Rogers gave 'Alaska' the acoustic treatment, surrounded by a string quartet and slowing the song's tempo to folk-tinged crawl, providing a luxurious, introspective rendition.
Ora Cogan makes songs the way diviners cast charms. Her music moves on instinct but carries the deliberation of ritual, each gesture placed where feeling cuts closest to the bone. On Hardhearted Woman, her ninth album and debut for Sacred Bones, she casts an invocation for anyone determined to remain wild in a world where it's easier to calcify.
With Portland sextet Abronia, you sort of have to listen past the spectacle. Forget about the overtly Jodorowsky-Morricone vibes, the tenor sax and the pedal steel guitar, the contralto vocals, the gigantic bass drum, the legend of co-founder Eric Crespo's desert vision. What's really going on here?
On January 17 Jennifer Wright gave a stellar performance of her compositions for her self-crafted instruments. This performance marked the conclusion of a month-long exhibition of her instruments and sound sculptures in the galleria of PLACE in Northwest Portland. This is the performance where she said she "finally had a chance to let all the parts of me out to play."
"As time wore on I found myself increasingly turning to my guitar instead of other people in times of loneliness and sorrow and confusion," a spoken passage from "Pathol O.G.," is not a line you'd expect to hear from the author of "Cold Blooded Old Times." But familiarity with the full sweep of Callahan's catalog gives his uncharacteristically direct expression power.
When the London jazz festival ran online only in 2020, an enthralling livestreamed performance by Swiss harpist Julie Campiche's avant-jazz ensemble was a startling highlight, introducing UK audiences to a virtuoso instrumentalist and composer who was already turning heads in Europe. Campiche plucked guitar, zither and east Asian-style sounds from the harp, mingled with vocal loops, classical music, Nordic ambient jazz and more. You might call her soundscape magical or otherworldly if it didn't coexist with a campaigner's political urgency on environmental and social issues.
"(Looking Through) Rose Colored Glasses," the new single from Davis' forthcoming Graceland Way, is a freewheeling girls' trip (with Tim Heidecker) that coasts into "Wide Open Spaces"-level jubilation. Recorded just a 20-minute drive from Laurel Canyon, these tight chorus harmonies and sun-kissed pedal steel wear their Californian influence like a bedazzled Stetson.
I moved to Chicago in September 2024, the year I released The Past Is Still Alive and hit the road with a new band - a group of musicians recommended by my front of house/production manager, Johnny Wilson. Everyone had ties to the city, and had been playing together in the DIY scene for over a decade. Since then, we've traveled the world together, becoming family, playing the best shows of my life.
Musician and visual artist Dan Reeder is one of the longest signees to Oh Boy Records (which John Prine signed him to), and more recently artists like boygenius (who covered his song "Stay Down, Man"), Jeff Tweedy and Wilco, and Joshua Ray Walker have revealed themselves as fans; he also performed during the first ever Newport Folk Festival edition of Jack Antonoff's Ally Coalition Talent Show last year, where he was joined onstage by Waxahatchee, Weyes Blood, and Bleachers.
Tiny Desk Radio co-hosts Bobby Carter and Anamaria Sayre present performances from the next generation of Americana music: Sierra Ferrell, whose sound is firmly planted in the roots tradition; Wyatt Flores, an Oklahoman "red dirt" country singer; and MJ Lenderman, an indie rocker who doubles as the guitarist for the band Wednesday. Sierra Ferrell: Tiny Desk Concert Wyatt Flores: Tiny Desk Concert MJ Lenderman: Tiny Desk Concert
Over the years, Andrews has garnered comparisons to fellow Arizona native Linda Ronstadt for her rich, clear tone, which can modulate from quivering vibrato to crystalline belt on a dime. From the first piercing high of opening track "Pendulum Swing," Andrews commands her dynamic voice across Valentine, swinging into phrases with the grace and gravity of a trapeze artist.
Originally from Illinois and now based in Maine, where he has lived for the past four years, Pokey LaFarge brings a lived-in perspective to American roots music. Drawing from early jazz, blues, swing and folk traditions, his songwriting balances warmth, rhythm and emotional clarity without slipping into nostalgia for its own sake. Over the years, LaFarge has grown into a confident bandleader, known for performances that feel loose but intentional, with space for both musicianship and connection.
Raised in Scotland's remote and sparsely populated Outer Hebrides, folk singer Jule Fowlis was immersed in Scottish Gaelic language and traditions.
We've already bemoaned and lamented last year, so let's close the eyes on our rearward Janus face and look forward. Hey, Mr. Grumpy Gills, when life gets you down, you know what you gotta do? Just keep swimming!
A band called Ad Nauseam is dead set on keeping grunge alive in Portland, but no local venue will return their calls to play a show. Like the most iconic grunge acts, Ad Nauseam has deep PNW roots. They deliver sludgy, whining guitar licks and haunting, sandpapery vocals. They've even got an angsty tune called "Scab Pimple" for goodness sake. So why can't they land a gig? Well, it might be because all four band members are between the ages of 10 and 16.
Portland-area festival Pickathon holds its 2026 edition on July 30-August 2 at Pendarvis Farm in Happy Valley, OR. Festival passes and single-day tickets are on sale and they've just announced this year's lineup. The 2026 lineup features a selection of "legends" as headliners: Steve Earle, Marcos Valle, Built to Spill, Shakey Graves, Meridian Brothers, Alela Diane, Acid King, Mexican Institute of Sound, and Clinton Fearon.
pairing it with an '80s-inspired synth-pop palette. The album's closing track, power ballad "Appetite," is even an ode to desire itself: "I'm chewing you up, chewing you up," she chants on the rousing coda, refusing to apologize for going after what she wants. It recalls the delicious sensory abundance of a Mary Oliver poem: "there is no end/...to the happiness your body/is willing to bear."
