No Expectations 130: The Sound It Made
5 standout albums from January so far. Plus, Mike Leigh's 'Hard Truths,' a big book on soccer, and more.
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Headline song: Robber Robber, “The Sound It Made”
Thanks for being here. I’m thrilled to be back publishing No Expectations every week. To be honest, my annual post-year-end-list holiday break was slightly longer than anticipated. I planned on taking just a month off from the newsletter, then I caught the flu, and Bob Weir died, so any time I had slotted for listening to new music or writing was spent complaining on the couch or revisiting Grateful Dead live shows. I appreciate your patience with the extended absence. Now that I’m fully healthy and settled into 2026, I’m so excited to pick up the blog again. There’s so much good music already out and soon to be released, I can’t wait to cover it all.
I don’t have much news since the last time I posted. I spent Christmas week drinking beers by a pool in Mexico. I read a handful of long books that I wouldn’t dare try to tackle with a weekly deadline. I watched a bunch of soccer, saw friends, and experimented with rum cocktail recipes. I caught up on a bunch of movies that came out last year and mostly unplugged from social media and my regular listening habits. It was a needed reset. The hiatus allowed to come back to new, under-the-radar independent music and remind myself why I love it so much.
2025 at No Expectations was probably its best year ever. Even though it’s been around since 2022, free and paid subscribers nearly doubled in 12 months. It got a logo and original cover art (both courtesy of Dari Bay’s Zack James), so I’m not trawling through goofy stock art options for a lead image each week. Plus, only a couple of blogs make me cringe in retrospect. But the real metric of success is that I realize there are so many curious, kind people who want to read about independent artists that most outlets aren’t covering. I started this blog as an underemployed and recently laid-off journalist, and now it’s grown into something that pays a good chunk of bills. More importantly, this keeps me engaged with music I wouldn’t have known about otherwise. Also, seeing my peers start their own excellent websites makes me hopeful that there’s a sustainable path for thoughtful, algorithm-free criticism that can survive an uncertain, turbulent, and dwindling media ecosystem.
As for what’s next, expect weekly recommendations as always, some more interviews, and a few albums that fall outside the indie rock bread and butter I always highlight. I’m also hoping to unveil some merch in the spring, but I still need to figure out the best, ethical, and reasonably priced way to go about it. Thanks for sticking around. By the way, the playlist’s a good one this week. Listen to it in the intended order if you can.
Here’s the spiel for new subscribers: Welcome! You’re seeing this in your email because you signed up after reading “The 100 Best Albums of 2025” or because Friend of the Newsletter Steven Hyden recommended you subscribe to No Expectations. I’m happy you’re here. Each week, you get a wildcard main essay (often new album recommendations), a 15-song playlist, as well as updates on what I’m listening to, watching, and reading. Sometimes you’ll get an interview with an artist I love, and other times it’ll be a deep dive into one band’s discography. Since I’m a Chicago-based writer, this newsletter is very Midwest-focused. So, if you live in this city too, you’ll also receive a curated roundup of upcoming local shows to check out at the bottom of every post.
Here’s where I politely ask for money: No Expectations does not have a paywall and won’t for the foreseeable future due to the generosity of my readers. I am not in the business of gatekeeping. If you have the means and like what you read, you can sign up for a paid subscription. If your budget is tight, telling a friend about a band you found out about here is just as good. You can also post about it online. That helps too. It’s still $5 a month—the cost of one Old Style plus tip at Rainbo Club. Every bit helps, keeps this project going, and allows it to stay paywall-free. It really sucks out there for music journalism and most everything else, so it means the world to me that you’re reading and supporting this writing project.
5 Albums Worth Your Time This Week
Courtney Marie Andrews, Valentine
Whenever you read a review about the folk and Americana mainstay Courtney Marie Andrews, chances are you’re going to see a Linda Ronstadt comparison. Sure, they’re both from Arizona, but the reference is apt because if there’s one contemporary vocalist who can match the powerhouse range and the weighty emotional stakes of that American music legend, it’s her. Just take the ornate highlight from her ninth album, Valentine, “Little Picture of a Butterfly.” A neon-lit stunner of a ballad, it finds Andrews belting, “Guess your love is not a cure / Guess I should’ve known better / Guess I’m throwing out that sweater.” While it wouldn’t feel out of place in ‘70s Nashville, she makes it her own as it dissipates into an ethereal haze in its final minute. Breathy harmonies punctuate the silky Laurel Canyon folk of “Keeper,” while “Magic Touch” is an exercise in timeless pop. An impeccably tasteful bandleader and a rich, expressive singer, Andrews has amassed a resplendent career of earthy, luxuriant songwriting.
