RPM Challenge 2012 Part II

The RPM Challenge continues.  Into the second week and I’ve got five unnamed rough tracks.  I’m unclear exactly how things are shaping up, as I’m too in the middle of it to get a clear sense of direction.  I do notice a piano-driven impulse on these, and I’m enjoying some experimentation with mini-moog.  I got in… More

Katharine Whalen

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

The Dark Crowd

Brendan Constantine There are people our eyes can’t ride. My grandmother had an expression for it in Greek: Our eyes fall off them. Who don’t you see? What do they make plain instead? Have you thanked them? It’s probably relative. That is, not a question of beauty or character but rather, where you’re standing &… More

The Ultra Sound

Brendan Constantine I put my hand on her stomach and feel for the baby’s head. Earthquake season. After a beat, it finds my palm, nuzzles. I sense other movements, a fumbling in the dark of this woman. The couple downstairs are blind and clumsy. Their daughter is ashamed of her sight and pretends to stumble… More

Al James

Dolorean founder and frontman Al James discusses some of the themes at work in the his band’s latest album, The Unfazed. More

Justin Cronin

To mark the paperback release of his latest novel, “The Passage,” Ben goes deep with acclaimed author Justin Cronin. More

Jason Quever of Papercuts

Jason Quever gets out his Macbook, strips it down to the bone, and obliges us by recording two songs with just guitar and vocals. More


Jeffrey Parker The numb narcotic of scrolling down the forever page, growing longer as the day dissolves its relevance into repetitions of images and words, floating over black electricity and disappearing as quickly from memory as from the last neurons – shifting between the hum of backlit screens and the faint subconscious, the dead white… More

Before I was Born

Rachel Mehl my parents read Mother Earth News, sold their house in Seattle to buy a 35 acre plot of forest and swamp. They built a house with a wood furnace, and planted a vine maple in the courtyard to cool the hall in summers. Grandpa Hi water witched. They put in a well. My… More

Another Broken Doe

Rachel Mehl A parent could tell a child she was praying, her back legs broken, facing the trees along the freeway, sitting up like a dog. I had to swerve not to hit her. I have a friend who writes of desire. Of the bodies flesh and bone. Sex without love, I’ve figured out, but… More

From Beneath the Bridge

P. Ivan Young I hear the knocking of their hooves, watch the wood splinter, needle the sun shafts that pierce my dark. Who wouldn’t challenge the boldness of young goats crossing to greener pastures as if this were some right? I knew their deception would end badly for me. But because they were trying something… More

Say Hi

Say Hi’s Eric Elbogen strips it down and plays three tracks from his latest release, “Um, Uh Oh.” More

Eric Elbogen

Eric Elbogen, conductor of the one-man band Say Hi, discusses heartbreak, growth, and the making of his latest record, Um, Uh Oh. More

Bonnie Prince Billy

Uncut and unedited, Bonnie “Prince” Billy records three tracks in a Kentucky studio for this Fogged Clarity Session. More

Hard Frost

Ruth Foley Suddenly, the leaves cannot keep silent. They snap like brittle fingers under torture. They slice the air and leave it gasping, open. At first, they say, you are too surprised to feel pain. I think the air must be like that today, stunned into speechlessness by the violent turning of what once seemed… More


Mara Michael Jebsen i’m starting to be startled       by the way time passes it seems to fall out              like clumps of hair its November         the Hudson river’s all gooseflesh and silver the history books sing of trains, souls boarding and riding       till… More

We Can Breathe With Ease

Neil McCarthy We can breathe with ease poetry into the sundry shades of red burning in the skies over Gaza, perhaps likening them to a pomegranate ripped open. Ripe to write, I can’t. I can only watch as you sleep, Inma, naked and foetal as you face the window. And this womb of Connemara sky… More