Micco Caporale

Julianna Riolino’s new second full-length, Echoes in the Dust, is a roots-rock album that floats in currents of postpunk, punk, and doo-wop.

Many of us try our best to be ethical consumers. But it's easy to fall into the traps of daily convenience.

The band name “Wet Leg” raises lots of questions: How did the leg get so wet? Is there pee running down it? Excitement juices? At various times, the five-piece from the Isle of Wight who make indie pop under that name have told people that it comes from a term for nonlocals (people who get wet legs disembarking from the boat that sails them across the Solent from mainland Great Britain), a random emoji combination, or a “stupid band name” idea made stupider after being misheard. It seems like “Wet Leg” isn't supposed to be anything more than it is: ridiculous but memorable, exactly like the group's music.

All Chicago's goodest little boys and gargoyles get a special treat this year: a merry Moth Cock Christmas. For more than 20 years, Doug Gent and Pat Modugno have produced a squalling hybrid of noise and improvisational jazz under the name Moth Cock. They're from Ohio, but several of their releases have appeared on local label Hausu Mountain. Gent and Modugno use live instrumentation, such as trumpet or sax, to produce flutters, skronks, and groans that wrap around twitchy lo-fi electronics, creating atmospheric discord that's a lot of fun—and only a little bit fearsome. In 2019, the duo became possessed by the holiday spirit, so they funneled it into the self-released

We'll return to print in early February 2026 thicc 'n' shiny, and we'll continue packing the website with our usual free and freaky content.

This local trio have been simmering their lo-fi indie pop-rock since 2019, when they released their five-song debut EP, Banana Brains.

Longtime indie publisher 2dcloud has resurrected its alt-comics anthology Mirror Mirror, reimagining it as more of a magazine.

Syd Ross resists tidy categorization, but as an artist they've made contributions that echo throughout Chicago's creative avant-garde.

When body piercing began shifting in the late 80s and early 90s from an obscure underground practice to something more mainstream, there was a

The tofu tikka masala at Arya Bhavan tastes of sunsets melting on the tongue.