Coming in with possibly the wittiest album title of the year (Future Me Hates Me), New Zealand’s the Beths show up with some much-needed pop-punk and joie de vivre right now.
The fun fuzz that opens “Get No One” is somehow topped by the delightful rhythm guitar that follows it. You’re tapping your feet right away and wanting to blast the album’s opener out of your car as soon as possible. The title track is as fun as you’d hoped it would be as lead singer Elizabeth Stokes tells us about how she’s setting herself up for “future heartbreak, future headaches,” but she’s still going through with a relationship. “Uptown Girl” isn’t a cover of the Billy Joel song (although I’m sure they’d have fun with that), but it is a raucous salute to partying all night and the aftermath that often brings.
“You Wouldn’t Like Me” has Stokes warning a potential lover about the hazards of dating her. “You wouldn’t like me if you saw what was inside me,” she sings, but the peppy nature of the song leads us to believe that was she thinks are faults are in reality charms. “Not Running” has an urgent energy to it (despite the title) with Jonathan Pearce‘s guitars constantly moving forward and not looking back.
“Little Death” is a rocker about orgasms. “Happy Unhappy” has Stokes both lamenting and loving the start of a new relationship and how its going to break her out of her comfortable rut. “River Run: Lvl 1” might refer to a video game I’ve never played, but the theme of a lovers’ game seems to run through the whole tune. The groovy grooves, rock anthem drums (by Ivan Luketina-Johnston) and vocal harmonies of “Whatever” make it one of the catchiest tracks of 2018 (and I love the subtly heavy bass by Benjamin Sinclair on it). The album ends with “Less Than Thou,” another love song in which Stokes gets in her own way when it comes to love, but powers through it with shining guitars and happy beats.
Future Hates Me is one of the peppiest and most clever albums of the year. It’s a perfect summer rock record, or a perfect record for breaking your winter blues if you’re in New Zealand this time of year.
Keep your mind open.
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It was a grey night. Rain had been falling. My wife was on the phone with her boss and trying to sort out work drama that had been bothering both of them for a week. She and the whole Ft. Wayne area, it seemed, needed a boost of love and fun. They got it from the Flaming Lipsand Le Bucherettesat Ft. Wayne’s Clyde Theatre on August 16th.
My wife had never been to a Flaming Lips show. All I told her was that it would be wild and there would be balloons and confetti. I didn’t want to spoil anything for her.
We walked in just at the start of Le Bucherettes’ set. I’d heard of them somewhere before and made a note to check out their stuff, and this was my first full exposure to their work. It was a wild mix of psychedelia and art punk fronted by a wild Latina (Le Bucherettes hail from Mexico) who seemed to be the child of Iggy Pop and Poly Styrene after they’d had sex in an Aztec temple. They threw down a wild set that even had Wayne Coyne from the Flaming Lips crouching at stage right to take photos of them. My wife and I thought they needed to play next year’s Levitation Music Festival in Austin. They’d fit in perfectly there, and we picked up their last album at the merch table not long after their set.
Le Bucherettes
The beginning of the Flaming Lips’ set began with their cover of “Also Sprach Zarathustra” and then “Race for the Prize” off The Soft Bulletin, which included the following (of course):
My wife was already grinning by this point, and the grin never left her face the entire night. She laughed in disbelief at the giant inflatable robot that stood at center stage over Wayne Coyne during “Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots” – which Coyne described as a song not just about a young, female Japanese karate master fighting evil robots, but more about “Your friend who tells you they’re going to do something impossible, but they don’t know it’s impossible, and instead of you telling them it’s impossible, you tell them…Yoshimi you won’t let those robots defeat me.”
“Fight Test” is always a welcome addition to their sets, and the “Golden Throat” microphone version of the national anthem was a weird treat. This show was the first time I heard “The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song” as well as “The Castle,” which Wayne Coyne described as a sad song, but it doesn’t feel overwhelmingly sad when he sings it. It still sounds hopeful to me.
“The Castle”
Coyne then put on rainbow wings and jumped on a light-up unicorn that was pulled through the audience while he sang “There Should Be Unicorns,” which took on a near deep-house beat and feel live. It’s cool on Oczy Mlody, but it’s better live.