RIYL: Big choruses, dusty, diamond-in-the-rough vinyl LPs, and timeless crooning.
Jana Horn, Jana Horn
Jana Horn is a talented and itinerate folk singer who’s quietly built a sturdy catalog of understated and excavating songs. An Austin native, she’s had stints in Virginia as an MFA candidate in fiction before ending up in Brooklyn, where she released her third LP, Jana Horn. Her most minimalist effort to date, it’s also her most stirring and lucid. Sharing the conversational grace of her Texas to NYC compatriot Katy Kirby, Horn demonstrates a scalpel-like attention to detail in her sparse, evocative lyrics and a thoughtfulness that lends gravitas to her dreamy, unhurried arrangements. The gradual momentum in a standout like “Unused,” where Horn’s voice glides over plaintive keys and shuffling drums, is gorgeous. The same goes for “All in bet,” where she sings, “Without all, what is left? / I’m honestly asking.” This is music for introspection, for long walks home after a weird night, and accepting life’s changes you can’t control.
RIYL: Saying a lot in as few words as possible, getting out of Texas, subtle pianos, and ample acoustic guitars
Joe Glass, Snakewards
Yes, Joe Glass plays bass in Lifeguard frontman Kai Slater’s power-pop project Sharp Pins. While his infectious and relentlessly fun sophomore LP Snakewards channels a similar well of Nuggets and ‘90s indie rock exuberance, the Rockford, Illinois, and Chicago-based tunesmith has been churning out earworm rippers long before he joined his endlessly prolific bandmate. His debut, 2022’s Slither, showcases his penchant for an airtight hook across a dozen slightly twangy ramschackle rockers. (A record that would have been a No Expectations favorite had I heard it upon release). On his follow-up, however, that winning formula gets a tweak with more ramped-up energy that evokes the ebullience of Elephant 6 and deliriously fuzzed-out guitars." Opener “Dust on Your Halo” opens with a blast of noise that sounds like the intro to “You Only Get What You Give,” only to dissolve into squalling riffs. “New Pose” boasts searing punk swagger while a bluesy thump anchors “Oscar’s Midnight Ride,” but the record really shines when Glass leans into his unassailable pop sensibilities. Though every song is catchy, on tracks like the standout “Man Lost His Diamond,” he reaches jangly transcendence. The whole thing rules. It’s such a thrill to hear younger generations of local rock talent channel this music.
RIYL: Hallogallo, The Empty Bottle, a Chicago Handshake
Otto Benson, Peanut
Otto Benson is a New York-based artist who, until New Year’s Eve, had only released glitchy, bubbly, and unpredictable electronic music under a variety of monikers. But Peanut, his latest full-length, is a pretty but austere collection of guitar-based folk songs. Across 10 mesmerizing tracks, it centers Benson’s subtly, bassy croon, which evokes Arthur Russell, Ted Lucas, and Porches. While the mix rarely rises above a whisper, the LP is a consistently engaging listen thanks to Benson’s knack for undeniable melodies. Songs like “Red and Neon” and “Raisin” are so immediately hummable, it’s striking. Shimmering pedal steel from Henry Munson and lead guitars from Sean Quinn add rich color to songs like the mournful “Drive Away,” as Benson adds humor to the melancholy with lines like, “Buried in the snow in my underwear / Someone made voodoo dolls with my hair.” While it’s refreshing to hear an adventurous electronic artist try a sparser palette, it’s even more rewarding to hear someone so gifted at this new lane.
