No Expectations 122: Phish Pepsi
Read about great recent LPs from Golden Apples, Lawn, Wednesday, and more. Plus, a 15-song playlist and a few gig recaps, including Goose at Northerly Island.
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Headline song: Wednesday, “Phish Pepsi”
Thanks for being here. I'm not one for New Year’s resolutions, but around the holidays, I decided to pick up a book whenever I felt like wasting away the hours on my phone. Avoiding doomscrolling and algorithms run by evil and incurious people has been one of the major themes of this newsletter, but it’s still difficult to log off. I recognize the negative effects it has on my life. Still, in an idle moment, I’ll reach for Instagram, Bluesky, or, when it’s really bad, Twitter.
While I haven’t been perfect in developing healthier internet habits, my screen time has dropped significantly, and I’ve finished more books this year than ever before. This likely says more about my social media addiction than anything else, but I hit the 2025 reading goal I set for myself in June. I don’t want to come off as bragging here, but I’m proud to be more intentional in how I live my life. I’m grateful I could ask myself, “What should I really devote time to?” and take concrete steps to make that a reality. It’s honestly been a lifeline: one of the few daily things that has kept me feeling grounded in a turbulent year. I also just like myself better when I can sit with a text and think about it, rather than reacting with a lizard brain to some ephemeral ragebait post on the timeline. If you’re feeling stuck like my chronically online ass felt, you can do it too.
Of course, reading doesn’t have to be your thing. Though I believe making time for a book is beneficial for anyone (and the country would be a better place if more people did so), you can choose your own adventure to escape an attentional rut. Some of my friends run (I definitely don’t), others decided to watch 365 critically-acclaimed movies this year, and my girlfriend has become an expert at crocheting. One friend joined a pick-up soccer league, and another started a Herculean task to listen to every publicly available Grateful Dead show in chronological order. Though I can’t speak for my loved ones, I imagine they’re more fulfilled doing what they love than losing themselves in the scroll.
Keeping my screen time down is a constant struggle, but beyond reading and being around friends, working on this blog has been a salve to the chaos of the year. While I complain about the self-imposed weekly deadline (and will continue to do so), writing is unbelievably rewarding. It sucks, but it’s also the best. Searching for under-the-radar artists is always a thrill, and reading other writers who curiously and thoughtfully engage with music on their own terms is always inspiring. After over a decade of exposing myself to toxic Twitter discourse, self-aggrandizing hot takes, lobotomized front-facing camera videos, and brain-rotting social media algorithms, it’s been a joy to see that some pockets of the internet aren’t designed to make you depressed or angry.
And yes, I’ll still wake up, read five news articles that enrage me, and find my mood in the gutter for most of the day. Considering everything going on in the world, it’s understandable and arguably necessary. There are some things you can’t and shouldn’t disconnect from. That said, I realize how vital it is to also surround myself with the things that remind me of my own humanity.
Also, the rumors are true: Geese’s Getting Killed, out tomorrow, might be the best album I’ve heard all year. I’ll be writing about that and a couple of others next time.
Here’s the spiel for new subscribers: 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.
Here’s where I politely ask for money: I write this newsletter every week in my spare time after work. While it takes a lot of effort, listening hours, and planning, it’s unpaywalled and remains that way 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 or buy a record from one of the artists featured. If your budget is tight, telling a friend about a band you discovered here is just as good. 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’s rough out there, so it means the world you’re reading and supporting this writing project.
5 Albums Worth Your Time This Week
Golden Apples, Shooting Star
Russell Edling is an indie rock lifer who led the Philadelphia outfit Kite Party a little over a decade ago. Since that band’s 2014 demise, he started Cherry, which eventually became Golden Apples. Over five albums (or four, if you don’t count the one released under the old moniker), the band has thrived on a recent shift to hooky, Elephant 6-indebted power-pop. 2023’s Bananasugarfire, their last LP, was a No Expectations favorite that year, thanks to impeccably crafted tunes like “Waiting For a Cloud” and the title track. Where the band’s latest Shooting Star continues the joyful jangle of its predecessor, it’s not a retread. The 12 songs here are more spacious, nervy, and unpredictable. “Ditto” immediately launches into alt-rock swagger, while the single “Noonday Demon” is gauzy pop bliss. While it all sounds effortless, recent interviews suggest Edling had a hell of a time making it. While you can guess that on “Mind,” with lines like “If this love is an event in my mind, and all this evil is an event in my mind/ I must be out of mind/ You must be out of your mind too”), it channels neuroses into a delirious sing-along chorus.
