On their new album, Death Cab for Cutie isn’t wasting anyone’s time. At a crisp 11 songs clocking in at 38 minutes, it’s a quick listen—same as an episode of award-winning television. 

It plays out like a prestige drama, too. 

After 22 years, the Seattle band ditched their longtime record label Atlantic and signed with ANTI-. Songwriter and lead singer Ben Gibbard recently went through a divorce and poured those emotions into this album, including the stand-out single “Riptides,” which shocked me when I first heard it. 

It felt like vintage Death Cab for Cutie, a band I grew up with. It was personal for Gibbard. It was personal for me because I’ve been listening to this band damn near my entire adult life. We’ve grown up together. So, like everything they release, it’s under a bit of scrutiny. Any relationship like that is going to need some vulnerability to make it.

Gibbard, per usual, gets personal with his lyrics.

These days
I say goodbye without opening my mouth
I just stare into the distance ’til you figure it out
‘Cause I feel
As invested as a border guard
Who’s seen too many people leaving to take it to heart

Musically, this song will feel like throwback Cutie, too. It’s crisp, simple and catchy; at this point, you could use them as the definition of indie rock. Maybe they invented it – the natural evolution of Midwest emo from the 1990s turning into something more polished and twee, which is the perfect bedding for Gibbard’s words (always the star of the show). 

They’re a band growing up and looking back. As fans, we’re reaping the rewards of their best (and most honest) work in years.

This story was originally published by Midbrow.

It’s been more than 12 years since Future Islands went viral for their performance on “The Late Show with David Letterman.” 

It completely changed the trajectory of this Baltimore band that had been together for nearly a decade for their television debut, released a handful of albums and had played hundreds of shows together. Still, getting on TV was absolutely huge. With how much has changed since then, could a band even go viral like this anymore? Future Islands lead singer Samuel T. Herring and his dance moves (alongside that killer guttural growl of his)? The stoic-ness of his band featuring Gerrit Welmers on keyboards and William Cashion on bass?

I’m looking back with Future Islands to look ahead, because it wasn’t just a flash in the pan moment for them. They had staying power before the performance and after. 

And, sure, while their sound hasn’t evolved much since those days, it’s been tightened and refined and damn near perfected on their latest single, “One Day,” which is featured on a new double album called “From a Hole in the Floor to a Fountain of Youth” that brings together live favorites, b-sides and rarities and other oddities.

It’s surprising, however, that “One Day” was considered one of those tracks. It’s Future Islands in full force, doing their hyper-emotional, new wave thing all shaped around Herring’s remarkable voice and vulnerable lyrics. It’s a massive track with a ticky hi-hat that I’m addicted to. You can dance to it, you can brood to it, you can fall in love or break up to it. This thing is versatile and show Future Islands at their best – even after all these years…

This article was originally published on Midbrow.

Sometimes it’s good to just hang out inside of a song that feels like a sunny day.

There doesn’t need to be a destination or some grand lyrical proclamation. It’s a hang-out song; a cruiser.

Some of my favorite movies are “hang-out” movies that just feel like a slice of life instead of a plot-driven narrative. That’s the sonic vibe Kurt Vile has captured (yet again) on “Zoom 97.” It’s the latest taste we get from his upcoming album “Philadelphia’s Been Good To Me,” out at the end of the month via Verve.

Vile has spent most of his career boosting up the city of Philadelphia (much like a proud Detroiter, so I totally get it). On this song, he’s really going for it. The whole affair is a jangly, airy affair that feels like being stoned in middle school and just walking around the park. In this case, Vile is a bit stoned and casually behind the wheel.

Jump in my whip (Yeah), my engine whines, yeah
Zigzag my way down Lincoln Drive, yeah
Puck on my lip, feel I can fly
For a while

This isn’t groundbreaking stuff lyrically, but damn it feels good! You can feel Vile’s bite of bliss oozing through the sparkers. It’s infectious. Because even when things outside of Vile’s pretty Philadelphia may not be the greatest, he’s grateful for what he’s got.

World’s been meltin’ in front of my eyes, yeah
My baby girls, they keep me high, yeah
Ain’t on no trips though, no LSD
True love is the pure drug for me

Vile isn’t breaking new musical ground here. That’s not the point; it’s truly something I don’t want from him. He’s sitting down inside of his sound, perfecting it bit by bit, album by albu … and these dollops of tunes from his latest effort show me that he’s the sharpest he’s ever been at being himself – blissed out and buzzed with nowhere in particular to be.

This story was originally posted on Midbrow.

Add Aldous Harding’s fifth album “Train on the Island” to the best of 2026 list.

I’ve had this album on repeat since it came out just a couple weeks ago. There’s something magnetic about Harding’s latest effort, where lyrics feel like a parade of inside jokes and loose references to experiences we’ll never know that somehow still feel specific to me.

“I’m gonna write what I know / Things I ain’t known for a long time” absolutely vaults me, like I’ve got to get to the typewriter right away. 

That’s a lyric from the track “One Stop,” which was released as the first single from “Train on the Island” with good reason. The simple melody of the piano slowly builds as Harding sings over it, switching voices as she goes but always delivering every lyric with great authority and purpose.

Harding is yet again working with longtime producer John Parish, who is best known for his work with PJ Harvey alongside Tracy Chapman and Eels. 

If you’re looking for a musical reference point, I keep coming back to the late 1960s / early 1970s folk scene with names like Nick Drake and Norma Tanega in my head. There’s some fuzziness of J.J. Cale’s laidback guitar sound on this album, too.

