The debut Shakamoto LP was set to drop in December of last year, but due to unforeseen complications arising from the pandemic was forced back to 2021, in a series of tour date cancellations and impediments which only seemed to further bleaken the local chapter of a music scene forced repeatedly into hibernation.

Now it’s here, and a rabid and feral beast has been freed from its cage.

If you’re looking for reason, then you’re in the wrong place.

Despite the rage of local, grassroots punk possibly being an exercise akin to desperately hurling eggs at impossibly massive, hulking, culturally corporate skyscrapers — one must imagine that the eggs which will…

Zach Duvall & Olivia Thawley, trying to see the forest for the weeds.

Zach Duvall, Olivia Thawley, Giannis Kipreos and Josh Hinds are Weedipus, a self-detailed dream pop project which as if intently springing from the current fever pitch in social tension, abject economic frustration and the looming threat of a second wave of viral misery - seeks to caress the listener and serve as an antidote to chaos rather than a supplement. Demo Tape is the forthcoming project the band expects to release around late August/early September, and on June 26, dropped the first single Places to Go.

Places to Go departs from Duvall’s earlier vocal and guitar contributions to Regional Creeps…

The Shak’s got your back.

The Shakamoto Investigation have taken this period of nationally enforced hermitic seclusion and fashioned it into an opportunity to release their first single of this new (and already frightening) decade. They are also fresh from being forced to take a rain check on the planned Existential Bread tour, which naturally as a result of the current climate is an issue for many artists, and is just in general a shitty thing to happen.

The single rollout is accompanied by a live album, Live At No Fun where questions are asked and more than sufficiently answered about the vitality of their…

Music for when you aren’t having a crisis

Parker is back, his trusty hands at the helm of an intricate and polished space disco in the record that everybody and their dog saw coming, a pronounced and obvious quest for a pop sound preceded by previous Impala outings. Any hope of return to a rock sound is dashed, but I reiterate, anyone following Kevin’s appearances from 2015 until the present day should really have seen this coming. …

I’d like my escapism dark and foreboding, please.

The fear shared by Sam Horton and Lyndon Scarfe is cross-generational. A mutual existential dread at the onset of an increasingly pervasive plexus of information networks and truth distortions found at the grimy underbelly of the global village. [retreat]’s black-tinged dystopia emerges from the northern smokestack of Barnsley, a fitting backdrop for an exercise in desolation.

Precursors to the album include the previous release A Public Witness Program, made up of two approximately 20 minute drone tracks one of which acts as an elegy to Ronald Davis, a rough sleeping Chicagoan whose stoic outlook on his own homelessness was subject…

You’ll be glad he waited until the last track to tell you to go home.

This here is a treat of little known brilliance, member of the flagship Memphis garage punk band Oblivians, Greg Cartwright (aka Greg Oblivian) casts off his primordial and raucous shackles for an exercise in intimacy. This was released during the Oblivians hiatus, and although Greg covered a lot of ground with Reigning Sound and Compulsive Gamblers, this shines a light on a different area of his songcraft. It’s also closed out by one completely batshit 17 minute suite tacked on to the end of it — which I happen to like.

An aspect which always embodied the appeal of Oblivians…

’09. Simpler times.

Message from the chillwave ambassador of purple prose, Rainbow Prose!!

Is there really a better summary of the confusing abyss of summertime languor?

I think not.

I don’t even really know what it would have been like to be an adolescent in 2009, American kids immersed in the new internet culture. Videos of teens dancing to Grizzly Bear on Myspace? Pitchfork as a positive editorial force rather than a cesspool of badly implemented buzzwords? Lusting over Zooey Deschanel? Who by then hadn’t even cracked 30, unbelievable. What a time to be alive.

I was no true casualty of the late…

Tom Seal/GreenIsTheColour

I stand outside music and from this point I observe it. Blast or Bless. No 12-step programs.

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