Local son Jon Batiste has done us proud for years, and anyone paying attention to New Orleans music has long known that he possesses a singular talent. But the world got to know that better when a clip from Who’s Talking to Chris Wallace?, in which he charms the veteran newscaster with an impromptu improvisation of Beethoven‘s “Für Elise,” went viral in 2023. He was demonstrating how effortless it can be to blend genres. From that clip evolved his latest album, Beethoven Blues, which reimagines classics from the iconic German composer, injecting them with a fresh energy and a distinctly New Orleans flair. “Symphony No. 5 Stomp” gives a sleek jazz makeover to one of the most well-known pieces of music in recorded history while “5th Symphony in Congo Square” tackles the same piece and infuses it with soulful R&B tones. “Ode to Joyful” takes the notoriously bright “Ode to Joy” to church, slowing things down and adding runs and trills aplenty. “Waldstein Wobble” takes Beethoven’s most complex instrumental piece and adds bounce and verve that elevate the technically stunning piece to new heights. The album not only makes for a beautiful soundtrack, but calls us to the carpet to consider what “classical” really means. How do we assign value to music based on the geography and genre of its origin? And what assumptions about class and race underpin those designations? Why are blues, gospel, and funk not seen as “serious” musical pursuits? Ultimately, Batiste shows through this work, as he always has, that music can truly be a common ground around which we gather and do the work to break down barriers that exist amongst our lived experiences, finding pathways to genuine human connection. —Erin Hall
It’s been 16 years since The Cure released an album. In that time, lead singer Robert Smith buried his mother, father, and brother, and we all endured a pandemic and the daily emotional grind of living in an increasingly dire geopolitical and environmentally unstable world. Songs Of A Lost World is a rumination on the end of our stories. Smith has called the album merciless and has joked that he had no idea what sadness really was when he was young and writing songs that would become anthems for the goth subculture. But in less than an hour and with eight tracks, the band has delivered the most truly gothic work of their career. Opener “Alone” blends synth with organic instrumentation to create a lush and ambient atmosphere. At nearly seven minutes long, vocals don’t even come into play until the midpoint of the song. This is a theme throughout the album—the band is really given an opportunity to stretch its legs, making for an immersive listen and rendering the songs violently radio-unfriendly. “And Nothing Is Forever” along with “I Can Never Say Goodbye” are deep reflections on the nature of death and saying goodbye to those we love—they encapsulate the complexity of grief and how, even in the face of death, true connection with another human being is a balm that provides both comfort and confidence to face the unknown: “I know, I know / That my world has grown old / And nothing is forever / I know, I know / That my world has grown old / But it really doesn’t matter / If you say we’ll be together.” The tracks that capture the band’s classic energy like “Drone:Nodrone” and “A Fragile Thing” are likely to be more broadly accessible with their shorter run times, more uptempo pacing, and combination of searing guitar work and enigmatic lyrics. “Warsong” and “All I Ever Am” are chugging and guitar-driven, the lyrics equal parts self-derision and societal accusation. Final track “Endsong” has a staggering 10+ minute run time. It features tribalistic drums, moody synth, and a blistering guitar solo, and leaves the listener emotionally spent as Smith utters the final line: “Left alone with nothing / The end of every song.” Songs Of A Lost World is a beautiful exploration of the often dark and isolating nature of the human experience. Longtime Cure fans will connect deeply with this work, as will anyone who is open to being immersed in these ugly, messy—but quintessentially human—emotions, all with the backdrop of gorgeous orchestral arrangements. —Erin Hall
It feels strange to write that Nobody Loves You More is the official debut full-length from Kim Deal (Pixies, The Amps, The Breeders), as she has been such a major musical presence and influence over the past four decades. Deal began writing the songs that would become Nobody Loves You More over a decade ago. Featuring appearances from a slew of musicians such as Raymond McGinley (Teenage Fanclub), Jack Lawrence (the Raconteurs), and multiple past and present members of The Breeders (including twin sister Kelley), the album was engineered by the late Steve Albini, Deal’s close friend and long-time collaborator. The songs are linked through reflections on mortality, loss, and Deal’s experiences during COVID-19. Musically, Deal eschews adherence to one particular genre, borrowing instead from multiple sounds including doo-wop (“Are You Mine?,” Deal’s