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Mister Organ doesn’t reach the level of societal horror of The Act of Killing or the creepypasta-meets-true-crime gruesomeness of Beware the Slenderman, but there’s something deeply unsettling about Michael Organ and his intimate campaign of terror against everyone who enters his life.

Mister Organ is a documentary by David Farrier, an Auckland, New Zealand journalist. The movie starts with Farrier reporting on Bashford Antiques, a shop in Ponsonby that has begun aggressively clamping cars in its lot and demanding exorbitant fees to release them — up to $760. Farrier’s article for The Spinoff eventually led the government to introduce legislation that would outlaw extreme clamping fees.

George A. Romero is obviously best known as the father of the modern zombie movie. But between inventing the genre with Night of the Living Dead and his outbreak horror, The Crazies, Romero made two much lesser-known films: There’s Always Vanilla, which I’ll admit I’ve never seen, and Season of the Witch, or, as it was originally titled, Hungry Wives.

Hungry Wives was supposed to be an exploitation film. The studio marketed it as a softcore porn, but it failed to find an audience — probably because the movie features minimal nudity, just one sex scene, and lots of talking. It was an undeniable flop upon its release in 1973. It was eventually rereleased as Season of the Witch after Romero’s Dawn of the Dead sparked renewed interest in his work.

While deep in the recording process for The Downward Spiral, Trent Reznor lent some of his production talents to old friend Kevin McMahon, from the new wave band Lucky Pierre (which Reznor was briefly a member of). While Reznor is only credited as the producer on four tracks off Prick’s self-titled debut record, his fingerprints are all over it. But McMahon also can’t suppress his inner theater kid, which also gives the songs the sort of glammy flamboyance found on T. Rex records. Prick embraces the inherent theatricality of goth in a way that Nine Inch Nails never did.

Opener “Communiqué” is a fuzzy blast of simple punk riffs with electronic sprinklings on top. McMahon’s vocals occasionally detour from the half-spoken verses that sound borrowed from a musical to full-throated Al Jourgensen-esque screams. The rough-around-the-edges production and focus on live instrumentation feel like a prototype for what Reznor would eventually revisit on With Teeth.

If you were to ask me what game or game series I’ve sunk the most time into, the answer would be easy: Out of the Park Baseball (OOTP). I have spent roughly 2,300 hours, according to Steam, playing various editions of the game. OOTP isn’t like MLB The Show or Super Mega Baseball. It’s not graphically impressive. It’s not a blast of simple arcade fun. It is basically a spreadsheet pretending to be a video game. It’s fantasy baseball, but without having to wait six months to see how disappointing that sleeper draft pick will be, because you can plow through an entire season in as little as a few hours.

You can play individual games and dig into play-by-play managing in OOTP if you want. But that becomes tedious. And frankly, it’s not where the game is the most fun. Instead, I think the game is at its best when you sit in the GM’s chair and maybe make some helpful “suggestions” about how to structure the lineup or bullpen.

In August, I wrote about my love of the music history podcast No Dogs in Space, but mourned the fact that there hadn’t been a new episode in over two years. Little did I know that hosts Carolina Hidalgo and Marcus Parks were gearing up to announce the show’s return with season four, Punk 2.0. The first episode premiered this week, part one of a series on the New York Dolls, a band near and dear to my heart as a native Staten Islander, home of frontman David Johansen.

For the new season, Hidalgo and Parks decided it was time to get back to basics. Part of that was that they felt punk rock was where their passion and expertise were strongest. Parks said that they “wanted to go all over. I wanted to do Beethoven at one point,” but that “we realize like what we do best is tell a punk story, right? Not the punk story, but a punk story.“ But also, they said, that’s just where the most interesting stories are. After spending enormous amounts of time translating German into English for their experimental rock series, they realized that, often, the story behind the bands boils down to ”art school kids fucking around.”

The Units are a band I discovered in part thanks to No Dogs in Space. During their miniseries on The Screamers (another incredible band worth checking out), they mention synthpunk.org as one of their sources. And there’s no better way to get my attention than to combine two of my favorite things — punk rock and synthesizers. The site was down that day (it appears to be back up now), but I was able to access a version from July through the Wayback Machine. What greeted me was a bare-bones site with links for six bands, including The Screamers. But at the top was The Units, a band I’d never heard of and, after tracking down their 1980 record Digital Stimulation, I fell in love.

The production, especially on the Devo-esque vocals, feels distinctly of its time. But the sound palette and arrangements are more aggressive, dancier, and generally just more modern-sounding. Ignoring the vocals, album opener “High Pressure” could pass as an MSPAINT song. The title track, with its sped-up disco stomp, could have been released by DFA in 2003. And many of the later tracks would be at home on a Single Frame record.

I recently dug out my CDs and started reripping them all. I’ve found a few forgotten gems in there, but few hit harder for me than the beautifully concise Professor Murder Rides the Subway EP. There was a period of time in the mid-aughts in NYC where it seemed like every indie band wanted you to let loose, dance like no one was watching, and just have some damn fun. Few embodied that as much as New York dance punk band Professor Murder.

LCD Soundsystem and The Rapture were the biggest names of the dance punk revival. But there were also bands like Rahim, Liars, Dan Deacon, and countless lesser-known acts on DFA that you could see on any given weekend around NYC. And I spent a lot of time in those venues, shamelessly dancing my ass off to all of them.

Jane Schoenbrun’s latest film, Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma, is making a splash in theaters right now. So it seems like the perfect time to revisit their first film, We’re All Going to the World’s Fair. I fell in love with this film when I first saw it at Sundance in 2021.