They busted out “She Don’t Use Jelly,” which was well-received by the crowd (and was one I’d hoped they’d play), and “The Captain” after that. There was a small temporary stage in the middle of the crowd, and I figured it was for when Coyne stepped into a giant plastic sphere and crowd surfed to it during their cover of “Space Oddity.” I’d seen him do it at the inaugural Middle Waves Music Festival two years earlier. I was right, and my wife, a big Bowie fan, nearly cried when she realized what song was coming.
They wrapped up the set with “How??”, “Are You a Hypnotist?”, “The W.A.N.D.”, and “A Spoonful Weighs a Ton” before coming back for “Do You Realize?”
“That made me happy,” my wife said afterwards. “I needed that.”
It’s easy to forget that Jailbreak was Thin Lizzy‘s sixth album because Jailbreak was their commercial breakthrough and is so good that it often overshadows some of their earlier work.
The title track kicks off the album, and it’s essentially a line in the sand for every rock album that came after it. If you’re a rock band currently practicing in a garage or basement, you need to hear “Jailbreak” and realize that you had better come up with an opener with as much fire as this or your band is already doomed. Good luck with that, by the way, because matching the crunchy groove of it is nearly impossible. The groove on “Angel of the Coast” is almost as jaw-dropping. Drummer Brian Downey doesn’t screw around on this or any other track. The slight bluesy sound of “Running Back” (with nice keyboard additions by Tim Hinkley) is a nice switch-up by the band.
The way Scott Gorham and Brian Robertson‘s guitars play off each other on “Romeo and the Lonely Girl” is impressive in its subtlety and talent. “Warriors,” a song about drug addicts, has vocalist / bassist Phil Lynott singing and playing with swagger. I can’t figure out how he keeps up his killer bass line while singing like Iggy Pop, and the guitar solo on it is a thing of beauty.
“The Boys Are Back in Town” is, of course, their biggest hit in the United States (and pretty much everywhere else). It shouldn’t surprise anyone, really. The beat is straight-up rock, Lynott sings about guys everyone knows, and Gorham and Robertson’s guitars play for the cheap seats. “Fight or Fall” could almost be a Steely Dan track with it’s jazz guitar and drum touches. “Cowboy Song” is a rocking ode to rodeo riders, cattle wranglers, and heartbreak. The closer, “Emerald,” has enough guitar shredding for two albums, let alone one song. Remember how I suggested you should try to match “Jailbreak” when opening your album? It wouldn’t hurt to close with something as excellent as “Emerald” either.
Jailbreak is a classic that actually wasn’t heralded much in its time until “The Boys Are Back in Town” won the NME Award for Best Single in 1976. It has since grown to influence hundreds, if not thousands, of other bands, and to blast out speakers around the world.
Keep your mind open.
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Algerian musicians Imarhan are expanding the range of Tuareg music by including touches of psychedelia, surf, and rock on their new album Temet.
Opener “Azzaman” (“The Times / Time”) has beats that are both trance and dance-inducing, and the guitar is fiery when it kicks into gear. The guitar work on “Tamudre” is psychedelic funk, and the hand percussion is like a bubbling pot of hearty stew. “Ehad Wa Dagh” (“A Covenant and an Argument”) will get you moving. Seriously, put this on any exercise playlist you have. The band cooks through the whole thing and will have you burning calories faster than any spin bike or kickboxing instructor can manage. I love how the guitars on “Alwa” move from subtle to brash and back again in an instant.
The opening of “Imuhagh” is positively hypnotic. The guitars soar like a hawk overhead, the vocals seem to call to you from a distant dune, and the drums prowl like a cat on mouse patrol. They shred “Tumast” almost beyond belief, with guitars that come at you like a freight train and percussion like a landslide. It’s one of the hottest tracks I’ve heard all year. “Tarha Nam” is the calm after the storm of “Tumast,” and “Tochal” is another guitar showcase that would make Lindsey Buckingham jealous. “Zinizjumeg” and “Ma S-Abok” end the album a calm that’s much appreciated in this day and age.
I fell in love with Tuareg music a few years ago. It never ceases to bring me joy, make me dance, or ground me in the present. Imarhan’s Temet is another fine piece of art in the genre.
Windhand (Parker Chandler – bass, Dorthia Cottrell – vocals, Garrett Morris – guitar, Ryan Wolfe – drums) say they’re from Richmond, Virginia, but I think they secretly might be from Hyperboria, Jupiter, or beyond the Black Veil of Space and Time due to the heavy riffage they unleash on their 2015 record Grief’s Infernal Flower.
