Mark Fry was just 19 years old when he recorded his debut album in 1971, a set that stands today as a left-field psych-folk classic. More details on that album are below, but his latest release Not on the Radar is out May 16 on vinyl, compact disc, and digital through the Second Language label. Those who only know Fry from his debut might be surprised by how together he is across these 10 tracks. If not as gripping as his early stuff, Fry’s new one is still warm and satisfying as it thrives on a wide stylistic range.

For over 35 years, Mark Fry was known by a select number of record collector cognoscenti for Dreaming of Alice, a rare and extremely pricey LP in its original pressing released in 1972 by It, an Italian label with connections to RCA Records. Fry wrote the songs, sang them, and played guitar on a psych-folk excursion that was remarkably consistent and essentially lacking in cringe-worthy passages, a notable omission given the record’s proximity to the loner/outsider fringe.

Cut after Fry dropped out of art school, Dreaming of Alice garnered nothing in the way of immediate response, its cult status accruing incrementally and getting a significant boost with its first in a series of reissues in 2000. Fry’s second album emerged two years later, less a follow-up than a fresh start. Leaving the bent atmospheres of his debut behind, Shooting the Moon is an extremely coherent and orderly batch of singer-songwriter folk.

The change was admirable but ultimately lesser than Dreaming of Alice, a circumstance that was still preferable to an attempt to recapture or even extend from the bottled lightning of youthful vigor. Subsequent releases have sharpened Fry’s mature approach. Not on the Radar’s opener “Only Love” is gorgeous and reflective as it gently unfurls, a beauty move deepened in the next track “Big Red Sun” as the focus shifts from guitar to piano; a six-string does gradually emerge to deliver a sweet capper of a solo.

Read More »

VIA PRESS RELEASE | Don Giovanni Records to release the lost self-titled album from supergroup Volcano. A 2004 collaboration between Meat Puppets, Sublime, and The Ziggens will finally see the light of day on June 20th, 2025 on CD and vinyl, now streaming everywhere.

In a world where Google maps every surface and YouTube contains countless obscurities, it’s exciting to learn that anything can still get lost. Under a stone on a hill by the sea, an album by a short-lived underground supergroup named Volcano has managed to remain officially unreleased for 22 years. Now, on June 11, 2025, the independent label Don Giovanni Records will finally release Volcano and press it to vinyl.

When Meat Puppets singer-guitarist Curt Kirkwood, Sublime drummer Bud Gaugh, and Ziggens bassist Jon Poutney recorded these 13 songs in 2003, this trio was an extension of Curt and Bud’s previous trio, Eyes Adrift. That band included Nirvana bassist Chris Novoselic and had dissolved in 2002 after releasing one album. Fate would play Volcano a similar hand.

With Poutney on bass and Miguel playing guitar and harmonizing, Volcano played a handful of live shows, recorded one studio album, and disbanded after a year. Unlike Eyes Adrift, Volcano’s album never got released through traditional channels.

Read More »

Remembering Ian Dury, born on this date in 1942. —Ed.

You have to wonder how this album came to be called Laughter. The sessions that produced it were stressful and marked by discord; Chaz Jenkel was gone and personalities clashed. Ian Dury, who was juggling addictions at the time, was, by all accounts, almost impossible to work with. The subject matter is often dark, and very dark at that. So why the incongruous title? Said England’s most foul-mouthed polio victim matter of factly at a later date: “I called it Laughter to cheer myself up.”

That said, I have this to say about 1980’s Laughter; it never fails to make me laugh. Which is to say Laughter isn’t such an ironic title after all. Even at his most lugubrious Dury–who was, and will likely always remain, England’s most lovable vulgarian–cheers me up, and that’s a rare gift. Down in the mouth Dury may have been, but he hadn’t lost his cheek, and he still managed to produce an album chockfull of dance friendly grooves and happy-making pub rock sing-alongs. So what if “Uncoolohol” is a dark ode to the perils of alcoholism; I spent plenty an alcoholic night cheerfully slurring along to its rousing chorus while falling down drunk. Laughter is not unlike one of the later Beatles albums; John and Paul may well have hated one another’s guts, but you’d never know it listening to the music.

