Someday, you will be old. Perhaps that day has already come. Maybe you think you’ll live forever, but you won’t. Regardless of where you’re at in life right now, when your final days are knocking at the door and you’re listening to Pennywise’s ‘About Time’ again for the millionth time, you might start to regret that you never branched out and listened to all the great new music that you ignored while letting each meaningless day pass you by. You’ll probably think that you had more time to indulge in life’s fleeting treasures and beg the Reaper for one more day as he laughs and says ‘nah, bruh’. It doesn’t have to be this way, though. We’ve compiled a list of some of the freshest tracks and forgotten classics to help you start living in the now. Don’t blow it. We’re all counting on you.
Fat Mike “Fuck Day Six – String Version”
In ‘Things We Didn’t Ask For This Week’ News, Fat Mike announced the release of a new album featuring string versions of classic NOFX tracks, entitled ‘Fat Mike Gets Strung Out.’ I’m sure we’re not the first to tell you that Fat Mike’s pop-punk arrangements are actually pretty intelligently written, so it surprisingly makes sense to have a borderline orchestral version of these in the bag. The best part of this venture is that he doesn’t even sing on it, leaving conductor Baz the Frenchman to handle the conducting and arrangement. The first single is a rendition of the NOFX’s ‘Double Album’ cut, ‘Fuck Day Six,’ and it certainly sounds… smarter than the album version. Rumor has it that they’re already working on a second record, so we better at least pretend to like the first one.
Cherry Glazerr “Soft Like A Flower”
Marking the first full-length for lead-guitarist and singer Clementine Creevy’s Cherry Glazerr since 2019’s ‘Stuffed and Ready,’ the recently announced ‘I Don’t Want You Anymore’ is promising to showcase a more mature and emotional side of the band. This is not to say that Creevy hasn’t always injected a sense of moodiness in the group’s catalog, but this is the first we’ve heard her go into Warpaint levels of melancholy. ‘Soft Like A Flower’ builds on a drony groove before smacking into a chorus worthy of the trio’s and cheekier back discography. Before we can accuse Creevy of being too serious, she lets out a doubled laugh toward the end of the track that could either have been a kept mistake or a contrived nuisance depending on how you feel about the group.
A. Savage “Thanksgiving Prayer”
Parquet Courts’ A. Savage has just released his first solo track since 2017’s ‘Thawing Dawn.’ Marking his first single since signing to Rough Trade Records, ‘Thanksgiving Prayer,’ features Savage’s trademark baritone talk-sing atop an arrangement that could pass for a Spoon b-side produced by the ghost of Elliot Smith. Much like his last solo outing, fans of Parquet Courts will immediately be drawn into the familiar tones that permeate the track. On the flip side, even the stingiest hipster that hates the band will have to admit to being impressed by the beautiful arrangements, though they probably won’t deign to do so in public.
Snõõper “Xerox”
Jesus fuck, this band rules. Third Man Records’ latest signee’s sound can be likened to a Devo/Blondie duet played at 45 rpm instead of 33. Hardly any song on their self-titled debut makes it past the minute and a half mark, and each rips through a plethora of punk subgenres at break-neck speed. Coming in about a third of the way through the record, ‘Xerox’ proves to use this formula most efficiently, cramming in two verses, two choruses, and catchy as hell guitar solo in just over a minute. Set this one as the alarm sound on your phone if you want to immediately wake up slam-dancing.
Courtney Barnett “Start Somewhere”
In 2021, Courtney Barnett’s excellent Danny Cohen-directed documentary ‘Anonymous Club’ was released. When working on the film, Barnett began working on ambient tracks with collaborator and drummer of Warpaint, Stella Mogwaza, to serve a score. These fragments that soundtracked the diary entries and segues of ‘Anonymous Club’ have now been re-formatted and fleshed out on a larger scale to comprise Barnett’s fourth full-length and first instrumental record, ‘End of the Day.’ Let one of the three newly released singles “Start Somewhere” soothe you on your commute home after almost punching your boss in the face again.
As part of our company-wide initiative to make sure our staff is staying up to date on current trends in music culture, we recently asked our staff to share the playlists they’ve been listening to. While it looks like we still have a ton of work to do to make these people cool, there are still a decent amount of classics to sift through that might seem new to you considering your banal and limited taste. Here are a few highlights.
