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Alvvays never intended to take five years to finish their third album, the nervy joyride that is the compulsively lovable Blue Rev. In fact, the band began writing and cutting its first bits soon after releasing 2017’s Antisocialites, that stunning sophomore record that confirmed the Toronto quintet’s status atop a new generation of winning and whip-smart indie rock.

Global lockdowns notwithstanding, circumstances both ordinary and entirely unpredictable stunted those sessions. Alvvays toured more than expected, a surefire interruption for a band that doesn’t write on the road. A watchful thief then broke into singer Molly Rankin’s apartment and swiped a recorder full of demos, one day before a basement flood nearly ruined all the band’s gear. They subsequently lost a rhythm section and, due to border closures, couldn’t rehearse for months with their masterful new one, drummer Sheridan Riley and bassist Abbey Blackwell.

At least the five-year wait was worthwhile: Blue Rev doesn’t simply reassert what’s always been great about Alvvays but instead reimagines it. They have, in part and sum, never been better. There are 14 songs on Blue Rev, making it not only the longest Alvvays album but also the most harmonically rich and lyrically provocative.

There are newly aggressive moments here—the gleeful and snarling guitar solo at the heart of opener “Pharmacist,” or the explosive cacophony near the middle of “Many Mirrors.” And there are some purely beautiful spans, too—the church- organ fantasia of “Fourth Figure,” or the blue-skies bridge of “Belinda Says.” But the power and magic of Blue Rev stems from Alvvays’ ability to bridge ostensible binaries, to fuse elements that seem antithetical in single songs—cynicism and empathy, anger and play, clatter and melody, the soft and the steely. The luminous poser kiss-off of “Velveteen,” the lovelorn confusion of “Tile by Tile,” the panicked but somehow reassuring rush of “After the Earthquake”.

The songs of Blue Rev thrive on immediacy and intricacy, so good on first listen that the subsequent spins where you hear all the details are an inevitability.

This perfectly dovetailed sound stems from an unorthodox—and, for Alvvays, wholly surprising—recording process, unlike anything they’ve ever done. Alvvays are fans of fastidious demos, making maps of new tunes so complete they might as well have topographical contour lines.

But in October 2021, when they arrived at a Los Angeles studio with fellow Canadian Shawn Everett, he urged them to forget the careful planning they’d done and just play the stuff, straight to tape. On the second day, they ripped through Blue Rev front-to-back twice, pausing only 15 seconds between songs and only 30 minutes between full album takes. And then, as Everett has done on recent albums by The War on Drugs and Kacey Musgraves, he spent an obsessive amount of time alongside Alvvays filling in the cracks, roughing up the surfaces, and mixing the results. This hybridized approach allowed the band to harness each song’s absolute core, then grace it with texture and depth. Notice the way, for instance, that “Tom Verlaine” bursts into a jittery jangle; then marvel at the drums and drum machines ricocheting off one another, the harmonies that crisscross, and the stacks of guitar that rise between riff and hiss, subtle but essential layers that reveal themselves in time.

Every element of Alvvays leveled up in the long interim between albums: Riley is a classic dynamo of a drummer, with the power of a rock deity and the finesse of a jazz pedigree. Their roommate, in-demand bassist Blackwell, finds the center of a song and entrenches it. Keyboardist Kerri MacLellan joined Rankin and guitarist Alec O’Hanley to write more this time, reinforcing the band’s collective quest to break patterns heard on their first two albums.

The results are beyond question: Blue Rev has more twists and surprises than Alvvays’ cumulative past, and the band seems to revel in these taken chances. This record is fun and often funny, from the hilarious reply-guy bash of “Very Online Guy” to the parodic grind of “Pomeranian Spinster.”

Alvvays’ self-titled debut, released when much of the band was still in its early 20s, offered speculation about a distant future—marriage, professionalism, interplanetary citizenship. Antisocialites wrestled with the woes of the now, especially the anxieties of inching toward adulthood. Named for the sugary alcoholic beverage Rankin and MacLellan used to drink as teens on rural Cape Breton, Blue Rev looks both back at that country past and forward at an uncertain world, reckoning with what we lose whenever we make a choice about what we want to become.

The spinster with her Pomeranians or Belinda with her babies? The kid fleeing Bristol by train or the loyalist stunned to see old friends return? “How do I gauge whether this is stasis or change?” Rankin sings during the first verse of the plangent and infectious “Easy on Your Own?” In that moment, she pulls the ties tight between past, present, and future to ask hard questions about who we’re going to become, and how. Sure, it arrives a few years later than expected, but the answer for Alvvays is actually simple: They’ve changed gradually, growing on Blue Rev into one of their generation’s most complete and riveting rock bands.

