There’s a novelistic impression to the songs of Wild Pink, where characters peer over the edge of potential futures, past mistakes and paths not taken. Backed by a dive bar hue, NYC-based frontman John Ross blends the existential with the celestial, gathering pieces of passer-bys, fictional figures, and historical idiosyncrasies to make sense of what’s in front of him. It’s on their sixth album, Still Coming Down, that Ross cements the voice he’s been steadily honing over the years. The album pokes fun at the listlessness of consumerism, coping through detachment and finding the punchline of it all. Ross is a consummate of curiosity, becoming a narrator of a warped and unpredictable America, morphing everyday mundanity into a cinematic, sepia-toned flipbook. Propelled by the witty and ravenous wisdom of 2024’s Dulling the Horns, Ross’ poetic form has only gained traction, as jocular, heartfelt stories pour with a clever and distinctive ease. NFL bros cruise alongside big guys in grocery stores with even bigger tattoos; ghost stories and references from the cinematic haze of movies like Heat, Moneyball and The Town buzz in the background while Ross also points to Waterworld and The Perfect Storm––heroes who wander, looking for answers at the end of the world. After battling––and beating––cancer, and now becoming a father for the first time, Ross’ outlook has hairpin-bent its way into a simpler significance, where creating music is less about the bigger picture, and more about being present in the moment. It’s a genuine rock record, leaning into the dynamics of open-armed arrangements, inviting huge chords, harmonicas, horns, keys and pedal steel to morph and blend into a cathartic swirl. Ross looked back to the grunge bands he was obsessed with as a teen, and found that it sparked a deeper presence with his own voice, both in lyrics and performance. He endeavoured to create an album that is as fun to play live as it is for the audience to witness, harkening back to the enthusiasm and motivation he felt growing up. “Strangely, I feel like I've found my voice on this record,” he says. Still Coming Down was recorded in one week in Asheville, NC at the renowned Drop of Sun studios with producer and engineer Alex Farrar (Bnny, Wednesday, Samia). Vocal takes were done in two to three bursts, marking a less laborious process than previous records. “There was not a ton of overthinking,” Ross says. He invited friends to collaborate throughout, mimicking the carousel of characters that comes with living a life on the road. Longtime Wild Pink member Dan Keegan lends his percussive talents, with Meg Duffy (Hand Habits), MJ Lenderman and Lenderman’s The Wind bandmates Landon George and Xandy Chelmis adding a raucous vigor to the arrangements. On opener “Box Store” Ross is that college buddy lamenting the empty desires of folks strolling the strip mall and the irony of AC units blocking the view during one of the year’s best seasons. Hearty keys and groaning steel are teamed with electric plucks, piecing together a bursting introduction. “500 is in the New 250” bounces between scuzzy guitars and softer, reflective moments, portraying the push-and-pull of cacophonous rock clubs and the long, quiet drive to the next hotel, bandmates silently staring into their phones. The sauntering “Still Coming Down” captures Ross’ ability to pinpoint some of the more painful parts of life with an eye on a more hopeful horizon. All’s not lost despite the darkness, as Ross relays “I used to be pure / I just try to be good now,” over Duffy’s guitar and George’s fiddle. “Round of Applause At The End Of The World” points to the whirlpools of conspiracy theories and the cloud of misinformation that can take over entire communities. “I don’t know what my idea of fun is anymore,” Ross calls, wry and weary, as distorted guitars respond resolute. The song ends abruptly, like a person you can’t convince otherwise. Still Coming Down is a storied expedition that welcomes in the drifters and the kids kicking up dust; the brokenhearted and the cursed; the ones looking for an answer and the ones who simply couldn’t care less. Ross gives movement to the characters in our heads, the faces we see every few years and the ones who pass us by. It’s proper rock meant to be played loud, with your hand out the car window, riding the air as you bound down some highway in the early hours. Forming soon-to-be-classics that soak in their ability to impact without unnecessary frills, Still Coming Down is about the very nature of songwriting and instinct, learning to trust the process and staying open to the lessons you might learn along the way.

“So, how to proceed?” Travis Harrington asks on the final track of Running From the Chase, the commanding new album from Truth Club. How do you move forward when the present moment is rife with mounting challenges — when you’re caught between the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future? Running From the Chase was written in part through a time of intense personal hardship for Harrington, but it was through these struggles he and his bandmates (drummer Elise Jaffe, guitarist/bassist Kameron Vann, and guitarist/bassist/singer Yvonne Chazal) gained a deeper appreciation of the power of their shared creative endeavor, both the cathartic release found in the dynamic squall of their music and in the friendships forged by this communal pursuit. Their album doesn’t have an easy answer to Harrington’s searching question, but under these songs’ bruising exteriors, you can hear the sound of a band looking towards one another to learn how to move forward. Running From the Chase was recorded with producer and engineer Alex Farrar (Wednesday, Snail Mail, Angel Olsen) at Asheville’s Drop of Sun Studios through the spring and summer of 2022. Farrar immediately made them feel right at home, which allowed the band to bring a sense of curiosity, commitment, and experimentation to the process. Dynamics were considered in songwriting as well as sequencing; off-kilter “77x” builds an eerie scene over a minimal slowcore foundation before the following track “Clover” thrusts into a playful headbanger. Throughout Running From the Chase — whose title alludes to the need to balance one’s individual desires with external expectations and pressures — Harrington’s lyrics plunge into despair and frustration, confronting possibilities with a hint of hope and a strong undercurrent of dejection. The result is an album that’s sweeping and sophisticated, balancing considered introspection with a stunning, newly expanded sound.