A Grab-Bag of New Music! Plus, The Beths and a look back at 10,000 Maniacs

What's the matter here? Lots. But we'll always have music as a distraction.

OG Brian here handling the intro. Put simply, this past week has been a nightmare. I mean, it’s not like the previous 52 weeks were any great shakes either. But we’re at a new low and none of us can say it’s rock bottom. We’re not a political Substack (there are certainly one or two out there) but understand we are more than aware of how things are. Our goal - and Brad will speak a little more about this below - is to provide a distraction for everyone, and we hope we are successful in doing so.

With our first (free) full post of 2026, we have Brad running through a grab-bag of new music and other items that he recommends at the start of the year. Dave recounts a really cool show by the New Zealand band The Beths. And I revisit a hit album by the seemingly memory-holed band 10,000 Maniacs. Read on and enjoy. To paraphrase Spoon, this is the way we get by.

New album(s) (and podcasts): A year ago around this time, when offering a list of new albums to check out, I wrote, “perhaps the politics of the first week of the Trump Administration has you needing a salve (or three). Though the liquor cabinet may beckon, it’s music that’s (almost) always the first place we turn to for comfort, relief, and joy here at 3A6OG HQ.”

My Lord. If only I’d known then…

I also said in that post that those first few weeks of January 2025 augured a great year of music in store, and that it certainly was. A number of the albums on my January list ended up on my year-end Best Of list, and I’m particularly proud of finding good flying birds before they got a re-issue by a new label and boost onto more radars toward the end of the year.

Knowing what everyone is dealing with a year later - politically, socially, economically, and even meteorologically - it feels like another quick list of new things from 2026 (or some 2025 stuff you may have missed) is in order, especially as it feels really hard to focus on any one album for too long.

(Of course, here at 3A6OG HQ, we have kicked off 2026 by publishing weekly “Quick Take” posts, which are for paid subscribers and designed to keep a new record on your radar each week. Please sign up for those - I mean, where else would you get Dry Cleaning, They Might Be Giants, and Megadeth covered in successive weeks?)

So, in rough order of preference, here are eight (plus one) new things (that we have not written about already) for your ears, mind, heart, and soul that can hopefully keep you sane, strong, and warm:

• Fela Kuti: Fear No Man (podcast hosted by Jad Abumrad) — Nothing has held my attention more in 2026 America than 1970s Nigeria. As a friend — and one who works in federal law enforcement, no less — noted recently, “it’s hard to watch ICE in Minneapolis without hearing ‘Zombie in your head.’” Hard to say it any better or feel how far we’ve gone astray. Jad Abumrad is known to many for his work on Radiolab and then the Dolly Parton podcast. But he takes this music documentary podcast to a new level, weaving in the social, political, cultural, musical, historical, and in some cases sexual and egomaniacal, factors that made Fela almost unique among musicians from any place, ever. And then there’s Fela. The music is always exciting, even now. You can understand why it scared the authorities in Lagos in the 1970s and 1980s, causing them infamously at one point to send in troops to burn down the house that he, his band, his 27 wives, and so many others lived together in a self-declared independent country in the middle of Lagos, a la The Vatican. It’s riveting, but Abumrad never makes it feel heavy or academic, nor does he lighten it too much to avoid the more challenging issues. Fela was a very flawed human being and leader, to be sure, but the range of people the podcast features and the stories told throughout really do leave you with the feeling that music can change the world. And heaven knows we need it.

