We’ve living in a time where quiet, contemplative music is making a big impact on listeners.

I call it the “Khruangbin effect,” where the Texas (mainly) instrumental trio blend dub, reggae, ’60s psych rock, Thai pop, and other global influences and bring it together in a way that has allowed them to reach millions of streams, millions of fans, and sell out massive theaters around the world. 

What if that slick laidback song playing in the background at just the right level at that fancy restaurant you like was also your favorite band? They’re cool yet also fully adopted by Phish fans. It’s a stunning development.

I can’t think of another band that presents mostly instrumental tracks but has had such a glow up, although Mexican acoustic guitar duo Rodrigo y Gabriela comes to mind.

That means Khruangbin (and others) have opened doors for others doing instrumental music. One of the first that comes to mind is Hermanos Gutiérrez, the insanely attractive Swiss-Ecuadorian sibling duo Estevan and Alejandro Gutiérrez. Their album ‘Los Ojos Del Cóndor’ released Sept. 25, 2026 via Easy Eye Sound (the label of Dan Auerbach of the Black Keys, who might be a better A&R guy than anything else).

Their single, “Los Andes,” is a great example of this wave of instrumental music making an impact in pop culture. With the interplay of guitar and lap steel, it’s cinematic and vast (much like the mountain range it’s named after). It’s capable of grabbing your full attention even without lyrics.

While I doubt this would make waves on commercial radio, it’s popular on public radio throughout the country and starting to infiltrate major swaths of music fans — many of whom likely listen to Khruangbin and Phish.

That’s right — I’m talking about Jack Johnson fans. Johnson recently collaborated with Hermanos Gutiérrez and took them on tour. It’s actually an endlessly sweet full circle story, with the brothers growing up idealizing Johnson and finally getting to collab with their hero.

With the door wide open for instrumental bands to find footing with new audiences, Hermanos Gutiérrez is by far one of the most captivating entries into this bubbling up genre. They’re great storytellers… even without uttering a word.

This story was originally published on Midbrow. 

“It is not easy listening. It’s essential.”

That’s part of the messaging behind Detroit’s own Protomartyr and the band’s seventh album “Hotel Usona,” released September 25 via Domino Recording Co.

The “not easy listening” part is certainly more focused on the lyrics themselves as songwriter and vocalist Joe Casey imagines America’s current state as an aging, sagging hotel. Down every hallway, an issue. Inside every room, a horror to be seen. Sure, there’s continental breakfast but it’s likely contaminated, at least in the eyes of Protomartyr.

Musically, on lead single “Sounds We Cannot Hear,” Protomartyr is the most accessible they’ve ever been. It is the easiest listening they’ve offered up, joining waves of post-punk bands that slowly grow over time, chill out on the aggressiveness, and start applying a lot of texture and sampling that you’d find on a Madlib record.

The result is the same punch you’d want out of a Protomartyr song, but way more sonically to chew on and enjoy. There’s even a brass section on “Sounds We Cannot Hear,” which guitarist Greg Ahee layered with influences from the Middle East and ’50s exotica. 

While Protomartyr released essentially a concept album with a lot of lyrical density, “Sounds We Cannot Hear” suggests it could be their most accessible release yet. For one of the biggest bands to come out of Detroit, I’d predict they’re about to get even bigger and adopt a whole new audience with a more mature, layered sound.

This story was originally published on Midbrow. 

At some point, it gets hard to just think about the music even if Phoebe Bridgers’s new single is quite the well-produced earworm.

The California artist is lauded as a generational songwriter for Gen Z. I won’t even begin to argue with that. My 20-year-old intern talks about her breathlessly. She’s certainly not alone. As an old man, I like her, too.

As Bridgers gets launches her third album, “Lost Weekend,” it is a major affair — so major that the music feels like a secondary affair.

First, there were the small shows at tiny venues across the U.S. where no phones were allowed and a bevy of clues were leaked out to eager fans. And then, with just about a day’s notice, she sold out Madison Square Garden. After that, Bridgers snapped her fingers and sold out a full arena tour in the U.S. and overseas. That’s an astonishing 500,000 tickets in just a few hours.

Even the release of the lead single, “Lost Boys,” comes with its own merch line, limited edition 7-inch, and a lot of other swag — or “ways to interact with the artist” if you’re less cynical than I am. 

And when you finally do get to the music itself, it’s quite a lovely track. It’s Bridgers at her most anthemic, taking the tiny bedroom moments of her previous releases and amping them up for that run of sold-out arenas later this year. You’ll be able to sing “Lost Boys” at the top of your lungs if you were lucky enough to get a ticket. 

Super producer Jack Antonoff gives “Lost Boys” a hell of a lot of space to build and echo through the room. The result is a track that feels massive, has a nifty little brass section that gives it big time pomp-and-circumstance, and the lyrics are vague enough that anyone can shove their life experiences inside of them and cosplay as Bridgers herself.

If you’re not into Bridgers’ music, it’s going to be a long year for you. She’ll be everywhere, and you might take the route of simply rejecting what’s popular.

But if you can get over the hype machine, you’ll find that Bridgers is in fact writing some of her strongest material and is an artist who still hasn’t missed across three albums. “Lost Boys” proves that she’s not about to take a musical misstep anytime soon.

This article was originally published on Midbrow.

Imagine Romare as a musical collagist instead of a straight-up producer-DJ combo. Even the name is a clue. Born Archie Fairhurst, the U.K. artist’s moniker is an homage to Romare Bearden, the American artist and hyphenate best known for his visual collages.

That’s likely why Romare’s music feels like scraps of old, dusty records being pasted together onto a snappy new canvas, but never with too much polish. There’s always the analog color still left hanging on, weaving together a dozen influences. There’s sonic snapshots of blues, R&B, and of course electronic dance music throughout.

Consider his latest single “Breathe” as a sort of intro to Romare’s sound. It’ll be featured on his upcoming album, “Oblivion,” due out in September on All You See.

“Place your hand beneath your nose / feel the rhythm of the air as it moves in and out…”

It opens with a sample of someone instructing you how to literally breathe. It reminds me of the old instructional records you might find in the basement of your local library.

“Feel the movement of your breath…”

This record, however, isn’t for staying still or finding calmness. It’s meant for the dance floor.

“There’s a rhythm…”

Some might find their zen doing yoga to that sample. In Romare’s hands, it’s an instructional how-to let go in the club with a thick earworm of a bassline that slowly breaks down and becomes a chunky, distorted version of itself as the song progresses.

“There’s a rhythm in you… and if you’re very still… you can find that rhythm…”

Like the vocal sample suggests, Romare’s latest “Breathe” is active listening.

This article was originally posted on Midbrow.

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.