• Heavy Cream by Leigh Metzler

• Odd Future by Suzi Pratt

• Atari Teenage Riot by Mat Hayward

• Bumbershoot by Mat Hayward

• Pentagram by Mat Hayward

• Pentagram by Mat Hayward

• Devo by Leigh Metzler

• Peelander-Z by Shahab Zargari

• Yeasayer by Dave MacIntyre

• Amon Tobin\'s ISAM Live by Heather Schofner

• Monotonix by Chad Elder

• Title Fight by Chad Elder

• Occupy Wall Street by Jammi York

• Lily Verlaine Burlesque by Mat Hayward

• The Kills by Cayte Nobles

• Matt and Kim by Suzi Pratt

• Lemuria by Diana Guay

• Dum Dum Girls by Leigh Metzler

• The Joy Formidable by Cayte Nobles

• Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros by Kevin Rafter

• New York Food Film Fest by Ryan Howell

• Primus by Kris Arnold

• Rage Against the Machine by Suzi Pratt

• The Sounds by Cayte Nobles

• Queens of the Stone Age by Cayte Nobles

• Secret Chiefs 3 by Kris Arnold

• Sick of It All by Peter Borghard

• Tamaryn by Timothy McLaughlin

• The Tubes by Mat Hayward

• Dropkick Murphys by Mat Hayward

• The Devil Wears Prada by Elizabeth McClay

• Mirah by Heather Schofner

• The Jukebox Romantics by Peter Borghard

• Wild Flag by Cayte Nobles

• Yelle by Mat Hayward

Check out some of the amazing photography we’ve featured this year! Impressive, to say the least.

Sandwiched between two five-song solo acoustic mini-sets, Lou and the Missingmen — Raul Morales (drums) and Tom Watson (bass, guitar) — delivered a full throttle set of new songs from Barlow’s recent self-releases.  The new songs have an explosive immediacy that, combined with Barlow’s infectious pop hooks, make the last 10 years of relative stasis/self-parody disappear amidst swirls of glorious distortion.  Lou has a variety of effects pedals that he manipulates with the sure-footed skill of a veteran church organist.  The pedal rig itself looks like something from the deck of the USS Enterprise.

Lou prefaced the show with an apology:  “Half of our gear is broken.  This guitar usually has a much richer tone.” Before he even played a note, as if on cue, his microphone fell from his acoustic (thus would begin an the evening’s theme, that included Lou’s glasses falling off repeatedly mid-thrash).  “Does anyone have any tape?” he pleaded with the audience.   Jenn Wasner, from opener Wye Oak, came and performed a quick on-stage fix.  This was the first date of their tour together, and Wye Oak hung out for the entirety of Lou’s set — a sure sign of respect.

Lou began with acoustic versions of classics like “Magnet’s Coil” and “The Freed Pig.”  He concluded the set likewise, playing solo acoustic versions of his more recognizable tunes, including a heartfelt rendering of “Soul and Fire” on ukulele, muttering classic ‘tween-song Lou-isms like: “All of a sudden I feel depressed.” At one point late in the set, most likely as an observation regarding the maturity of his audience, which was reverently silent for his acoustic numbers, Lou remarked:  “If you have kids, what are you doing here?  I don’t go to shows anymore unless I’m playing at them, so it means so much to me that you’re here.”  Lou’s self-deprecatory sense of humor was on display all night: “I have a reputation for being oversensitive” — no kidding.  But sideman Tom Watson probably got in the night’s best line:  “Next time we’ll have a setlist.  You won’t like it as much.”  Lou ended the night with Smash Your Head on the Punk Rock‘s “Vampire ” and “Brand New Love,” sending all of us new and soon-to-be parents home happy.  It can sometimes be easy to dismiss our idols once we’ve moved on to newer, shinier obsessions, but Lou Barlow proved tonight that his music is still relevant and his voice still resonates.

Baltimore-based duo and Merge Records stablemates, Wye Oak, opened the show with a blistering set of recent and new songs, including set highlights “That I Do” and “For Prayer” from their critically acclaimed second album The Knot.  Wye Oak has an interesting dynamic.  They look like latchkey kids that might practice in your neighbor’s garage, but their sound is immense.  It’s all the more impressive knowing it’s made by only two people.

Lead vocalist/guitarist Jenn Wasner has a gorgeously textured voice that occasionally affects a country twang reminiscent of the high lonesome tones of alt-country chanteuses Neko Case and The Cowboy Junkies’ Margo Michael as well as cross-town rival Victoria Legrand (of Beach House), and that’s meant in the most complimentary terms possible.  She also has a dry wit and deadpan delivery:  “This is the best town we’ve ever played in…whose name begins with ‘Milf.’”

