Ten years ago, George Lewis Jr., who records under the Twin Shadow moniker, would have been branded a sellout. Following two acclaimed albums with indie label 4AD, Lewis recently made the move to the majors, signing with Warner Brothers before the release of his third LP, “Eclipse.”
With the impending announcement of this semester’s WILD openers, Senior Cadenza Editor Mark Matousek and Associate Editor Noah Jodice cross their fingers and pick their (financially-feasible) dream acts.
At this point, it is pretty damn hard to introduce Death Grips. This trio, consisting of rapper MC Ride (Stefan Burnett), drummer Zach Hill and producer Andy Morin, has created some of hip-hop’s most experimental and abrasive music over these last three years.
On “Kintsugi,” its eighth album and first since 2011, Death Cab for Cutie keeps in touch with its lyrical theme of growing up, which it has demonstrated on several albums past.
Mike Posner assured us all we were cooler than him at my freshman WILD in fall 2011. And now we’re getting the latest white rap king: Mac Miller.
But the moment at hand, the real reason for all the hype, is Barnett’s first full-length LP, “Sometimes I Sit And Think, And Sometimes I Just Sit.” The girl can write a self-deprecating rock ’n’ roll song like no one else, as she proves with the album’s lead single “Pedestrian at Best.”
In honor of his latest string of jaw-dropping televised performances, here are Yeezy’s five best. To make a difficult task slightly less difficult, only pre-2015 performances are eligible.
Don’t take me to church; take me back to Tuesday night at The Pageant, where I can relive the incredible Hozier concert just one more time. The night moved along perfectly, every moment carefully orchestrated.
As the myth goes, the name Imagine Dragons is the anagram of a phrase that held special meaning for the members of the band. Never having revealed what the original phrase was, Imagine Dragons leaves both fans desperately wondering what motivates the band and critics mocking their seemingly superficial process and pointed secrecy.
This is an existential isolation, one that comes with the harrowing recognition that you’ve become a commodity, a cultural industry unto yourself. The kind that overloads your central nervous system and forces you into a paranoid stupor.