VIA PRESS RELEASE | Founder of the pioneering band Cro-Mags, Harley Flanagan is a punk rock/hardcore legend who’s defied the odds—along with neglect, sexual abuse, drugs, violence and PTSD—and lived to tell the tale. The feature-length documentary, Harley Flanagan: Wired for Chaos, dives headfirst into the wild life and times of this larger-than-life icon and is a no-holds-barred ride, that isn’t just about the music; it’s about a man forged in fire who’s lived to tell the tale.

Raised by a Warhol Factory “it” girl, Harley was thrown into the Lower East Side’s underground scene in the ’70s. Left to fend for himself, by his teens, he was squatting in Alphabet City, stealing food, dodging gangs, and living in a world that he describes as “some serious Lord of the Flies shit.” But, as his life descended into a hellish day-to-day, he was simultaneously becoming a punk rock legend: at the age of 11, he was drumming at CBGBs and Max’s Kansas City with his aunt’s band, the Stimulators.

Sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll weren’t a choice—they were survival. But Harley was a fighter. Whether on stage, in the streets, or in the Jiu-Jitsu gym with Renzo Gracie, he never backed down. As the ferocious frontman of the Cro-Mags, he pushed NYC Hardcore into uncharted territory. But violence, addiction, and a traumatic past left deep scars. The streets made him, but they also nearly destroyed him.

Directed and Produced by Emmy and Peabody Award-winner Rex Miller (Citizen Ashe) for Rexpix Media, and produced by Laura Flanagan, Harley Flanagan: Wired for Chaos dives deep into Harley’s past, but it’s not just war stories. It’s about what happens after.

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VIA PRESS RELEASE | “No Elvis, Beatles or the Rolling Stones,” sang The Clash in 1977—but that was a long, long time ago. Today, at least two of those names are even bigger than they were back then, and the punks have thoroughly changed their tune.

Last year brought Punk Me Up, a star-studded punk tribute to the Rolling Stones (and the successor to perhaps an even more audacious offering, a punk tribute to Pink Floyd that utterly brutalized the sentiments behind Johnny Rotten’s most famous T-shirt).

Now comes Anarchy on Abbey Road, a 15 track collection that sees another spiky-haired army of punkoid heroes and veterans fold their fists around the Fab Four’s favorite ditties, and breathe a whole new wave of energy into songs we’ve spent our entire lives hearing.

“Why Don’t We Do It In The Road?” demand Peter & The Test Tube Babies, one of the most entertaining of all the bands that flourished in the fury of punk rock’s Oi! diversion. “I’m Down,” lament Eddie and the Hot Rods—a band that is celebrating its 50th anniversary around now, but still blazes as brilliantly as they did in ’75, when a lot of their set was made up of ’60s classics, from The Who and Them, to the Stones and Bob Seger.

The legendary 999 tell what happened when “I Saw Her Standing There”; The Members recall their favorite “Daytripper”; and stepping back into the realms of what history refers to as the proto punk years, the Flamin’ Groovies (“Revolution”) and the Pink Fairies (“Get Back”) reflect back upon their own infancy—these aren’t their first Beatles covers, after all. But they’re as good as those they did way back when.

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Celebrating Iggy Pop on his 78th birthday. —Ed.

David Bowie was a great artist, but he was also an appropriator and opportunist, and was not above exploiting his friends to achieve his own goals. Take Iggy Pop. Pop had been floundering since the Stooges dissolved, and found himself in Berlin with Bowie who, like Pop, was trying to fight both his drug demons and find his way to a new sound, which would emerge in 1977’s Low. But before Low he produced Pop, as much out of self-interest as friendship. As he would say later, “Poor Jim, in a way, became a guinea pig for what I wanted to do with sound.”