The opener, “Two Urns,” unleashes enough doom bass by Chandler to power a mission to Mars and soon Cottrell’s incense voice wraps around you like a black velvet cloak, Wolfe pounds out the rhythm of your jittery heart, and Morris shreds open your eyelids. If that’s not enough power for you, don’t fear. “Forest Clouds” comes next and it’s the sound of Tolkien ents marching toward a battle with orc troops from Mordor. Cottrell sings about something dark waiting to awaken from an eight hundred-year sleep. I love how Cottrell’s vocals have a quality that lies between sexy and menacing. She can sing strange incantations, dire warnings, and tales of mystery and the fantastic with equal skill.
Not dark enough? The title of “Crypt Key” should cheer you up. It starts with an acoustic guitar over synths that sound like a faint wind, but then turns into powerful sludge. Cottrell’s vocals on “Tanngrisnir” (a song about one of the goats who pull Thor’s chariot) are layered with just enough reverb to make them spookier than normal, and Wolfe’s drums sound like he’s been transformed into a giant doom metal centipede. “Sparrow” is almost a blues ballad. It’s a nice center to the album that lulls you into a peaceful place amid the dark creatures that lurk throughout the album.
“Hyperion” is the most upbeat song on the record – not necessarily by the lyrics, but definitely by the beat and straight-forward rock riffs by Morris and Chandler. I’m not sure if “Hesperus” refers to the Greek god of the planet Venus / the Evening Star or the poem The Wreck of the Hesperus by Henry Longfellow, but both are appropriate for over fourteen minutes of great stoner metal. Chandler’s bass and Wolfe’s drums are like primordial monsters rising from the depths to bring down a sea vessel, and Morris’ guitar and Cottrell’s vocals seemed designed to herald the arrival of a Venusian god. It abruptly ends, much like the fate of the ship in Longfellow’s poem. “Kingfisher” is about the same length as “Hesperus” and just as heavy. Cottrell sings about something or someone, perhaps even her, being “all-seeing, all-knowing” while Morris throws down riffs powerful enough to probably make him levitate. The album ends with “Aition” (a term for how religions explain the origin of a myth or legend), leaving one to think that the end of the record is actually the beginning to another journey…and Windhand does have another album coming out this October.
It’s a solid record of stoner metal that isn’t angry but certainly is menacing.
I’d heard of Chile’s psychedelic / shoegaze rockers Follakzoid years ago, but hadn’t picked up any of their material for reasons unknown to me. Lo and behold, they were on the lineup for the 2018 Levitation Music Festival in Austin, Texas, so I made sure to get tickets for their set (which did sell out). I’m glad I did because their set was one of my top three for the whole weekend, and I left determined to dive deep into their catalogue.
I’m starting with their last record, III, which is only four tracks, but the shortest is just over nine minutes long. It’s a mesmerizing, mostly instrumental mix of ambient synths, krautrock guitars, precision drumming, shoegaze fuzz, and misty psychedelic vocals.
“Electric” opens the album and lets you know that Follakzoid’s drummer is apparently a cyborg, because I don’t know how else he can keep up such a sharp beat for over eleven minutes. The song might be the closest I ever get to floating in zero gravity. The guitars range from hardly being there to surging toward you like a thunderstorm. “Earth” is a little jostling at first with the crunchy, jagged guitars but it grows into a tribal meditation with heart-pumping drums and drone synths. The song ends with weird bleeps, bloops, and what sound like synthesized animal and weather noises. “Piure” (named after a rare seafood in Chile) seems to melt like a candle over a skull over the course of nearly thirteen minutes. The last track, “Feuerzeug” (German for “lighter” or perhaps anything use to light a fire), has this mantra-like guitar riff that will float through your mind for days. Follakzoid stretched this nine-minute track into nearly twenty minutes when I saw them in Austin earlier this year, and it was amazing. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that it was mind-altering without the need for any kind of hallucinogens or even booze.
III isn’t so much an album as it is a sensory experience. It can carry you away if you’re not careful, which might not be a bad thing depending on the kind of day you’re having. This album would’ve been in my top 10 of 2015 if I’d heard it then.
Keep your mind open.