RIYL: Elephant 6, Philadelphia, oddball power-pop
Joan Shelley, Real Warmth
Throughout Joan Shelley’s pristine and acclaimed folk discography, there have been several constants: marquee collaborators like Jeff Tweedy, Bill Callahan, Will Oldham, and dozens of others, her Kentucky home, and most importantly, her pristine, comforting voice. But for her ninth record, Real Warmth, she moved from Louisville to Northern Michigan with her husband, the folk artist Nathan Salsburg, and their child. While she traded Appalachian foothills for dunes and Lake Michigan breeze, her proclivity for lived-in arrangements and a rotating cast of stellar musicians remains. Recorded in Toronto with the Weather Station’s Ben Whiteley, she enlists Tamara Lindeman, Doug Paisley, saxophonist Karen Ng, and other talented Canadians. The result is her most lush release yet, with songs that float, unfurl, and envelop with palpable grace. “Everybody” twinkles with bright acoustic arpeggios, allowing Shelley’s calming and masterful melodies to soar. This is patient and transcendent songwriting, the kind of thing that even at its most unnassuming will give you chills.
RIYL: The Great Lakes, pastoral folk, being in awe of the beauty around you
Lawn, God Made the Highway
Lawn is a New Orleans band composed of two stellar and distinct co-lead singers and songwriters. Bassist Rui De Magalhães is a Venezuela-born Nicaragua-raised artist whose songs are searing, propulsive, and often political post-punk. (His excellent solo project, Rui Gabriel, finds him exploring much breezier fare). Guitarist Mac Folger is from Nashville and writes observational, funny, and personal tunes with a clear-cut power-pop edge. While that sounds disparate on paper, it’s been a winning and durable combo since their 2018 debut, Blood on the Tracks. I became a fan in 2020 with the excellent sophomore effort Johnny, which I raved about at VICE. When De Magalhães moved to Chicago in 2022, we became close friends. While Rui’s back in New Orleans, the band, which also includes drummer Mark Edlin (Hovvdy, Mini Trees) and guitarist Nicholas Corson (The Convenience, Video Age, Hovvdy), recorded their best album yet, God Made the Highway, in Chicago.
The 10 songs mostly alternate between tunes sung by Folger and De Magalhães, with each trade-off highlighting how unexpectedly cohesive and complementary their voices are. “Lonely River Blues” is anchored by a dizzying bass thrum, and De Magalhães is practically spitting in his biting lyrical delivery. The next song, “Davie,” is sunny jangle and relentless pop, which then morphs into “Pressure,” a herky-jerky dose of galvanizing Devo-inflected punk. This whirlwind unfolds throughout the tracklist. It’s thrilling, scrappy, and astounding stuff.
RIYL: Dual lead vocals, Flying Nun, Wire, Gang of Four
pôt-pot, Warsaw 480km
Cavernous drones, relentless grooves, sprawling arrangements, and Velvet Underground charisma exude throughout the 10-song debut from the Portuguese-Irish outfit pôt-pot. Warsaw 480km is psychedelia at its most swirling, krautrock at its most infectious, and post-punk at its most danceable, all undergirded with a tangible pop core. Throughout, lead singer Mark Waldron-Hyden harmonizes with bandmates Sara Leslie and Elaine Malone, adding icy mystique to songs like the chiming “Sextape” and the chugging rhythmic stabs of “22° Halo.” This is a record to get lost in. One listen, and you’ll realize you’ll have to see it live.
RIYL: Krautrock, Stereolab, post-punk, jamming out
Wednesday, Bleeds
Not to sound too much like a fried jam band guy, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my relatively newfound love for acts like the Grateful Dead, it’s that songs are fluid and evolving. A tune an artist wrote earlier in life can transform live, morph into a totally different arrangement, and find new resonance as they revisit it later on. While it might sound silly to mention this about a track that gently ribs Phish, “Phish Pepsi,” is a song I first heard on Wednesday and MJ Lenderman’s now-reissued 2021 EP Guttering. It gets a rollicking, ecstatic makeover on Bleeds, Wednesday’s latest LP. There’s clear charm in the original, especially in the lo-fi groove it locks into, and it was one of my first favorites from the band. But hearing the marked shift in energy, confidence, and execution of an already well-written piece was a profound experience the first time I played this record.
