Month: November 2025

Black Eyes: “TomTom”

/ Bjørn Hammershaug / Leave a comment

Black Eyes remains one of the most remarkable bands on the equally remarkable Dischord label, surrounded by kindred acts like Lungfish and Q and Not U. During their brief initial run, they released two stunning albums – their self-titled 2003 debut and Cough the following year – just as they were disbanding. I was fortunate enough to witness their ecstatic, heavily rhythmic live performance/jam session back then, with two drummers and bass players, saxophone, lots of screaming and dancing. It was all chaos and ecstasy, and I still revisit both records to relive the energy.

Fast forward to 2025, and Black Eyes have stirred back to life. Their first new album in over two decades, Hostile Design, proves that not only have they aged well, it’s as if they never aged at all. The record brims with the same musical curiosity, propulsive rhythms and ferocious energy that once defined them, weaving together angular post-punk, dub, jazz and noise rock with effortless precision. “TomTom,” the album’s closing track, distills all these elements into one exhilarating piece, throwing us twenty years back while simultaneously propelling us forward. God how I have missed them, and man I’m glad they’re back.

Originally published on tidal.com/magazine October 10, 2025

MJ Lenderman: “Just Be Simple”

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Jason Molina was the finest songwriter of the 2000s – a key reason I went into music journalism – and his untimely death 12 years ago, at only 39, still casts long shadows on my walls. His brilliance remains unmatched, and his legacy keeps growing as a new wave of artists looks to him for lyrical and musical inspiration.

MJ Lenderman might be his sharpest student, an emerging star in his own right, and it feels only natural that he’s kicking off I Will Swim to You: A Tribute to Jason Molina, out now on Run For Cover. It’s not the first Molina tribute project of its kind, but it’s a powerful one, with current acts like Horse Jumper of Love, Hand Habits, Runnner and others paying their respect.

Jason Molina grew up a Rust Belt kid in a trailer park outside Lorain, Ohio. As he told me back in 2005: “Steel mills, shipyards, factories, a really beat-up, beat-down town.” By the mid-’90s, he had moved first to Cleveland, then Chicago, to start a lifelong career in music. Whether it was sparse, lo-fi ghost folk as Songs: Ohia or diesel-fueled rock and americana with Magnolia Electric Co., his background and signature always cut through.

He dug into the darkest corners of the human mind. He wrote 21st-century blues about roads and crossroads, ghosts and death, the prairie and the horizon, the moon above and hell below. He wrote of the solitude within and the loneliness around us. He wrote with a heart that bled straight through his shirt, until it didn’t beat anymore.

So please listen to his songs through MJ Lenderman and all these other mighty fine artists, and then dive into Molina’s own vast, haunted universe if you haven’t already. I can’t promise you much, except maybe a new address on the same old loneliness.

Chat Pile & Hayden Pedigo: “Radioactive Dreams”

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Chat Pile has been grinding out sludgy Midwestern noise rock for years, while Hayden Pedigo has spent over a decade roaming the Texas panhandle, dismantling fingerpicking folk traditions with his seamless blend of American Primitivism and avant-garde experimentation. Now, the two worlds collide: “Radioactive Dreams” from their album In the Earth Again.

On paper, it’s an unlikely collaboration, but in practice, it’s a revelation. The pairing not only draws out the best in both artists, but also forges an entirely new sound. Together, they sketch a fresh chapter of American music, where desolate rural decay bleeds into post-apocalypse. Or as the label perfectly describes it as music that “cycles between rustic tones, snarling aggression, and crescendos of tragic catharsis.”

A fitting portrait of two artists pushing each other into uncharted territory

Originally published on tidal.com/magazine August 29, 2025

The Replacements: “Androgynous”

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In the summer of ’88, a couple of months and a bit of luck changed everything. Financed by the sale of a pretty decent cassette collection, I dove headfirst into records. What I brought home would shape my entire musical DNA: R.E.M.’s Murmur and Reckoning, the Pixies’ Come On Pilgrim and Surfer Rosa, Hüsker Dü’s Warehouse, Dinosaur Jr.’s Bug, Violent Femmes’ debut, Dead Kennedys, Dream Syndicate, Giant Sand, Thin White Rope, Butthole Surfers’ Hairway to Steven, Minutemen’s Double Nickels on the Dime … and Let It Be by The Replacements.

The album cover had immediate appeal: Four restless hoodlums slouched on a Minneapolis rooftop, casually glancing in all directions and nowhere. Their previous record, Hootenanny, hinted at a more eclectic sound than their sloppy punk roots, but in 1984, Paul Westerberg’s bruised heart and melodic genius finally collided with the band’s booze-soaked, working-class swagger. The result is a rare moment of drunken brilliance.

The title, the hooks, the ragged beauty nods to the Beatles as much as the Clash. The grit, the rasp, the swing is pure Stones and Faces. The Replacements stumbled into adulthood chasing melody over mayhem, and created a blueprint for college rock, Americana, grunge, indie — hell, the whole underground map of the next decade. Their cover of Kiss’ “Black Diamond” collides arena-rock dinosaurs with alleyway punks. Opener “I Will Dare” has Westerberg crooning restless love while strumming mandolin, plus R.E.M.’s Peter Buck drops in on guitar. It’s like Springsteen for the post-Born to Run kids: Romantic, reckless and totally theirs. From there, it’s a beautiful mess with acoustic detours, punk blasts (“We’re Comin’ Out”) and aching ballads like “Androgynous” and “Sixteen Blue.” That marriage of chaos and clarity made Let It Be both a cornerstone of the 1980s and an eternal classic.

This album sounds like basement floors sweating into cracked sidewalks, spilling out into smoke-choked clubs. It’s the echo of a band that turned a suburban rooftop into a stage – and left the walls humming four decades later.

Originally published on tidal.com/magazine August 22, 2025

The Necks: “Causeway”

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Australian trio The Necks have been crafting their singular sound for nearly 40 years, and on October 10, they’ll unveil their 20th studio album, Disquiet – an ambitious statement spanning more than three hours of music across three albums. Its first glimpse, “Causeway,” is a 26-minute journey into their mesmerising world of patient, deliberate song construction. Armed only with piano, organ, percussion and bass, The Necks work their magic through a near-telepathic interplay honed over decades together. Anyone who’s been fortunate enough to see them live will know exactly what I’m talking about.

Like the best parts of their ever changing live sets “Causeway” ebbs and flows with gradual, hypnotic momentum, quietly drawing you in before swelling into full immersion and back. Not a single moment is wasted, and every note reaffirms that music can transport you and leave you breathless (yet eager to return). So we press play again. Truly extraordinary.

Originally published on tidal.com/magazine August 15, 2025