Frank Zappa “Don’t Eat the Yellow Snow”
This song was featured on one of our editor’s playlists designed for combating insomnia. We really don’t enjoy the image of a sleep-paralysis demon morphing into Frank Zappa’s mustache and dancing around the room while we lay helpless and immobile, but maybe that says more about us and less about our editor. Either way, this song is a deliriously weird bop, and is sure to add some life to your next playlist while simultaneously freaking out all of your friends.
Darrius Rucker “Wagon Wheel”
One of our writers said this one came from a playlist his daughter personally curated, but we know good and well he fucking loves this song. Hell, people love this song so much that we’re pretty sure it’s the most covered unreleased Bob Dylan song of all time. Personally we find it pretty overplayed and are a little upset that the chorus will be stuck in our head for months now, but don’t let us dictate your opinion.
Braid “Killing A Camera”
Uh-oh! We’ve got an elder emo in our midst! Just kidding, we’re not going to pretend Braid doesn’t fucking rule. Though short-lived, Braid’s career likely had an influence on most things you listen to now, so if you’re unfamiliar it won’t matter. You’ll feel like you’re just listening to all the bands you already have on repeat. Pop this one on to broaden your knowledge of emo history and finally be the most pretentious member of your friend group.
I’m not gonna cry during the title track. I’m not gonna cry during the title track. I… “And he lived that way forever, separate from the other tigers. He could not know another tiger.” And I’m crying, great. Alright, well… “The Tigers Have Spoken” is an interesting addition to the Neko Case canon because unlike most live albums, it’s not just her playing the hits, but rather it’s mostly songs that don’t appear on studio albums, such as “If You Knew” and “Favorite” as well as covers of traditional songs like “Wayfairing Stranger” and “This Little Light” and songs by artists like Buffy Ste. Marie and Loretta Lynn. There is also a humorous (and educational) hidden track at the end, in which Case suggests that a great way to help the diminishing tiger population would be to feed them our brattiest children. Sure beats Meow Mix in my book.
Released in 1997, “The Virginian” is a collection of straight-up country songs and covers (often of a honky and/or tonk variety) and co-written originals. At times, “The Virginian” feels like a drunken night out, with “Thanks A Lot,” “Honky Tonk Hiccups” and “Timber” all being incredibly danceable. Too danceable, really. Other songs like “Somebody Led Me Away” are mellow torch ballads that highlight the artist’s incredible voice. Still, it’s the title track that seems the most Case-like. “The Virginian” tells the tale of a girl who “would not love God as a test,” and who was “free to do what she wanted with clouds of her own.” Ultimately, this album is very much worth checking out, if you can put aside your pride and your ego and admit that there’s even a small part of your dead little soul that still wants to boot-scoot and give a little yee-haw! And let’s face it. We all do. We all want to yee-haw.
(Affecting a Trump voice) Wow… what a title. We love a catchy title, don’t we folks? We… that title, I mean, it just… just rolls off the tongue. It’s an absolutely tremendous title. Alright, enough of that. Case’s songs have always featured surreal lyrics and unusual structures, but this album takes the experimentation one step further. The only drawback is, it doesn’t always do this in a very interesting way. Many of the ideas feel more chrysalized on “Hell-On,” but there’s a lot to love here from the “Hamlet” inspired opener “Wild Creatures” to the punk-rocking gender-smashing “Man” to the raw, a capella “Nearly Midnight, Honolulu.” Given the chance, we bigly recommend listening to the deluxe version of this album, which features covers of Robyn Hitchcock’s “Madonna of the Wasps” and a bluegrass cover of Case’s own “Magpie to the Morning.”
The second (and final) album made with Her Boyfriends, released three years after “The Virginian,” “Furnace Room Lullaby” feels like such a tremendous leap in ambition in just a small stretch of time. But still, it seems like a completely natural progression, much like how a DMV worker will inevitably come to moonlight as a dominatrix. It’s an astonishing work that becomes more and more enjoyable with repeat listens. It also happens to be a perfect album for people who are really into Fall. You know the types. The kind who fantasize about driving down a country road on a clear, crisp Fall day to go apple picking, with a pumpkin spice coffee in hand. Yeah. This is an album for them. And I mean that in the absolute best possible way.