The North Carolina rock group led by Karly Hartzman has melded explosive shoegaze and grunge, piercingly sharp lyrics, golden twang, and a reverence for classic country songwriting into one of the most compelling new bands of the past half-decade. Of the countless stellar bands emerging from that state, Wednesday is right at the center. While I admittedly got on board a little late right before Twin Plagues came out in 2021, the band released records via Illinois labels Manic Static and Orindal before signing with Dead Oceans and breaking through with 2023’s Rat Saw God. (Honorary Chicago band? I think so.) Bleeds is a record that transcends the massive hype they’ve received (I can only imagine how simultaneously suffocating and validating getting that kind of industry praise feels for an artist).
It’s astoundingly diverse: “Elderberry Wine” is timeless, sparkling country, “Wasp” is blistering hardcore aggression, and “Wound Up Here (By Holding On)” is as pummeling as it is anthemic. But for all the masterful eclectism here, it’s Hartzman’s lyrics that truly soar. Closer “Gary’s II,” a sequel to the Twin Plagues highlight, is a tribute to the owner of the famed Haw Creek property, where so many Asheville musicians congregated and lived. Equal parts funny and affecting, Hartzman’s humanity shines in both the aching delivery and her winsome words. For all the buzz and noise, Hartzman clearly remembers who she is and where she’s from.
RIYL: What the kids call countrygaze, dirtgaze, bootgaze, or excellent rock’n’roll
What I listened to:
The No Expectations 122 Playlist: Apple Music // Spotify // Tidal
1. Lawn, “History Lesson”
2. Wednesday, “Phish Pepsi”
3. Saintseneca, “May Day”
4. Good Flying Birds, “I Care For You”
5. Golden Apples, “Divine Blight”
6. Mallory Hawk, “Felicity”
7. Hannah Frances, Daniel Rossen, “Life’s Work”
8. Constant Smiles, “Allowed to Be”
9. mary in the junkyard, “midori”
10. pôt-pot, “I AM!”
11. Junegrass, “Big Time”
12. Dead Gowns, “Intention”
13. Joan Shelley, “Field Guide to Wild Life”
14. Joanne Robertson, Oliver Coates, “Doubt”
15. Kieran Hebden, William Tyler, “When It Rains”
Gig recap: Lawn, Discus at Subterranean (9/17)
Last Wednesday was what I’d been referring to as “Indie Rock Hell Day” in Chicago. There were too many great shows happening. Alex G and Nilüfer Yanya were playing Salt Shed, Friends of the Newsletter Foxwarren and Allegra Krieger were at Thalia Hall, Wombo were headlining the Empty Bottle, and my buddy Rui was performing with Lawn at Subterranean. You could plan a weekend around any of these shows, but it was the middle of the week. I had work in the morning, and before that, I had to make sure the 9 am Thursday No Expectations was sent out without any issues. When you’re faced with too many great options, choose friends. I picked wisely. Not only was it great to hang with these guys, but they put on a hell of a show. As I hope you read above, they also might have an AOTY contender.
Gig recap: Guerilla Toss, Maya Ongaku, Melkbelly at Empty Bottle (9/18)
I wrote about Guerilla Toss’ ebullient, Stephen Malkmus-produced LP You’re Weird Now last week, but seeing it live made me even fonder of it. Shoutout to the always bonkers and relentless Chicago noise rockers Melkbelly for kicking things and Japan’s Maya Ongaku for blowing me away, even though I mistakenly hadn’t listened to them before witnessing their cosmic, synthy grooves in person. And before you comment, while Malkmus lives in Chicago now, he did not guest at the show. (According to a source, he was in California watching tennis.) His absence was felt, but it ultimately didn’t matter because it was yet another perfect night at the Empty Bottle.
Gig recap: Goose at Northerly Island (9/20)
My gradual but still drastic evolution from Goose skeptic to fan is well-documented in this newsletter. What started as a personal curiosity to see if getting into the Grateful Dead meant I had developed the capacity to appreciate new jam bands turned into a genuine, earnest fandom. Where I first saw them play their three-show Salt Shed residency in Sept. 2024, their return trip to Chicago’s Northerly Island Saturday was my ninth time seeing them live. That’s insane, I know, but I truly believe that these four guys from the East Coast put on the most fun, expansive, and irresistible rock show currently touring. At this point, I don’t really care to entertain the insufferable debate surrounding this band from jaded wooks. They’re good at music. See a show. Who cares.