• Chapter 1 - SAULT — I have consistently called the mostly-mysterious collective of musicians known as SAULT (organized by the producer Inflo) the best band in the world since 2020’s two Untitled records. The first of that pair was Untitled (Black Is), which came out on Juneteenth 2020 and felt like it was in-the-moment journalism about the post-George Floyd BLM protests, the situation from the streets of Minneapolis, and the broader history of racism and colonialism. They have released 173 albums since 2020 (okay, just 8), with the sound starting to settle into a quieter form of gospel, soul, and R&B. So much so that their 2025 release didn’t even make my Top 30. But this record feels not so much as a return to form, as music critics like to say, as a return to force. The themes are still focused on God, love, redemption, and much of what the last few releases have been, but the music is bolder, the arrangements more intricate and rhythm-driven, and the sequencing feels as intentional as it did on the 2020 releases. The title track, “Love Does Not Equal Pain,” and “Don’t Worry About What You Can’t Control” all stand out for me, the last especially with the way the symphonic elements push the rhythm as much as the melody. SAULT’s album covers are also iconic - usually just a black background with a shadowy image, e.g. a fist, numbers, etc. The use of a candle for this one feels like SAULT is reminding us we need to stay in the light and gifting us with a bit of hope. And heaven knows we need that, too.

• Automated Response - Hot Face — If you need a jolt of Television, Parquet Courts, The Strokes, and even some Wedding Present and The Fall all rolled together, this is the record for you. The debut album from the London trio was recorded live all in one day in late 2024, when their producer essentially dared them to come in and make a record in a day as a band. The result is a mash-up of garage, indie, and post-punk brilliance. “Sinnes” is where you’ll hear Television come through most directly, and the title track sounds like a Parquet Courts B-side. In fact, every track feels as if you can chart the influence, but the urgency of the live recording removes any sense of it being derivative or repetitive. It’s an exciting record, and I can only hope their live shows can recapture the energy.

• Shaking Hand - S/T — After the energy of both SAULT and Hot Face, Shaking Hand can be a good transition to something a tad quieter. The Manchester trio describe themselves as post-rock combined with Northwest emo, or in more detail, their Bandcamp page says: “The band’s musical DNA runs through experimental guitar outfits like Women, Slint, Sonic Youth, Pavement, and Ulrika Spacek, balanced with the melodic sensibility of Big Thief and the dynamic intimacy of Yo La Tengo.” And they go beyond those as well; on “Italics,” I even catch some hints of yacht rock. The songs tend to the longer side (contrast this album’s 7 songs in 42 minutes with Hot Face’s 10 tracks in 25), but they go on journeys that keep you engaged, with “In for a…Pound!” perhaps the most adventurous of all.

• Swan - Fazed on a Pony — This is a remarkably catchy and broad approach to indie folk, indie pop, and even “Americana” from a kiwi that I discovered on the incredibly rich “On Repeat” substack from Kevin Alexander. Fazed on a Pony is the project of New Zealand artist Peter McCall, though he brings in at least six other musicians to round out the sound. It’s the second full-length from the project released on the mighty Meritorio Records, one of those labels where every release is worth a listen.

• Death in the Business of Whaling - Searows — Just when I was in need of an even quieter and more expansive melodic sound, Jeremy Shatan @AnEarful mentioned this record, and it’s helped me settle, even drift to sleep at times. Not because it’s boring but because it transports. Searows is the project of Portland, OR-based Alec Duckart, who’s been releasing music since 2020, but this one (second full-length as well) feels the most complete.

• No More Like This - PVA/Bandsplain episode on Massive Attack — The Bandcamp editorial discussion of PVA’s album centers on this summation: “Imagine the lead singer of Dry Cleaning teaming up with Massive Attack by way of Trent Reznor and you’ll get the vibe.” The London trio has been at it since 2017, and this record is not only one to dance to (“Send” will keep you moving), but drift away with. Massive Attack’s influence runs through it all (especially check out “Mate” and “Boyface”), so once you’ve digested that, make some time for the recent episode of Bandsplain diving into the trip-hop founders. You always need to make time for Bandsplain, which can take as much as 7-8 hours to go through one artist, but this one is a mere 3hrs5mins for Yasi Salek to take you through every detail of how they transformed music in the 90s.