“Hell-On” takes the macabre, Southern gothic innovations we’ve seen throughout her career and adds in heavy doses of experimentation found on “Worse Things Get” The opening title track, a story of God and the destruction of planet Earth, feels like it belongs in Aronofsky’s “mother!” while “Last Lion of Albion” sounds like the kind of indie rock you’d wanna hear at your favorite barcade. The almost cartoonishly bleak “My Uncle’s Navy,” tells the tale of a monstrously abusive uncle who enjoys torturing small animals. (It’s sad, most people grow out of that by adulthood.) On “Curse of the I-5 Corridor,” Case laments that “I left home and faked my ID, I fucked every man I wanted to be,” while on “Halls of Sarah,” she sings of poets who “love womankind like lions love Christians.” And “Sleep All Summer” adds a nice touch of piano-driven mellow sweetness to an otherwise hellish record.
The top three on this list could all stand at number one, but we ultimately had to rank them and this is how the chips fell. As always, dissent is welcomed, but bear in mind that we here at The Hard Times have never once been wrong about anything ever. This record features some of Case’s best song-writing, on tracks like the dream-inspired “This Tornado Loves You,” the uplifting “Magpie to the Morning” and the soothing “Vengeance is Sleeping,” while “Polar Nettles,” “Prison Girls” and “Red Tide” add an almost horrific element to the mix. Ultimately though, it’s the album’s closing track, the 31-minute long “Marais La Nuit” (night swamp) that issues the biggest challenge, but it’s also a deeply meditative experience and one that we insist you listen through at least once. Do it. Listen to the swamp noises. Embrace the swamp.
“Blacklisted,” much like overhearing your Mom on the phone with your grandparents, is an album that becomes more distressing the further you listen. “Blacklisted” first paired Case with her signature instrument, the tenor guitar, a smaller, four-string guitar known for its clear, bright tone and ability to play without making ones fingies hurt. Partially inspired by Case’s fraught childhood in Washington, the specter of Green River Killer, Gary Ridgway haunts this album like a malevolent phantom. The song “Deep Red Bells” is wholly about him, while his presence is felt scattered throughout in songs like “Ghost Wiring,” where Case sings: “The river is watching you at the drive-in tonight.”. Meanwhile, songs like “Tightly” and “Look For Me (I’ll Be Around)” set the perfect atmosphere for an evening walk through crime alley and “Stinging Velvet” and “I Wish I Was the Moon” are perfect for a night ride home.
This album is perfect both for sitting at a coffee shop (drinking a $11.00 charcoal chai latte) or for walking in the woods in the middle of Winter. In Uggs or Doc Martens of course. “Fox Confessor Brings The Flood” is Case’s most folk-oriented album, and in many ways the bleakest. “Star Witness” tells the tale of a depressed widow seeking stimulation from dangerous men and “Maybe Sparrow” tells an almost hopelessly bleak story of grim warnings unheeded. It’s not at all surprising to learn that this entire album was inspired by fairy tales. And not the Disney kind. More the “my stepmom was a cannibal and that’s why I’m so messed up” kind. Ultimately, though, as with most of Case’s discography, she is always able to rescue us from her darkness: She gets spiritual with her cover of “John Saw That Number” and continues with “At Last” serving as a late-in-the-album shout back into the void.
Pink Floyd just wasn’t the same without Syd, man. At least that’s what Dan told us before playing one of the most disorienting albums we’ve ever heard in our entire lives. It’s said that Barrett left Pink Floyd following a psychedelic-fueled mental breakdown, but our guy suspects it had more to do with being a stifled artist. We were really hoping this would be a segue into Dan telling us he had acid again, but unfortunately his hook-up got arrested again.
Apparently, this album needs to be played three consecutive times in a row to form a cohesive song, because everyone knows that cohesive songs are over two hours long. At least that’s what Dan said around the middle of the second playthrough while not even thinking about weighing out the Purple Dream we asked for. If you ask us, the record only gets more unintelligible with each listen, and this was supposedly the album where they tried to write real music.
