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Earlier this summer the Geneva, Switzerland based L'Eclair released their fourth LP, Cloud Drifter, via our neighborhood friends down the hill at Innovative Leisure. We've been following the Swiss outfit since Frank Maston turned us onto them in 2019 when the group supported his stateside tour, and later recorded the 2021 collaborative album, Souvenir. For their debut Lagniappe Session, L'Eclair reimagines some 1979 disco heat via Anita Ward's "Ring My Bell," embrace the street soul of Lisa Baron's 1990 "Lovin N Affection," and engage with something more recent in the form of Beach House's now decade-old "Space Song."
In this day and age, very few albums are truly lost. Some just get misplaced. Take Bay area jazz band Smoke's 1973 album Everything, an album that should be universally acknowledged as a stone-cold classic of groove music and proto-acid jazz and yet seldom gets mentioned. A half-century later, it still sounds fresh. Spacey, funky and ambient in turn, Everything managed to anticipate so much of where twenty-first century jazz has recently wound up.
With David Lynch's American Dreamscape: Music, Literature, Cinema, author Mike Miley, a literature teacher at Metairie Park Country Day School and former film studies professor at Loyola University New Orleans, unpacks just some of the ways Lynch's ideas have reverberated across the cultural spectrum. Comparing and contrasting his oeuvre with art by Cormac McCarthy, Lana Del Rey, David Foster Wallace, Maurice Sendak, and others, Miley demonstrates the strange and powerful way Lynch tapped into the human experience and the broader American pop landscape. He joins us to discuss.
AngelHeaded Hipster: The Songs of Marc Bolan & T. Rex isn't a typical music documentary. While it does do what a viewer might expect in terms of using talking heads, archival footage, and critical analysis to tell the story of glam pioneer Marc Bolan and T. Rex, it also presents behind the scenes footage of artists like Nick Cave, Joan Jett, U2, Macy Gray, and many more cutting Bolan's songs in the studio for the late producer Hal Wilner's T. Rex tribute album (also called AngelHeaded Hipster). The result is a film that puts his songs at the core. Director Ethan Silverman joins us to discuss.
From the late 60s through the mid-70s, Eddie Harris indulged in a string of progressively freakier, beautifully executed records that smeared boundaries, blew minds and sold poorly. This mixtape collects two and a half hours of the most adventurous moments from those heady Atlantic days.
Word that pianist Kenny Barron's 1973 debut as leader Sunset to Dawn was getting a welcome reissue this year sent us back to some of his other releases from that period. Most intriguing among them is his ultra-rare, never-reissued 1975 fusion experiment Lucifer, an album that mixes acid funk, sensitive balladeering, synthesizer experiments and queasy psychedelia. Practically impossible to acquire but eminently worth hearing, Barron never sounded as freaky as he does here.
While Phish was playing a three-day run at Folsom Field at the University of Colorado this past Fourth of July weekend, the cats in Prairiewolf were playing an epic two-hour set at a brewery on the other side of Boulder. A pristine recording of the show catches them unspooling their already-potent album tracks into stretched-out improvisational odysseys.
With Abomination Revealed At Last Osees careen on down in the headlong punk rock direction set out in 2022's A Foul Form. John Dwyer’s double drumming, speed-and-volume addicted five-piece formation has never been sharper or more enraged. The opening cut, “ABOMINATION” requires not one but two full kits in furious motion to kick off, the one manned by Modey Lemon’s mighty Paul Quattrone, the other bashed to smithereens by Dan Rincon, an Osee through multiple spellings and iterations.
This week is going to be slightly different. This week, we’re talking about a song that was not written by Neil Young. Nevertheless, it’s a song that is very much a part of the Shakey multiverse: Danny Whitten’s “I Don’t Want To Talk About It,” which appeared on Crazy Horse’s debut LP in 1970. Here to guide us through the impossibly lonesome landscapes of “I Don’t Want To Talk About It” is singer-songwriter Rosali Middleman — or just Rosali if you prefer. She’s been a longtime fixture over at Aquarium Drunkard. But even though we've loved pretty much everything she’s done, she somehow seems to get better with each new album. Her latest release, Bite Down on Merge Records, may well be her best effort yet.
One hundred and twenty-seven minutes of strange and mercurial music – slow burning, sprawling, smoggy, and ephemeral. 60s Kenyan folk and Thai garage rock; late 70s drum machine gospel from Inkster, Michigan, and private press psych from the Pacific Northwest; mid 80s Congolese electronic soul and Senegalese art-funk; Zambian highlife circa 1991 and experimental computer music made in a juvenile detention center in modern day Albuquerque. The same Hawa Daisy Moore mp3 files that were used in the inaugural Blue August Moon eleven years ago – the crackling tropical oasis showing signs of increased deterioration. These are just some of the sounds that Up In My Mind—the latest edition of our August mixtape—is steeped in. An irregular late summer tradition, but ever an occasion to look up, zoom in, and zone out.
