
After a busy fall, this week is giving us a little break and I review just four new albums, though all of them have been anticipated: The Lemonheads, Tortoise, Spiritual Cramp, and Just Mustard.
I also play catch-up with Bristol duo Getdown Services, and pay tribute to Dave Ball with a look back at Soft Cell’s classic debut album.
Over in Notable Releases, Andrew takes the latest from Dave, Parts Work, Eliza McLamb and more.
In other news: Wilco and Billy Bragg will play their first-ever full set of Mermaid Avenue songs at Solid Sound 2026; a massive collection of Florian Schneider synths, gear and more is going on the auction block; and Sleaford Mods just announced their first album in three years which features former Life Without Buildings singer Sue Tompkins and Game Of Thrones’ Gwendoline Christie. Who could’ve predicted either?
Head below for this week’s reviews…
The Lemonheads – Love Chant (Fire)
First Lemonheads album of original material in nearly two decades, featuring contributions from J Mascis, Adam Green, Juliana Hatfield, The Bevis Frond & more
Evan Dando is one of those musicians I’m always rooting for — a songwriter whose records are so good, so full of charm, that 30 years of trainwreck live shows, erratic behavior, bad tabloid press, and battles with addiction can’t stain them. In recent years, he’s been trying to clean up his various messes, moving to São Paulo, Brazil, where he can focus on music while continuing to tour as The Lemonheads, to varying degrees of success. Dando is the kind of talent that, if he could just get out of his own way, could still get it together and deliver another classic.
Love Chant, the first Lemonheads album of original material in nearly 20 years, isn’t quite that — but it elicits warm vibes, goodwill, and hope, offering a few great songs with glimpses of peak Dando. That hangdog charm is still there, too, evident on the terrific opening song “58 Second Song,” which is actually 3:23 long — but never mind that — the song’s all about time. Dando’s voice still sounds like a warm smile, even if it’s weathered and dropped an octave or two, and he gets a lot of vocal assistance from Erin Rae, old friend Juliana Hatfield, Alice Caymmi, and bandmates Farley Glavin and John Kent. There are a few other notable contributors on guitar: J Mascis brings his ragged shredding to “Deep End,” former Lemonhead and Blake Baby John Strohm plays on “Togetherness Is All I’m After,” and The Bevis Frond’s Nick Saloman lends his signature style to closing track “Roky.”
There’s a hard rock element to a few of these songs, as well as some heavy psych, but the album is most successful when it plays to Dando’s poppy, folkier strengths — like on “Cell Phone Blues,” “Be In,” and “The Key of Victory.” Love Chant is the kind of record where Dando’s pluses shine through the shambles and still keep you hoping the next one will come faster, more focused, and with more of that Dando charm.
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Just Mustard – WE WERE JUST HERE (Partisan)
Irish electronic/shoegazy group Just Mustard return with their third album that lets just a little light and melody into their bleak sound
One of the best newish shoegaze-adjacent bands, Ireland’s Just Mustard have so far been powered by dark, heavy vibes, mixing hazy rock with ‘90s trip hop and electronic elements. But on their first album in three years, they’re letting just a little light in. “The vocal structure was the most important thing,” guitarist, producer, and sometimes singer David Noonan says of their approach this time, which puts Katie Ball’s vocals higher in the mix. “Her lyrics can be ingested as a conflicted and toxic grasp at positivity, or a cathartic breakthrough into bliss.”
WE WERE JUST HERE opens with the kind of feedback you’d expect Kim Deal to “ahhooooh” out of, and soon “POLLYANNA” blasts off with a driving beat and a swirling haze that’s cut through with searing guitar lines. That feedback swells and fades throughout as Ball wails, siren-like, from the eye of the storm. The rest of the album follows suit, with one eye on the dancefloor and the other on the stars as noise, rhythm, and melody form a dark, gaseous mass with a glowing center.
Noonan, Ball, and the rest of the band have outdone themselves production-wise — Grammy-nominated engineer David Wrench mixed the album — and it sounds fantastic, especially at high volume when the bass rumbles your gut and the guitars blow your hair back. The greater emphasis on songwriting and vocals makes songs like “SOMEWHERE,” “ENDLESS DEATHLESS,” “DANDELION,” and the title track stickier. Just Mustard are still a vibes-first group, but this time, they’ve got the tunes too.
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Tortoise – Touch (International Anthem)
Chicago post-rock greats’ first album in nine years and their first for Chicago jazz label International Anthem
When last we heard from Tortoise, the Chicago instrumental quintet had made the bold move to add vocals — via a few guest singers — to the mix on their 2016 album The Catastrophist. It was not a catastrophe, but it also didn’t quite fit into their extended musical universe. Nine years later, Dan Bitney, John Herndon, Douglas McCombs, John McEntire, and Jeff Parker have gone back to their core with Touch, an album that is, apart from some subtle, nonverbal vocoder on a couple of tracks, the sound of five longtime collaborators blissing out on their instruments.
There is another move forward, though. After spending their whole career on Thrill Jockey, the band have switched to another Chicago-based label, forward-thinking jazz imprint International Anthem (already home to multiple Jeff Parker solo releases). But these five remain unaffected by the move, still pulling from their usual sonic palette: krautrock, jazz, prog, soundtrack music, lounge, psychedelia, dub, and heady electronics.
For a group who often go full jam live (and occasionally on record), Touch is concise and engaging — at 39 minutes, it’s the shortest album they’ve ever made. The record starts strong with “Vexations,” which transforms from atmospheric, twangy surf rock into percussion-heavy, synth-swarming prog, and is a great example of the alchemy these five musicians can still conjure. There’s also “Oganesson,” jazzy, electronic, and groovy with a distinct filmic vibe — you could almost imagine it soundtracking a ’70s cop show, except it feels entirely modern. They also head into techno territory on “Velka,” drift on a flute-filled breeze on “Works and Days,” and give Air a run for their money on “Promenade à deux.” It all fits together under the Tortoise umbrella. Or is that shell?
