VIA PRESS RELEASE | Four decades after igniting college-radio airwaves and launching R.E.M.’s remarkable career, their 1981 debut single “Radio Free Europe” is broadcasting a new signal. Today, R.E.M. proudly announces “Radio Free Europe 2025,” a five-track benefit EP led by a never-before-released 2025 remix by the band’s longtime collaborator Jacknife Lee. The release celebrates the 75th anniversary of the “OG” Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty (RFE/RL), and arrived just ahead of World Press Freedom Day on May 3.

Radio Free Europe 2025 is available to stream and download today. A limited-edition 10-inch orange-vinyl pressing—available for pre-order now exclusively via the official R.E.M. store and independent record stores—lands September 12.

Proceeds from all vinyl sales will go to RFE/RL, an editorially independent nonpartisan and nonprofit 501(c)(3) corporation. Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty was established by the United States 75 years ago and currently broadcasts news and information in 27 languages to 23 countries where a free press is either banned by the government or under threat. Throughout the Cold War and continuing today, RFE/RL is often the only lifeline to the outside world for people living under extreme censorship.

Members of R.E.M. say this mission of promoting free expression has always resonated with the band. “Whether it’s music or a free press—censorship anywhere is a threat to the truth everywhere. On World Press Freedom Day, I’m sending a shout-out to the brave journalists at Radio Free Europe,” says Michael Stipe, lead singer and founding member of R.E.M.

“Radio Free Europe’s journalists have been pissing off dictators for 75 years. You know you’re doing your job when you make the right enemies. Happy World Press Freedom Day to the ‘OG’ Radio Free Europe,” says Mike Mills, bassist and founding member of R.E.M.

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Want to know exactly how many times I’ve heard the Fall played on American radio, AM, FM, for-profit, not-for-profit, college, high school, guy down the block who sticks his speakers out his windows and considers himself a radio station because he shouts “The next song is by Oingo Boingo!” etc? Zero. And do you want to know how many American Fall fans I know? Don’t even get me started. I know more HENRY COW fans, and Henry Cow are art prog shit!

All of which is to say, from my personal experience, that The Fall are a distinctly un-American proposition. In Great Britain and other places around the world they’re considered sacred, the only band that matters, and they regularly made the pop charts. You can walk into any pub in England and find rabid Fall fans hitting other rabid Fall fans over the head with pint glasses because they had the temerity to suggest, I don’t know, that the Brix Smith-era Fall is far superior to the Live from the Witch Trials-era Fall. Here in America the legendary curmudgeon and band resident genius Mark E. Smith could (if he weren’t deceased) win the Masked Singer and people would say “Mark E. Who?”

It’s undeniable that the music of The Fall can be both challenging and, and, at least upon first listen, off-putting. The band sounds amateurish, the songs are as often not repetitive grooves, and Mark E. Smith declaims obscurantist (to me anyway, people keep telling me he’s actually making sense) “poetry” in a voice that veers in an instant from rant to sneer to falsetto squeal. He sounds like the strange geezer at the far end of the bar muttering to himself. And you may almost think he’s saying something of momentous import until he stops you dead with a word like “infaskunkstructure.” He’s anything but the Iowa Writer’s Workshop type.

And I think that’s the gist of it. Americans simply can’t wrap their minds around Mark E. Smith. He’s a crank and uniquely English species of iconoclast, a type as exotic to the American sensibility as spotted dick or deliberately driving on the wrong side of the road. Smith is always driving on the wrong side of the road, and as often as he not he’s pissed in both the British and American meanings of the world. It’s an aside, but one of my personal Mark E. Smith anecdotes goes as follows:

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VIA PRESS RELEASE | “Suddenly Wings has found its moment. We have a generational shift at work, and it’s like being transported back on a magic carpet. Working on the book has awakened so many beautiful memories of our times back then.” —Paul McCartney, from the foreword of Wings: The Story of a Band on the Run

One of music’s greatest adventures told by a cast of incredible characters who were there, including: Paul McCartney, Linda McCartney, Denny Laine, Mary McCartney, Stella McCartney, John Lennon, George Harrison, Ringo Starr, George Martin, Sean Ono Lennon, Chrissie Hynde, Dustin Hoffman, Twiggy and all the members of Wings—Denny Seiwell, Henry McCullough, Jimmy McCulloch, Geoff Britton, Joe English, Steve Holley, and Laurence Juber.

