Molded in the fertile rock crescent of Columbus, Ohio, three-piece Golomb channels Midwest friction into an album that seeks to find a genuine connection. The band boasts not one, but two bonded dynamics, something of an aberration among most trios. Siblings Xenia (bass) and Hawken (drums) tie down the rhythm section with songwriter/guitarist Mickey Shuman and Xenia turning their tags to spouse after years of dating. The close bonds between the members have fed into the band’s process — family and friends first and band second, leveraging years of trust to turn The Beat Goes On into an album that never wavers in its sincerity. An early recording session with engineer Keith Hanlon for their EP Love expands as the band returns to record the new album with him at Musicol and Secret Sound with a bigger, bolder dynamic that captures the band’s live energy to tape. Not only the sound, but the studio itself was fuller this time, with embellishments from Henry Ross and Bob Starker on Sax, David Holm and Austin Wyckoff on guitar, and Abi Gray adding violin.

Stripping away artifice, Golomb takes an omnivorous approach to the solid and staid structures of rock in 2025. The band admittedly sets their compass on the classic magnetism of The Stones, letting Mick n’ the boys’ chameleonic nature feed their own urge to not be pinned down by genre expectations. Emerging from the 8-track turbulence of their debut, they slip from psych scorch to power pop with stops through dub and country along the way. Now, on first listen to the band’s sophomore LP, visions of UK rock godfathers might not spring to mind, but much like a quartet from Queens once penned their own ‘teenage symphonies to God’ and found punk in the process, Golomb have a way of fusing the past in unexpected ways with impressive results.

In search of rock’s lost chords, the band smelts the sounds on their stereo into a fuzz-lapped long player that’s bound to bring forth a few ‘90s nods from listeners. The underlying buzz on “Real Power” dips a few miles south of Columbus to channel Dayton’s favorite sons, stitching together some clear-eyed clamor from the GBV playbook. The band lays it bare on “Dog” with a slow slink that builds toward the singed elegance of Spiritualized and a lyrical labyrinth that’s cut and pasted into a Burroughs-esque blur of rock motifs. The song peaks in pure maelstrom with a glorious glut of feedback foaming out of the speakers. The familiar specter of The Velvets rears its head in the shambolic beat of the title track, and “Other Side Of The Earth” gets gooey with dub, but never loses the band’s ability to feed the fray. Then, they wind guitar around their rhythms with the grace of early Built To Spill on “Be Here Now.” The sax twirls of Henry Ross send the song into the ether before scrounging up a few “Wild Horses” on the fatalistic closer “Sweet Release (Ain’t No Devil).”

The album finds the band bounding through bluster like Loop one minute and hunkered down like Pixies pummeling pop’s soft spots at Fort Apache the next. The voracious volume of influences can be chalked up to an eclectic atmosphere for music in the Holm household, an environment that proved welcoming to Mickey as he was brought into the fold, and eventually the family. The album is ultimately about connection; a lifeline from the constant flicker of distractions, horrors, hubris, and duplicity that permeate everyday interactions in modern life. The band knows they may not have all the answers, but there’s little that can’t be solved with a hit, a hi-hat, and a riff that grabs you by the shoulders and shakes.

We are 1/4 way through this century - - - now is the time to strum some atomic pop perfection. The new Sharp Pins album Radio DDR is just what the world requires in this new year 2025 - - - every song is a sing-a-long, a head bang-a-long, lost guitars found!

Radio DDR was recorded spring, 2024 by Kai Slater and Sharp Pins band mates in his house on the roof in the basement with all the doors open. It was initially released as a cassette-only delight and immediately caught fire. Everyone wants to beat this tambourine. Radio DDR has taken on a life of its own.

Some say Sharp Pins are Geniuz; others proclaim a Minor New Talent on high. It don’t matter none. If you are busy staying up late watching vampire movies and devouring bowls of chocolatey fruit loops you only know you want to play Radio DDR again. And hear it again. And play it out the window for the birds in the trees.

Hailing from the vibrant music scene of Houston, Texas, Vortxz is an Indie/Latino rock band on a mission to transport listeners to a world of hope, freedom, and self-expression. Founded by lead singer and songwriter Isaias “Rambo” Rodarte, the group’s eclectic sound blends new-wave indie, Rock en Español, and alternative rock, captivating audiences with its raw energy and emotive lyricism. Backed by the virtuosic guitar and keys of Noe Rodriguez and the driving rhythms of drummer Jonathan Lopez, Vortxz has carved out a unique niche in the local music scene, earning a loyal following for their electrifying live performances. With an unwavering commitment to creating music that helps people escape the trials of everyday life, this rising Houston-based trio is poised to leave an indelible mark on the indie rock landscape.