Speaking with Wasner at the merch table after the show, she mentioned the new album has already been tracked and will be mixed at the conclusion of this tour, which means we have another dose of incendiary indie rock on the horizon.  Also, unlike their previous albums, all indications from Jenn hint that their upcoming album will be released on vinyl in addition to CD and digital formats.

But now it’s deep summer again, and Nathan has a brand new album, King of the Beach, with a cleaned-up, poppier sound. Needless to say, he’s a little lukewarm on the subject of the professional gossip mill, but they seem to be giving the schadenfreude a rest. Everyone loves an underdog, and with King of the Beach, Nathan seems to have returned to the public spotlight a little older, a lot wiser and maybe just as high as before.

He returned to San Diego on August 12 for a performance at the Museum of Contemporary Art, speaking to Verbicide the next day about being a hard-working slacker, why the music press always needs a story, and weedy, peanut buttery pot brownies.

Hey, Nathan. I saw the show last night, and it was really good.
Nathan Williams: Thank you very much.

Is it good to be back in San Diego?
Nathan: I’m back in LA now, but it was good to be back for the short period. In my old homey.

It was a really packed show. Maybe it was just a fluke, but it seemed like there were a lot of high school kids who were up on the balcony. Do you have a younger fan base coming to your shows?
Nathan: I hope so. I like kids.

What were the stand-out shows you remember seeing in high school?
Nathan: Stand-out shows? Before I was in high school, I saw Everclear, my first show. Everclear and Third Eye Blind. I saw Wu-Tang Clan in high school, then I saw them a month ago; we played at the same venue as them in Amsterdam.

Was that pretty trippy, seeing your idols up there?
Nathan: Yeah, that was awesome.

So Jay Reatard’s old band are touring with you — how did that come together?
Nathan: I’ll let a great storyteller storytell that. Here you go.

Nathan hands the phone to Steven Pope, the band’s bassist.

Steven Pope: Hello, this is Steven.

Hey, Steven. I was just wondering how you and Nathan came to touring together.
Steven: Let’s see — at [Barcelona Primavera Sound Festival] last year, Billy [Hayes, the band’s drummer] and I went to go see Wavves — oh wait. We met before that, we met in San Diego. And Nathan brought us weed when we were playing in San Diego with Jay. Then we met again in Primavera, and we brought him weed. So then we watched the show, and we thought it was fine. Nathan and I kept in touch, and we had talked about joining at the Pitchfork Festival last year, but Jay threatened to fire me if I did, so that didn’t work out at the time. So Billy and I ended up quitting Jay, and a couple months later, Zach Hill [the band’s former drummer] broke his hand, and so it worked out — we were already planning on playing together anyways.

Nathan comes back.

Nathan: Hello.

Hey. So reading through interviews, I get the feeling you think indie-rock bands tend to take things pretty seriously. Is part of what you’re doing with your music just trying to loosen people up?
Nathan: I don’t know. I mean, we’re definitely not serious people, any of us. So maybe that just comes out in the music.

There’s a lot of references in reviews and the press to you being a stoner/slacker. Do you ever get irritated with that?
Nathan: No, I don’t care. I mean, it’s pretty funny, because we’re definitely not slackers. We tour nine months out of the year.

You do this pretty seriously.
Nathan: Yeah — we’re pretty hard-working slackers, I guess. I don’t know. People are always going to try and come up with a name for anything. We’re eating weed brownies right now.

Are you?
Nathan: They’re very weedy. And they’ve got peanut butter in them with weed in it, too.

That sounds delicious. Are you a pretty good baker?
Nathan: Oh, I didn’t bake them, my friend did.

That’s a great segue. On the role of drugs, do you feel personally like they help your music, or hurt it?
Nathan: I don’t know about drugs in general, but definitely, for me, I’ll smoke weed. And definitely, it’s fun to play and write music stoned.

Is that your cat on the cover of the new album?
Nathan: It is, yeah.

So Beth from Best Coast put her cat on their album. I was wondering, did you guys plan that out in advance?
Nathan: Nope. It was a fluke, I guess. It was like when two people wear the same outfit to a party and when you get there you’re like, “Oh, fuck.” But it’s a really good outfit.