• We’ve Been After Each Other - cropscropscrops & Vaygrnt — While we wait for the usual annual quota of 3-5 albums from Billy Woods and his related projects, this record Montreal-by-way-of-Ohio MC cropscropscrops will keep you on your toes both lyrically and musically. And there’s a feature from ELUCID, the other half of Armand Hammer with Billy Woods, so we get Billy’s influence even when he’s not there. And heaven knows we need it. (Brad)

Album from an upcoming/recent show: Straight Line Was a Lie by The Beths. The Beths, of Auckland, Aotearoa (New Zealand) make music so hard to find fault with, that I recommend them to nearly everyone that likes any sort of rock music. Their power pop is trademarked by clean guitars, impeccable melodies, and Liz Stokes’ clear, powerful vocals, backed by Beatles-like harmonies or falsetto echoes from the 3 guys behind her in the band. It’s an altogether wholesome sound, all punctuated by Jonathan Pearce’s often incongruously free-form and occasionally discordant wailing guitar solos. Last summer, their 4th full length, “Straight Line Was a Lie” was released, and in December my wife and I were able to catch The Beths in the wonderfully restored Brooklyn Paramount, which in its early years played a role in supporting rising black American rock musicians playing to desegregated audiences.

Liz Stokes is the rare gifted lyricist that can carry a multi-layered metaphor through a whole song without getting corny or jumping the shark (no tender hearts in a blender here). She never subjugates meaning for a forced rhyme, or resorts to vague, deep-sounding, impressionistic word conveyor belts. Well - to be honest nobody is really sure what a “Jump Rope Gazer” is, but she’s earned one pass. In the new album, she offers honest looks at the myth that life will offer steady progress, the side effects of mental health treatments, and the feeling of just not being up to it, even at your best. It’s the kind of music that people not only relate to, but form anchoring relationships with - at our show, a young woman near us literally had tears leap to her eyes when she heard the opening notes of “her” song.

The formula works its magic again. In the first half, tempos are up and tone is chipper despite the challenging topics, and The Beths feel familiar and comfortable. “No Joy” is an absolute blast from beginning to end, highlighting Tristan Deck’s drumming, some unabashedly loungey “ba ba ba”s in the backup vocals, and the band’s unreasoning fondness for recorders - which, in the live show, were delivered to their waiting hands by spring-loaded foot launchers.

Even better, later songs shift to more experimental territory. “Ark of the Covenant” starts with a foreboding swell reminiscent of Pink Floyd and the mood stays dark, mysterious, and screechy, for once matching the tone of the lyrics: “Seeking the evil part of me/that pulls me out of humanity/the more I look, the more I find.” Then another shift for the closer, “Best Laid Plans,” where The Beths try on a dance-like beat (inspired by listening to LCD Soundsystem) and tropical-sounding steel guitar, to end the album with “a little treat,” as Liz Stokes called it, although I find the whole album a treat.

Nitpicks? The ballad “Mother Pray For Me” overstays its welcome. The opening riff of the title track bogs down, not able to get out of its own way, and the second verse being a repeat of the first feels like a bit lower value for money than the usual Beths offering... but holy crap, I just realized - the repetition reflects the theme - you keep moving forward but end up in the same place - well played, Liz Stokes - you see, nothing here is unintentional, and there are small details in every song that reward repeat listening. In any case, by the time we reach the second bridge, all is forgiven as sudden feedback transitions the song to an unlikely anthemic crescendo, despite the defeated lyrics (”I don’t know if I can go around again .... around again”). For the sake of music fans everywhere, let’s hope The Beths keep going around again and again. (Dave)

Album being rediscovered (at least 10 years old): In My Tribe by 10,000 Maniacs. When it comes to wielding the levers of power in this country, Gen X has forever taken a back seat to the Boomers and we are now counting the minutes until the Millenials step over our arthritis-riddled not-yet-corpses. But if we’re talking about pop culture, then everything is still coming up Gen X.

