Very few bands manage to last decades, and for the ones that do, it’s often easy to settle down and get a little too comfortable. But there’s nothing comfortable about Devourer, the explosive new album from Cursive. The iconic Omaha group is known for their intensity, ambition, and execution, and has spent 30 years creating a bold discography that’s defined as much by its cathartic sound as its weighty, challenging lyrical themes. And Devourer is as daring as ever. Full of intense and incisive songs, the album proves exactly why Cursive have been so influential and enduring–and why they remain so vital today. In the years since their 1995 formation, Cursive developed into one of the most important groups to emerge from the late-’90s/early ‘00s moment when the lines between indie rock and post-hardcore began blurring into something altogether new. Albums like Domestica (2000) and The Ugly Organ (2003) became essential touchstones whose echoes can still be heard in new bands today. The pull of nostalgia can be strong over time, but Cursive’s work has often felt like a rejection of those comfort zones; the band has continually pushed themselves, with frontman Tim Kasher’s artistic restlessness steering them ahead. In fact, for Kasher, whose pointed observations always begin with looking inward first, it was an interrogation of this voracious creativity that planted the seeds of Devourer. “I am obsessive about consuming the arts,” he explains. “Music, film, literature. I’ve come to recognize that I devour all of these art forms then, in turn, create my own versions of these things and spew them out onto the world. It’s positive; you’re part of an ecosystem. But I quickly recognized that the term, ‘Devourer,’ may also embody something gnarly, sinister.” Devourer delves into that darker space. The characters populating the album have bottomless capacities for consumption, whether its resources, material goods, art, or even each other. Then they are consumed by larger forces, whether it’s humanity, Earth, dreams, time, or life itself. “Maybe a better word for it is imperialism,” Kasher says. “But it’s in many different forms. It’s not just the political. It’s personal imperialism and the imperialism of relationships, the way we imperialize one another, even ourselves.” Fans have come to expect such heady topics from Cursive, but Devourer sets a new standard. The glibness of the First World toward the problems of others. The eternal struggle to stay on the straight and narrow. The eager acolytes exploited by their leaders. How anxiety can compound with age. How self-expression can warp into self-indulgence. Beginning with “Botch Job,” a propulsive banger shaking with anxiety and regret, the album seldom relents. Songs like “The Avalanche of Our Demise,” “What The Fuck,” “Bloodbather,” “Consumers,” and “The Age of Impotence” hit hard, hooking listeners with the unique blend of deep melody and discordant sounds Cursive does so well. Even as songs like “Up and Away,” “Imposturing,” and “Dead End Days” lean more into a poppier sound–or “Dark Star” and “The Loss” tone down the intensity–the album’s underlying disquiet remains. But as always, Cursive is here to wail, not wallow. As Kasher sings in “Bloodbather,” “Life’s an abscess or apple pie / So shut those demons up / And devour your slice.” Devourer being filled to the brim thematically and musically is unsurprising considering Kasher wrote an astounding 69 compositions after songwriting began in the fall of 2020. About 20 made it to the practice space, with a curated 13 ending up on the final album. Wrangling it all at Omaha’s ARC Studios was Marc Jacob Hudson, who co-produced the album with the band after running live sound on Cursive’s recent tours. Hudson’s lengthy discography includes working with Against Me!, Thursday, and Fireworks, among others, but the musical touchstones he shares with Cursive sealed the deal. “We just got along well and had this kind of shared music history that I found so comforting,” Kasher says. “We were introduced to music in similar ways and, being the same age, share a musical knowledge. It was just so fun and refreshing.” Now seven members strong (“We seem to be collecting band members over the years,” Kasher jokes), Cursive had a large musical toolbox to use on Devourer. Beyond the core trio of singer/guitarist Kasher, bassist Matt Maginn, and guitarist/vocalist Ted Stevens, there’s keyboardist and multi-instrumentalist Patrick Newbery, cellist Megan Siebe, recording/touring drummer Pat Oakes, and founding drummer Clint Schnase (the two trade drumming duties across Devourer, but join forces for a two-pronged percussive force in “Rookie”). Cursive had self-released their two previous albums on their label, 15 Passenger, and initially planned to release Devourer the same way–but ultimately decided to put out some feelers as well. “We got interest and it made it all feel like, ‘Yeah, we should do this,’” Kasher recalls. The group arrived on Run for Cover Records, who were excited to work with a band who has such a deep discography and storied history; it’s a fitting home for Cursive, with new labelmates like Fiddlehead, Citizen, Teen Suicide, and Self Defense Family that share a same DNA of emotionally and sonically biting music. “It really is the first time that we’ve gone off to another label since we started in 1995, when we signed to Crank! Records,” Kasher says. “So there’s a certain excitement to that. It’s no longer the excitement of, ‘We just got signed! I wonder what’s going to happen with this record?!’ It’s more like we’re doing something different–nothing feels rote.” Maginn adds, “More than most bands, our labels have been part of our history. We did it ourselves for years with 15 Passenger, so it’s a big deal to us to take on and trust new partners.” While Cursive’s music hasn’t gotten any more comfortable, perhaps its being released into a world that’s at least a little more shaped in their image. Devourer sounds urgent and fresh, the work of a band still experimenting, still hungering to find new creative heights. On album highlight “Consumers,” the protagonist bemoans, “I saw our future and I want to go back.” But Cursive are only moving forward.

In the past ten years, Conor Murphy the person and Smidley the band have come to exist beyond the mere creative overflow left unexplored in his work with Foxing. Through his own growth in and out of Smidley, though, art and life itself have entered into an ongoing cycle of redefinition. This redefinition isn’t a destination, but a new pathway paved by Murphy’s gratitude for and security in the artist, husband, and man that he’s become. Smidley’s third album, Murphy Horse, soundtracks this journey. “These songs summarize a year of confusion and doubt where the only thing I was actually sure of is that I married the love of my life,” Murphy explains. “Those two ideas were the basis for every song here.” Though doubt remains a recurring obstacle for Murphy, each Smidley song brings him back home to love. The doubt present in the dramatic and sparsely percussive opener “Corpse Flower,” melts away by the first hook of the quirky-yet-danceable “Capstone,” just before a breathy feature from Grammy award-winning singer/guitarist Lucy Dacus culminates in the duo proclaiming, “All this loving you has been the capstone of my life.” Murphy chides himself for being too career-driven and fantasizing about freedom from such earthly woes over a bittersweet melody on the album’s title track, his spiral repeatedly interrupted by his wife yelling “Hey!” throughout the song. The explosive and vibrant “Love In Every Direction,” sees Murphy lamenting this single-mindedness in the face of all he truly has over an effortlessly danceable indie pop composition that feels destined to create a series of massively emotional festival performances. All over Murphy Horse are recurring performances tinged with shoegaze, tropicalia, and 80’s rock influence that see Smidley extending beyond his earlier closely-sung, indie folk style. Murphy leans much more into Smidley as an ensemble. Though not a debut by any means, to Murphy, Murphy Horse certainly feels like one. The confusion and doubt are no longer debilitating because Murphy has the support he spent his whole life seeking. Everything and everyone can be repurposed.