Fortunately for Pop, their creative collaboration—for their sessions were much, much more than Bowie’s simply using Pop as a laboratory animal for musical experimentation—resulted in 1977’s The Idiot, a work of genius and a radical departure from Pop’s frankly self-destructive proto-punk with the Stooges. Indeed, it was so radical it skipped punk entirely, and disappointed plenty of people who thought Pop should have been taking advantage of a sound and attitude he had helped to foment.

The Idiot would have been unthinkable to anyone familiar with Pop’s previous personae as rock’s wildebeest, who flung himself about to the frenetic roar produced by the Stooges, seemingly oblivious to the physical and psychic damage he was inflicting upon himself. On The Idiot, the roar of guitars was replaced by a funky and robotic foray into more Apollonian territory, with Pop singing over Kraftwerk-flavored art rock, quieter tunes some with Gothic overtones, and even proto-industrial electronica.

Most of its songs would be celebrated by proponents of the various genres of post-punk, demonstrating conclusively just how far ahead of its time it was. On a bummer of a note, it was even the soundtrack to Joy Division singer Ian Curtis’ suicide, as it was found spinning in the room where Curtis hanged himself.

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VIA PRESS RELEASE | Craft Recordings is excited to announce the first-ever vinyl reissue of Alison Krauss’ double-Platinum compilation, Now That I’ve Found You: A Collection.

Originally released in 1995, the album offers a survey of early career highlights from the legendary bluegrass-country singer, fiddler and producer. A testament to Krauss’ virtuosic and versatile talents, the collection—released when she was just 23 years old—includes the best-selling country hit “When You Say Nothing at All,” the GRAMMY® Award-winning “Baby, Now That I’ve Found You,” plus timeless favorites from her solo releases, as well as those with Alison Krauss & Union Station and Alison Krauss & The Cox Family.

Now That I’ve Found You: A Collection returns to vinyl July 11th and is available to pre-order now, while fans can also find limited-edition pressings on Translucent Teal vinyl (exclusively at Books-A-Million) and Vintage Red vinyl (at CraftRecordings.com). In the meantime, listeners can also rediscover the timeless collection across digital platforms today.

While this reissue commemorates the 30th anniversary of Krauss’ career-changing collection, fans are also celebrating the long-awaited eighth studio album from Alison Krauss & Union Station, Arcadia, which dropped March 28th via Down the Road Records. To celebrate their first release in 14 years, the band is embarking on a 75-date North American tour, beginning tomorrow with a two-night stint at Louisville, KY’s Louisville Palace.

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It’s Monday afternoon here at the Hug & Pint in lovely Falkirk, Scotland, not that you’d know it because management 86’d the sun a long time ago because it was annoying the customers, and that blootered bampot at the end of the bar is Arab Strap’s Adrian Moffat, and aren’t you curious what he’s havering on about?

Well I can tell you, because along with bandmate Malcolm Middleton he’s laid it all out for you in lovingly lugubrious detail on 2003’s Monday at the Hug & Pint. And as it turns out Moffat is one articulate, if very down in the mouth, fellow, one whose life is shite because, well, he has problems. Women problems, a rat-arsed-every-night-of-the-week problem, self-esteem problems.

And if that kind of bleak doesn’t sound like your idea of listening pleasure there’s this: Arab Strap’s music—often gloomy, yet just as often achingly lovely—makes for the perfect backdrop for Moffat’s often self-lacerating lyrics, and together they can be downright revelatory.

The only real question you’re left with after listening to Monday at the Hug & Pint—Arab Strap’s fifth studio outing and their next to last before going on a very long hiatus—is why you’ll want to play it again rather than go drown yourself in the nearest bog. Like Arab Strap’s other albums, this one is an epic bummer.

But here’s the explanation—depression can be surprisingly cathartic. It doesn’t hurt that Moffat is a lyricist of uncommon talent, and that Arab Strap seem incapable of writing of a bad song. Enter the Hug & Pint on a Monday night and you’ll wind up with more than just a bad case of sexual frustration and a wicked jackhammer of a hangover—you will partake of the divinely morose.