I think Harding’s strength is her ability to make you feel what she’s feeling with the delivery of every lyric, with the strum of every chord. I feel like I’m living this album with her, like we went through these experiences together. 

That’s the gift of a great songwriter, to let you in even though you don’t even know the half of it. Harding’s “One Stop” is excellent work and her latest album will no doubt be considered a milestone of musical releases from this year.

This article was originally published on Midbrow.

The banality of life is hard to capture in a song.

My New Band Believe makes it seem easy with their latest track, “Love Story,” a stunning multi-dimensional ballad from former Black Midi bassist Cameron Picton. It’s from their debut self-titled out now on Rough Trade.

There’s an urge to compare to the past when something new comes out. That’s fine. In this case, the closest I can come to is the earnestness of the Zombies’ “The Way I Feel Inside.”

It’s all within the delivery, the production and vocal similarity. Picton has got a bit of the Zombies’ Ron Argent in his throat. I can’t think of any other group that matches the sonic sensibilities of My New Band Believe. Contemporary Zombies? Yes, please.

It’s in the lyrics and storytelling that “Love Story” soars. It feels like you’re in the head of someone stuck at work, fantasizing about how much they love their partner that they’re excited to get home to. 

This story was originally published on Midbrow.

You never really know why you’re attracted to a certain style of music, but I’ve always had an ear for dub. It’s a wonderful side product of the ska / reggae movement that emerged from Jamaica in the 1960s. 

With dub tracks, they’re making them heavier, with bigger bass and more reverb and a sense of weightlessness with the vocals, as though the singer were drowning and their voice only carries through when they come up for air.

A recent discovery in this vein is Hollie Cook’s sensational dub treatment of her album called “Shy Girl In Dub!” It brings dubbed-out versions of her songs from the record “Shy Girl” under the production lens of Ben McKone, who lovingly adds echo and reverb and pumps up the bass on all 12 of these heavyweight dubs.

It’s been tough to pick a favorite of that dubbed-out dozen, but I’m currently in love with “Dub Me In Your Arms” and its throbbing bassline and gentle stabs of piano. (Reminds me of another great Jamaican track where the Chosen Few cover Smoky Robinson’s “Tears Of A Clown.”) 

When Cook’s voice comes hovering over this track, she’s in full command. It sounds like she’s from another world; like a voice emerging from the static of a television set late at night, surrounded by this swirl of noise and rhythm and crisp snare pops.

Both Cook’s original “Shy Girl” album and this new dub reset are absolutely worth your time.

This story was originally posted on Midbrow.

I’m seeing more examples of indie bands (whatever that means today) finding their way to an audience by presenting a solid cover. Australian group Royel Otis is one that stands out, with their solid, true-to-form cover of the Cranberries’ “Linger.”

Chicago indie rockers Friko are another example, first arriving to my ears via their forceful cover of Radiohead’s “Weird Fishes,” which, admittedly, is a ballsy one to cover (but they nailed it).

It got me hooked enough that I started digging into the brand new sophomore album, “Something Worth Waiting For,” and have completely fallen in love with the title track.

It starts out like a blurry vision; like an acoustic guitar and a distant voice are just barely making their way out of a dusty vinyl groove off in the distance, before blossoming into this massive anthemic swell of waiting for the good thing even though you might not measure up yourself.

“So I’m waiting for something more
Something worth waiting for
I wanna see you and me
Waking up, glad to be
So I’m waiting for something more
Something worth waiting for”

This is exactly what you love to see from an artist on their sophomore release. More space, bigger sound, the growth they always dreamed up after praying that anyone would even care about the debut in the first place. Luckily for Friko, they’re continuing to carve out a space for themselves and their new stadium-ready sound.

For anyone looking to check them out in Detroit, they’ll be playing at The Loving Touch on Oct. 17.

This story was originally published by Midbrow.

I’m a sucker for a sweet sentiment wrapped up in a flannel-toned, 90’s alternative rock song that sounds like it could be the intro music for a family-friendly teen drama from 1995. 

If that sounds hyper-specific, know that it’s a subset of music that’s very popular right now, thanks to Waxahatchee, Kevin Morby, Kurt Vile , Courtney Barnett and others. It’s rooted in bands chasing that sound of Big Star and Lemonheads; of big guitars with a bit of fuzz and layers of jangle on top. It’s full but non-threatening. 

It’s music for soft, emotional lumberjacks. Or if you want to be boring about it, a contemporary take on college radio from 30 years ago.

No one is doing it better in my book than Widowspeak, the husband-and-wife duo of Molly Hamilton and Robert Earl Thomas. They’re now based in Brooklyn but originally from Washington. (You can hear that geography in their music.) They released their seventh album “Roses” on Captured Tracks on June 5.

Their excellent new single “If You Change” is everything I just described and more; a lovely little piece of dream pop with just a splash of alt-country. And the sentiment! Listen to these lyrics:

If you change, don’t change too much
‘Cause I really loved this one

It goes deeper than what I first suspected — a sweet little love song about liking someone as they are, even as they grow old together. According to vocalist-songwriter Molly Hamilton, it’s more than that, writing that she “thought about the fear of change, and when things (situations, objects) feel stuck in time because of a fear of ruining them. You always hear “mint condition” as though it is as an asset, but it also means that thing hasn’t been used, lived with, loved. It never gets to fulfill its destiny.”

Even without that lyrical depth, the song is an absolute banger that’s been stuck in my head for days.

Listen to In The Groove with host Ryan Patrick Hooper weekdays from noon to 3 p.m. ET on 101.9 WDET or stream on-demand at wdet.org. 

This article was originally posted on Midbrow.