Less than a year after Michael Jordan retired from basketball for the first time, a fresh-faced piano prodigy at Chicago’s DePaul University named Brian Culbertson debuted on the smooth jazz scene with Long Night Out, an album he recorded in his college apartment with three roommates, beginning a journey that has spanned 30-plus years and over 20 albums. His latest effort, Day Trip, stays true to the formula Culbertson has crafted for his fans over the years, mixing the sounds of R&B and pop with contemporary jazz. While the direction is a slight departure from his early works such as Nice & Slow, After Hours, and It’s On Tonight—albums that were more ballad-focused instead of uptempo—Day Trip is a playful, drive-time romp. On this album, he’s accompanied by a host of smooth jazz legends such as Kirk Whalum, Nathan East, and Eric Marienthal. On the lead single of the album “On the Road,” a funky uptempo track, he enlists the help of legendary bassist and a frequent contributor to his albums, Marcus Miller and iconic drummer Sheila E. “A Hundred Miles,” another standout on the album, features yet another jazz legend, Randy Brecker, who dazzles the listener with an excellent trumpet solo. As Culbertson gets into his third decade as a recording artist and the legacy-act era of his career, this album is his way of celebrating the masters of the genre whose shoulders he stands on. —Ryne Hancock
“The name was inspired by a terrible coworker, who might not be the world’s worst person, but the most irritating,” Hillary Tusick said in an interview with the indie music website Blood Makes Noise, of the inspiration behind the name of her Seattle-based band, Linda From Work, one of the fast-rising additions to the Seattle scene. Consisting of Tusick on lead vocals, Elliott Gregory on guitar, Shayla Riday on bass, and Sam Nowak on drum, the band returns for their self-titled release, their third album to date. On the first single “Seeing Red,” which was heavily inspired by horror movies and the current state of the world, the band leans into their maturing songwriting skills and creates a crashout punk anthem about yanking power back from their oppressors. The second single, “Blood In The Water,” is another slasher-film inspired track accompanied by a fun, six-minute music video set at a summer camp (think Salute Your Shorts meets Stranger Things). After their recent appearance at the Seattle festival Freakout in early November, Linda From Work shows no signs of slowing down and is ready to take on 2026 with the same in-your-face rebellious energy. —Ryne Hancock
However much Noelle centers around Daytona Beach, Florida, it would be a mistake to think of it as a tribute. Nikki Anderson, who produces music under the name Nep, paints her hometown as a flagging, dead-end city that she can’t wait to escape. Sometimes this pent-up frustration erupts, like in the two-minute burst of rage “Daytona,” (“The beaches are fucked / Daytona Beach sucks”) soundtracked by fuzzy guitars; and at other times it seeps out slowly in the form of loneliness and longing for a better home, better friends, and a better future like on “Black Car Song.” While certainly providing catharsis to anyone who’s ever felt trapped in the place they’re from, Nep’s lyrical candor gets in the way of that emotional punch at times. While it thrives on more story-based tracks like “Scar,” on more emotionally-driven songs like “Black Car Song” it can read as immature. Much of the album sticks to catchy run-of-the-mill indie pop, a sharp departure from the more traditional folk and Americana of Nep’s past releases—but it’s done well, and there’s not a complete lack of experimentation. There are touches of rock, country, and even mild shoegaze influences. Those country influences are most apparent on the standout track and closer “Florida Girl,” a humorous and somewhat self-deprecating take on escaping a year-long toxic relationship where Nep finally comes to terms with being the eponymous Florida girl. It completes the arc of learning to take pride in where you’re from and the ways it’s shaped you, even if you don’t want to stay there. —Robyn Kopeny
Numb Ways, the latest project from local punk veteran Rob Lovell and Brandon Treadway, firmly cements itself as straight edge hardcore with this debut (all the way down to the letterman typeface on the cover). Much like many of Lovell’s other projects (Dracula, Torture Garden, UT/EX), this release was recorded at HighTower Recording. It’s a blisteringly fast album with each song being about a minute or two long at most. This record knows exactly what it is and even has a literal pledge of allegiance to the straight edge lifestyle with the track “Preparation X.” They keep the lyrics simple but purposeful, addressing personal and emotional issues with the kind of hardcore immediacy that makes folks want to scream the words back. Refrains like “Losing my grip” on “Traction Control” or “Burn it down” on “Moetsukiru” seem specifically designed for that kind of call-and-response. Although the lyrics mostly focus inward, the longest track, “Encumbered,” evokes straight edge’s confrontational spirit calling out someone as “just an act,” like punk scorekeeping of yore. You aren’t going to find much in the way of experimentation or genre diversion on this release. However, for what seems like two buddies just fucking around, this record serves as a seasoned example of conventional straight edge written just for the sake of it. —Dalton Spangler
