Former Customer frontwoman Mallory Hawk’s debut solo album Chinook is named after the military helicopters that dotted the skies around her childhood hometown. That town factors directly into “Four O’Clocks,” the pensive and pretty new single she released today. Let Hawk explain:
Taylor Swift’s catalog has grown from youthful country storytelling into one of the most expansive bodies of work in modern popular music. This A-to-Z guide gathers her songs, collaborations, soundtrack appearances, re-recordings, and album tracks while tracing a career defined by reinvention, lyrical detail, and an extraordinary connection with listeners. It is rare for an artist to redefine an entire generation of music, but Taylor Swift has done exactly that with a career built on storytelling, reinvention, and an unmatched connection with her audience. Born in Reading, Pennsylvania, and raised in Wyomissing, Swift’s journey from a small-town dreamer to a
Analog Dance’s new single, Fall Apart, begins with the sense that some private mechanism has been set in motion behind a locked door. The London darkwave project favors surfaces that feel cold to the touch: synth lines drawn tight, percussion with the clipped authority of machinery, and a vocal presence that seems to hover a few inches outside the body. Yet the song’s force comes from instability. Every measured gesture carries the possibility of collapse.
Fall Apart is the first glimpse of Mind The Fall, Analog Dance’s second album, due July 22 through Poland’s Bat-Cave Productions. The record follows 2024’s Stranger Minds and was written far from London, in a wooden cabin in Argentina, where isolation became less a romantic idea than a practical condition. Distance can clarify an artist’s instincts, though it can also expose their habits. Here, the separation appears to have sharpened Analog Dance’s interest in pressure, repetition, and the peculiar intimacy of dread. The cabin, in this account, becomes a useful frame: plain timber, foreign air, and enough silence to hear anxiety organizing itself into a precise, repeatable musical pattern.
The arrangement proceeds with severe elegance. A rigid beat establishes the room, then the synthesizers begin narrowing it. Their lines are clean and bright, but the emotional temperature keeps dropping as the song advances. Beneath that composure sits a rhythm that seems perpetually close to buckling, lending each passage the uneasy suspense of a floorboard bending under weight. The tension is physical, almost architectural, and the release never arrives in a simple rush. Instead, the track keeps redistributing its unease, moving it from bass to voice, from percussion to the empty space between phrases.
That restraint places Analog Dance with a sound that sits near Cold Cave, Lebanon Hanover, and Depeche Mode, though Fall Apart carries a more secluded character. The music remains direct enough to inhabit a club, but its central drama is inward and private. It suggests the odd clarity that can accompany emotional ruin: the mind cataloguing details while the larger structure gives way.
There is also a dry intelligence in the title. Fall Apart may describe a catastrophe, a command, or a promise. Analog Dance leaves all three possibilities active, allowing the phrase to gather meaning through repetition. The result is an austere, finely controlled single whose menace comes from patience.
Fall Apart offers an assured entrance into Mind The Fall. It presents isolation as an instrument of focus, translating a cabin’s quiet into tense, disciplined movement. By the end, collapse feels less like an ending than a form of knowledge.
Listen to Fall Apart below and pre-order Mind The Fallhere.
At the first of their two headline shows at London’s Tottenham Hotspur Stadium, guitarist Daron Malakian led the crowd in a scatologically inspired Oasis chant, comparing the Mancunians to a tapeworm requiring urgent removal.
“London, do you have an ass?” asks Malakian. “Everybody say ass!”
“We have a little song about a tapeworm,” he continues. “Just for fun, today I’m going to name the tapeworm. Today, I’m gonna name the tapeworm Oasis. Pull Oasis out of your ass, Hey!”
The 50,000-strong crowd responds in kind, happily bellowing the refrain “Pull Oasis out of your ass!” before being led through further iterations of the chant.
The bad blood between Oasis and System Of A Down goes back to an interview Oasis guitarist Noel Gallagher gave to US radio station KROQ in 2001.
“Do you ever look at the sky and think, I’m glad I’m alive?” asked Gallagher. “After I heard System of a Down, I thought, I’m actually alive to hear the shittiest band of all time, which is quite something when you think about it.