tribute to her late mother), dance-punk (“Crystal Breath”), and jangly lo-fi surf rock (“Wish I Was”). The ukulele (a gift from Albini) plays a prominent role on the album, and both an orchestra and marching band make appearances. Lest anyone complain that the album is too mellow, “Big Ben Beat” is an aggressive rock song that allows Deal to contend with being stuck in Florida during lockdown, and “Disobedience” is a gritty, angry anthem that challenges anyone who questions her creative decisions. Indeed, though some might find the lack of musical cohesion on Nobody Loves You More to be jarring, anyone who has paid any attention to Deal over the past 40-plus years would not be surprised by her experimentation. The album seems less about Deal trying to please the public and more about creating art that satisfies her. As she sings on closer “A Good Time Pushed”: “I want a big change / I want volume… We’re having a good time.” —Mary Beth Campbell
Don’t judge this album by its cover—a double-exposure image of a boy with flowers superimposed into his silhouette, against a darkening sky. Is this gentle, artful gloom we’re about to hear? Nope—just surgical brutality from start to finish, crafted by two veterans of the Louisiana metal/hardcore scene (ex Recluse, Eat the Witch, Psydonia): Ryan Ashmore on vocals, backed by mastermind Trey Porche who is credited with “instruments, programming,” mixing, and mastering the record. I’m not the most current on this genre but tracks like “Kuru” especially remind me of His Hero Is Gone, with a much more Nordic, technical take, with tons of double bass and chunky riffs, all rendered in hi-def, crisp production. Brief, abstract song titles—“Cathedrals,” “I am the Ghost,” “Subservience”—set the tone but leave much to the imagination, which is perhaps more menacing. You’ll have to dig for deeper meaning in Ashmore’s throaty vocals. Overall, Gallant Shroud is an efficient, well-executed six-song sprint that might leave you a little breathless, choked out even. —Dan Fox
Hedonistic garage punk that channeled Bruce Springsteen, Japandroids’ earlier albums were a celebration of youthful abandon and confusion—songs to blare while driving down a dark forest highway late at night on the way home from a show. But those halcyon days cannot last forever: After almost two decades as a band, and six years since their last show, the Vancouver, B.C. duo is ready to move on. Fate & Alcohol, their fourth and final album, does not deviate from the band’s core garage punk sound, with vocalist/guitarist Brian King and vocalist/drummer David Prowse still playing their instruments with blistering enthusiasm; lead single “Chicago” and “Upon Sober Reflection” in particular hearken back to their earlier albums. There is an introspection to these songs—appropriate as both King and Prowse are now in their 40s and on diverging life journeys, with King experiencing sobriety and new parenthood and Prowse working as a music booker in Vancouver. “Fugitive Summer” best reflects the band’s transition from indie rock party boys to middle-aged men facing a new chapter in life. Power pop hooks and reflective lyrics stir up youthful memories and emotions, albeit now with a bit more wisdom and thoughtfulness (“urgency, innocence, and / when it comes to fucking up / firsthand experience”). The album does lose steam in the second half, as though you can actually hear King and Prowse’s paths separating within the songs; as bittersweet as it might be, the band is making the correct choice in moving on before all the magic is lost. Fate & Alcohol is a fitting send-off for Japandroids, a celebration of the past that is also mindful of the fact that you cannot remain there indefinitely. —Mary Beth Campbell
Since making their debut on the mighty Bulb Records 26 years ago, Japanese garage rock freaks King Brothers have raised hell everywhere they go. Whether crowd surfing down the streets of Memphis during Goner Fest or dangling from an auditorium’s roofing in New Orleans’ Japanese sister city Matsue, these suit-clad rockers face every live performance with an insatiable thirst for chaos. HELL OH! OZ is a fiery live studio session recorded so that King Brothers had some wax to sell during their September tour in Australia. While a speedily produced live album would be pretty forgettable in most band’s discographies, I find myself returning to this session again and again, savoring the raw charm of the band’s adrenaline-fueled live performances that sometimes gets lost in more embellished studio works with overdubs and added instrumentation. HELL OH! OZ’s versions of “Mach Club” and “Lulu” are garage rock at its absolute rowdiest, propelled by Marya’s lunatic screams, Keizo’s driving guitar, and new recruit Genki’s intense drum bashing. Despite changing engines, the band and their new drummer are clearly revved up and ready to crash through any obstacle that might come their way. With each performance, King Brothers remind us that a strong live band is truly something to cherish. Unsurprisingly, the entire vinyl pressing has sold out, but this fierce session thankfully lives on via Bandcamp. —William Archambeault