On Snack Monster, Philadelphia-based artist Emily Moales sets out to explore a self-described "medieval via 1960s folk troubadour" ethos. A literary concept album pipeline inspired by the writings of twelfth century French author Andreas Capellanus, the record glimmers with the most charming benchmarks of Tascam-recorded, warbly bedroom pop. It's a deliberately stripped down detour compared to previous Star Moles offerings, eschewing synthesizers for a romanticism in the paired down nylon string guitar and vocals.
The heliacal rising of Sirius around late July traditionally marks the start of the dog days of summer. For the astrologically-minded, it begins an ill-omened period of drought and sickness. For the rest of us, it is simply hot and muggy. Either way, the antidote is probably about the same: shade, a cold beverage and some good music. We asked the AD crew, once again, to tell us what they were spinning in the high summer sun. What we got back has everything you need to beat the heat. Dig in. The temperature is high. The air is muggy. The cicadas are deafening. And the stars are against us. All the more reason to make sure the vibes remain immaculate.
This is the duo’s follow-up to the break-out Everybody’s Crushed, a cubist’s abstraction of rock music that you could dance to. It’s a Beautiful Place feels a bit more assured than its predecessor, a bit less confrontational, but still thrillingly volatile. Think Sonic Youth in a blender, Stereolab dodging shrapnel or Deerhoof with a chilly post-punk attitude, and you’re getting there, but no other band is doing exactly this right now.
With twenty selections culled from private press relics only, Maybe I'm Dreaming is a grab bag that feels as congruous as it does eclectic. From the Anthology Recordings diggers who brought you essential previous compilations like Sad About The Times, this collection is a self-described conscious detour, pairing synth-driven gems and reggae rhythms with rootsy AOR folk rock. Like a mixtape from a reliable old friend, Maybe I'm Dreaming feels curated with purpose and delivered with a panoramic reach.
That Wasn't A Dream, the new album by Blake Mills & Pino Palladino, was recorded in a series of live sessions at Sound City Studios, and works like a redux jazz version of Mills atmospheric, cinematic, dream-like aesthetics, best showcased in his 2023 slow indie gem Jelly Road.
While collaboration has been a hallmark of Adrian Sherwood’s storied career, he is currently stepping out on his own with a full-length The Collapse of Everything and an EP The Grand Designer, his first solo efforts in 13 years. We recently connected with him to discuss this new work, his ever-evolving set of studio tools, his history in music and his lifelong commitment to learn and grow.
A spin-off of adventurous jazz fusion band High Pulp, sunking prioritizes brief, transient grooves and restless rhythms. On their third album, the trio enlists guest vocalists from their native L.A. scene and cuts down on their previous sprawl. Hazy, chewy, curious and cool, sunking has made an album for endless weird summers, ideal for indoor living, tiny twilights and evening escapades.
Tracked in New Orleans at Bruisey Peets’ Lake Vista compound on a Tascam 388, for their debut Lagniappe Session Silver Synthetic add their steady brand of choogle to Coney Island Baby era Lou Reed, some late '70s Chris Spedding and, naturally, give a nod to the mount Rushmore of the genre via JJ Cale's "Wish I Had Not Said That." Hit with a near city wide black out while recording, the band packed their car full of gear and went looking for electricity. The lights were on at Funky Nola LLC, where they finished out the tunes.
Welcome back to All One Song: A Neil Young Podcast. We’re spending the summer talking to some great musicians and writers about their one favorite Neil Young song. Or at least one of their favorite songs. Here this week to examine the mysteries and magic of Arc is Ilyas Ahmed. The Portland, OR-based musician has been making consistently fascinating music for well over two decades now, whether all on his own or in close collaboration with fellow travelers like Grouper, Jefre Cantu-Ledesma, Golden Retriever, Dania Shihab and many more. He also serves as guitarist in Grails, an awesomely uncategorizable collective that just put out one of the 2025’s best records—the appropriately named Miracle Music.
Of all the reggae cornerstones hitting their 50th anniversary this year, you’d be hard pressed to find another that hit with the same gale force of Burning Spear’s Marcus Garvey. Part reggae master class, part history lesson, Marcus Garvey introduced Winston Rodney’s impassioned wail to the world, establishing Burning Spear as one of reggae’s foremost emissaries and educators. Simply put, this is one of the heaviest, deepest roots sets ever laid down.
Welcome back to the stacks. It’s Aquarium Drunkard’s Book Club, our monthly gathering of recent (or not so recent) recommended reading. In this month’s stack: author Dan Nadel tackles the weird, wild and complicated life and career of iconoclast illustrator of the underground R. Crumb, Marcus J. Moore's deep dive into the D.A.I.S.Y Age of De La Soul and beyond, Lucinda Williams' secrets, Micajah Henley's 33 1/3 rundown of the Clash's 1980 triple LP, Sandinista!, R.E.M. and more.
Charalambides guitarist Tom Carter and No-Neck Blues Band synthesist Pat Murano have been collaborating for over a decade, Each of their albums tend to find the duo exploring the liminal spaces of spiritual esoterica. Their latest collaboration is devoted to the philosophy of nineteenth-century French occultist Eliphas Levi, who influenced every seeker from Madame Blavatsky to Aleister Crowley and practically invented the modern language of ritual magic. Carter and Murano channel Levi's thought into a searing, beautiful work of psychedelic dissonance.