Stranger Things – a show I admittedly have never watched – was an ‘80s-coded cultural phenomenon that even included Gen X goddess Winona Ryder in its cast. ‘80s film franchises like Indiana Jones and Ghostbusters continue to be rebooted, well past their sell-by dates. Bands like The 1975 and Haim, and pop artists like Dua Lipa and The Weeknd, often wear their ‘80s influences on their sleeves. And in perhaps the most glaring display of nostalgia porn, 2025 saw Rick Springfield’s I Want My ‘80s Tour (also featuring John Waite and Wang Chung, among others) and the latest incarnation of the Lost ‘80s Live Tour (headlined by A Flock of Seagulls!).

Some of the biggest stars of the era remain culturally relevant. Bruce Springsteen is an icon who recently got the biopic treatment. Madonna has an album scheduled for release in 2026. U2, while relatively quiet, presumably could still sell out a stadium tour. Prince is still revered 10 years after his death. And every six months or so the members of R.E.M. need to remind us that a full-on reunion isn’t happening.

Despite all this, there seems to be (from my perspective anyway) one band from the ‘80s that has no cultural footprint whatsoever. They don’t fall into the one hit wonder realm of most ‘80s reunion tour artists, they never reached the commercial heights of a U2 or a Springsteen, and they never felt part of a scene like NYC or Athens or Minneapolis that would fold them into a larger narrative. But during their brief time this band’s folk-pop sound hit big, maintained a constant radio presence, and acted as a surprising counterpoint to the gated drums and big sounds of the “greed is good” decade.

The band I’m talking about is 10,000 Maniacs.

10,000 Maniacs formed in 1981 in Jamestown, New York (a small western New York city also known as the birthplace of Lucille Ball). Most of their early songs, up through their 1985 major label debut The Wishing Chair, were co-written by singer Natalie Merchant and guitarist John Lombardo. Their follow-up, 1987’s In My Tribe, was an outright hit, garnering critical acclaim and achieving double-platinum sales. By this point Lombardo left the band and Merchant had become the band’s creative leader, with the majority of tracks on In My Tribe credited solely to her or co-written with band members like guitarist Robert Buck, drummer Jerome Augustyniak, or keyboardist Dennis Drew.

In My Tribe also marked a change in the band’s sound. On The Wishing Chair, 10,000 Maniacs played a jangly, jagged style that wasn’t too different from R.E.M.’s Fables of the Reconstruction, also released in 1985. In My Tribe marked the first time that 10,000 Maniacs began releasing the brand of folk-pop for which they (or, more accurately, Natalie Merchant) became famous.

Before getting into the album itself, as someone who was in the key “alternative music-loving teenager” demographic when In My Tribe was released, I need to provide some context. Regardless of how the 30-year-old high schoolers on Stranger Things might act (again, haven’t seen one second of the show) in many respects the ‘80s were a shitshow of “we didn’t know better” crossed with “we actually kinda knew better but just didn’t care.”

The misogyny and homophobia of the day were real. If you were a guy who liked 10,000 Maniacs (and full disclosure – back then I was not) you were likely to be met with a raised eyebrow. They were a band for girls because they didn’t RAWK. Even other bands with similar sensibilities were treated differently. Sensitive souls R.E.M. and The Smiths were known as much for the virtuosic and often muscular guitar playing by Peter Buck and Johnny Marr, respectively, as they were for their lyrics (cryptic for the former, emotionally raw for the latter) and lead singers. 10,000 Maniacs’ calling card was Natalie Merchant’s beautiful voice, while the folky arrangements that began with In My Tribe led the band to be viewed as more of a pop act unable to get past the (largely male) rock gatekeepers.

(Although to illustrate the difference between fans and musicians, Merchant had many admirers in what became known as indie rock circles. She collaborated with Michael Stipe, David Byrne, The Chieftains, and perhaps most notably, with Billy Bragg and Wilco in the Mermaid Avenue sessions.)