Behind Karen’s pulsating spectral voice lies vulnerability, contemplation and longing. Chameleon-like foundations explore cumbia in its many forms, crossing the continent with norteño airs, pitched-down rebajados, psychedelia and even traditional Peruvian music, taking in ballads, Afro-Latin percussion, reggaeton and the more electronic sounds of dream-pop, trip hop and downtempo.

A mystical, motley mixture, the ideal soundscape to fight the voices in your head while you melt on the dancefloor and scare away the ghosts of your past, your body surrendering to the dance.

That’s pretty much Karen y Los Remedios, the project led by Ana Karen G Barajas, an artist and arts and social sciences researcher born in Mexico City and raised in Guanajuato, in the company of Mexico City native Jonathan Muriel (Jiony) and guitarist Guillermo Berbeyer (Z.A.M.P.A.), who after many years on Mexico’s alternative scene decided to get together and bring this existential cumbia project to life.

While Karen and Jiony first worked together in 2009, it wasn’t until a mutual friend brought them together in 2016 that they created the instrumental EP Dónde Dormir, released by the VAA label (Various Artists) which Jiony co-founded, specializing in electronic music with elements of nu-jazz, techno, funk, trip hop and traditional Latin music fused with electronic textures. Z.A.M.P.A. released his first EP with VAA before gradually getting involved in the arrangements for Karen y Los Remedios.

Before that, Ana Karen had worked on projects like Internet del Futuro, Perro y Juan, Karen and more. Jiony had reached double figures in solo records and collaborated on projects like CasaNegra, Ser Humano and Extraperrestre, while Guillermo put out post-rock and trip hop with the Z.A.M.P.A. project, produced by Rafael Durand and Fernando González. The stars finally aligned and Karen y Los Remedios was born, partly because of the three members’ relationship with the VAA label, but mostly because Ana Karen was working and studying in China and needed to make cumbia and connect with her roots.

The band now has two EPs: Botanas, Vol15, a powerful exploration of cumbia released by the Shika Shika label in 2020, and Recuerdos de Expiación, released independently in 2021 with a more experimental vibe closer to lo-fi hip hop.

After a process of introspection during the pandemic, Karen y Los Remedios present their first long play, Silencio, an album of nine mostly unreleased songs and two bonus tracks, “Canario” and “Presagio,” taken from their first EP.

The band say their intention with this album is to “speak about the moments when we pause to think about ourselves, to see what is really troubling us, whatever that may be. It’s that vulnerability you find when there’s no sound in your mind, when you speak honestly about your desires, emotions and feelings. A place where “silence is as meaningful as sound.” So the themes in the album have a lot to do with the process of feeling, whether it’s falling in love, disillusionment or the essence of living. It’s a melancholy record that makes you dance away the pain, but also offers paths to healing in these hectic times, where loneliness has become a recurring theme, a personal exploration of the constant uncertainty of the pandemic.

Silencio speaks of these deep wounds. It’s about how kindness can give you back your faith in humanity in “Te Pido a Tí”; the feeling of rejection and self-love in “Mi Gran Dolor”; living and pleasing no one but yourself in “Silencio”; feeling things again that you missed about yourself in “Cartas Marinas”; but also the pain when love dies in “Lagrimas” and the longing for a healing love in “Presagio.” An intimate, urgent record for these unstable times.

Golden Apples might be one of the best kept secrets in guitar music, but their new full-length, Bananasugarfire, is about to change that. The boldly titled album is impossible to ignore, a kaleidoscopic blast of fuzzed out guitars, joyful songwriting, and vibrant production that’s as human as it is hooky. It’s exactly what a truly great indie rock album can be: fun yet fulfilling, inventive yet inviting, confident yet candid–music that lifts you up with melody, noise, and heart.

Avsha is an artist and multi-instrumentalist from Atlanta, GA

When writing music, I am in a convulsing state. It is a convulsion that has no warning sign nor a clear space to occupy. Every song begins like this. As a child, I felt these events as anxiety and unjust torment. I needed something I really couldn’t place. I would complain that I was being punished by a means I couldn’t articulate and for a purpose I would never know. Playing Chopins Mazurka No. 5 in my living room on a baby grand piano was my very first convulsion. I felt relief. However the convulsion was different, it felt old and smelly. I felt myself wanting to feel calm so badly, that I myself was turning into a 200 year old polish loner with gray hair on my knuckles and an always snotty tissue up my sleeve to offer my great grandchildren:

So I edged closer and closer to a permanent metamorphosis. For 10 years, my body grew an overcoat and a combed-over balding head. These were minor convulsions, though they would hold my over until my Greatest one. The one that overtook me and overwhelmed me 10 years after my very first.

I wrote my first music at 14, a song called sewing. It stopped me from growing a pair of old loafers from the digits of my toes. This made my convulsive cycles known to me. The long torments of guilt, shame, joy, and confusion filling a pool with no border that, when having drunk enough, would lead me to a singular, muscular,  body of music.

I have had my first convulsive laugh I’m pretty sure. And I would like you to know about it.