#new-albums

#new-albums

Coachella began as an 'anti-Woodstock,' a trial run for the idea that a festival could give concertgoers a smooth, curated experience. Now the symbiotic relationship between brands and influencers is part of the very structural makeup of Coachella.

Gigs allows users to import concert details from various sources, utilizing Apple's Foundation Models to extract dates, venues, and lineups, creating a comprehensive concert archive.

Karaoke is community, right? Everybody can sing along and it won't make people think, Is she going to try some vocal acrobatics?' All the leather mommies and leather daddies are going to be on their feet.

"Whole ecosystems of interactions can be fabricated out of digital cloth, stoking-and in some cases, completely manufacturing-discourse around an artist."

I think the dance floor is dead, so now we're making rock music. If I'd made another album that felt more dance-leaning, it would have felt really hard, really sad.

Odeal's music sits loosely within R&B, also drawing on Afrobeats, neo-soul and contemporary pop. Across his catalogue, love is rarely conclusive. Instead, songs live in emotional grey areas.

Zara Larsson could be called a veteran pop star... because there's an undertow of struggle to her glittering party-girl persona. The teen-age version of her... remains lodged in my memory—a closeted power vocalist dulling her instrument to fit catchy and anodyne tracks.

On any given day our writers, editors, and contributors go through an imposing number of new releases, giving recommendations to each other and discovering new favorites along the way. Each Monday, with our Pitchfork Selects playlist, we're sharing what our writers are playing obsessively and highlighting some of the Pitchfork staff's favorite new music.

The only song here that really matters. Written just hours after the murder of Alex Pretti in Minneapolis and released a few days later, Springsteen names names (looking at you, Stephen Miller and Kristi Noem) and speaks bold, specific truth. With a title that recalls his own impactful Streets of Philadelphia, a melody reminiscent of Bob Dylan, and an urgency not felt since Neil Young's Ohio, it may not be groundbreaking musically, but Streets of Minneapolis is exactly what we need right now.

The song reflects on two contrasting visions. In the first verse, he looks back on his childhood growing up female and compares it to living in a dream. Then, after a stirring bridge, he revisits the same reflective structure and ponders his childhood growing up as a boy: "When I was a little boy I wanted to be real/ I wanted to feel all of the things my body wanted me to feel," he sings.

Not only does the track show off Anjimile's lush, patient vocals, it's got a pretty fascinating rhythmic structure; his drummer offsets the groove when they arrive at the chorus, almost like the song gets caught between moving too fast and too slow. That momentum really ramps up in the final refrain, complete with some guitar shredding and open hi-hat smashing. It's a great demonstration of Anjimile's tasteful ear and his ability to match a song's subject with its instrumentation.

"There's a bit more clarity of purpose to it as opposed to writing for myself. I was thinking of all the hardships the characters have endured, and how if you are an empathetic, good person you can hope that people will be there for you when it's your time to pass on. I suppose it's really about karma. I love how this show champions our healthcare workers and first responders who do what they do for all the right reasons:"