Produced by Peter Asher (famous for his work with James Taylor, Linda Ronstadt, and Bonnie Raitt, among others), In My Tribe contains the familiar hit singles “Like the Weather” and “What’s the Matter Here?” along with a cover of Cat Stevens’ “Peace Train” which was also released as a single. The remaining album tracks stick largely to the same formula as the singles – highlighting Merchant’s vocals while placing the band’s now-softer, folk-pop music in the background. Asher’s soft rock influence is clear, and his experience with singer-songwriters of the 1970s seem to have drawn him to Merchant as the focal point of the band.

“Don’t Talk,” the album’s first single, comes the closest to matching the band’s sound on The Wishing Chair with “modern rock” guitars and heavier percussion, with lyrics that describe a dark relationship affected by alcohol abuse (“You’ll look for a close an easy mark and you’ll see me as fair game”).

The guitar chords on “Hey Jack Kerouac” begins to approach a similar vibe but you notice that some of the edge sanded away, making it fit with the band’s updated folk-pop sound. The song is an ode to the Beat Generation and catnip to any young person discovering Ginsburg or Burroughs or the eponymous Kerouac (“Of the San Francisco beat boys you were the favorite / Now they sit and rattle their bones and think of their blood stoned days”).

“City of Angels” mutes the guitars further yet creates a very era-specific keyboard-focused wall of sound behind Merchant’s vocals. “Cherry Tree” is one of several personal, at least semi-biographic songs from Merchant on In My Tribe. Fully into near-acoustic folk-pop at this point, the song describes her grandfather dealing with illiteracy as an adult (“I cannot read to save my life, I’m so ashamed to say”). “Gun Shy” was written for Merchant’s brother, who was in the military at the time, expressing warmth for family (“I don’t mean to argue, they’ve made a decent boy of you”) and antipathy toward the armed forces (“They’re so good at making soldiers but they’re not so good at making men”).

For a brief period of time, 10,000 Maniacs made some great folk-pop, and In My Tribe was the pinnacle of what came to be their defining sound until Merchant left for a solo career in 1993 (in fact, some of their best recordings are on their MTV Unplugged record just before her departure from the band, including terrific covers of “Jolene” and “Because the Night”). Some have argued that The Wishing Chair was actually their best work, and given my personal preferences I’d be inclined to agree. But that album isn’t what the band would become. A much less extreme variation on the “’With Sympathy’ is the best Ministry album” argument.

Am I going to be revisionist and say I was a 10,000 Maniacs fan all along? No, I have to be honest and say their music didn’t do much for me, even though I acknowledge Merchant is a wonderful singer. But I can also say I never disliked the band either. There was nothing about them I found particularly grating or offensive. They were just there. And yes I acknowledge the possibility (likelihood?) that as an impressionable teen I was susceptible to the opinions of the (largely male) rock gatekeepers. But even revisiting now, my impression of In My Tribe has only changed slightly – it’s a pleasant listen with occasionally cringy lyrics enhanced by a beautiful voice and backed by a folk-pop band that doesn’t match my interests.

And that’s where I get confused. Because with the ‘80s nostalgia and the rises and falls and rises again of folk-rock and folk-pop and jangle pop and Americana and stomp-clap and freak folk, it’s kind of amazing to me that 10,000 Maniacs seem to have very little cultural cache. So many bands of the past 20 years should be citing them as an influence, and so many fans of these bands should at least have some fondness for an album like In My Tribe.

Maybe it’s because a variation of the band with largely new members and a new vocalist is still touring. Maybe it’s because Merchant, the only band member with name recognition, isn’t making a push for nostalgia-fueled attention (something that, if true, I actually have to commend). Either way, it feels weird that people now have more of a connection to Kate Bush than to 10,000 Maniacs. I guess this means that Stranger Things should have played “Like the Weather” prominently during an important episode. Or maybe they did. I don’t know. I’ve never seen the show. (Brian)