I have my favorites on Laughter. LP opener “Sueperman’s Big Sister” (that’s no typo) is all swing, strings, and vocal bluster–a funky dance floor raver that will simply sweep you off your feet. “Dance of the Crackpots” comes at you in a rush; Dury can hardly get the words out of his mouth fast enough. Harmonica and some great tap dancing by Will Gaines transform Dury into a mad square dance caller; he name drops Thelonious Monk and Rosemary Clooney, and utters the Inspirational verse: “Being daft is a therapy craft/Which sharpens up your wits.” “(Take Your Elbow Out of the Soup) You’re Sitting on the Chicken” is sheer joy to the ears, what with its mental nursery rhyme lyrics (“The mouse runs up your leg/It’s one o’clock in China”) and chorus you simply have to join in on.

Read More »

VIA PRESS RELEASE | [PIAS] Catalogue have today announced details of the reissue of EELS’ 2001 album Souljacker. This new edition will be released on Friday, June 20, 2025, feature the original track listing and be available on 140gram red vinyl.

Originally released on Dreamworks in September 2001, Souljacker was the fourth album from EEES, fronted by Mark Oliver Everett, aka E. The album was produced by John Parish, known for his work with PJ Harvey, and recorded at the EELS home studio in Los Angeles in early 2001. Talking about the album, E said, “I had to fire two managers in order for you to hear this one. Hope you appreciate the effort.”

A snarling, swaggering beast, Souljacker saw EELS move away to a more rock-orientated sound. Part gutter-blues, part twisted lullaby it saw them trading the orchestral warmth of Daisies of the Galaxy for something sharper-edged, with jagged guitars, eerie loops, and lyrics that walk the line between menace and melancholy.

From the unhinged stomp of “Dog Faced Boy” to the cinematic sweep of “Fresh Feeling,” Souljacker is restless and unpredictable, channeling Tom Waits’ grit and the underbelly of American storytelling. This red 1LP reissue brings the album’s dark heart back into the light.

Forget about the Rise and Fall of Western Civilization for a moment, and let us reflect instead upon the Rise and Fall of Van Halen, if only because in certain important respects they come down to the same thing! In the space of one album (from 1984’s 1984 and 1986’s 5150) Van Halen went from a band that was the personification of pure exuberance, wit, pop fun, and sheer flamboyant elan to a drab machine, and things went steadily downhill from there. It was like history worked backwards, and instead of moving from the Dark Ages to the Renaissance Van Halen did the opposite.

Some precipitous band declines are mysteries—the ghost leaves the machine, and no one knows why. In the case of Van Halen everyone knows why—Mr. Entertainment Hizzownself, David Lee Roth, walked.

Walked after the band hit it high-water mark with 1984, easily the best and most entertaining glam metal record of the decade, and perhaps of all time. (Some fools would brand it a sellout because it had, gak, synthesizers on it.) And after “Jump,” arguably the most infectious pop confection of the eighties. And he took the joy, the wit, the flamboyance, the spirt, the fun, the stage lights, the hilarious asides, the backflips, and even Eddie Van Halen’s shit-eating grin with him. Roth was rock’s consummate ham, but without him Van Halen turned into a turkey.

Roth was irreplaceable, but Van Halen did itself no favors by bringing former Montrose frontman and tequila entrepreneur Sammy Hagar on board, after first being turned down by (and this speaks volumes about Eddie Van Halen’s suspect picker) Patty Smythe and Darryl Hall. Replacing Roth with Hagar was kind of like replacing Dean Martin with, well, Sammy Hagar, who seems like a nice guy but speaks entirely in platitudes and has all the wit of Ayn Rand.

Read More »

VIA PRESS RELEASE | In 1976 the seminal line-up of Motörhead was solidified a year after the band’s initial inception. Known as the “Three Amigos” era of Motörhead, Lemmy (bass/vocals), Fast Eddie Clarke (guitar), and Phil “Philthy Animal” Taylor (drums) joined forces and began their extraordinary journey to the top of the hard rock elite.

In August 1976 the band set up at Emerson, Lake & Palmer’s legendary Manticore Studio in Fulham to rehearse and showcase the new lineup. While they were there they recorded together for the very first time and now, forty nine years later, this long lost tape has surfaced, been dusted off and restored in all its raw glory, to celebrate the seminal hard rock band’s 50th anniversary

It’s quite surreal, even unbelievable that a whole half century has elapsed since that vital time in 1976. Just as remarkable, especially for those who remember Lemmy hammering the fruit machines of London’s pubs or as the era’s most extraordinarily approachable rock star, has been this always humble man’s ascension to Mount Rushmore-like immortality as rock ‘n’ roll’s ultimate icon, this despite his having sadly passed away nearly ten years ago. Lemmy himself certainly would have cackled.