Ugh. Like most weed guys, Dan is fucking obsessed with Captain Beefheart. Personally, we don’t understand. We made the mistake of saying we’re not really fans, so we had to sit through a forty-minute lecture about how we just ‘don’t get it.’ Reportedly, one of the songs features each member of the band all playing a different song simultaneously or something. We’re starting to suspect that’s why it sounds bad. He got so worked up about our supposed ‘lack of artistic appreciation’ that he’ll probably never tell us when he gets shrooms in again.
At least this album was more modern and slightly enjoyable. Still, it’s hard to get into John Dwyer’s hellish soundscapes on a set of empty lungs, and the edibles we took just to endure the experience of coming to this guy’s house hadn’t kicked in by this point in the night. Apparently, this record has been long out of print and Dan owns an original pressing. He obtained it for only 150 bucks from a dude on Discogs. Glad to know our money is being well spent, we guess.
To be completely fair, he didn’t make us listen to the entire album, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t make us sit in silence while he recited all fifteen verses of ‘It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)’ from memory. We probably would have been impressed if we weren’t so utterly annoyed. One of us coughed during the third refrain, so he had to start over from the top, adding another seven minutes to our ill-fated green run.
Most would expect to have ‘Dopesmoker’ thrust upon their ears during a transaction that should have taken ten fucking minutes of their day, but most haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Dan. He may be a lot of things but he’s no pedestrian listener of stoner-metal legends, Sleep. In fact, he doesn’t even think ‘Dopesmoker’ is that good. We know, because he told us fifteen times before the album finally ended along with our faith in getting our weed within the following two hours.
Dan has his own ‘recording studio’ in his basement. One of these days he plans on crafting a multi-instrumental solo album like his long-time hero Kevin Parker, but he’ll probably just take a bong rip and fuck with the knobs on his modular synth for three hours instead. Regardless, ‘Lonerism’ is Dan’s favorite album and its lyrical themes make him feel proud of personality aspects that most people would attempt to correct in therapy. Not only did this listening session delay our score by almost a full hour, but now we can’t get ‘Elephant’ out of our heads.
Did you know all the lines on the cover of this album are more than just pretty colors? Each segment represents a thematic element featured in the album’s lyrics and there’s even a manual to decode it on the back of the record. Dan attempted to explain this to us for over an hour but admitted we probably wouldn’t understand it since we aren’t synesthetes like him. To be fair, though, it was pretty amusing watching Dan attempt to build the Rube Goldberg machine featured in the band’s video for ‘This Too Shall Pass.’
Dan fucking loves this album, and its title is appropriate because as soon as he put it on, we became ‘Paranoid’ that we would never leave his apartment again. Much less with the eighth we asked for over an hour ago. This album is a fine listen any other time. When watching your dealer and the three other people over at his apartment play air guitar over every track while occasionally yelling ‘Duuuuude’ at Bill Ward’s drum fills, it gets very tiring very quickly.
A song from this album actually came up on Dan’s Spotify radio while he was yelling at us for not clearing a hit out of his steamroller. Our bad. Anyway, he stopped scolding us only briefly to ask ‘What band was this chick in?’ We kept yelling ‘Rilo Kiley! She was in Rilo Kiley!’ track after track, which almost got his attention until he remembered we hadn’t cleared his ungodly smoking device yet and continued lecturing us until the album’s end.
Born in Bennington, Vermont, Donald Sheffield was raised in a paper yurt on the backside of an abandoned ski slope. He once attempted to invent his own astrological symbol which he called called “Sagitauri-Picer.”
Glen Morris was born in San Francisco to parents Paul and Trinian Morris, the tech moguls behind the successful startup www.fuckable-furbies.com. He often cited the exposure to corporate greed and soulless exploitation of the tech boom at a young age as his inspiration for getting involved in the music industry.
Born in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, Angelica Lorenstein moved to New York City in 1973, making the entire journey riding on bison back. She soon established her presence in the burgeoning Bowery scene, and was known by the distinctive bison-skin coat she always wore and the fact that she always smelled like slaughtered bison meat.
No one in the Renaissance era would ever think to paint a portrait of a cigar-smoking, bowler hat-wearing, underbite-clamping trout. Not saying ska-based art is better than Renaissance art, but I’m also not not saying it.