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Tijuana Panthers x Helping Hand
In one form or another, Tijuana Panthers have existed most of its members’ lives. Daniel Michicoff (bass/vocals), Chad Wachtel (guitar/vocals), and Phil Shaheen (drums/vocals) became friends when they were teenagers in Long Beach, California, and started playing music together soon after, eventually becoming one of the shining stars of the twenty-first century garage-rock revival scene—a (relatively) chill surf-rock-inspired complement to the ruckus of acts like Ty Segall and Thee Oh Sees. But while many of their initial contemporaries have gone through lineup changes or thrown in the towel, the Panthers are hanging tough—and, in a sense, just hitting their stride.
“I feel like this was our most relaxed process yet,” says Michicoff of the band’s sixth LP, Halfway to Eighty, an album whose title serves as a sly embrace of getting older, with a little bit of the Panthers’ trademark sense of humor sprinkled in there for good measure. (On the cover, they gather around their imaginary midlife-crisis Delorean.) It’s a brotherhood that’s only gotten more instinctual over time, and lately that second-nature approach has found each member taking on a more forward role in crafting their own individual songs, which the trio then works out together before hitting the studio. 
On Halfway to Eighty, riff-heavy anthems like “Helping Hand” are courtesy of Wachtel, while art-rock thrashers like “Slacker” are Shaheen’s handiwork, and smirking punk numbers like “False Equivalent” are Michicoff’s. (“What good can it bring now? / We’re barely evolved” sings Michicoff on that last song, a squall of guitars swirling around his trembling tenor.) When you keep an ear out for them, you can hear each distinct personality in the songs, but taken as a whole, it’s yet another primo Panthers set of post-Cramps, post-DEVO outsider rock and roll. 
That’s partially through the help of regular Panthers collaborator Jonny Bell (Crystal Antlers, Chicano Batman, The Gun Club [reissue]), Hanni El Khatib, Lovely Bad Things, Rudy De Anda), who produced the set at his Jazzcats Studio in Long Beach. Bell has proved to have something of a sixth sense in working with the band, so there was no one better to capture the sound they were going after this time, either. For much of the record, the band was working with the mindset of channeling some of the production sound and attitude of local punk legends like Black Flag and Circle Jerks. “What I told Jonny when he was mixing ‘Slacker,’” remembers Shaheen, “was, like, ‘Just keep it South Bay,’ and he already knew what I was saying.”
But as much as the band has matured over the years, they still know how to put together an album efficiently, without messing around. They’re professionals, after all—and there’s bills to pay, too. “We don’t have the luxury to go in the studio for days on end,” laughs Shaheen. “I don’t know how other bands do it.”
Taken at full, Halfway to Eighty is an embrace of much more than just a band. It’s a statement of dedication to the calling of music—to sticking with making art as long as you want to, age be damned. “You know what would make me just go, ‘Oh, let’s just quit,’” says Wachtel, recalling a recent raucous show in Los Angeles, “is if we didn’t have that reception anymore. The fans keep me going.”
“Not to get all spiritual about it,” adds Michicoff, “but when we were younger, we played really hard for nobody, and now the fans do all the work for us. They have the fun and we just kind of rock out, and it’s nice. It’s cool to sit back and play the songs and watch. They’re putting on a show for us.”
Mapache x They Don't Know At The Beach

“This next song’s a special dedication to all of the beach people.” And with that, Mapache — the band led by Los Angeles duo Sam Blasucci and Clay Finch — launch into “They Don’t Know At The Beach,” the latest single from their new album Roscoe’s Dream, out June 10 on Innovative Leisure / Calico Discos. It’s a stoned and conspiratorial love song that unfolds with the sunburnt beauty of a Beach Boys ballad as it weaves a romantic tale of two lovers on the run from the FBI, perfect for soundtracking the most tender moments of a Pynchon novel or a lazy afternoon spent by a pool positing your latest theories on extraterrestrials.

Lionel Boy x SHADOWBOXING

Following the release of his debut album last year, Hawaiian-born, Long Beach-based songwriter Lionel Boy is back today with  news of two new EPs. The first 'Up at 4' is out April 29th and the second 'Down at 8' is out June 17th via Innovative Leisure. The first single from 'Up at 4', "SHADOWBOXING" is streaming online now. 

Speaking about the track, Lionel Boy said "I’ve been trying to write a song like 'SHADOWBOXING' for a long time. Something that would feel both nostalgic to me and new at the same time. When I first started playing music it was always the guitar riffs that grabbed my attention and I think the same happened with SHADOWBOXING. Growing up in Hawaii, you automatically take things slower. No rush, no worries...until you piss someone off, then they’ll go 0 to 100. We’re both quick to relax and quick to rush in. This song isn’t about one thing in particular, but some observations I’ve made in myself and in those back home. I know a lot of us are just dealing with our own things, fighting our own demons...shadowboxing."

Iguana Death Cult x Artificial Afterlife

Iguana Death Cult release the B-Side to their limited edition 7" vinyl Future Monuments

“Artificial Afterlife contemplates over the possibility of assuring life after death by the means of technology. It could be the perfect soundtrack to waking up in a computer generated walhalla where your consciousness got uploaded to. Zuckerberg, if you read this, get in touch.”

Buy the vinyl at Spazz Records in The Netherlands

Mapache x I Love My Dog

Roscoe is a road dog. The 14-year-old Boston Terrier has been there for the whole ride of Mapache, Clay Finch and Sam Blasucci’s band, which has grown from being the casual project of two longtime buds to one of the most formidable cosmic-folk acts around. “Roscoe’s been through a lot of shit,” says Blasucci, the dog’s formal owner. “He’s been all around the country, come on tour a little bit.” With some bemused pride, Finch points out that, for a few years, he and Blasucci bunked together in a room in the Echo Park neighborhood of Los Angeles that was just big enough to fit two twin beds. “It was the two of us and the dog,” he laughs.

Naturally, Roscoe has found himself the subject of a good handful of Mapache songs in the past—and on Roscoe’s Dream, the band’s upcoming third LP of originals, he takes center stage. (That’s him in quilt form on the album cover.) “I Love My Dog” opens up the album with a blissed-out stack of acoustic guitars and a lyrical explanation of one of Roscoe’s many talents: “I love my dog / Keepin’ the policeman out.”
 
“A groove so strong you can basically hear the sunshine.” — NPR Music
 

“If the Everly Brothers cruised back from a high desert road trip and landed at County Line beach and cracked a beer to watch the sunset – you’d have these guys...Mapache’s chemistry is undeniable and their creative circle seems to be flourishing.” — KCRW

“Quintessentially laid-back. This is Sunday morning music, best experienced within walking distance of Big Sur or Joshua Tree.” — UNCUT

“Medicine for the soul.” — Shindig

"Cosmic California Country." — THE CURRENT