When your favorite NYC hometown band releases a new album after a six-year hiatus, there’s mixed feelings of excitement and anxiety. You want them to sound the same, you need them to have grown. Luckily, Mother Feather went the anticipatory singles route, so we had hints of what KICK3R was going to feel like, with inventive videos, artwork, and a song release every month until blast off. Still, the relief of streaming KICK3R in its entirely hit almost as hard as its singles. “Believers” was the ideal opening choice. Washed out synth vibes pair with lead singer Ann Courtney’s warm, sweet words, which gently reach out to say, “I was dreaming I was awake” and slam you, 40 seconds later, into the biggest guitar distortion-laden bear hug, with the promise of, “to all the believers / Just know that I see ya / Just know that I feel ya / I feel you everyone.” KICK3R is front-loaded with the cock-rock banger “Hot Firework Nights” and the high-energy punk song “Resigned to Rot,” followed by my personal favorite “Downtime,” which is a synthy ballad with club banger drums, anchored by the question, “Whatcha doing in your downtime / Your falling on the ground time?” This whole album, while raging out, also examines those in-between moments, where you’re breathing hard, dripping makeup, plunged into stage darkness. After a few more high-energy tracks and the hyper-melodic, ‘90s Blur-esque “It Ain’t So Bad, It’s Worse,” KICK3R goes fully introspective, devolving into field recordings and voice memos, taking you far from a throwback to their Warped Tour days. —Sabrina Stone
Waveland, the second full-length album from New Orleans’ Whisper Party!, opens with a spoken word poem by Aleck Woogmaster, a gentle musing on the effects of gravitational pull on the Earth’s oceans that sets the stage for ruminations on love and loss. Whisper Party! is often described as “dream pop” or “dream rock”; the band cites Cocteau Twins, Blonde Redhead, and Men I Trust among their influences, as noted in lead singer and keyboardist Jean Preston’s ethereal vocals and the reverb-heavy instrumentals. As all genre labels tend to do, though, this belies the fact that Whisper Party! can really rock out. Psychedelia and funk are also an integral part of the album’s sound, with Preston’s vocals rising to the occasion when the song requires it of her. This allows the band to explore the ebb and flow of human emotions, the very focus of Waveland. The mellow spoken word opener transitions immediately into the pulsing synths and searing guitars of “Lake of Ice,” which is slightly reminiscent of Evanescence. “Heartless” has a dark disco-funk heartbeat, and “Someone’s Listening” ventures into operatic, gothic rock. The latter half of the album shines the spotlight more onto the band’s dream pop influences, particularly lead single “Opus for the Hopeless” and the gorgeous, haunting closer “Purple Lips,” which is perhaps the most classic dream pop song on the album. Waveland makes space to explore emotions in their totality. Just as a hot guitar riff or drum beat can coexist with moody synths and melancholy lyrics, so too can despair coexist with hope. —Mary Beth Campbell
Cardinals have a long history of being seen as omens in the American South: a visitation from a loved one who has crossed over, or a harbinger of hope and joy to come. So it’s only fitting that Cardinals At The Window should be bursting with music that centers, grounds, and heals the listener. This benefit compilation was created to support the recovery of the Western North Carolina region from the devastating floods in the wake of Hurricane Helene. As New Orleanians, we are acutely and intimately familiar with what it feels like to be at the mercy of a wild and unpredictable climate. We have paid the price before, and many of us ached for WNC with deep empathy as we watched the rivers try to wash those beautiful mountain towns away. This album is absolutely packed with gorgeous songs from national heavy-hitters and revelatory regional talents alike. The track list has a staggering 136 offerings from artists like Fleet Foxes, Jason Isbell, Gillian Welch, The Hold Steady, Futurebirds, Superchunk, Sylvan Esso, Wye Oak, Lydia Loveless, Sharon Van Etten, The Decemberists, MJ Lenderman, and more. Some tracks are previous releases from the artists—some recorded live—while others are covers or new compositions created specifically for this record. Listeners get over 10 hours of beautiful, evocative music for a minimum donation of $10 (if you’re able to swing it, you can certainly give more). Genre leans primarily to Americana/folk with a lot of slower, contemplative pieces. If that’s not your cup of tea, consider if it might make a great gift for someone in your life who does dig that kind of music. WNC is learning a hard lesson right now—we take care of us. So reach a hand out in solidarity to support this community and gain the benefit of an amazing collection of heartfelt art in return. —Erin Hall