This remarkable cast tells the story of a band who made history—selling over 22 million albums and becoming the first band to achieve sales of over two million in the UK singles charts with “Mull of Kintyre.” A band who pushed the boundaries in both the studio and in live performances, from their first university tour through to pioneering large scale concerts, long before stadiums and arenas were commonly used for rock shows.

The book includes a foreword written by Paul McCartney and is compiled from over 42 hours of brand-new interviews, plus historical interviews, and newly discovered, previously unheard interviews from Paul’s personal archive. Wings: The story of a Band on the Run features over 150 photographs capturing Wings throughout the years—many previously unseen—and shot by an array of photographers including Linda McCartney, Mike McCartney, Clive Arrowsmith, Henry Diltz, Robert Ellis, and Paul himself. The book also includes memorabilia, including some of Paul’s diary page entries from the time and handwritten lyrics.

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Celebrating Christopher Cross in advance of his 74th birthday tomorrow. —Ed.

A few observations on Yacht Rock anti-Christ Christopher Cross’ Grammy Award winning 1979 debut LP.

1. If Stephen King was the Master of the Macabre he claims to be, he would write a short story about a ruthless businessman with a Type A personality who is on his way to shut down an unprofitable mental hospital. He gets into his Porsche only to hear the doors lock around him. Then, and this is the important part, Christopher Cross starts playing on his car stereo and HE CAN’T TURN IT OFF. No matter how many dials he twists or pummels it just keeps playing over and over until the poor fellow goes blubbering insane and ends up as a permanent ward of the very hospital he wanted to close. If the great Mr. King can conjure up a more terrifying scenario than that one, I would love to hear it. Oh, and the scariest part? The whole process takes less than two hours.

2. CC became the face of soft rock with his eponymous debut, which remains one of the sleekest Yacht Rock vessels ever to be launched upon the Easy Seas. It spawned several hit singles (including those immortals “Sailing” and “Ride Like the Wind”), garnered him the Big Four Grammy Awards (which had never happened before and hasn’t happened since), and went platinum five times over in the process. Forget about the horror scenario outlined above. It doesn’t get any more frightening than this.

3. My good friend Dennis Warnack St. George recently told me this story:

“I was on a date with my future first wife when “Sailing” came on the radio. I reached over to change the station, and the next thing I knew I was in Georgetown Hospital. A priest was telling me I would be fine, and I was thinking that that’s what they always say to the moribund. Anyway, a van hit my girlfriend’s car head on. I was thrown through the windscreen (no belt). She was uninjured (belt). She nursed me back to health and we got married two months later.

So, I have bad associations with Christopher Cross. His music makes me think about that harpy I married.”

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PHOTO: JULIA GORTON | I recently sat down with Angela Jaeger to talk about growing up in NYC and her newly released punk rock diaries entitled I Feel Famous. Angela entered the scene as a teen in the iconic summer of ’77 and dove in head first. She was everywhere, saw everyone, was friends with everyone in the punk scene, and is much beloved by all.

I Feel Famous: Punk Diaries 1977-1981 is a girl’s coming of age story set to the pulse of punk rock. The book tracks 17-year-old Angela Jaeger’s exciting discovery of punk music and its accompanying lifestyle in 1977. A music enthusiast living in New York’s East Village, Angela’s story unfolds chronologically, charting her late adolescence in tandem with her transition from observer of the nascent punk scene to eager participant.

Gradually becoming a nightly fixture of her neighborhood’s vibrant underground rock milieu at CBGB and Max’s Kansas City, by 1978 she had continued to fulfill her punk fantasy abroad. She followed The Clash on a tour across England, finally returning home in 1979 to start her own band. Angela encountered an impressive cast of characters on her adventures, including Lydia Lunch, Joe Strummer, Billy Idol, Klaus Nomi, and Sid Vicious.