The dogged struggles Motörhead faced in the first four of their 50 years are well documented and the almost accidental manifestation of this album—and the circumstances under which it was recorded—present a previously barely known new element in the band’s history from that time when it’s very future looked bleak had events not taken a different course.

Read More »

Celebrating Tom Petersson on his 75th birthday. —Ed.

What a cheap trick. Here Rockford, Illinois’ finest put out Heaven Tonight which I considered the coolest album in the galaxy, only to follow it up with Cheap Trick at Budokan and the heinous “I Want You to Want Me,” which I’ve had to suffer through like 80,000 times over the years. Every single person I know loves the damn song. I’d sooner listen to the death rattle of a unicorn.

That said, 1978’s Heaven Tonight–the band’s third–still makes me as giddy as an axe-wielding maniac at a remote summer camp. It’s a knee-trembling, rock ‘em sock ‘em, wham bam than you ma’am classic, and it solidly established Cheap Trick amongst America’s Power Pop elite alongside the Raspberries, Big Star, and (my campy faves) Redd Kross.

What set Cheap Trick apart from the power pop pack was hard rock crunch. They infused their catchy melodies with steroids: had they been ML baseball players they’d have gone the way of Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa. Songs such as “Surrender,” “On the Radio,” and “How Are You” may not be cement mixers, but “High Roller,” “Auf Wiedersehen,” and “Stiff Competition” all fall into Robert Christgau’s characterization of Heaven Tonight as “power-tooled hard rock product.”

Heaven Tonight is a case of eclecticism at work. “Surrender” is an ecstatic-making monument, like Mount Rushmore but with a better chorus. And it’s funny to boot. Robin Zander comes downstairs to discover his parents going at it, and with his Kiss records playing to boot. It’s a friendly bridge across the generation gap; if the kids are alright, so are the parents. Mom and dad aren’t out of it, they’re with it, and it’s a life-altering revelation.

Read More »

Jaco Jaco is the project of Philadelphia-based musician, visual artist, and former member of beloved indie-rock trio Sports, Jacob Theriot.

The music Theriot makes as Jaco Jaco straddles genre—a little funk, a little psych, a little dreamy ’70s AM rock. The follow up to Jaco Jaco’s 2024 debut Splat, Gremlin is a playful, elegant record that isn’t directly inspired by the movie Gremlins, but honors the movie’s use of kitsch and camp to explore a prevailing mood of irreverence and introspection. It’s also a visual marvel that is aesthetically inspired by the early ‘90s sitcom Dinosaurs, Les Blank docs, and the world of alternative comic books.

Jacob and I talked about the new album, our gear obsessions, and putting sirens in songs.

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.

Look: Unless you’re a resident in, or owner of, an English retirement home, I cannot in good conscience recommend that you purchase a copy of early Seventies English novelty act Lieutenant Pigeon’s 2023 compilation album The Decca Years. It’s the kind of album you should listen to with antimacassars, not headphones. The smell of overcooked roast beef should be in the air. And your best friend should be a desiccated specimen of vintage English truculence named Gertie, who is forever accusing you filching her “kinky knickers.”

Of The Decca Years’ forty-eight tracks, compiled from three LPs the band recorded in 1973 and 1974 along with some songs, many are relatively staid music hall fare. I find maybe ten listenable, and I’m being charitable. And unless you’re a rather perverse person, or living in the aforementioned retirement community, you’ll probably never feel the need to listen to said maybe ten listenable tracks more than twice, once to be struck agog, and then again to be sure you actually heard what you think you just heard.

But: you should give The Decca Years a listen, if only because Lieutenant Pigeon of Coventry England (birthplace of The Specials!) are probably the strangest band to ever find their way onto BBC’s popular television “programme” Top of the Pops AND the top of the pop charts (back in 1972), which given we’re talking about England where eccentricity is more tolerated (and even celebrated) than here in the boring States, is really saying something. The English are a strange people. They sit down to eel pie and spotted dick, say completely incomprehensible things like “Bob’s your uncle” and celebrate Boxing Day, which has absolutely nothing to do with fisticuffs, bare-knuckled or gloved. And they don’t even celebrate the Fourth of July!

Read More »