RIYL: Selling your turntables and buying guitars, Arthur Russell, reinventions
Winged Wheel, Desert So Green
Winged Wheel started as a supergroup between Chicago violinist and experimental musician Whitney Johnson, Detroit indie rock mainstay Fred Thomas, Kingston, New York’s Cory Plump (the founder of the venue Tubby’s and a member of Spray Paint), and Ohio shredder Matthew Rolin. Their 2024 sophomore album, Big Hotel, which was a No Expectations favorite that year, grew to include Sonic Youth’s Steve Shelley and Water Damages’ Lonnie Slack. The cross-continental collaboration evolved from nervy, intricate kosmiche grooves to a keener focus on atmosphere and world-building, never losing its propulsiveness in the process. The same stacked lineup remains on Desert So Green, an immersive, knotty LP that explores the fringes of an already locked-in sound. Here, songs like opener “Canvas 11” are krautrock at its most cinematic, while the penultimate tune “I See Poseurs Every Day” is buoyant with zipping guitars and Whitney Johnson’s haunting voice hitting like it’s pumped in from some liminal space. These musicians are so seasoned and talented that it’s no shock their chemistry is so palpable despite being miles away. Recorded near Chicago at Rec Room Studios in Des Plaines, these compositions are simultaneously searching and thrilling.
RIYL: Neu Klang, jams that could soundtrack a movie, the more atmospheric Sonic Youth cuts
What I listened to:
The No Expectations 130 Playlist: Apple Music // Spotify // Tidal
1. Winged Wheel, “Canvas 11”
2. Robber Robber, “The Sound It Made”
3. Ulrika Spacek, “Picto”
4. Mandy, Indiana, “Cursive”
5. Virga, “Night Scene with Coyote”
6. Station Model Violence, “Heat”
7. Joe Glass, “Man Who Lost His Diamond”
8. Ratboys, “The World, So Madly”
9. Jackie West, “Silent Century”
10. Courtney Marie Andrews, “Keeper”
11. Natalie Jane Hill, “I Thought Love Meant”
12. Jana Horn, “Unused”
13. Spencer Hoffman, “Cherry Picker”
14. Lala Lala, “Heaven2”
15. Otto Benson, “Raisin”
Gig recap: Terrapin Flyer at Garcia’s (1/14)
Longtime No Expectations readers are well aware that just three years ago, the Grateful Dead became my all-time favorite band. I hopped on the train just as Dead & Company were wrapping up their final tour and entered an all-consuming deep dive as I thought I’d never have a chance to see the surviving members of the Dead live again. Sure enough, I got my chance in 2024 at the newly opened Sphere for their opening weekend. I wrote about it then. I also got to see Bob Weir perform with Wolf Bros and the Chicago Philharmonic later that year and last spring, brought several friends back to Vegas for one more Sphere gig. We didn’t know that for most of us, that’d be our last time seeing him perform, but we all realized that when you have a chance to witness a legend play a show, you buy the ticket.
Garcia’s, the new venue in Chicago co-founded by the Jerry Garcia estate and Peter Shapiro, the promoter behind the band’s “Fare The Well” shows in 2015, honored Weir’s legacy by booking the city’s premier Dead cover band, Terrapin Flyer, for two nights. I’d never seen them play, but it was a masterful, emotional tribute to Weir, with a curated setlist of the departed icon’s songs. An exploratory “Let It Grow,” an exultant “Cassidy,” and a rousing “Not Fade Away” were perfect doses of communal catharsis for mourning heads. Discovering this music, albeit pretty late, is one of the best things to ever happen to me. To be around longtime friends and several new ones at that show, realizing that these songs will have a life decades from now, was the necessary salve all of us needed.
Gig recap: Greg Freeman, Golomb, Minor Moon at Schubas (1/17)
Right when I started No Expectations years back, one of the first artists I raved about was an explosive and indisputable indie rock talent from Burlington, Vermont named Greg Freeman. His debut, I Looked Out, was a record that got me out of a listening rut and made me more excited about music than I had been in years. More than that, he introduced me to a wealth of phenomenal artists from his hometown, like Lily Seabird, Robber Robber, and Dari Bay, the latter of whom eventually became the artist behind the cover graphics and logo art you see in the newsletter every week. I can’t imagine what this blog would look like had I not heard his music. In those three years, I haven’t missed a Greg Freeman show in Chicago, and I wasn’t going to break the streak. His headlining show at Schubas capped off what might be the best bill I’ve seen in a long time, with No Expectations favorites Golomb and Minor Moon rounding out the lineup. There’s a lot of year left, but I can’t imagine a night topping this one.