You can find I Feel Famous where most books are sold. I encourage you to go grab it. Reading it will transport you to your teenage bedroom no matter what era you come from, but this one brings me back to dreaming about stopping at pay phones to make calls, scary East Village bathrooms, and motorcycle boots worn with everything.

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.

These end-of-the-seventies Kangaroo Kuntry no-goodniks (they’re not nice boys, they sing in one song, they’re bad boys in love in another) couldn’t decide whether they wanted to be rockers like the Faces or punkers or even blues rockers (complete with slide guitar) so they did it all, and did it all so well both Axel Rose and Izzy Stradlin would go on record saying they changed their lives.

Fronted by a gravel-voiced skinhead nice guy named Angry Anderson, who’s not very good when it comes to pet care (or singing) and admits his T.V. has him pussy-whipped, Australia’s Rose Tattoo shared producers with AC/DC and made their mamas glad dingoes didn’t get ‘em as babies by taking their 1978 self-titled debut LP to numero uno on the UK heavy metal charts.

Big city boys from Sydney, or “Sin City” as its lovingly known by the innumerable feckless rubes who’ve been accosted by brigands in its environs over the eons, Rose Tattoo sing about gang wars and prostitution and garbage and “cockroaches so big they got bones” and some stone cold killer named Astra Wally and dead parrots even, and while they’re always trying to give you the impression they’re rogues destined to die with a switchblade in the eye, it’s hard to escape the suspicion they help little old ladies across busy thoroughfares and always place their empty Foster’s cans in the proper trash receptacle. They’re “rock ’n’ roll outlaws” and they’re on the run, but only to Cleveland for their next gig.

Which brings us to opener “Rock ’N’ Roll Outlaw,” which features this humongous Jimmy Page guitar riff with a slide guitar taking solo turns while Angry does his best (not-so-great, but that’s what so lovable about it) AC/DC turn. No big chord changes, no bridge, just keep it simple hard rock statement of purpose.

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VIA PRESS RELEASE | “The beauty of duets is that there is no where to hide, and trust is the connecting ingredient. This collection from pianist Bob James and saxist Dave Koz is a beaut, filled with communication and lyricism.” —Jazz Weekly

When two-time GRAMMY® Award winner Bob James and nine-time GRAMMY nominee Dave Koz released Just Us earlier this year, critics and fans alike recognized the album as a milestone in both artists’ careers as it claimed the No. 1 spot on the Luminate Current Contemporary Jazz Albums chart.

Today, the pre-order launched for the limited edition vinyl of Just Us. Just Us is completely unlike anything either artist has ever recorded. It’s raw and unplugged with just the saxophone and piano only, on every song. They recorded most of the tracks in the living room of James’ Traverse City, MI home, setting up a mic for Koz’s alto and two soprano saxes next to Bob’s grand piano.

This special release features Just Us pressed on Audiophile Grade Heavyweight 180 gram vinyl and a limited edition poster. Signed vinyl and an Ultimate Signed Limited Edition package, which also includes a signed limited edition CD with the bonus track “Sunny Side of the Street,” are also available for pre-order here.

On the heels of their well-received Just Us mini-tour, James and Koz will play a sold-out show at Myron’s at The Smith Center in Las Vegas on Sunday, May 4. The contemporary jazz icons, who recently performed at the GRAMMY Museum® in Los Angeles after a Q&A session led by Tavis Smiley, will be sharing stories and performing strictly as a duo on piano and saxophone, just as they do on the album.

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Celebrating D’arcy Wretzky—sort of—born on this day in 1968. —Ed.

In his 1823 essay On the Pleasure of Hating, British author and philosopher William Hazlitt wrote, “Love turns, with little indulgence, to indifference or disgust: hatred alone is immortal.” He also wrote, “We grow tired of everything but turning others into ridicule, and congratulating ourselves on their defects.” With those words he summed up my whole character. Hating’s what I do best.