I think so. I love the album cover, it looks awesome. What’s your obsession with Mickey Mouse?
Nathan: I don’t know, I just think that he’s a cool character. And he was on the first tab of acid I ever took.

Do you do your artwork yourself?
Nathan: It’s done by a lot of different people. The album cover was done by the drummer, Billy’s girlfriend and her friend Kelly. It’s done by a lot of different people, but they’re all really cool artists.

It’s kind of an old cliché that the music press goes through a cycle of building up artist and tearing them down. It seems like that was a lot of what you went through in 2009, but much faster than ever before. Do you think that’s something that didn’t exist before the Internet?
Nathan: I don’t know. I’ve never been on the Internet before. I’d like to get dial-up sometime soon.

I mean, do you think that whole process of the music press on the Internet is making things happen a lot faster?
I think people, a lot of people generally, not just in music, want people to fail. Watching somebody fall is pretty entertaining.

It’s just the schadenfreude of music critics, they enjoy picking at people?
Yeah, I guess it’s their job, to kind of do that, but there always has to be a story behind everything. It’s never okay to just be like, “Oh, you wrote this song. What did you do?” and you say “Oh, I watched ‘Seinfeld’ on mute. I didn’t do anything.” People are like, no — they want a story. Where did it come from? I feel like so many music journalists are responding to something. But whatever, it’s the game.

After that whole experience you had, do you pay attention to what people say about you at all, or differently at all?
No, I don’t pay attention to it at all. I read reviews here and there of the first record. I read a couple of this one, too, but I generally stay away from them. I mean, it’s just such a waste of time to go soul-searching on what people’s opinion is of you. It doesn’t make any sense.

Were you like that before, or is that something you learned through the process of last year?
I learned a lot of things last year, probably. And yeah, that could be one of them.

Random question: You had five different tracks on the last album with “goth” in the title. Do you have some affinity with goth or something?
No, it was just a really lazy way of naming the songs. How’s that for a story?

Verbicide Free Download: Click here to download “Post Acid” by Wavves

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Wavves - Post Acid

This is a song off the upcoming Central Services EP Forever Frozen in Television Time. It was recorded in early 2005 and was never released. The EP will be given away for free in conjunction with the Camu Tao album King of Hearts, which drops on August 3rd on Def Jux/Fat Possum.

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EL-P - What God Should Do

Described by the band as “an almost live representation of the Lou Barlow + the missingmen live show,” the band’s new digital EP = Sentridoh III (Merge Records) is another step forward for Lou Barlow, and his first release with new backing band the missingmen (guitarist Tom Watson and drummer Raul Morales). With new cuts, rocking reworks of songs from Lou’s Merge debut Emoh and his latest solo record Goodnight Unknown, as well as a hauntingly beautiful cover of Skip James’s “I’m So Glad,” = Sentridoh III is a must-have testament to this remarkable partnership.

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Lou Barlow - Losercore

In this case, the end was a new beginning. Freed from the noxious psychological combat with Mascis, Barlow focused his enormous creative energies on his lo-fi Sebadoh projects, releasing a string of home-recorded albums under that moniker, as well as Sentridoh, and also as a member of college radio darlings, Folk Implosion. Barlow has also released a series of solo records, most recently 2005’s Emoh, an album that made many critics’ Top 10 lists for that year. In 2007, he reunited with Dinosaur Jr. to release the critically-acclaimed Beyond, and this year the band followed up with the brilliant Farm. If that’s not enough, this October another Barlow solo record, Goodnight Unknown, will be added to his impressive discography. We were lucky enough to catch up with Lou via email, as he is currently touring Europe with Dinosaur Jr.

First off, let’s start with some of the more personal stuff. I read on your website that you have a new baby on the way. Congratulations! When is the baby due, and is it a boy or girl? Also you had a bit of a health scare in July — how are you feeling?
My wife is six months pregnant and there’s a boy in there. He’s meant to come out December 4th. My touring with Dinosaur, Jr. lasts until November 20th. Initially, the plan was to travel with my family, as we usually do, but my wife was far too uncomfortable too early in the pregnancy for that to be realistic. Realizing that we were going to be separated for nearly three months — which is unprecedented in our relationship — while she was pregnant and caring for a four-year-old was more than my heart could handle.

Though I didn’t have an anxiety attack, in the traditional sense (mental), my heart went haywire and I ended up in the hospital on my 43rd birthday. That was humbling. I went through a battery of tests, all results negative. Now I just do less of what I was already doing less of: drinking alcohol and caffeine, and worrying. Halfway into the European tour things are okay — Skype makes it easier.