What works in humorous fiction is highly subjective. A reader might find Douglas Adams brilliant and Carl Hiaasen unbearably cloying, or vice versa. For me, this novel from John Dies at the End author and former Cracked.com editor Jason Pargin strikes the right balance, with characters who reveal unexpected depth even in truly absurd situations—and quite a few genuine laughs. The mysterious “black box” in the title is a package the two main characters, a video game streamer/Lyft driver and a canceled beauty influencer, have been hired by a multimillionaire to discreetly transport cross-country. Internet rumormongers and would-be Reddit sleuths become convinced they’re transporting a nuclear weapon—or, perhaps, an extraterrestrial corpse. It’s an enjoyable road trip story combined with astute satirical but sympathetic takes on internet culture and its limitations, delivered by a writer with experience enough to have a nuanced take. Pargin’s Cracked roots do occasionally show in his characters’ sometimes-annoying tendency to regale each other with trivia facts and historical oddities of the kind that populated that site in its early-2000s heyday, and to otherwise revert to the Whedonesque ironic voice of that era, but it’s still a funny and even thought-provoking read. —Steven Melendez
Neal Stephenson is probably best known for his 1990s science fiction that anticipated and shaped the dreams of the tech industry in the past decade—Snow Crash, which introduced the term “metaverse;” The Diamond Age, which popularized the idea of a personal AI assistant and tutor; and Cryptonomicon, which spread the idea of anonymous digital currency. He’s also written science-heavy historical fiction, including Polostan, the beginning of a series set starting in the 1930s, focused as much on the rapid technological changes of the era (including the fading of horse cavalry, for which the title game of polo was a natural training device) as on its heroine, the science-savvy daughter of U.S. and Soviet radicals wooed by both sides as a spy. Stephenson is a captivating writer with an exuberant, and nowadays almost quaint appreciation for science and scientific culture. He also has a tendency to focus on the world-shifting powers of hypercompetent elites that can leave a reader queasy, especially considering his popularity with the techbro set. That is present in Polostan, but perhaps with the benefit of historical hindsight, he seems less willing here to glorify any characters, least of all the real-world U.S. and Soviet figures who make cameo appearances. —Steven Melendez
While walking on the levee through aqueous air by the Industrial Canal, bits of music pulled at my body. Sound and vision were hazy, with the canal bridge in skeletal shadow and other people in magic lantern silhouettes. A music that simultaneously conjured spaceship, gong meditation, industrial mechanisms, and straight up church was summoning a crowd. It was 6 a.m. on Sunday, November 3, and New Orleans musician and electronics specialist Quintron had initialized his Weather Warlock synthesizer system at The End of the World, where the canal and the Mississippi River meet. I was recalling a similar experience hearing fragments of a song’s refrain from a clarinet the evening of Fats Domino’s memorial second line in 2017, carried on damp wind over the same canal from his Lower Ninth Ward home. How sound travels and bends over wind and through moisture is a sublime mystery to me, and the intersection of science and the poetry is an entry point to understanding Weather Warlock’s intrigue. Quintron developed this “environmentally responsive” instrument as a futurist assemblage of repurposed keyboard, speakers, and weathervane where the sound is driven by atmosphere-responsive sensors. The goal is to create a healing or self-hypnotic experience, and the resulting extended tones recall both minimalist and sacred music traditions. Quintron’s elegant, sustained notes summoned a crowd to the water’s edge as a huge, golden sun rose. To the right at the abandoned naval base, the first dawn bathed the graffiti palimpsest walls in gold. Shrine-like model buildings made of repurposed materials and shells were laden with drooping flowers, botanica candles gleaming inside the shadow. Tall grass swished in the wind. This performance of Weather Warlock was produced in conjunction with arts triennial Prospect.6, offering a group breakfast at The Music Box directly thereafter. The setting was one of literal and figurative reflection as people sat with closed eyes, or quietly mulled about. A shared and self-directed event, Weather Warlock created space for the whole environment to participate as a phenomenological experience. —Veronica Cross
