Katharine Whalen

The former Squirrel Nut Zippers singer records three acoustic tracks from her new album, “Madly Love.” More

Katharine Whalen

Musician Katharine Whalen discusses the influences behind her new album, Madly Love. More

Will Oldham II

Will Oldham joins me again, and this interview gives me chills. In an inspiring and introspective conversation, one of America’s greatest songwriters thoughtfully discusses tenets by which he works and lives, and why fear isn’t in the cards. More

Suburban Metamorphosis

Bill Neumire It’s not a science, this still-cooling story: Nora was a woman who became a couch. Tim, defeated, clipped the fringe from her ankles and wore it as a laurel, artlessly microfiber, though blessed with a middle-class honesty. Why does anyone lose who they are? The atmosphere, it gets heavier until it congeals into… More


Bill Neumire I am a left shoe, no laces, on the Maine coast; a kingfisher somehow owes me its life. I didn’t choose this sea’s flagrant shift from green to blue. I didn’t choose rogue waves or the clot of storms. Why then the ballistics of love, the freckle, the artistic hips? On Tuesday there… More

Burning Heart: Songs for the Gulf

This month’s featured album is a poignant collection of songs written in response to the devastating Gulf Coast oil spill. Featuring tracks by Jonathan Byrd, Annie Crane, and Shakey Graves this compilation serves as a provocative lament for our tainted gulf. After you listen, please buy a copy, as all proceeds go to the Gulf Coast Oil Spill Fund. More

Connective Tissue: Part II

Glenn Ashley Paterson In a forest of starlings there is no sound. This worries me. Should there not at least be a muttering? … I once read— this was how you died, in whispers that you did not hear— but I only heard the last blood returning from her fingertips. … Last night I spent… More

Que esta queimando?

Peggy Dobreer Everything. Everything is burning, quiver and bow. All things coral or pink, held in a box with a fan on top. Even the silk kimono is burning, two cranes preening at the hem. The shamisen, its body up in flames even as the plucked note quarters, even as a hand strums the belly.… More

Jones Beach

Guillermo Filice Castro Naturally you can’t hear me Over those boys Who’ve hung a momentary eclipse Above our blanket With their soccer ball. In lieu of conversation We watch and shiver; they yell and grunt. What carries all of us through? A tremendous bounce Toward the sun. And just as fast, of course, The fall.… More


Guillermo Filice Castro into a hole something      of the self always disappears light    mother tongue into mouths and this morning that bunch of hairs peeled off the drain and dropped into the toilet almost as mournful       a gesture as a wreath laid in the ocean Guillermo Filice Castro’s work… More