“Of all the bands that have gone before and all the bands that’ll be in the future, I was around when the worst was around.”
In the years since, SOAD frontman Serj Tankian has generally taken the high ground in interviews, focusing on political activism, while Malakian has kept the beef simmering.
Last year, as both bands toured the US, Malakian posted an Instagram photo of himself at Chicago’s Wrigley Field, with the stadium sign behind him altered to read “Fuck Oasis”.
We look forward to the next instalment of the to-and-fro, wherever it may occur.
On a beautiful 80-degree day in the Willamette Valley of northwest Oregon, the city of Albany hosted the first of its 2026 free summer concert series. The River Rhythms summer concerts in Monteith Park first began in 1984 on the banks at the confluence of the Calapooia and Willamette rivers. On Thursday, July 9, 2026, Kim Wilson and the Fabulous Thunderbirds headlined, taking the stage shortly after 7:00 p.m.
The Fabulous Thunderbirds first formed in 1974 in Austin, Texas, with Kim Wilson on vocals and harmonica and Jimmie Vaughan on lead guitar. Over the past five decades, band members have come and gone, with Wilson remaining the constant as the band’s frontman and the glue that holds everything together. The current lineup consists of Kim Wilson on lead vocals and harmonica, Johnny Moeller on lead guitar, Bob Welch on keyboards and guitar, Rudy Albin on drums, and Steve Kirsty on bass.
After being introduced, the band took the stage and dove into “Rush Hour Blues” without Kim Wilson, who joined them about a minute later. Johnny Moeller wailed on his axe while Bob Welch added keyboard runs over the driving beat provided by Albin’s drums and Kirsty’s bass. Barrett Strong’s “Money” followed and was reminiscent of the Beatles’ version, but it wasn’t until the band launched into “My Babe” that Wilson picked up the harmonica. By this point, Welch had stepped out from behind the keyboards, strapped on a guitar, and began trading licks with Moeller as his playing transitioned from a chicken-scratch sound to stratospheric peals.
Kim Wilson
Their set comprised 14 songs, including a drum-driven, dueling-guitar version of Sam & Dave’s “Wrap It Up,” which became a hit single for the Fabulous Thunderbirds in 1986. “Low Down Woman,” from the band’s second studio album, released in 1980, had Wilson spitting out the lyrics:
“Well, sometimes I wonder Why do I keep that low-down girl of mine”
Bob Welch took the lead, alternating with Wilson’s wailing mouth harp. By the time the band was cooking in overdrive, they broke into Herbie Hancock’s 1962 composition “Watermelon Man,” with Wilson leading the charge on harmonica and Moeller stepping out with stratospheric peals. “Don’t Bite the Hand That Feeds You” came from Wilson’s 1994 solo release That’s Life, with Welch back on the keys, interplaying with Moeller’s guitar while Wilson straddled them with his harp.
The final song of the more than 90-minute set was the Fabulous Thunderbirds’ biggest hit and signature song, “Tuff Enuff,” from their 1986 album Tuff Enuff. After Wilson introduced the band members, they launched into the song with Moeller’s and Welch’s fingers flying across their fretboards as they traded dueling guitar lines, both individually and in tandem. Albin’s drums and Kirsty’s bass drove the beat with an explosive rhythm, sandwiching Wilson’s vocals as he sang:
“I’d climb the Empire State, fight for Muhammad Ali Just to have you, baby, close to me”
The band returned for an encore with “The Crawl” from their second studio album, What’s the Word, released in 1980. The song was originally written by Eddie Shuler and Raymond Victorian and first recorded by Guitar Junior in 1958. Wilson encouraged the crowd to do the Crawl while the band rocked out with more stratospheric guitar runs dancing over the infectious beat. Wilson thanked the crowd as the band made its final exit, and the audience responded with enthusiastic appreciation.
been stuck in a forest lately and I keep burning it down
Ruby Haunt have spent more than a decade making music that feels built for empty streets, apartment windows, and the uneasy hour when memory begins rewriting the evening. Since Hurt appeared in 2015, the Los Angeles duo have developed a patient form of dream-pop and slowcore, led by hushed singing, expressive guitars, and arrangements that seem to widen around every private admission. Their DIY discipline has helped turn that quiet persistence into a devoted following, one release at a time.
