airing out tumult with grief, religion, and identity. Arm’s Length crafted an all-timer in this one– a modern day Home, Like No Place Is There– with not a single skippable track in sight. This is the type of album that you put on at your lowest; to go blow-for-blow with your dread. It’s strange that we tend to listen to sad music when we’re sad. Perhaps we need to simmer in the sorrow and wallow in the bad luck before we can rise and ask ourselves, “Is it just my luck?”
– Brandon Cortez

Basque – Pain Without Hope Of Healing

Released March 22, 2024

When compiling a list like this, I am stressed. My favorite albums, even my favorite favorite albums, are often a moving target. Like a sequestered pond hosting a slew of migratory birds, the songs I become most passionate about are subject to climate, to season, to temperature. One flock leaves as soon as June hits 98°, another to arrive when a fall sunset triggers a wistful memory. So even though the last ten years have hosted an almost uncountable number of classic, iconic, and incredible albums, I am beholden to my obsession of the past year; this flight of fancy that has consumed me fully. And perhaps next year I’ll think myself insane for believing it, but the final Basque album is effectively perfect from start to finish. An unreal meditation on the agony of self-loathing, the album's lyrical despondency would feel too much if every performance on it weren’t a pitch-perfect match. With vocals that howl and shriek in perfect tempo, guitars turn on a dime while bouncing and wailing, a bass that hammers like knuckles to plaster, and what has to be one of the greatest drum performances ever put to record in this genre. Pain Without Hope of Healing is easily one of the finest screamo records of the last decade.
– Elias Amini

Swim Into The Stats

Hello, and welcome to the nerdy part after the article where we talk about STATISTICS. Think of this like the scene that plays after the credits–a fun little bonus for the real heads that want to stick around. This is a spiritual successor to something we published at the end of last year called “Swim Into The Stats.” While that article focused almost exclusively on 2024 in review, we are now shifting to look at the entirety of this blog’s run over the last decade. Thanks to Braden Allmond for wrangling all this data and rendering these spiffy charts; it’s a trip to see this website’s history condensed in such a visual way.

First, here are all the articles we've published over the last decade, displayed as a noodlepoint scatter plot with a different color for each year. It’s cool to see this rise (more or less) year after year as I began to take the site more seriously and also feature more contributors. It's also interesting to see my life in the gaps, such as moving across the country in the fall of 2023 or absconding from all responsibility in July 2024.

This git-style plot shows a grey box for every day in the last decade, and a blue box for every day Swim posted. It makes sense that Friday is usually spoken for, given that’s when new music releases and we like to be of the moment whenever possible. You can also see my commitment over the last couple years to not really post anything on the weekends.

Focusing just on 2025 for a bit, it feels like we’re moving at a pretty steady clip. Most of these are reviews, which makes sense, but I like seeing the interviews, features, and roundups strategically scattered throughout.

Examining the number of unique authors in this bar chart is probably the easiest way to illustrate how collaborative this site has become. Sure, it’s still me running this thing, editing and wrangling reviews, but it’s all the beautiful, lovely people above (and throughout our ten years) that have brought a wealth of voices, perspectives, and tastes to the forefront.

Finally, let’s end with some dessert. This delicious pie chart shows a breakdown of total articles by year. It’s wild to see 2024 taking up over a quarter, but other than that (and a slender 2015 and 2016 as we got off the ground), everything else feels pretty evenly split.

Finally…

There ya have it. Ten years of albums from our esteemed Swim Team, some retrospective charts to show off our growth, and a whole lotta gratitude on my part. I’ll just say it again, especially if you made it this far, but thank you for being here. I love music, and running this website is just something that makes sense to my brain. I gotta get this adoration out somewhere, and the fact that anyone reads this regularly, contributes, or cares in any way is a little bit brain-breaking to me.

Whether you’ve been reading for years or are totally new, thank you for being here, and thank you for helping us get here. Here’s to Ten Years of Swim.

July 30, 2024

Pitchfork Music Festival 2024 Recap

July 30, 2024/ Taylor Grimes

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

Jeff Rosenstock

Yaeji

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

Hotline TNT

Feeble Little Horse

Wednesday

MJ Lenderman

(Half of) Wednesday

De La Soul

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

Jessica Pratt

Crumb

Grandmaster Flash

MUNA

Brittany Howard

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.

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