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VIA PRESS RELEASE | Twenty-five years ago today, the late musical mastermind Elliott Smith released Figure 8, his immaculate, ornate, Technicolor second album for DreamWorks Records.

In honor of the album’s 25th anniversary, its enduring appeal and continued influence, Interscope/UMe will release Figure 8 (Deluxe Edition), the previously digital-only edition that expands the classic album with all the B-sides, solo acoustic and alternate version tracks that were released on the various singles, promos, and international editions of the beloved 2000 record, on vinyl for the first time. The Deluxe Edition was released as a digital exclusive in 2019 to commemorate what would have been Smith’s 50th birthday.

The first-ever vinyl pressing of Figure 8 (Deluxe Edition) features the album presented on 45 rpm tri-color opaque white, black and red “Figure 8 Mural Vinyl” as a nod to the famous Los Angeles mural that a black and white Smith stands in front of on the iconic album cover. The original 16 tracks are spread across two LPs while a third LP boasts seven bonus tracks, six of which have never been on vinyl.

The audio has been mastered for vinyl by Justin Perkins at Mystery Room Mastering with lacquers cut by Ryan Smith at Sterling Sound. This special 25th anniversary Deluxe Edition will be housed in a tri-fold sleeve and this exclusive vinyl colorway is limited to 3,000 globally. Figure 8 (Deluxe Edition) is available to purchase exclusively via Interscope.com. The record will ship on or around June 6.

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Celebrating Andy Shernoff in advance of his 70th birthday tomorrow. —Ed.

You can’t judge a book by its cover, but LPs? A whole different story. One glance at the cover of The Dictators’ 1975 debut Go Girl Crazy!—which features roadie turned singer and “Secret Weapon” Handsome Dick Manitoba hamming it up in a wrestling outfit and a 200-watt smile, resplendent in Jewfro and dark sunglasses, an outrageous red glitter jacket bearing his name hanging from a gym locker nearby—and you know you’re in the presence of something truly outrageous and great.

Oh, how I love The Dictators. The New Yawk proto-punkers may have produced only one brilliant LP, namely Go Girl Crazy! (which sold like shit), but talk about influential; you can draw a direct line between it to The Ramones and straight to The Beastie Boys. All three bands have the same smartass “fight for your right to party” punk attitude; they all deliver tons of snotty and hilarious one-liners; and they all use great guitar riffs to deliver the goods. If The Ramones (who later did a version of “California Sun” off Go Girl Crazy!) and The Beastie Boys didn’t cop their entire shtick from The Dictators’ debut, I’m Michael Bolton, mulleted version.

But to be honest I don’t give a shit whether Go Girl Crazy! was the Sgt. Pepper of proto-punk and the Rosetta Stone for hundreds of bands that came later. All that matters to me is that Go Girl Crazy! is one of the rockingest, funniest, and most gleeful albums ever made. And it’s good-natured, too. I used the word “snotty” above, but The Dictators are a friendly lot, and as a result get away with a lot. You would expect songs like “Master Race Rock” and “Back to Africa” to be prime examples of the deliberate punk outrage, but both turn out to be just the opposite of what they appear to be, namely funny and friendly. Why, these guys don’t even swear; co-lead vocalist Andy “Adny” Shernoff says “heck!”

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PHOTO: DEVON BRISTOL-SHAW | On this episode of Radar, I speak with Oliver Ackermann who is the founder and creator of the Brooklyn-based effects pedal company Death By Audio, and is the guitarist and lead singer for New York-based punk/noise/shoe-gaze band A Place to Bury Strangers.

They have released seven LPs, fourteen EPs, a live album, and more singles than I can count. They are prolific and committed to the cause. Their most recent is called Synthesizer (Dedstrange). It is a wonderful record that also comes in a limited edition series of LPs where the album cover itself doubles as a circuit board and functional synth for curious and enterprising fans. “It’s pretty messed up and chaotic. But it feels really human,” says Oliver. “In an era of making music where so little is DIY and so much is left up to AI, never setting foot in a practice room or a home studio, making something that feels deliberately chaotic, messy, and human, is entirely the point.”