And speaking of the tour, where are you now? How is the Dino Jr. part of the Lou Barlow experience going? How is Farm being received on the other side of the pond?
Farm has done well over here, too. We’re playing to more people. We are currently in Italy — Bologna. I’m trying to force the band into playing two of my songs in the set every night. I also forced my way into an opening slot on the US tour with extra bunks on the bus for my band. But, overall, things are going well. I welcome the challenge, but I’m not sure how much “Lou” Dino can handle.

What has the highlight of the tour been thus far? And the lowlight?
The highlight was a sold-out show in Oslo. We played well. The night before, in Trondheim (Norway), was a disaster. We fell apart — which made the Oslo show that much sweeter.

Michael Azerrad’s book, Our Band Could Be Your Life, made a pretty convincing argument for Dinosaur Jr.’s inclusion in the underground rock canon. It also painted a not-so-pretty picture of the psychological warfare between you and J. [Mascis]. What do you think about that book? How accurate do you think his rendering is?
I talked to Michael a lot. I unloaded every bit of bile I could muster. So it is accurate in the sense that he printed what I said. After I read the results it just depressed me rather than making me feel vindicated or “right.” It seemed very small-minded and petty. So after that I opened myself up more to the idea of connecting with J. again, and saw the reunion as a way to change the story. I personally like bios that dish serious dirt — I hate tasteful mystery. I want facts. So in that spirit I gave Michael all I had.

And now here we are two albums into the reunited band’s second act. You’ve toured pretty extensively — you’re currently on tour, including the North American dates when you get back from Europe. You’re even piggybacking your solo shows — Lou Barlow and the Missingmen — onto the Dino Jr. US dates. Something has obviously changed! What has made the difference this time around and contributed to a less contentious working relationship (if indeed that is the case)? How do you let go of that old baggage, and how has that affected you artistically?
I’m actually far more contentious and involved than I ever was back in the day. I think communication is necessary, so I push for that. But it’s an ongoing experiment: trying to get what I need without putting too much stress on the situation.

My initial involvement ended 20 years ago. I don’t think anything I felt 20 years ago has much credibility. So it’s easy to drop the baggage and get on with it. But, of course, the basic differences in personalities and chemistry still exist, but there’s nothing quite like your first real band. I hope I can play with J. and Murph for a long, long time. The songs I’ve written for Dinosaur on Beyond and Farm are more or less about the reunion. With my Dino songs I wanted to collaborate with J. and Murph and write from the top of my head about the surrounding circumstances.

On to your forthcoming solo record, Goodnight Unknown. I’d like to hear you describe your influences, but let’s segue in that direction with something Rob Theakston wrote on the Allmusic site about your 2005 album, Emoh:

“After nearly 20 years it’s hard to believe Lou Barlow can’t find something to be happy about, but much to the relief of his fans, that is clearly not the case…It’s a mature, accomplished statement for one of indie rock’s most reliably miserable men.”

A great review, I think. Do you think your work is that unrelentingly bleak? You’ve got a lot of wonderful things happening in your life — including those babies — so where does this melancholy that infuses many of your songs come from? And do you personally find hopefulness in your words? I know I do, but I am curious about how you respond to those who find the negative more compelling.
I don’t think my work is bleak at all. A lot of it is about reconciling and adjusting to difficult changes — losing friends, negotiating a long-term relationship. Very few of my songs are bleak from start to finish. For me there are threads of hope through [them all]. There has to be. I can’t tolerate negativity, believe it or not. The songs are ways to talk myself through transitions — mantras that I repeat to reassure myself. But, admittedly, my sensibilities may lean to the dark side. But it seems to be that way with everyone I know, so…

Are there other singer/songwriters exploring similar themes that inspire you, or is this simply your own preferred area of exploration?
I just write. The songs are puzzles — I start with a phrase and a melody and find my way to the end. I’d like to be more influenced by writers and other musicians, thematically, but I’m not. I’m inspired by the energy other people have: the mountain of amazing music that has been made and will be made, the power of language. But I’ve been in my little corner for awhile, sorting things out in a simple, familiar way, creating a body of work that will, hopefully, hang together in the end.

