Once a hater, Soft as Chalk was the song that finally broke me, its lilting but jangly rhythm and the defiant sprawl of LAW LESS NESS! haunting me for days. I realized that Joanna's genius lies in discarding rules she is competent enough to follow and creating something stunning from a new template. "Who died and made you in charge of who loves who?", she asks in an anxious moment, but lends us hope: "I can see that you're wearing your staying hat, darling - and for the time being all is well."

Would I have survived the pandemic without Diners livestreams? What a gift to hear the songs from this LP take shape organically over the course of more than a year. To have discovered Blue's music when she was young and already incredibly accomplished and then have a chance to watch her just keep getting better has been one of Arizona's great blessings. On the brink of moving away, this music - full of vulnerability and heart - will always be inextricably linked with the Sonoran desert for me.

While this album revisits comfortably familiar Teething Veils themes (death, religious iconography), the band has leveled up: the marriage of disparate strings, keys, and drums is tight and the vocals are distinct, clear, and compelling. A rollicking journey of DC and its environs through singular, vivid moments, the listener is left with an emotionally charged sense of place and a renewed appreciation for the beautiful ordinary. This music resists easy categorization, and we all benefit for it.

Despite following tMG since 1996, the full impact of this devastating album was delayed for me - but when it did hit its power knocked me over. Dozens of listens later and I’m still uncovering nuances I’d missed, noticing sumptuous (dare I say!) turns of phrase, and finding excuses to play it yet again - the dishes, a walk - so that I can marinate in the big questions it asks, the small comforts it offers, and the redemption it promises to those who listen closely. Stunning across the board.

A heartfelt exploration of the survivor’s grief process, this isn’t casual listening - but it’s all the more beautiful for its gravity, with yearning strings contrasted by hypnotic vocals that bear witness to the brutal permanence of death. Anyone who has endured sudden loss will recognize the desperate grasping accompanying a lack of closure: “Would you let me see you, wherever you are?” Still, this album is a testament to finding a way back to the light after the unendurable, somehow.

Having a predisposition to power pop, plenty of these songs clicked on first listen for me - relating hard to karaoke first dates (“In Love with Everyone”), ethernet-based romances in Oceania (“Jas from Australia” - Nick from NZ here!) and annoyance with Portland’s sterile, monolithic hipster-activist culture: “so many different kinds of white people” nails it, really (“Lucky Devils”). Mo’s tunes are real earworms, but you’ll welcome their tunnels - also, he has great hair.

Hearing Orefice Roth, it’s clear that vocalist and songwriter Skylar Keffer is just beginning a lifelong foray into musical worlds that merge disparate influences seamlessly into a medley that soothes as hard as it rocks. When he sings “we can’t have this conversation right now,” the listener thinks “oh, but we must!”; imploring us to “call it by its name”, we’re compelled to say “well, ok.” Mike Brenner’s stunning turn on lap steel will delight fans of Jason Molina. A fine record!

I've had Karen's (and Don's!) beautiful words and melodies with me during the last two decades of my life journey, a companion I return to when nothing else quite fits. The elevation of the rote; the spirituality of the pedestrian; the constant reach towards gratitude, joy, and connection. We are all blessed to have Karen's voice in the world, and this contribution to her body of work is a transcendent one. Seeing her clear joy when she plays these songs elevates them to the heavens!

Lara’s resonant voice shines out like a beacon, merging the personal and the political and daring to imagine a world where we all have our needs met as a matter of course. She asks big questions against buoyant electronic beats, but her deep hooks and gorgeous range make the inquiry feel anything but pedantic. She deserves to have her name in lights, but until then, we can all be grateful to bask in the warm glow of her vision, gently nudging us towards a world in which we are all just enough.

The first time I heard Diners, I was floored by a sense of instant recognition. In midlife, I’d finally begun to turn away from defaulting to the melancholic and towards a gentle optimism: I knew this was the perfect soundtrack. 5 yrs on, Three is still full of timeless gems (Little Pad just might be the perfect love song), choruses that get stuck in your head for days (Laundromat Concern), and understated reflections that punch above their weight (Thinking of You). Blue’s music is a gift!