Big Room, the first glimpse of their eleventh album, Paper Halo, carries that history forward with greater scale and a sharper sense of motion; a meditation on longing, repetition, and the search for something just out of reach. The track opens a new era for the project, pairing a bigger, more immediate sound with the emotional atmosphere that’s always been central to their music. Big Room sets the tone for an album that explores memory, transformation, and the spaces we return to in search of ourselves.
The song circles a plea for rescue, returning to Eden as both shelter and impossible destination. Its central image of a forest repeatedly burned down gives the longing a self-destructive edge, while the search for a lost sound suggests someone trying to recover the signal that once pointed home. Repetition becomes emotional gravity; each return lands with more weight.
That idea comes alive in the accompanying video, a strange romance staged along a darkened highway. Ruby Haunt perform inside a glowing square, contained within the frame while the road keeps stretching beyond them. The imagery carries the nocturnal unease of Lost Highway, then slips onto a motorcycle with two dreamers racing through a tunnel that seems to bend time. When the route opens into a neon city somewhere in Asia, the film trades abstraction for intimacy, following the pair into their dwelling as though the camera has crossed from fantasy into a private life already in progress.
Watch the video for Big Room below:
Big Room is spacious without losing the closeness that anchors their work, and its emotional pull comes from the sense that every escape route leads back to the same unanswered need. Fans of Beach House, Nation of Language, Black Marble, and The Radio Dept. will recognize the balance of cool restraint and bruised feeling, though Ruby Haunt remain firmly inside their own midnight world.
With Paper Halo due in fall 2026, followed by more videos, West Coast dates, Mexico City, and a European tour, “Big Room” opens the album cycle with confidence, mystery, and a beautiful, deeply felt ache.
Blues Rock Review is exclusively premiering the new music video for Reed Turchi’s latest single, “Keep On Drinkin’,” a raw, live-in-the-studio performance that revisits one of the earliest songs from the acclaimed singer-songwriter’s catalog with the perspective that only time can provide.
The performance arrives ahead of the 15th anniversary reissue of Turchi’s Road Ends in Water, due out October 9 via Gitcha Records. Originally recorded as a series of basement sessions featuring special guest Luther Dickinson of North Mississippi Allstars, the album has never been available on streaming platforms or pressed on vinyl, receiving only a limited personal CD release when it was first recorded.
Musically, the track pairs Turchi’s storytelling with the driving rhythm section of Cameron Weeks and Chris Reali, while Dickinson’s fuzz-drenched slide guitar injects another layer of intensity.
Looking back on the song nearly 15 years later, Turchi said revisiting it gave him a deeper appreciation for both the writing and the story he was trying to tell.
“It’s a funny thing to revisit this song I wrote nearly half my life ago, and to hear some of my songwriting and guitar playing tendencies from way back then, when I was just starting out. ‘Giving new voice to an old song’ feels like an appropriate phrase here, as I’ve had to figure out how I want to re-approach these lyrics both narratively and as a vocalist. While I’m not sure I’d make all the same decisions in terms of lyric writing, I do, now, feel like I have a deeper sense of the story I was trying to tell — and those are the elements I’m trying to make sure I emphasize as I sing it now.”
The musical side of the project also presented its own unique challenges. Turchi explained that relearning the original arrangements only increased his appreciation for the musicians who helped shape the first recording while allowing his current band to bring fresh interpretations to the material.
“Musically, it’s really been an interesting process to re-learn these songs both for my own guitar parts and for this new ensemble — who inevitably put their own flavor on things, as they should. Going back and learning the parts, I’m even more impressed by, and grateful for, the drumming of Cameron Weeks, the bass lines of Chris Reali, and the mind-bending delicious fuzzed-out solo that Luther Dickinson added to the track. All of which is to say, I’ve tried to find ways to incorporate those elements in this new, live-in-studio version, including learning some of Luther’s lines for my solo, and having my other bandmates (Joseph Yount, Seth Barden, and Eric Burns), pick out some of the “key” parts of the studio version to base their interpretations on.”