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Detroit rapper Danny Brown wasn’t on my radar until I saw him listed on the 2017 Pitchfork Music Festival lineup. I went online to research him and hear some of his stuff, and I was intrigued by his voice (sort of a high-pitched, nasally punk rock vocal) and flow and stunned by his brutal honesty about himself, his addictions, his neighborhood, fandom, and the music industry.
Starting with “Downward Spiral” (the title of which essentially describes Brown’s journey throughout the record), the album opens with warped beats that somehow mix dub, psychedelia, and industrial doom. Brown openly discusses how his drug use keeps him from getting an erection during a threesome, nearly burning down his house after falling asleep with a lit cigarette in his hand, and how “Your worst nightmare for me is a normal dream.” “Tell Me What I Don’t Know” builds like a Bloc Party track with its electronic beats and dancehall whistles as Brown laments (in a deeper vocal range, no less) how drug dealing is a “Never ending race, chasing cash. One lane going wrong way ’til I crash.” and “Shit is like a cycle. You get out, I go in, this is not the life for us.”
Brown lets us know that fame isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be on “Rolling Stone” (“Bought a nightmare, sold a dream. Happiness went upstream. Blame myself, I had no control. Now I’m living with no soul.” “Really Doe” is a who’s-who of modern day rap stars with Earl Sweatshirt, Kendrick Lamar, and Ab-Soul all contributing verses. “Lost” details how Brown has gone from dealing cocaine just to get by to now using it for fun after being famous enough to afford it.
“Ain’t It Funny” was one of the wildest singles of 2016. In it, Brown raps about how drugs have screwed up his life, the Devil is always whispering in his ear, and how many of his fans love him for having such a screwed up life and secretly hope he never kicks the addictions that he wishes he could ditch. “Golddust” continues this theme (and even brings in some rock guitar) as Brown raps, “Myself I don’t know no more. Numbing up with drugs to suppress these feelings, praying to the heavens, letting these devils get the best of me.” and “Got to the point ain’t gotta buy drugs. Niggas just give ’em to me. Yeah, they think they showing love, and that’s what’s up. Kinda fucked up. Now I do it way more than I used to.” “White Lines” has Brown confronting the real possibility that he’s going to die of a drug overdose any day now. The beats on it stumble around like a drunk and the weird synths reflect his state of mind. “Pneumonia” is a thick bass track about partying in New Orleans, getting laid, and getting high (in no particular order).
Brown keeps partying with “Dance in the Water,” in which he gives directions for a twerking contest. It has the most danceable beats on the record and proves that Brown can write a floor-filler club banger if he wants. Kelela sings in the hook on “From the Ground” while he raps in his mellow low tones about how far he’s come from writing his rhymes on a paper bag to now touring the world. “When It Rain” is one of Brown’s biggest hits off the album, and he’s downright dangerous on it. He raps about the dangerous of inner city living in Detroit, being lucky to be alive, and drawing a line in the sand to challenge lesser MCs. That being said, “Today” has Brown admitting that he knows he can die any time from either his drug use or violence in his hometown.
If you’re not sure what “Get Hi” is about, then you haven’t been paying attention to the rest of the album. Brown openly admits how much he loves weed and uses it to eliminate the stress of money problems, girlfriend problems, landlord problems, or any other problem, really (although the hidden message is how Brown’s love of the herb only contributes more to how screwed up his life is). The addition of Cypress Hill‘s B-Real on the chorus is a nice touch. The album ends on an up note with “Hell for It,” with Brown rapping about how hard he worked to get where he is (“I was hustling, scraping up, and saving just to catch a twelve-hour bus to NY, sleeping on the floor in studios asking God ‘Why?'”) and how he won’t give up despite knowing that fame might kill him.
I don’t want you to read this and think I condone drug use or dealing drugs. I don’t. I do, however, condone honesty and truth. Danny Brown delivers both with unflinching detail on Atrocity Exhibition. Truth is often missing from music in return for a fast buck and a one-hit wonder. Thankfully, we have artists like Brown to keep us real.
The second of two sold-out shows for My Bloody Valentineat Chicago’s Riviera Theatre was added when the first sold out in minutes. I was surprised the second didn’t sell out as fast, but happy that I got a ticket to what I was sure was going to be a face-melting experience.
Opening up for MBV were Martha’s Vineyard Ferries – a sort of shoegaze / garage punk band with bits of doom flavor sprinkled in now and then. I expected something a bit more psychedelic with a name like that, but they were “honored” to be opening for My Bloody Valentine and their enthusiasm came through in their set.
