Back catalogue: All genres

Review: Under a full moon to commemorate Portland's official holiday on their first Dead Moon Night, Mike Lastra recorded Michael Hurley play 'Jane' live at Portland City Hall in 2017. He performed, rather wittily, this cover of Portland Oregon Dead Moon's 1991 release to the most well attended non protest event in the history of the hall. Hurley, American "outsider folk" singer-songwriter, guitarist, banjo and fiddle player, and part of the Greenwich Village folk music scene of the 1960s and 70s is not only known for his iconoclastic songs, but also his cartoons and paintings, here illustrating the single's cover. The B Side 'Go My Way' features an unreleased Range Rats track from 1986 recorded at home by Fred Cole, Toody Cole and Rolly (their Roland drum machine), covered paradoxically by Portland's own Dead Moon in 2004, giving a comforting circularity to this limited 7" on Mississippi US, a label that prides itself in supporting artists and their families when crafting ethical and respectful releases of previously overlooked music. So, if you're into the Appalatian folk troubadour tradition with an undertone of irony that has a bluesy edge, you'll love this.

Review: "I'd prefer it to be called just a country album," said TORRES of her collaboration with Baker, nearly a decade in the making, "but I'm proud to have made a 'queer country' album." TORRES had the initial idea to turn to the genre, inviting Baker to collaborate not only because of her shared southern roots but also because she'd also had a similarly religious upbringing that ultimately saw sexual orientation judged and condemned. The result is some deeply autobiographic songwriting on tracks like 'Tuesday', about a traditional family's rage at discovering their daughter was gay, the lilting 'Sylvia' and 'Sugar In The Tank', with pedal steel meeting acoustic guitar strum and very intimate sounding vocals. Bound to cause controversy in certain areas of the US, but it's got the quality and distinctive flavour to stand its ground.

Review: William Tyler stands as one of the most influential solo American guitarists of this century. Having played with Silver Jews and Lambchop, he's carved out a singular space for himself, with albums weaving country roots and classical influences with postmodern experimentation; he melds field recordings and static drifts for a sense of imminent boundlessness, recoverable just over the hill. Drawing on inspirations from Chet Atkins to Gavin Bryars, from electroacoustic abstraction to hypnotic boogie, Time Indefinite - his first solo album in five years - hears Tyler reimmerse himself in said sound, reflecting on the hiss, distortion, and rawness of a turbulent era. With eerie loops and luminous melodies, Time Indefinite is an essential soundtrack for fostering resilience.

Review: The American musician and guitarist newest album is a collection of compositions that balance melancholia with quiet defiance. From the disorienting, tape-warped opening moments to the album's delicate final waltz, Tyler crafts an introspective instrumental landscape where the past and present converge. 'Cabin Six' starts with a hazy, found-sound texture, its distant hum of static giving way to Tyler's contemplative guitar. It's a track that feels suspended in time, evoking the isolation of its recording process. 'Concern', in contrast, unfurls a luminous melody atop warm strings, the steel guitar lifting the piece into a realm of understated grandeur. It's among Tyler's most affecting compositions, a quiet affirmation amid uncertainty. On 'Star of Hope', the album's spiritual centerpiece, an AM radio-sourced hymn weaves into Tyler's delicate loops, creating a ghostly, celestial resonance. The interplay between organic and electronic texturesitape hiss, processed echoesigrounds the track in a space both intimate and otherworldly. 'Electric Lake' shimmers with ecstatic drone, its weightless progression nodding to La Monte Young, while 'Howling' sways between ambient pastoralism and an undercurrent of discord, its background noise a restless specter. The album closes with 'Held', a sigh of relief wrapped in a gentle acoustic waltz. The ever-present tape warble lingers, a reminder of unease, but Tyler leans into beauty. Time Indefinite is a triumph of instrumental storytellingione of quiet reckoning, but also persistence, offering solace in its hypnotic, evocative swells.