Slow Pulp’s remarkable full-length debut Moveys is a testament to hard-fought personal growth. In the process of making their new record, the Chicago-based indie rock band powered through health challenges, personal upheaval, and a pandemic, all while breaking old habits and learning how to be better songwriters and friends. Full of blistering energy and emotional catharsis, this compelling 10-track collection highlights the band's resourcefulness and resilience to come together even when they were states away.

Slow Pulp's tough adaptability is something that has formed over time thanks to the unbreakable bond of lifelong friendship. Slow Pulp’s roots can be traced back to elementary school, with Alexander Leeds (bass), Theodore Mathews (drums), and Henry Stoehr (guitar) performing in bands together since the sixth grade while growing up in Madison, Wisconsin. Emily Massey (vocals/guitar) was later invited to join their new project, Slow Pulp, in 2017. "I can't describe a level of closeness with other people like we have. Having lived together, toured together, worked together, and written together, we learned so much about each other so quickly," says Massey.

Slow Pulp first started working on new songs in the Spring of 2019, immediately after the release of their EP, Big Day, but they ended up scrapping the material. "When we started writing this record, I had been experiencing so much fatigue and getting sick a lot and I didn't know what it was. I got diagnosed with Lyme disease and a chronic Mono," says Massey. She adds, "The diagnosis validated a lot of what I was feeling. I got tools for how to take care of myself better.” For Massey, taking care of herself meant more than just addressing her physical needs. "The way that I internalize trauma is I will hold it in and not process it for a very long time, but writing songs is the one place where I can't hide from myself. It just comes out whether or not I want it to or if I'm ready for it to. Figuring out how to write together, as a band, was like me learning how to take care of myself and learning how to communicate better."

When the band toured with Alex G in the fall, new songs started to take shape. However, in March, as the band was finishing the songs and starting to realize a full-length effort, Massey's parents got in a severe car accident forcing her to pause recording and return home to Madison and take care of them. A week later, the COVID-19 pandemic hit. "I wasn't able to come back to Chicago for a while. How were we going to finish this apart from each other?" thought Massey.

With Stoehr leading engineering, mixing, and production duties, the band managed to finish the record in an isolated, post-COVID world. "Thankfully most instrumentals were already written. Alex and Henry and I were all able to do that separately from a studio space that we rent in Chicago. It required a lot of FaceTime which was no substitute for us being in the room together," says Mathews. As Massey's father Michael recovered from his injuries, the two worked on completing her vocal takes from his home studio. On top of engineering all but two vocal tracks, Michael Massey also contributed the instrumental piano track "Whispers (In the Outfield)."

After a handful of singles and EPs, Moveys marks a turning point for Slow Pulp, not just as musicians, but as friends and bandmates. It is a marked departure from the ramshackle coziness of their earlier output, with a more thoughtful sound that allows Massey to soar. For example, lead single "Idaho,” written on the road during tour-induced disorientation that led Stoehr to confuse their gig at Colorado College for a show in an entirely different state, bursts to life thanks to Stoehr's shimmering guitar theatrics and Massey's powerful and yearning vocal delivery. Here, she sings powerfully of the mental health hurdles that come with accepting love, "I’ll keep on holding out for the downside / Before I knew why."

Other songs like the shoegaze-y "Channel 2" feature Leeds on lead vocals whereas the understated and delicate highlight "Falling Apart" boasts Alex G collaborator Molly Germer on violin. So much of the album broadcasts their adventurousness, from the funky and cheeky samples on the title track to the gorgeous acoustic strums on opener "New Horse." The driving, two-minute ripper, “At It Again”, was written and recorded in self-isolation as the last song to make the record. Massey explains her mindset behind the track: "I was starting to feel like I was getting back to a place where I could be healthy both physically and mentally. Then when everything happened, it was like, 'sike!'"

The word “moveys” is multi-faceted for Slow Pulp. It’s a made-up word, and a title of the album’s bonus track. It is an invitation to dance. It is a wink at the cross-country nature of the album’s songwriting process, while the bandmates were literally on the move touring, sheltering in place, and going through major life changes. But, mostly, it’s an inside joke. Listening to these warm, dynamic and welcoming songs, it's easy to feel like you're a part of it too.