Martha’s Vineyard Ferries
The stacks of amplifiers for MBV were tall and numerous. A woman behind me said her friend had come to the first show and told her, “It was louder than Dinosaur, Jr.” Her friend was right. It was louder than them and probably five more bands combined.
My Bloody Valentine
Opening with “I Only Said,” the four of them powered through with walls of distortion and reverb. Vocals were barely audible at times, and usually incomprehensible. You don’t go to a MBV show to hear crisp vocals, however, not even on the two new songs they played. You go to experience the raw energy that comes at you like a pounding surf on a rocky beach.
Of course “Only Shallow” was a big crowd favorite (and as heavy-hitting as you imagine), but “What You Want,” “Nothing Much to See,” and, naturally, “Soon” were big wallops to your chest, too. A friend of mine held my hands in hers after “Who Sees You,” and we noticed our hands were trembling. She patted her chest and said, “Wow! Intense!”
“My ears are hurting!” was the cry of a guy to my left after they finished “Wonder 2.” I saw a lot of people without earplugs. I pitied them. Many of us were in near-meditative states by the time they got to “Feed Me with Your Kiss” and the audio avalanche that closed the show – “You Make Me Realize.” The bridge in that was a couple minutes of cymbals and guitar noise that almost reached the point of punishment before breaking back into the power chords. It left us all dumfounded.
As we were walking out, a woman behind me told her boyfriend he should’ve put in his earplugs for the finale. He said, “I could feel my chest vibrating. I thought, ‘Am I having a heart attack? Is this how it ends?'”
“Not a bad way to go,” I said.
“That’s true,” he said.
True, indeed. A My Bloody Valentine show isn’t for everyone, but it is something everyone should experience.
Chicago’s Diagonal have released their newest record, Tomorrow, and it’s such a good shoegaze record that my wife said it might make her like shoegaze music (which she just doesn’t understand).
Starting with “Find the Sun” (and Chris Detlaff‘s wicked beats), the album shimmers right away. Three different guitarists (Alex Brumley, Dan Jarvis, and Silas Mishler) merge together to form some sort of super-robot, and Dale Price‘s bass chugs along with the precision of a bricklayer. Andy Ryan‘s vocals on the big, spaced out “Wide Eyed” are appropriately drenched in reverb, and the whole band unloads with walls of sound. It’s one of my favorite tracks of the year so far. It’s been in my head for days.
“Control” ups the psychedelic touches but keeps the fuzz. “Jump Back” reminds me of Julian Cope tunes from the late 1980’s with its groovy bass licks and the crisp, yet distorted guitar riffs. The guitars on “True” are crispier, but the bass picks up the fuzz. It sounds like a Cosmonauts track. “Descend” could be a Black Angels tune, especially with that slight hint of Middle Eastern influences and the subtle reverb on the vocals.
“All We Need” breaks open with shining riffs and more sick beats from Detlaff. Jarvis add some cool keyboard flourishes that give it a space-rock feel. Price’s love of the Cure comes through on his bass line for “Shattered Glass,” and I like how Ryan’s vocals on it sound like they’re coming at you from the end of a long hallway. “Stay Awake” has a fun groove to it with more than a subtle hint of surf rock. The fuzz on “Feels” hits a bit harder after the mellowness of the previous track. It’s one of the loudest cuts on the record. The title track closes the record, and it’s a wild trip into the cosmos with dual vocals from Ryan and Misher that are barely discernible, bass so fuzzy it resembles an angry bumble bee, enough guitar distortion to power an eighteen-wheeler, and drums that go for broke and beyond.
Don’t wait until tomorrow to get Tomorrow. It’s one of the best shoegaze records I’ve heard in 2018.
The lineup for this year’s Pitchfork Music Festival in Chicago’s Union Park didn’t thrill me. Plus, the forecast for the weekend called for rain nearly the entire time my wife and I would be there. Still, the tickets were free (Thanks, Nivas of WSND!) and there were some acts I definitely wanted to see, so we made the trip.
We got there just in time on day one for rain and Melkbelly. The Chicago punks were the second band to play and they unloaded a loud set of fierce shredding. The rain also stopped while they were playing, so I took it as a good omen.