Between 2007 and 2011, twin sisters Katie and Allison Crutchfield created music together as members of P.S. Eliot. Though perhaps not as well known as their subsequent projects—Katie with Waxahatchee and Allison with Swearin’—P.S. Eliot’s scrappy, DIY feminist pop-punk and origin story has had lasting influence in modern punk history. In October, the Crutchfields started to tease new music, announcing their new project Snocaps and self-titled debut on Halloween. Produced by Brad Cook with MJ Lenderman on backing instrumentals (both are frequent Waxahatchee collaborators), Snocaps manages to capture much of the magic of P.S. Eliot while also showcasing the Crutchfields’ own growth as musicians and people over the past 14 years. Sharing songwriting and lead vocals equally, the songs on Snocaps are a melding of Allison’s indie rock leanings and Katie’s twangier, singer-songwriter stylings, with the Crutchfields’ gorgeous, seamless vocal harmonies and Lenderman’s guitar work tying it all together. Like the music of P.S. Eliot, the songs on Snocaps are introspective and candid, albeit with more finesse than youthful brashness. No longer in their teens and early 20s, the Crutchfields have wisdom and experience to share, and they manage to do so while sounding like they are having a blast. —Mary Beth Campbell
Featuring a host of familiar names in New Orleans indie, UNIVERSAL FRIEND debuts a solid album blending influences from various genres like math rock, shoegaze, and power pop. Comprised of Shane Avrard (Kelly Duplex), Patrick Bailey (Static Masks), Josh Campbell (New Lands) and Robert Landry (New Lands, Self-Help Tapes), UNIVERSAL FRIEND feels like an emo return to form in some ways (especially stitching together Kelly Duplex and New Lands). As I’ve come to expect from Strange Daisy, this record sounds clean but not overly polished in the way good alt-rock should, allowing for a more authentic, fuzzy sound. Perhaps due to the shoegaze influences, the vocals (when present) can sometimes get buried in the mix, and with no published lyrics, it’s difficult to discern exactly what this record intends to convey. But I can tell you how it made me feel. Maybe it’s just the early nights and slightly cooler weather or even the arctic imagery on the cover, but jobs in the stereo field has a distinctly winter feel to it. Gentle, foot-tapping beats moving at a glacial pace, especially on the instrumental tracks like “deuce” and “raw phone,” create the stillness and isolation of icy cold winter nights. High-energy tracks melt the frost here or there like on “straight line, head down” or the aptly titled “summer teeth.” Even if you are unfamiliar with the band members’ previous projects, I’d recommend this record to anyone who’s a fan of classic math rock bands like American Football or even neo-grunge acts like Momma. —Dalton Spangler
Greg Rodrigue’s solo debut serves as a meditative artifact, addressing and accepting his mental health issues while exploring drum patterns and recording techniques through synth pop (à la artists like LUMP and M83). Rodrigue is known locally for being co-owner and operator of Community Records and Hey! Cafe, and for being in many local bands over the years, namely BAD OPERATION, The Rooks, All People, and Fatter Than Albert. Typically contributing as bassist for those bands, Rodrigue leans heavily towards the rhythmic on this record with bass-driven tracks and looping drum pads. In the notes for UNSUBSCRIBER, he describes the record as “an internal dialog about mental health turned into a love song of acceptance for anxiety and depersonalization.” I was unfamiliar with depersonalization before this record and maybe a bit too familiar with anxiety, but these conditions bubble up in both subtle and immersive ways. Synths, being a slightly artificial instrument, have the uncanny ability to sound both cold and distant, like you’re underwater, as well as warm and intimate, like you’re in a dream. Here, they reflect the detachment associated with depersonalization but can also have a joyous, ethereal quality like on the love songs “one” and “eyes.” Although it’s a bit heady, it’s still an approachable record. Rodrigue’s vocals may not be the best, but his fast delivery and simple lyrics make for a digestible listen. He has stated these songs were tracked from 2016 to 2019, pre-BAD OPERATION, which makes me curious if we will get any more solo work under the UNSUBSCRIBER name again in the future. But either way, this record serves as a unique deviation in Rodrigue’s 20-year discography. —Dalton Spangler
