Direct from Sandy’s tape archive, these DIY bedroom demos feature his layered harmonies, harpsichord and guitar - all recorded during his time with the Millennium. Though unreleased and hidden away at the time they were recorded, these demos finally get their due!

In 1983, Nancy Andrews and Linda Smith shared a big house in Baltimore with a continuously revolving cast of artists and musicians. It was there the like-minded artists formed their first band, Ceramic Madonna Head (with Plastic Arms), a short-lived project which included housemates Elizabeth Downing and Peggy Bitzer. By the time the lease was up, Linda and Peggy had decided to move to New York where they would form a new band called The Woods while Nancy and Elizabeth remained in Baltimore and formed a performance art band called Lambs Eat Ivy.

The singer-producer explodes her sound with a feverish blend of shoegaze and bedroom pop.

Death nestles like a sweet creature at the heart of Holy Waters, the highly anticipated follow-up to 2021’s In Praise of Shadows, set for release this Autumn via Blue Flowers. It’s less a morbid study in mortality, more a chronicle of the graciousness within each repeated cycle of life, death and rebirth, arriving eventually at a gentle affirmation to himself, to the listener, at the album’s close, to keep going, “don’t let the dark take you whole”. It’s the hope-tinged bleakness that gets you.

Australian-based folk diviner LEAH SENIOR has just announced her fourth studio album The Music That I Make is set for release this August via Poison City. The album's lead single ‘Pony’ sits alongside a playful video clip directed by Izzie Austin (Romero, RVG, King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard).

No matter your age or station, Supermodels is the sort of record you can hear yourself in. Claud’s engrossing and poignant second album is a confident diary of the mercury of life and love in one’s early 20s, whether it’s the self-doubt that creeps through its tunes or the place of compromise they try to find.

Several things happened before a warm day when I met the four members of Frankie Cosmos in a Brooklyn studio to begin making their album. Greta Kline spent a few years living with her family and writing a mere 100 songs, turning her empathy anywhere from the navel to the moon, rendering it all warm, close and reflexively humorous. In music, everyone loves a teen sensation, but Kline has never been more fascinating than now, a decade into being one of the most prolific songwriters of her generation. She’s lodged in my mind amongst authors, other observational alchemists like Rachel Cusk or Sheila Heti, but she’s funnier, which is a charm endemic to musicians.