Melkbelly
Up next was Lucy Dacus, who played a nice set as the humidity rose from the sun emerging from the clouds. She talked about her fear of being electrocuted and how she was rearranging some of the set list to avoid too much playing guitar near standing water, but she did fine and was lovely to hear.
Lucy Dacus
Natural Information Society‘s psychedelic jazz set was just two songs and it lasted nearly forty minutes. It was hypnotic, peaceful, and perfect for a warm and wet afternoon.
Natural Information Society
One of the weirdest parts of the day was Tierra Whack‘s twenty-minute set. She replaced Earl Sweatshirt who had cancelled. Whack’s DJ played parts of hip hop songs to warm up the crowd. It didn’t work all that well, mostly because he didn’t play whole tracks and he kept yelling variations of “Hey, Chicago!” over and over to the point where it became pandering. Whack came out and performed her entire debut EP, Whack World, which is only about fifteen minutes long, and then left. “That was weird,” my wife said. Yep.
Tierra Whack (left) and her DJ
Electro-pop outfit Mount Kimbie played a nice set on the far side of the park, and it was a nice warm-up to Tame Impala‘s closing set, which suffered from bad volume mixing. “It sounds like AM radio,” said one woman behind me. Her friend added, “Nothing like listening to Tame Impala through a tin can. Thanks, Pitchfork!” The crowd was yelling, “Turn it up!” at one point. We left before chaos reigned.
Mount KimbieAs close as we could get to Tame Impala
Day two brought less rain and we started the day with a great set from Zola Jesus. She came out in a red veil and looked like a witch from a Dario Argento movie. She seemed to have a great time. “She could sing anything with that voice,” my wife said. She’s right.
Zola Jesus
Our friend, Nivas, told me to check out Moses Sumney‘s set. Mr. Sumney wasn’t on our radar, but we’re glad we took Nivas up on the suggestion. His set was a good mix of soul, gospel, R&B, and jazz.
Moses Sumney
Another soulful highlight was Raphael Saddiq, who is a dead ringer for Lightnin’ Hopkins. Sadie played a fun set of bluesy R&B that had a lot of folks dancing.
Raphael Sadie
I got all hipster by dragging my wife to see prog-rock legends This Is Not This Heat. It was a loud, dark prog-rock show with songs about nuclear warfare, consumerism, and painful lessons of history. It was neat to see some legends. I even scored a couple autographs.
This Is Not This Heat
We left early again in order to get a decent meal and came back on day three just in time to see Kelly Lee Owens. Her self-titled debut was my favorite album of last year, so she was the main artist I wanted to see at the festival. She didn’t disappoint. She put on a great electro-dance set that had everyone bouncing. It was a crime that she only got to play for 40 minutes.
Kelly Lee Owens
Japanese Breakfast played after her, and they were quite popular with the crowd. Their stuff is a mix of shoegaze, dream pop, and straight-up rock. A big favorite among the crowd was their cover of the Cranberries’ “Dreams.”
Japanese Breakfast
We wandered over to the main stages to claim a spot for the two closing acts and ended up hearing all of DRAM‘s set. He had excited to be playing for such a large crowd and on such a beautiful day. He wasn’t bad, but after the fifth time he yelled, “If you love your momma, say ‘Yeah, dawg!” it became repetitive.
DRAM
People were fired up for Chaka Khan, who looks and sounds great. The line dance that broke out near us during “I Feel for You” was a treat, and the whole crowd, men and women alike, was jumping during “I’m Every Woman.”
Chaka Khan
Lauryn Hill closed the festival. There was talk that she wouldn’t show up, despite being there for a sound check at the beginning of the day. She came on stage twenty minutes late, which I’m sure drove the stage manager nuts, but she showed that her chops haven’t diminished in the last twenty years. She played the entire “Miseducation” album and had a sharp backing band. They had to be ever-vigilant because she was constantly stopping some of them or having them alter their volume and tempo on the fly. She also seemed to have endless problems with her microphone and monitor, judging by how often she tapped the mic and her earpiece. Still, she sounded great. “It wasn’t as epic as I thought it would be,” my wife said, “but I’m glad I got to see her live.”
Lauryn Hill
That pretty much sums up Pitchfork for me this year. It wasn’t as epic as last year, but I’m glad I went. Let’s hope the 2019 lineup is better.
Coming in with possibly the wittiest album title of the year (Future Me Hates Me), New Zealand’s the Beths show up with some much-needed pop-punk and joie de vivre right now.