I had a wonderful time talking about the record with Oliver along with his approach to live shows, his love of art, community, and mixtapes.

Radar features discussions with artists and industry leaders who are creators and devotees of music and is produced by Dylan Hundley and The Vinyl District. Dylan Hundley is an artist and performer, and the co-creator and lead singer of Lulu Lewis and all things at Darling Black. She co-curates and hosts Salon Lulu which is a New York based multidisciplinary performance series. She is also a cast member of the iconic New York film Metropolitan.

What’s all the fuss about this guy? And does anyone listen to him for pleasure? Between that sepulchral voice and the black attire and the overheated Gothic death dirges, which split the difference between folk music and lurid (and despite his rep as a “poet,” not very well written) and lugubrious blues melodrama, I just don’t see (or hear) the appeal. His “dark vision” is verbosity for verbosity’s sake and might work as comedy, but the man ain’t in it for the laughs. He’s for dead real serious.

Or is he? “I consider myself to be first and foremost a comic writer,” he once said. “The way I entertain myself—especially in those long and grim hours in the office—is to write stuff I find funny.” Is Cave a black humorist, and I’m simply too dumb to get the joke? I don’t think so. My sense of humor is blacker than Cave’s usual attire, and I’m not laughing. And I find E.M. Cioran funny.

I only have two problems with Nick Cave—his music and his lyrics. The former is dreary, morbid (he’s got a lot in common with the death metal crowd) and should be kept out of the hands of those with suicidal ideation. His lyrics show he spends a lot of time in the company of the Oxford English Dictionary, and it’s not doing him any favors. Take the opening line of a song I picked at random, “We Call Upon the Author”:

“Our myxomatoid kids spraddle the streets
We’ve shunned them from the greasy-grind
The poor little things they look so sad and old
As they mount us from behind.”

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VIA PRESS RELEASE | In the early 1970s, Dusty Springfield relocated from her native England to Los Angeles in an effort to pursue new opportunities in her career and signed with ABC/Dunhill Records. Her 1973 album Cameo showcased Springfield’s soulful pop in splendid fashion but failed to generate significant traction outside of Billboard’s Adult Contemporary listings. For her sophomore project with the label the following year, Dusty travelled to New York to team with producer Brooks Arthur, renowned for his work with Phil Spector’s 1960s coterie of girl singers.

For Longing, Arthur chose to frame Dusty in the 1970s singer-songwriter milieu, surrounding her with material from Colin Blunstone (“Exclusively for Me”), Melissa Manchester & Carole Bayer Sager (“Home to Myself”), Janis Ian (“In the Winter”), Stephen Schwartz (“Corner of the Sky”), Chi Coltrane (“Turn Me Around”), Barry Manilow (“I Am Your Child”) and others. In many cases, the songwriters themselves contributed directly by playing keyboards on their respective creations at Arthur’s famed 911 Studios. Bruce Springsteen was also known to sit in on some of the sessions in admiration.

As the sessions wound down in the summer of 1974, Dusty found herself suffering from emotional exhaustion and professional uncertainty. She subsequently chose to put the album on the shelf and part ways with the label, ultimately re-recording a pair of the tracks when she signed to United Artists Records a few years later.

In 2001, under the supervision of producer Arthur, nine of the ten tracks he recorded with Dusty were released on CD as part of a collection of her ABC/Dunhill period. A tenth track (“Corner of the Sky” from the Broadway musical Pippin) was reworked as a duet with Petula Clark and included on a pair of her anthologies. Now, all ten tracks make their vinyl debut, including the first-ever solo release of “Corner of the Sky” along with new mixes for eight of the other selections for this dual CD & LP release.

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