Hell, I even hate things I know next to nothing about. Take the Smashing Pumpkins. I’ve despised them since the first time I heard “Bullet with Butterfly Wings,” and when people ask why I tell them, “I dunno. They just smell wrong”

But here’s another quote, this one by the 19th Century British philosopher Herbert Spencer: “There is a principle which is a bar against all information, which is proof against all arguments, and which cannot fail to keep a man in everlasting ignorance—that principle is contempt prior to investigation.” I don’t mind being called a hater. But an ignorant hater? Nobody wants to wear that hat.

So I tied myself to a chair and listened to the Smashing Pumpkins’ 1991 debut, Gish. And you know what? My ignorant hating ass was right. The Smashing Pumpkins suck. Wait, let me amend that. Billy Corgan’s voice sucks. He’s a whiner. He whines the way I used to whine when my parents would drag me through the gift shop at Fantasyland without buying me anything.

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VIA PRESS RELEASE | London Records will reissue Sisters, the beloved 1984 debut album by The Bluebells, on 27th June, pre-order here.

This fully remastered and expanded edition will be available for the first time as a double LP on black or limited purple vinyl (D2C/Townsend Music Exclusive), as well as a deluxe triple CD and DVD box set. The collection includes B-sides, non-album tracks, live and extended versions, previously unreleased BBC sessions and early takes, along with restored music videos and iconic BBC performances from Old Grey Whistle Test and Top of the Pops.

Timed to arrive just before The Bluebells’ performance at this year’s Glastonbury Festival (Acoustic Stage, Saturday 28th June), these new editions also feature enhanced artwork and new liner notes from acclaimed author and music journalist Will Hodgkinson.

Part of the first wave of early ’80s Scottish indie bands, The Bluebells, writes Hodgkinson, “were the very essence of indie—they helped define its jangling, guitar-led sound—while maintaining an accessibility that went to the heart of their working-class roots.” Centered around the core trio of guitarist Robert Hodgens (aka Bobby Bluebell) and brothers David and Ken McCluskey (drums and vocals/harmonica, respectively), the band’s approach was “rooted in classic song craft, exuding cheerfulness even when dealing with loneliness, heartbreak, and other lachrymose staples.”

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Noted for her abilities as a saxophonist, Ingrid Laubrock is also a composer of considerable skill, a fact her new 2CD set Purposing the Air wondrously illuminates across 60 short pieces from four different duos with the commonality of the human voice. Laubrock doesn’t play on the set, instead handling compositional and organizational roles, setting the words of poet Erica Hunt to music played by vocalist Fay Victor and cellist Mariel Roberts, vocalist Sara Serpa and pianist Matt Mitchell, vocalist Theo Bleckmann and guitarist Ben Monder, and mezzo-soprano Rachel Calloway and violinist Ari Streisfeld. Structurally, interactively, and linguistically brilliant, the set is out now via Pyroclastic Records.

Ingrid Laubrock is unimpeachable as a player, but as a composer, she is far from a greenhorn. If still primarily known as an instrumentalist, Purposing the Air will go a long way toward balancing the scales, as Laubrock the saxophonist can’t overshadow Laubrock the composer; the pieces, all numbered koans sourced from Erica Hunt’s text “Mood Librarian – a poem in koan” progress through the four duos, with the lineup deliberately chosen and written for by Laubrock.

The first 15 koans feature vocalist Fay Victor with cellist Mariel Roberts. Victor often sings in a traditional manner across the pieces (it’s no surprise she’s performed as a blues singer) but also slows down to a spoken method. At other moments she flutters, clucks, whispers, groans, ululates, and even delivers delicious raspberries like a consummate avant-gardist.

There’s as much human emotion in Victor’s utterances as there are bursts of intensity and pure beauty, her range only heightened through interaction with Roberts’ bowing and plucking. The cellist’s breadth in execution is comparable to Victor’s as the strings rumble with sustained tones, spit out rapid fire wiggles and squeaks, saw like a carpenter, spiral upward like an ecstatic spirit, or groan like an aged wooden staircase under the heals of a fat man.

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