This past spring, the indie-rock quartet released their third album U.F.O.F., an ethereal tour-de-force that simultaneously felt like the band’s most precise articulation of itself to that point as well as a subtle rejection of the precise grunge-folk that had turned them into one of the most revered indie bands …
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It’s a rare thing to see an artist’s worldview change overnight. For decades, Nick Cave has been goth rock’s hyperliterate poet laureate, famous for his intricately molded stories about rogues and “badlanders” all in the throes of anguish. (He has also always written beautiful love songs.) But where writing about …
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Iggy Pop is 72 and in some alternate universe, he’s living in a suburban Detroit trailer park collecting pension checks, proudly wearing a shirt. But not in this one. In this world, he’s still a mass of nude, rubbery skin. He still writhes to gritty, lubricious sex rawkers. He still …
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Nick Murphy made his name with a sexy, stoner cover of Blackstreet’s “No Diggity” under the alias Chet Faker, a telling moniker for a pale Australian soul man. But like the jazz singer that moniker puns on, Murphy brought his own sexy, addled style to the table. It’s equally telling …
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Beirutmusic sounds like the fuzzy memory of a wedding involving distant relatives, where you were swept up in folk dances and traditional drinking games, and which left you, through your hangover haze, convinced that these kin live richer, more soulful lives than your own — and if you could just …
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