Something with arms this wide is hard to deny. The intense radiation of Hearts may be fleeting, but it definitely deserves to be basked in. Luke Winkie reviews.
They won’t light the world on fire, but curving along Crush’s peaceful, oceanic ridges is great hedonism. Luke Winkie delves into the new project from Tommy Gardner of NY dream-pop merchants Beach Fossils.
Iceage play loud and fast, occasionally outrunning themselves – their unfettered youth can jump right off the record – it makes them sound distinctly retro, harkening to an era where punk spirit was just as unwavering as it was enthusiastic.
The second day of the Pitchfork Music Festival finds Luke Winkie equally impressed and underwhelmed. Fleet Foxes headline and The Dismemberment reunite.
On the final day of the Pitchfork Music Festival, Luke Winkie finds a reminder on what made TV on the Radio so great and observes “The Cut Copy Effect”.
Luke Winkie spends three days in Chicago, taking in the sights and sounds of the Pitchfork Music Festival and finds the opening night’s headliners lacking
Badlands is 28 minutes and 8 songs long, for such a small dose it has a profoundly distinct effect – but more importantly, for the duration of those 28 minutes, nobody sounds quite like Alex Hungtai’s below-fi nostalgia-project, Dirty Beaches.
The Mountain Goats will be remembered for many things, but what might be the most important is the sense of hierarchy that was never, ever there. John Darnielle has remained vigilantly pure.
Einaudi’s delicate piano compositions are absolutely gorgeous. Sure it can be chastised for its white-collar glibness and its uncontested beauty, but there’s no denying the pitch-perfect elegance.
Gold-Bears are doing an impression of bygone twee, but their nostalgia and the pure idolization offered to the bands they’re imitating is truly palatable and rather adorable.
Houston Duo //TENSE// go through their synthwave tribute in the triumphant matter of putting out a vinyl-only 12 inch that hones their frigid minimalism in predictable, oft-nostalgic ways.
Wit’s End may have melody, but it’s by no means a comforting record. Its bones are rattling and its mind is fraying; and it requires a sense of endurance unlike most other alt-country standbys.
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