We are immediately introduced to our protagonist, Casey, as she engages in the World’s Fair Challenge, a sort of ARG creepypasta meets ice bucket challenge. There’s a creepy mantra, some bloodletting, and a mysterious video — basically a speedrun of horror movie tropes. But having them all delivered by this young girl alone in her room who just stares directly into her webcam the whole time is unsettling. And I actually physically recoiled when she jabbed herself repeatedly with a pin to draw blood.

“Breakups are… tough.”

It’s the opening lines of an interlude toward the end of DOOMED! Called “It Happens in Every Universe.” It’s also basically the thesis of the entire record. It’s no grand revelation, but it’s a well-trodden subject that Open Mike Eagle manages to mine for artistic gold.

Sadly, there hasn’t been a new episode of No Dogs in Space since July of 2024. Part four of the podcast’s series on Can wrapped up an abbreviated season 3, which focused on experimental rock. Don’t get me wrong, I loved seasons 1 and 2, but the show seemed to be gearing up for a deep dive into Krautrock, and I was hype. Unfortunately, that episode ended with hosts Marcus Parks (Last Podcast on the Left) and Carolina Hidalgo declaring they were going to do another season on punk (the topic of season 1), only for the feed to go quiet.

If you’re a music obsessive, this is a must-listen podcast. Over the course of 73 episodes, the husband-and-wife duo digs into the careers of the Beastie Boys, The Velvet Underground, Joy Division, and more. Even if you think you know everything there is to know about iconic bands like The Stooges, I guarantee there will be new info here.

Two minutes and thirty seconds into the title track of Rachika Nayar’s Heaven Come Crashing, an absolutely massive drum and bass beat drops. As a fan of Nayar’s debut record Our Hands Against The Dusk, it caught me off guard. That album has no percussion on it at all. Heaven Come Crashing is almost entirely drum-free, too. There are some rapid-fire mechanical hi-hats on the second track, “Tetramorph,” and the back half of track six, “Gayatri,” has what sounds like a snare buried deep in the mix. But it isn’t until track seven that Nayar delivers an unexpected drum explosion, before immediately retreating to the soothing wash of “Sleepless,” just one song later.

Nayar’s unique brand of guitar-heavy ambient-adjacent music plays almost like a version of M83 from an alternate universe. One where instead of turning to ’80s pop music for inspiration, Anthony Gonzalez mined his instrumental epics for every last drop of emotion. Heaven Come Crashing is as emotionally heavy as the title would imply but uses surprisingly few words to get there. The only vocals come courtesy of Maria BC, who floats over the title track and the stunning album closer “Our Wretched Fate,” where she worldlessly belts out her laments.

There’s something about a movie like The Room, Troll 2, or Fateful Findings that I find irresistible. These sorts of “so bad they’re good” films are marvelous curiosities where ambition far outstrips resources, ability, and self-awareness to become something much greater than the sum of their parts. Champagne and Bullets (also released as GetEven and Road to Revenge) is a film on par with those classics of outsider cinema.

The movie is almost entirely the work of one man, John De Hart. Hart wrote, directed, and stars as Rick Bode in the film. He even performs a musical number early in the proceedings — the bizarre “Shimmy Slide.” During the performance, Hart, who was reportedly pumped full of painkillers after throwing out his back, is stiff and looks around the room as if he’s only performing under threat of violence. And somehow, this lifeless performance of a cringey country rocker isn’t the most awkward scene in the movie.

Just why?

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I would never go so far as to say there’s no place for AI in music (I’m a fan of Holly Herndon, after all). But I generally find music made with generative AI to be offensively boring, especially the outputs of Suno. So I’m having a bit of a tough time processing the fact that I actually quite enjoy 1010Benja’s “Semiramis’ Dream.”

Benja has been unapologetic about his use of generative AI on his latest EP, Time Has Nothing To Do With What You Choose… The other three tracks can’t quite hold a candle to what you find on 2024’s Ten Total. But the opener “Semiramis’ Dream” is infectious. It explodes out of the speakers with a jungle beat and Benja’s incredible, obviously human voice front and center.

Matmos are an incredibly accomplished duo between their own solo records like the masterpiece A Chance to Cut Is a Chance to Cure and production classic Björk records like Vespertine. But Drew Daniel, one half of Matmos, is fiendishly prolific. When he’s not literally dreaming up new viral music genres, he’s also putting out records under the banner of The Soft Pink Truth.

Where Matmos usually focuses on a specific musical experiment — using only samples of medical procedures or building instruments out of PVC tubing — Soft Pink Truth goes wherever Daniel’s whims take him. That might be a house record. It might be a bunch of black metal covers. Or, in the case of Shall We Go On Sinning So That Grace May Increase?, it could be a shockingly beautiful and optimistic meditation on the rise of global fascism.

There was a period in the early aughts when Definitive Jux (nee: Def Jux) seemed like it was going to be the future of hip-hop. While the label featured plenty of experimental, boundary-pushing, and politically minded acts, Lif stood out as the most “conscious rapper” in the traditional sense. It was clear though, that label head El-P envisioned that as an important part of Def Jux’s identity, as the first record it put out was 2000’s Enter the Colossus EP, from Lif.

Mr. Lif’s follow-up was 2002’s Emergency Rations EP, a sort of place setter for the full-length I Phantom just a couple of months later. It opens with a skit about Lif missing, apparently having been abducted by government agents. In 2002, Pitchfork suggested the bit was “unfortunate and sophomoric.” In 2026, it seems alarmingly prescient in a time when masked agents are disappearing suspected undocumented immigrants, prosecuting political opponents, and banning established news organizations from the White House.