Each year the holiday season brings with it a slew of new songs to either expand the canon or bring labels some fast money, depending on how cynical you are. Admittedly, I tend to fall into the latter camp, but A Strange Daisy Christmas is evidence that not all modern Christmas music is like the Bill Nighy plotline in Love Actually. For one thing, a portion of all album sales will be donated to several local food aid organizations: Second Harvest Food Bank, Toups Family Meal, Giving Hope NOLA, and For The Love Of. For another, the album—featuring 19 Strange Daisy artists across all genres—is a diverse mix of original songs and mostly non-standard holiday covers (I dare you not to cry at Claire Givens’ cover of Joni Mitchell’s “River”). There are many gems on this album, including the blues-infused beats of Haunted House Party’s “Hang Up Your Stocking,” Dre Perish’s rollicking “Love This Holiday,” and Butte’s dreamy “It’s Not Snowing Anymore,” original songs that also hold up outside of the season. Other standouts include Laura Fisher’s droney, synth-backed take on “Have Yourself A Merry Little Xmas,” loucey’s trip-hop cover of Darlene Love’s “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home),” and Community’s rendition of The Pretenders’ “2000 Miles.” A Strange Daisy Christmas is a reimagining of what Christmas music could be—the soundtrack for those of us who are tired of corporatized tradition and want to be reminded that wonder can still be found beneath the shiny, plastic façade of the modern holidays. —Mary Beth Campbell
Jessica Mitford, dubbed “Queen of Muckrakers,” was born in 1917 to a family of conservative British aristocrats, one of six sisters raised in country estate isolation. One sister, Diana, married notorious British fascist Oswald Mosley. Another, Unity, moved to Germany and became a close friend of Hitler. Jessica eloped with fellow dissatisfied aristocrat Esmond Romilly to support the left in the Spanish Civil War and later moved with him to the nobility-free United States. She devoted decades to racial equality, civil liberties activism, and writings like The American Way of Death—a witty takedown of the funeral industry exemplifying Mitford’s acute senses of injustice and the absurd—and Kind and Usual Punishment, which advocated for prison abolition. Carla Kaplan goes deeper into Mitford’s life than many sensationalizing recounts of the sisters’ lives, exploring darker points, including Romilly’s World War II death, which are skimmed over in Mitford’s own irony-driven memoirs. It’s a great biography of a now-somewhat-overlooked giant of 20th century journalism, though excerpts featured from Mitford’s letters—rich with humor, pen names, and puns—sit uneasily amid the history. Readers new to Mitford should start with her own writing—perhaps “Let Us Now Appraise Famous Writers,” her still-relevant and quite funny 1970 probe of a celebrity-endorsed correspondence school—then proceed to Kaplan. —Steven Melendez
We all know the story of Frankenstein, and Guillermo del Toro’s version adheres fairly closely to Mary Shelley’s original novel. It attempts to stray into new ground and explore a Freudian interpretation of the mad scientist’s motivations, but ultimately doesn’t add anything that hasn’t been broached before. Oscar Isaac plays the eponymous doctor, and Mia Goth does double duty playing his late mother and his unrequited love interest. Using wide angle lenses and hazy lighting, the dreamy aesthetic paints an impressionistic gothic canvas, as multiple raconteurs tell their side of the tale, presenting subjective pros and cons about the creation of eternal life and the consequences of stealing fire from the gods and sharing it with humanity. The lessons can be applied to any new technology—simply imagine the atomic bomb or artificial intelligence or an island of dinosaurs. Just remember the original 18-year-old Shelley’s warning about what happens when men create life and play god. To quote Jurassic Park’s Dr. Ian Malcolm, the scientist was “so preoccupied with whether they could, they didn’t stop to think if they should.” Del Toro’s interpretation plays just as well now as it would have 50 years ago, and will for 50 years hence. —Carlos A. Molina
