A small wish. Time to make some changes. Let us ship those people, the hateful, the terrible, the fucked-up who would advance fascism (and the attendant disgusting racist bullshit) or abet it or tolerate it, away, far away, to an uninhabitable island in the sea, let them roast in the sun, let them devour each other, let their remains desiccate in the sun and their bones bleach and be eroded by the salt in the water and the salt-spray on the wind. Let them be effaced from the earth, forever gone.

This song and this EP from Holy Fuck are excellent and well worth your time.

[BUY Bird Brains EP]

Filed under: Music No Comments


Frankie Rose’s album Cage Tropical is very good. It has the feel of late-summer afternoon light through thick windowpanes. It feels like it lives in the world of a lost Felt album. It is hazy, gentle, sweet, and surprising. A meandering road trip from one coast to another, comforting for the incessant movement and newness it presents. Terminating in an unheralded Western town. Sacramento. Elko. Concord. Flagstaff. Rancho Cucamonga. Temecula. Settle in for a sabbatical. Land a job that lets you stay for a few months. New: place, lifestyle, sunsets, people, heat. The album opens up new vistas with every song. Brief and supremely listenable, one of the more enjoyable releases this year.

[BUY Cage Tropical]

Filed under: Music No Comments


Is it only because our brains cannot perceive the actual motion of the universe? Is it because we're actually embedded in a hologram, flashing, massive, momentary? Are there membranes slowly folding together in a seamless embrace? Were it revealed that you were truly simulated, what would you still consider important? What would you be thankful for? Would it even matter, really, where it all came from, as long as you could still see them and still hold their hands and still sleep next to them at night?

[BUY Sketches]

Filed under: Music No Comments


The solar eclipse is coming. The summer of totality, they say. If you stand in the middle of the path of totality, you yourself will be fulfilled, totaled. Through your welder’s-grade viewer, you’ll be able to look at the fucking sun: blocked hard as hell by the interloping moon. Celestial bodies, taunting each other. It will be photographed, brutally and infinitely. This is your chance to mock the sun, for the minute-plus that it’s thwarted in its mission. Gawk. Gather with others to watch the occurrence at eclipse parties, then plunge into an intense melancholy. Relive the moment, over and over again, for the next decade by watching, in isolation, amateur video and photographic documentation of the eclipse. Produce, for friends and family, a brief memoir about your experience called “Ekleipein: A disappearing act.”

[BUY Double Worshipper]

Filed under: Music No Comments