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Spiritual Cramp – RUDE (Blue Grape Music)
Angst again meets danceable riffs on this Bay Area band’s second album that features a duet with Sharon Van Etten
In these dark times — and they are bordering on pitch black — remembering to have a little fun is important, even as the world crumbles around us. Spiritual Cramp are here to help. After a decade on the scene, the Bay Area band — made up of vets from the hardcore world — finally delivered their 2023 debut album, which took inspiration from the party-hardy ‘00s indie scene that gave us The Hives, The Strokes, and The White Stripes and many The O.C. soundtracks. Their second album, produced by John Congleton, expands their range while still delivering danceable, electro-fueled rock earworms.
RUDE isn’t all sunshine and rainbows; lyrically, most of the songs have a dark sense of humor that some might just see as dark. But they all deliver fist-pumping riffs and instantly memorable choruses, from the slashing “At My Funeral” (“nobody came”) to the Bloc Party-esque “Automatic,” the ripper “I Hate the Way That I Look,” and “True (Love is Hard to Find),” which finds frontman Mike Bingham questioning his recent move to L.A.
Congleton gives the whole thing what they used to call a radio-friendly sheen, expertly layering synths in with all the guitars. That takes them further into Killers territory on “Crazy” and “Young Offenders,” lets them explore their love of 2-Tone ska and reggae on “Violence in the Supermarket,” and paints a big canvas for “You’ve Got My Number,” an anthemic duet with Sharon Van Etten that has an irresistible “bah-dah-bah-dah” chorus. In another era, that one — and half this record — would’ve been hits, or at least gotten them a headline slot at The Bait Shop.
Grab our exclusive, limited edition orange marble vinyl variant of RUDE in the BV shop.
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Getdown Services – Your Medal’s In the Post / Primordial Slot Machine (Breakfast Records)
Bristol duo blend disco, indie, and absurdist wit into pure danceable fun; Beak> and Super Furry Animals are fans
Bristol, UK residents Ben Sadler and Josh Law had been friends since they were teenagers and both played in bands — just not with each other. During the pandemic they decided to start collaborating as Getdown Services, letting their love of disco and ’00s indie — not to mention their eccentric, pop-culture-informed senses of humor — fly free. They put a few songs on Bandcamp with no intention of playing live and pretty much instantly took off. They quit their other groups and made Getdown Services their full-time musical concern.
This is a bit of a catch-up post, to be honest, as somehow this duo — who fit squarely into the orbit of Sleaford Mods, Baxter Dury, Yard Act, Pulp, The Rakes, and Daft Punk, and have been championed by Beak> and Super Furry Animals (they’ll open their reunion tour next year) — escaped my radar until very recently. (They just played their first U.S. shows in NYC and L.A. earlier this month, all of which were sold out.) Getdown Services released their debut album, Crisps, at the end of 2023, and it’s both a hook and quote machine. For me, it was an instant “how did I miss this band who is so coded to me until now?” moment.
They’ve been on a tear ever since, with a string of singles that seem to get better with every release. 2024’s Your Medal’s in the Post contains instant classics like French Touch banger “I’m Not Feelin’ It,” the irresistible “Dog Dribble,” an electro-rock smash that references The Fall and Korn, and the funky “Both Our Dads Like James Brown,” which owes a little to The Beta Band.
Most recently, they released the Primordial Slot Machine EP, which features another six winners, including “Eat Quiche, Sleep, Repeat” that contains such lines as “I’m gonna hate your socks off” and “Like body odor on the dance floor, I bring a certain sadness to the conga line.” They’re very funny, but the grooves are real, keeping things out of novelty territory. Now that I’m caught up, I’m looking forward to seeing where Getdown Services head next.
Your Medal’s in the Post and Primordial Slot Machine were just released as one vinyl LP.
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INDIE BASEMENT CLASSIC: Soft Cell – Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret (1981, Some Bizarre)
Honoring the Soft Cell co-founder who made the gutter glow on their debut album
Dave Ball, who died on Thursday at age 66 after a prolonged illness, co-founded two groundbreaking electronic groups: Soft Cell in the ’80s and The Grid in the ’90s. It was the former, though, that continues to inspire 40 years on from their groundbreaking, subversive debut album.
Synthpop groups — at least the ones with eyes on the Top 40 — often presented a shiny future, a Brave New World. As Soft Cell, Marc Almond and Dave Ball used the same bouncing tones as Depeche Mode and The Human League but were far more interested in carnal pleasures, forbidden romance, the parts of town most people don’t admit to visiting, and the tension between one’s public face and private life. “I used to wonder about these really glamorous people,” Almond told Sounds at the time. “What do they look like doing the dishes?”
Almond loved the trashy glamour of Alan Vega and Martin Rev’s Suicide; Ball was a fan of Northern Soul, and that mix gave Soft Cell their distinctive sound — ’60s pop played on machines and dragged through the gutter. It’s exemplified on their cover of Ed Cobb’s 1964 song “Tainted Love,” originally recorded by Gloria Jones, which gave the duo a worldwide smash. But the whole of Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret follows in lurid, technicolor fashion — from the depraved “Sex Dwarf,” to the city isolation of “Bedsitter,” to the beautifully melancholic “Say Hello, Wave Goodbye” — a fluorescent-lit portrait of a sleazy city where anything goes, but for many of its residents, nothing ever happens.
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