Welcome back to All One Song, A Neil Young Podcast presented by Aquarium Drunkard. We’re spending the summer talking to a few of our favorite artists and writers about their favorite Neil Young song. This week, we’ve got someone very special: Steve Shelley of Sonic Youth. Steve spent about 25 years behind the drum kit for Sonic Youth as the band radically redefined and reimagined rock and roll. He’s easily one of the greatest drummers of the past four decades, as heard on such classics as Sister, Daydream Nation, Washing Machine, Murray Street and beyond. His style is explosive, sensitive and always imaginative. Steve is so much fun to listen to, in pretty much any context, but especially here as he dives into Neil's Ditch era classic, "Vampire Blues."
At a time when the musical acrobatics of hard-bop jazz were in full swing on the East Coast, Rowles showed little interest in the dazzling technical feats or subversion of form that many of his contemporaries were partaking in. Instead, the unfettered Rowles chose to color within the lines, forming elegant arrangements that drift along like blue smoke curling around an after-hours lounge. On his first solo release, Rare, But Well Done (1954), Rowles’ approach is warm and classy, containing the understated sophistication of a well-tailored black suit: no loud colors, garish patterns, or ostentatious branding — just impeccable fit, fine stitching, and classic style.
Two reissued albums from Dieter Schütz, an electronic musician who died young, show an eccentric artist turning the future sounds and computer worlds of industrialized Western Germany to his own eccentric devices. Full of heart yet proudly artificial, tropically tinged, loosely lively and factory made, Schütz’s music offers a point of entry into obscure and overlooked corners of the Berlin School and krautrock scenes.
Twenty years ago this month, Chicago songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Eric D. Johnson dropped his third album under his Fruit Bats moniker. Spelled in Bones took the charming indie folk melodies and landscape painting lyrics of his earlier work and spun them into a swirling, hook-laden power pop masterpiece. The album, with its sepia-tinged memories of youth and lost love and its apprehensions of fate and the future, found Johnson staring adulthood in the face. Two decades on and it has lost none of its punch.
There is an indescribably New York character to the latest Adam Amram LP, To The End on California’s Nudie Records. Somehow, the album embodies the easygoing yippee humor of Arlo Guthrie, dry wit of Lou Reed, folk exploration of Richie Havens, and the literary curiosity of Dylan or the like–all without being bound by any of it.
Volume three of Yesternow. The comments are open. Who are you? Where are you? How are you? Justin runs down some favorites of late including thoughts on the late Anthony Bourdain, Adrian Sherwood's 1997 dub remix Echo Dek, Cold War jazzists, distance running, LA area listening bars, and more.
Fortunato Durutti Marinetti states the sequel to his 2023 jubilant sophomore record Eight Waves In Search Of An Ocean is a homage to Anne Carson's book Eros: The Bittersweet. Marinetti calls this style "poetic jazz rock," drawing on the chillness of Donald Byrd and the expansiveness of Robert Wyatt. We'd call it apocalyptic ballroom indie, or: music to imagine yourself slow-dancing as the ship sinks.
Rebecca Schiffman’s fourth album kicks off with a nine-minute epic — a nervy opening move in these days of ever-decreasing attention spans. But it’s a gamble that pays off beautifully, as Before the Future’s remarkable title track unspools like a bittersweet indie flick from the 1990s.
Sally Anne Morgan hasn’t missed with a solo album since her 2020 debut, Threads, and her fourth and latest, Second Circle The Horizon, only further solidifies her position as a purveyor of traditional music distilled through a modern, experimental lens.
Over the last 20 years, Seth Kauffman has quietly released more than a dozen albums of languid, slightly exotic indie rock once clunkily described as “Appalachian Beck.” He plays and sings every note tracked in his basement studio with a DIY touch that renders the hallmark Floating Action sound characterized by slightly-off-kilter groove and woozy warmth. With a new LP dropping next month, we caught up with Kauffman at home in North Carolina to discuss all things Floating Action.
Colorado guitarist and multi-instrumentalist Stefan Beck gets a lot of love around these parts as one-third of Mountain Time motorik outfit Prairiewolf. Fortunately it hasn't been getting in the way of the solo work he puts out under his Golden Brown moniker. The new album Whisker Fatigue practices a rare form of psychedelic austerity, whipping up a heady atmosphere through subtraction. Some might call it ambient, but it is really what happens to acid rock when it is reduced to its essential elements.
Originally released in 1980, before the Bhagwan had ventured to America to begin the now infamous Oregon ashram and its ill-fated demise, his spiritual teachings reached Hiroki Tamaki in Japan. Compelled to reach far outside his classical training for a full length tribute to the guru, Tamaki lays out a mind altering trip into some confounding musical spaces. An all-you-can-eat buffet of prog-ladened synths, ethereal vocals, spoken word meditations, and pedal to the floor jamming shouldn’t work this well - but damn if it doesn’t.