What I watched:
Hard Truths (directed by Mike Leigh)
Back in 2020, armed with a subscription to the Criterion Channel and an unwelcome amount of free time, I decided to make my way through Mike Leigh’s entire oeuvre. Whether it was his bleak, angry but resilient social realism (Meantime, Naked, Bleak Moments), gorgeous historical period pieces (Mr. Turner, Peterloo, Topsy-Turvy), or subdued family dramedies (High Hopes, Secrets & Lies, Another Year), I found the U.K. director’s films a revelation. He’s an alltimer. A master at both highlighting the gutting intricacies of relationships and how systemic injustice can crush decent people, Leigh’s quality hasn’t lessened now that he’s 82-years-old. Hard Truths, his latest from 2024, follows two sisters in London who could not be more different. Pansy’s a depressed shut-in whose anxiety causes her to lash out, criticize, and insult those around her. Chantelle is bursting with joy and vitality. Like any Leigh film, there’s something deeper going on. The way he patiently portrays the sisters’ disparate lives and their complicated relationship is stunning. It’s a film about the inability to break destructive habits, generational healing, and how you exist in the world reverberates to everyone around you. As heartbreaking as it is humane, it boasts some of the finest acting I’ve ever seen from Marianne Jean-Baptiste.
What I read:
The Ball Is Round: A Global History of Soccer (by David Goldblatt)
Over the break, I watched more soccer than I have in years. I’ve been a fan of the sport for most of my life, but I dip in and out between casually watching and being an obsessive in adulthood. Whenever it’s the latter, it’s usually when I don’t have many deadlines or much going on. During periods of underemployment throughout my twenties, I’d trek to the neighborhood Liverpool bar where I developed a love for the club (my first favorite team was Fulham, because they had several American players like Brian McBride and Clint Dempsey. They were relegated from the Premier League and I couldn’t watch their games when I decided to bandwagon the Reds). As someone who lives in the United States, the trick is to read about clubs from every major league, semi-arbitrarily adopt one or two to support, and you’ll have something to watch for most of the year. So, teams like Olympique de Marseille in France’s Ligue 1, FC St. Pauli in Germany’s Bundesliga, and Rayo Vallecano in Spain’s La Liga have a 34-year-old diehard fan in Chicago who can only barely speak and understand Spanish.
Beyond the hypnotic, occasionally frustrating, but often beautiful quality of play onfield, a great thing about the sport is how global it is. Look at any roster on the teams I’ve listed, and you’ll find players from all over. Liverpool’s best player, Mo Salah, is from Egypt. Its captain is Virgil van Dijk, a Dutch defender whose mother is part Chinese and Afro-Surinamese. Other stalwarts of the lineup hail from Brazil, Argentina, Hungary, and France. There’s something comforting about that, how 11 people from disparate places can work together under a common goal and be watched by hundreds of millions worldwide. Whatever corruption you find in FIFA or the billions of dollars funneled into leagues everywhere, soccer’s an unstoppable, uniting and galvanizing force.
At the beginning of 2026, I decided to kick off my year with David Goldblatt’s near-1000-page The Ball Is Round: A Global History of Soccer, an absurdly ambitious book that tracks the history of the game on every continent. It starts as early as the development of ball games in ancient Mesoamerica and Han Dynasty-era China. Then it hits how the English created the sport and globalized it through colonialism, tracking its development until the mid-aughts. (This is likely the best English invention of all time, except maybe the Beatles.) Though I’m not surprised it took me well over two weeks to finish it, I am thrilled at how riveting it was, from the turbulent history of the sport in Latin America during the Cold War to its late life in Asia and the United States. Goldblatt’s got a 600-page follow-up from 2019 in The Age of Football: The Global Game in the Twenty-first Century, but I’m going to read a couple of lighter novellas to break things up first.
The Weekly Chicago Show Calendar:
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As always, it was great to see you at the show @ Schuba's this weekend! I have plenty of confidence in my taste in music, but when I catch you at one of these shows, I'm always a little more reassured. You've got a cold one on me next time!
Hard Truths needs to be seen by everyone. Maybe the best film about resentment and its roots in trauma that I've ever seen.