The duo’s refurbished EP gets the typical sequel treatment, with new characters and a glossy finish that makes you miss the gritty original.
Woods founder Jeremy Earl and Americana veteran Glenn Donaldson team for an effortlessly warm debut that feels alive with a sense of mutual discovery.
Stevie Knipe’s third LP builds layered arrangements and a renewed sense of confidence without sacrificing the earnest, confessional vulnerability of their songwriting.
On their first sustained collaboration since the Squirrel Nut Zippers disbanded, Bird and Mathus draw from a range of old styles, primarily gospel, with the ease of old friends getting together for coffee.
In this Rising interview, the New York singer-songwriter talks about making art out of interactions with strangers and how her experiences with the late indie legend David Berman inspired her brilliant new album.
Boosted by the YouTube recommendations algorithm, and now TikTok memes, an American-influenced strain of vintage Japanese music has become a perennial cult hit online. The trend says more about Western perceptions of the East than the other way around.
Neneh Cherry talks about the one song she wishes she wrote, “Across 110th Street” by Bobby Womack.
Each Sunday, Pitchfork takes an in-depth look at a significant album from the past, and any record not in our archives is eligible. Today we revisit the Japanese band’s technically masterful, tremendously expensive 1981 album, a record that looms over 40 years’ worth of electronic production.
A new compilation digs deep into stacks of jewel cases and explores an inflection point in Japanese pop music where changes in technology brought changes in sound.
Jilian Medford’s third album is bigger, brighter, cleaner, and more ambitious. Even when she’s hollering, she sounds dwarfed, standing vulnerable but unafraid amid towering emotions.
The multi-instrumentalist and composer’s concept album about Black existence cites everything while saying nothing. The record collapses under its own inertia.