Turchi said the goal was never to improve upon the original recording, but rather to create something that honors the past while reflecting who he is today as an artist.
“One of my favorite poets, Ellen Bryant Voigt, has a line which I’ll paraphrase here — ‘to dig a hole to the past is to bury the living grass on either side’ — and one of the challenges with this project has been to try and ‘unearth’ the past (the original studio versions and parts), and bring them back to life in a way that doesn’t diminish any of the earlier parts. I would be a fool to think I could always make newer things ‘better,’ and so this is, ideally, somewhere in-between: a combination of the coolest things of the studio version, with the perspective and re-energizing that 15 years of reflection can offer.”
That same philosophy extended to the video itself, which was recorded live in one room at Atomic Sound in Red Hook, Brooklyn without edits or overdubs.
“We recorded these videos at Atomic Sound, in Red Hook, Brooklyn, which is a studio I’ve been eager to work in for years, and we set up all live in one room — amps out on the floor, room mics, all one-take with no editing or overdubbing. You can sense it and feel it in the way this turned out, which I’m really proud of, and appreciate Brad Wagner (video) and David Turk (audio) for doing such a great job capturing. The stakes are raised when you do it live — and this music is all about living.”
Watch Blues Rock Review’s exclusive premiere of Reed Turchi’s “Keep On Drinkin’” below.
Reed Turchi’s Road Ends in Water will be released on vinyl and CD via Gitcha Records on October 9.
Karen Salicath Jamali’s “Mary’s Song” exists in an ethereal realm of time and space, showcasing her extraordinary artistry. The track opens with an instinctive guitar arpeggio that gently cradles the listener, transporting them to distant places. It serves as a dreamlike escape and a source of inspiration, intertwining dreamy elements with a grounding clarity that is refreshing and uplifting.
The minimalistic approach of the song is underscored by the beautiful voice of the artist. Each note feels deliberate, enveloping the listener in a meditative atmosphere reminiscent of a ritual. The simplicity of the arrangement allows Jamali’s vocals to shine brightly, guiding the audience through a musical journey that resonates deeply within the soul.
“Mary’s Song” carries a profound message about love and connection. It eloquently reminds us that we are never alone and always embraced by the love that surrounds us. This emotional resonance is a hallmark of Jamali’s work, as she has a unique talent for translating her innermost feelings into music that expresses the inexpressible.
Marys Song – Sound and Atmosphere
This artist possesses a rare gift. She creates melodies that communicate experiences and emotions that many find difficult to articulate. Her musical downloads seem to come from another dimension, imbuing her work with an ancestral essence. Each verse unfurls like a sacred scroll, revealing deeper layers of meaning that invite the listener to reflect and engage.
The guitar arpeggio recurs throughout the track, reinforcing its thematic core. This musical anchor serves as a comforting reminder of continuity, urging listeners to explore their inner landscapes. Jamali’s ability to meld intuition with technical skill is apparent, as she carefully crafts each phrase with intention and grace.
Marys Song – Performance and Production
Describing “Mary’s Song” merely as music would undermine its depth. It embodies a ritualistic quality, akin to the practices of ancient vestals engaging in sacred rites. There is a communion with the listener that feels genuine and warm, suggesting that every individual carries their own story within the greater narrative of humanity.
The music has a way of unlocking hidden emotions, catalyzing reflections on love, connection, and solitude. Jamali’s artistry is indeed special; it creates a bridge from her experiences to those of her audience.
“Mary’s Song” is a musical refuge and a profound narrative on the universal experience of love and belonging. Karen Salicath Jamali invites us to lose ourselves in her melodic world while also reminding us of the connections we share. The song’s gentle rhythms and thoughtful lyrics coalesce into a serene expression of introspection.
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