Your early work with Sebadoh, Sentridoh, and Folk Implosion cemented your reputation as one of the godfathers of the lo-fi “movement,” if it can be called that. Just about every article I was able to dig up about you mentions that. But I’d love to know if that moniker has any meaning to you. Many of your records sound anything but lo-fi — certainly Emoh and now Goodnight Unknown have a really interesting pallet of sounds and effects. Songs like “Sharing,” the title-track “Goodnight Unknown,” and “The Right” on the new album are awash in swirling guitars that betray a certain confidence in the studio. Can you talk about your creative process and the way that you worked on the new record? Did it differ significantly from what you were doing in 2005 on Emoh?
I grew up listening to the Young Marble Giants, the Swell Maps, and a plethora of DIY post-punk. I heard these bands before I began recording myself. I’m just a part of that flow: home recorded punk-influenced music — the urge to capture something at an early, minimal stage in an environment that is comfortable.

But like the “miserable” thing, lo-fi is a brand that can be attached to what I do without much thought. I don’t think it’s an accurate description for most of the records I’ve done either. But I do love lo-fi.

For Goodnight Unknown I recorded most of the tracks myself before taking it to a studio to finish. In my opinion the tracks on Emoh that I recorded myself were the most successful so I wanted to follow through on that and make a more textured record, incorporating more lo-fi elements. But I didn’t want to limit the appeal of the record either, so I found help to provide clarity when I wanted it.

That said, many of the songs are quiet and introspective. But you seem to draw from a pool of musicians who are known for their work in bands that are heavy and rockin.’ Dale Crover’s [of the Melvins] sledgehammer drumming on a few of the new songs is really distinctive. And you’ve plucked Tom Watson and Raul Morales from Mike Watt’s band for your US solo dates. How do you choose your band mates when you’re playing the solo stuff?
It’s all fate, really — proximity, necessity. I met Dale when the Folk Implosion opened for the Melvins. I found he and his band mates to be very open-minded and peers in that they discovered punk rock at about the same time I did. He’s a great drummer, very inventive and totally unassuming. Aggressive music is where I cut my teeth. The acoustic element is something I’ve cultivated simultaneously. Dale seemed an obvious choice: our daughters are roughly the same age and we see each other regularly on the pre-school circuit.

Tom and Raul were playing with Mike Watt when they opened for Dino Jr. last spring. Tom was in a punk band called Toxic Shock, who contributed a great song to one of my favorite punk compilations Keats Rides a Harley. Later, he was in Slovenly, a great lost SST band. When I mentioned I wanted to form a band to support my record he offered his services. He lives close by so that sealed it.

Another thing that I noticed is the extensive work that you’ve done with filmmaker Adam Harding for the new material. I think there are already videos for six of the songs. And there is a really cool 30-minute “making of” documentary up and running on YouTube. What is your connection to Adam?
Adam was an Australian Sebadoh fan who had an email correspondence with my wife starting in ’94 or so. Fate led him to LA. Eventually he needed a place to stay, so we helped him out. During his time as our houseguest he was working for various studios and video companies as an editor. I suggested he begin working on videos for my album as a way to earn his keep. That began an organic process by which he conceived video ideas through our conversations and used his studio contacts to procure expensive equipment at no cost.

How active were you in the video-making process?
Very. Adam edited the videos, sometimes, on the dining room table with my daughter running around. He poured himself into the work and I did whatever I could to help, from editing ideas to doing voiceovers for the documentary. It was a special time.

Have you experimented with video to this extent before? What is the connection, in your mind, between music and film?
I was very involved in the making of a few Sebadoh videos (“Skull” and “Ocean”), and shot one myself (“Flame”). I think videos are important if only because I enjoy watching them myself. It’s nice when a band or artist involves themselves and their personalities come out in the work. It’s a very effective way to draw people into the songs. I’ve had some amazing days shooting videos, most recently the Dino Jr. video for “Over It.”

Any future plans to continue that sort of experimentation?
I hope so. I’d like to start filming the early stages of recording so the videos reflect the whole process.

And speaking of the future, what are you thinking about? There is a lot going on your life, at least over the short term: new album, the tour, new baby. But what’s down the line? Is there something you’ve wanted to do but never had the opportunity?
I’m thinking about my next batch of songs. I want to write more — words, journals, etc. Sharpen my language skills. Also maybe take guitar and/or piano lessons. I need more dexterity in my playing and a broader scope in my writing. So if I do some basic skill-building exercises, maybe that can happen.

Of course that’s all a very convoluted way of asking you, what’s next?
I’d like to collaborate more with J. If Dino Jr. makes another record, I’d like my songs not to suck. I’ve barely tapped his skills! He has incredible compositional abilities, he’s a monster of rhythm.

(Fat Possum Records, PO Box 1923, Oxford, MS 38655)