If I indulge in some music critic navel-gazing, I think my longtime aversion to algorithmic playlists is what led me to embrace jam bands. Social media and streaming have decontextualized and dehumanized music. The few remaining big publications sometimes seem to cover the same things. Too often, I hear things that somehow just sound like Spotify. Songs are getting shorter, sped up, and some artists are forgoing full albums for a constant stream of singles. It’s all a bit much, so why not go for musicians who are feeding off each other’s energy, living in the moment, and transforming their catalogue and a collection of genre-spanning covers in real time? As someone who's spent most of my adult life writing about indie rock, I found that like the Dead and now Phish, Goose’s songs felt like music away from music. I’d put on a show when I wanted to turn off critic brain. This isn’t to say this is thoughtless music to zone out to. Instead, by letting myself be enveloped by the patient, almost DJ-set-like pacing of the live show, and immersing myself in their catalog, I could notice things I wouldn’t if I had my critical guard up. It’s improvised music. The point isn’t that everything is going to work all the time. It won’t, but you find beauty, inspiration, and community in the possibilities.
Goose has had a banner 2025. They’ve toured a bunch, hosted a music festival in Mexico, released two albums in April’s Everything Must Go and August’s pared-down and excellent Chain Yer Dragon. They sold out Madison Square Garden (breaking curfew with a four-hour show), revamped their lineup to a four-piece, and even had time to stop by No Expectations for a Taste Profile interview. Their Saturday show at Chicago’s prettiest but most inconvenient and annoying venue, Northerly Island (con: $22 Modelos, Live Nation-owned; pro: views of the skyline), was likely the best standalone show I’ve seen them play. It was a turbocharged two sets of repertoire staples, an opener of the Who’s “Eminence Front,” a surprise debut cover of Future Islands’ “Peach,” and an exploratory, shapeshifting 25-minute rendition of “Tumble,” Goose’s funky answer to the Dead’s “Scarlet Begonias.” This year, the band has been exploring more electronic textures, synth-based grooves, and danceable jams, which culminated in an almost violent onslaught of bass, synth, and shredding guitar in the encore. In my year and a half of diligently listening to Goose live material, I had never heard them explore sounds quite that caustic and enthralling. Can’t wait for the next one. If you want to watch me nerd out with some real Goose heads, I was on the Always Almost There podcast Sunday to talk about the gig.
What I watched:
Network (directed by Sidney Lumet)
Listen, I can spell out all the many ways that this Paddy Chayefsky-penned, Sidney Lumet-directed classic from 1976 was ahead of its time and draw the parallels to news media and entertainment today. Instead, I’m going to mention one incredibly bizarre coincidence. I watched this for the first time on Monday, September 22, having no idea that the first line you hear in the movie is the fictional news anchor Howard Beale saying, “It’s Monday, September 22.” I was spooked. Either way, what a genius film. A major blind spot was finally marked off the list.
What I read:
Sonorous Desert: What Deep Listening Taught Early Christian Monks—and What It Can Teach Us (by Kim Haines-Eitzen)
Aquarium Drunkard has always been a continual deep well of discovery for me, but one of their underrated recurring series is their semi-monthly Book Club roundup. A 2023 entry is how I first heard about Professor Kim Haines-Eitzen’s slim but sturdy book on how religious hermits in antiquity fled society and the noise of everyday life for the caves, hills, and barren landscapes of the desert. She wields the personal with history, theology with geology, and psychology with audiology. It’s fascinating and heady. The complimentary field recordings you get at the end of each chapter also make for some immersive, pre-sleep listens, too.
*Note: I read this back in June during an off-week for the newsletter and never got around to blurbing it. On Sunday, I finished Erika Lee’s exhaustive, illuminating, and depressing America for Americans: A History of Xenophobia in the United States. While I enjoyed it and find it essential history, this book felt more fun to write about this week.
The Weekly Chicago Show Calendar:
The gig calendar lives on the WTTW News website now. You can also subscribe to the newsletter I produce there called Daily Chicagoan to get it in your inbox a day early.
Probably in the minority, but I’m a fan of the 5 album recs instead of the usual 10. And as someone who went through a similar reading journey, I dig this weeks post!
Great post. Really enjoy reading your thoughts on Dead, Goose and jam bands in general as I also lean more into that area. It is just something comforting to deepen yourself into a well of one or two bands rather than keeping up with a million great albums coming out (for me personally).
Also funny my wife is escaping real life by crocheting as I am digging through Dick's Picks haha