In a time when algorithms, Reels, and AI pulls music out of context and throws it inside cat videos and random non-celebrities dancing over ironic landscapes, fortunately there’s still Record Raid, this latest edition held on November 16 at the Howlin’ Wolf. Started in 2009 by members of WTUL, this is a modestly-sized record fair where you can handle, haggle, and hoist 33/45/78 records (which some of y’all call vinyls), tapes, and CDs. Off I went with $25 bucks burning a hole in my pocket, determined to discover some esoteric punk-meets-swamp-pop rarity for no money since I was arriving late and that was the time to negotiate. There were about 20 vendors including independent dealers, folks clearing house, and cool local stores like Sisters in Christ. I spent more time gabbing than flipping through records, however, sharing stories of working in record stores, fave finds, and weird record collectors. Highlight records included K. Frimpong and His Cubanos Fiesta’s Me Da A Ɔnnda, which was literally labeled “DOPE/BY THE MASTER” at Magic Isle Vinyl and priced conspicuously at $420. My big regret was not purchasing Gnonnas Pedro and His Dadjes Band’s LP The Band of Africa (Vol.2) at $64, and now I know there is a fabulous TIDAL streaming rabbit hole for that artist. In the category of “Fun to Look At,” a dealer had labeled “EXTREMELY RARE N.O.LA – SOUL/FUNK”: Extra Kicks 45, “There Goes My Love” for $150, on the Sko-Field label. This rare groove is on YouTube, but physically holding a gem like that and imagining it as someone else’s beloved soundtrack to the special and mundane moments of life gets lost in the digital. I ended up connecting with a buddy who I didn’t know was a record nerd too, so I blew my big 25 bucks at his crates and here’s how I graded these finds: Roberta Flack’s 1969 First Take with songs by Donny Hathaway and Leonard Cohen, had some pops but the tone is so warm. Flack does not disappoint! Rated (G), good. I rate Special Interest’s The Passion Of (2020) as (VG/DH) for very good condition with bonus dog hair. I remain obsessed! And my final purchase, Tune-Yards’ excellent W H O K I L L record (2011) is rated (NM) for near mint. As a new presidential administration approaches with emboldened racist, homophobic, ableist, and sexist rhetoric, their track “My Country,” offers this refrain: “My country / Tis of thee / Sweet land of liberty / How come I cannot see it.” —Veronica Cross
On a melancholic Sunday evening in New Orleans, I set out to attend a play that promised to be a post-apocalyptic near future examination of grief and loss, and gave my ponderous emotions the space to be in full attendance with me.
The stage performance of Off the Grid (by playwright D.G.W Hedges) was hosted at the Mudlark Public Theatre. No bright marquee guided me to my destination; instead there was one lonely printed flier stapled to the side of the otherwise unassuming house. But upon crossing the threshold another world awaited—inside I felt like Charlie entering the Chocolate Factory, but instead of candy everywhere there were doll heads, candlelit altars, and a peculiar smell. Delightful.
This play took place in a post-apocalyptic world of death and disaster, and tracked the unfolding process of grief and existential guilt of the two main characters—Paul (Carlos Knoop), who has a broken leg and reeks of misery and despair, and his obnoxiously loud roommate/ex-lover Jimmie (Brooke Volkert)—bunkering together in their tiny living room as they mourn their fallen friends, share stale cookies, and reminisce about their time in New Orleans before everything went to shit. The close quarters of the tiny stage to the audience bred a certain intimacy between the audience and performers, and I felt like I was peeping through the keyhole of my 30-plus year-old, white, transplant, gender nonconforming neighbors working through their monthly battle with anxiety and depression.
This play felt like watching an off-brand production of Titanic. Instead of a young, handsome artist and a rich damsel in distress trapped on a sinking ship, we get two queer, self-loathing, anxious-avoidants who seesaw in victimhood while riding a thin line between human cannibalism and murder-suicide soft porn. However, it did a great job of keeping its audience awake. From the awkward on-stage wardrobe changes to the makeshift turbulence—not to mention one of the characters pointing a prop gun towards the audience.
Off the Grid puts into perspective how trapped in the past our generation is. Think of Stevie Wonder’s Pastime Paradise. Since 2020, the world hasn’t been quite the same. Young people really felt like the world was ending—some still do. And after living in survival mode for so long, it can be difficult to hope for a better future or to think of a better time before these unforeseen circumstances tore everything apart. These characters struggled to find solace in their situation and chose to surrender to their demise.
Instead of this play communicating the value of friendship in uncertain and despairing times through storytelling, it taught me to choose my friends wisely just in case I end up with them in a tiny apartment during the apocalypse. Even more so, keep the trinkets you catch during parade seasons—you never know when you might need them for self-defense. —Nijah Narcisse