From the studio that brought you a bunch of Palme d’Or winners and the director who brought you Longlegs and The Monkey comes Keeper, a tense atmospheric horror movie that effectively turns the screw ever so slowly. Malcolm (Rossif Sutherland) and Liz (Tatiana Maslany) head to Malcolm’s family’s secluded cabin in the woods to celebrate their one-year anniversary. Of course everything will go according to plan, right? Through a series of slow, long takes, the audience gets an ominous idea of the layout of the house. Every shot has a wall, bannister, or table in the foreground, occulting the view and forcing the audience to shift in their seat, unsuccessfully attempting to peek around the corner to what might be lying in wait. A creepy, misogynistic cousin lives next door, and flashes of disturbing imagery provide jumpscares and clues. When Malcolm gets called back to the city for a medical emergency, the line between dreams and reality begins to blur, and Liz’s palpable discomfort is contagious to the viewer as she’s left alone at this house in the woods with whatever else is out there. Don’t worry about the denouement, just enjoy the lead up and the payoff. —Carlos A. Molina
In this remake/adaptation of the 1982 Stephen King novel and 1987 film starring Arnold Schwarzenegger, Edgar Wright delivers his most overtly political film yet. Wright (Shaun of the Dead, Baby Driver) uses his typical action-comedy tone and trademark needledrops to critique our media tastes and intake, while hitting us on the head with commentary on class division. The film is set in a dystopian future where an autocratic regime controls the masses through a surveillance state that its denizens are encouraged to partake in, ratting on each other for money and likes. The Network, with its not-so-subtle big red ‘N’ logo, produces The Running Man, the most popular show on FreeVee, where contestants volunteer to live life on the run for 30 days while being hunted. Survive, and win $1 billion. Ben Richards (hottie du jour Glen Powell), a blacklisted blue collar worker with a conscience, signs up for the show because he can’t afford health care for his baby. Chaos ensues as he navigates a rigged corporate world of deepfake videos and explosions. Less subtle and more timely than One Battle After Another, The Running Man is a warning as to where it seems we might be descending, recapitulating lessons you’d think we’d learned from Orwell and Huxley 80 years ago that just don’t seem to have stuck. —Carlos A. Molina
Peter Halley: New Orleans, 1977-78 at the U.N.O. St. Claude Gallery recognizes the artist as the 2025 College of Liberal Arts, Education, and Development Distinguished Alumnus of the Year. This exhibition featured 21 of Peter Halley’s gouache and pencil abstract paintings on paper made while working toward his Master of Fine Arts at the University of New Orleans and was organized by professors Tony Campbell and Anna Mecugni. As a testimonial to the potency of this MFA program—which shockingly remains on probation—Halley’s career as an influential Neo-Conceptual artist, writer, and educator is exemplary. Formally, this exhibition offers an origin story to his later “Neo-Geo” abstract paintings. During graduate school, Halley expanded on iconography seen during his travels to places such as North Africa and Central America, reflecting a 1960s Western sensibility that sought meaning from other cultures that it could not find in its own. Halley’s squares, rectangles, and thick, angled lines imply connections between the ancient and modern. You may see the stepped lines of a Kilim or Navajo weaving pattern, or ziggurat forms in Landscape with Sky. Stepped lines are a signature of early design and architecture, and carry over to systems of logic like data charts and the pixelated aesthetic of the digital age. In Teepee, an electric yellow life force glows inside a triangular shelter under an elemental storm. Upon returning to New York City in 1980, Halley would pivot to the geometrization of urban space, inspired by French post-structuralist thinkers like Michel Foucault and Jean Baudrillard. In the 1984 Arts Magazine essay “The Crisis in Geometry,” Halley concluded, “Where once geometry provided a sign of stability, order, and proportion, today it offers an array of shifting signifiers and images of confinement and deterrence.” This is how Halley arrived at his cell-and-conduit paintings depicting regimented topographies of living, work, and carceral spaces. Compare his graduate works like the grid and line painting Sharay with the later paintings and you’ll see how foundational the former are. The UNO Gallery exhibition is a wonderful homecoming for an artist whose works appear in worldwide collections such as the Museum of Modern Art, Solomon Guggenheim Museum, Centre Pompidou, and numerous others. A consummate teacher, Halley continues to influence socially engaged artists. In my own encounter as a young artist with Peter Halley’s ideas, my mind was blown that something as ordinary as a stop sign signified greater frameworks of control—and how abstraction conveys this message. Whew! (You can hear an interview with Peter Halley on LIFT OFF with Veronica Cross on Apple Podcasts.) —Veronica Cross
