Forged in Friendship, The Rural Alberta Advantage Continue to Make Inspiring Music

Photo credit: Jess Baumung

Wintertime in northern Alberta is a brutal, unforgiving season. Temperatures regularly drop below zero and the windchill adds a biting, merciless element of cold. The sun only peaks out for a handful of hours a day, and white, blinding snowfall is omnipresent.

These are not exactly the conditions for inspirational epiphanies (other than, “I need to move south, ASAP,”) but Nils Edenloff—vocalist, guitarist and chief songwriter for indie rock mainstays The Rural Alberta Advantage—experienced a touching moment of grace during one such winter back in his hometown of Fort McMurray, located in the hinterlands of Alberta, Canada.

“I was living in Toronto and went home for Christmas,” said Edenloff. “And my sister was asking how my bandmates, Paul [Banwatt] and Amy [Cole], were doing. As I was describing the dynamic of our band, I realized I was describing, in parallel, my own relationship with my siblings. I kind of figured out right then, that, yeah, this band is my family, too. Paul and Amy were the stand-in for the family I didn’t have in Toronto. It was this beautiful moment where I realized how special my relationship is with those two.”

That unique bond is what drove Edenloff to reconnect with Cole, after a two-year period from 2016 – 2018 in which the band did not feature its original lineup. Now in its second act of sorts, the band (Edenloff sings and plays guitar, Banwatt drums and Cole plays keys)  is touring and making music just as vibrant and urgent as they sounded some 20 years ago, when they first formed. A band forged among unshakeable friendships, The Rural Alberta Advantage will bring their distinct display of kinship to the Rickshaw Stop on February 5.

The Rural Alberta Advantage (the name was coined by Edenloff’s brother as a rejoinder to an oil industry marketing campaign) originally came into prominence with the release of their stunning, dynamic debut album, “Hometowns,” a collection of beautifully haggard and windswept folk ballads. The release was marked by a seamless interplay of austere acoustic elements and synth-inflected pop pieces, highlighted by Edenloff’s wounded, desperate warble. 

Those elements can be found in the band’s latest single, “The Hunt in Edson,” a woozy, somnolent slice of Americana rock. Reflective of Edenloff’s unique and empathetic approach to songwriting, the track is a poignant look at unexpected second chances, with an unusual origin story. 

The germ of the song began when Edenloff’s cat, Edson, interrupted a lazy morning in bed by dropping off his prize catch—a dazed, stunned mouse. After being dropped off roughly onto the blankets, the mouse sprung to his feet, seemingly shocked to still be alive. Edenloff and his wife then deposited the wary mouse into their yard at the edge of the forest, providing the creature with a wholly bewildering extra lease on life.

“That incident really gave me this perspective on how wonderful the world can be in giving you these small yet magical little events,” said Edenloff. “In my mind, that song is written from almost three perspectives—mine, the mouse and Edson the cat. I love this idea of the mouse resigning himself to being eaten and then all of sudden fate kind of intervenes. It’s definitely an odd scenario to be inspired by, but my brain just works that way—and that’s really something that Paul and Amy understand and appreciate.” 

Perhaps it’s the soft hum of keyboards the underscore most of the band’s sonic templates, of Edenloff’s knack for finding beauty in battered humans and battered places, but there has always been a sense of warmth to the songs of The Rural Alberta Advantage, belying the group’s frigid origins. “The Hunt in Edson” continues in that tradition, imbuing humanity and pathos into quiet, fleeting moments that many might overlook. It takes a special breed of band to make one feel deep, lasting emotions for a wayward mouse.

“When we set him free in our yard, I started asking myself, ‘well, what now?’” said Edenloff. “I can only project what will happen next with this mouse. But I like the idea of him having this new chapter in life.”

While Edenloff and the band project a preternatural sense of forgiveness, they’re also fully capable of morphing into a defiant batch of crusaders. The flip side of “The Hunt in Edson” is the band’s other new single, “Falling Apart.” A rousing call-to-arms, the song is not political in nature, but serves as a rallying cry for all those dipping into apathy or a malaise. Both of the lead singles are set to be part of an upcoming album, the details of which are still forming.

“That song [“Falling Apart”] gestated for years, but it basically addresses the idea that we’re getting older and, yeah, we might be falling apart from a technical standpoint,” said Edenloff. “But we’ve always been a ramshackle band. We know who we are, and we aren’t going anywhere at this point.”

For a band that has made a point of sticking with each other for the most part of the past 20 years, that statement is not just mere bluster. It’s comforting to know that the familial, familiar story of The Rural Alberta Advantage will continue.

Show Details:
The Rural Alberta Advantage with Jordan Burchel
Where: The Rickshaw Stop
When: 8 p.m., Thursday, February 5
Tickets: $32.90, available here.

First Annual Nick Medvedeff Memorial Fundraiser Concert Happening February 7 at Kilowatt

When I first started this website, I was pretty damn nervous. 

I wasn’t sure if anyone would take it seriously. I doubted if I would still be able to interview the musicians I spoke with in the past as a writer for the SF Examiner and SF Weekly. I wondered if I’d be able to keep up a regular posting schedule without the external pressures of an editor or publishing deadlines.

Fortunately, I had a ton of friends and professional colleagues offering me assurances and support, which made launching this project so much easier. Their backing gave me the confidence to step out on my own, and of all of my pals offering kind words, no one was more excited than my buddy Nick.

See, Nick had grand plans for Broken Dreams Club. When I first told him I was starting this music website, he immediately went into planning mode. By the time my initial story was posted, he was already plotting out the seeds for an annual Broken Dreams Club Music Festival. 

Cribbing a little bit of the details of Noise Pop and Treefort Fest, Nick had dreams of a multi-day music fest taking places in small venues and clubs throughout San Francisco. He was thinking Thee Parkside, Bottom of the Hill, The Independent—all the amazing places we had seen shows together over the years. 

He was already developing a roster of acts, too. One of his ideas was to get Free Energy (one of our favorite, long bygone bands) to reunite, and any Broken Dreams Club fest of course had to feature Christopher Owens. 

By the end of these brainstorming sessions, he usually had an absurdly detailed gameplan for the festival established in his mind. It didn’t matter that Broken Dreams Club had no paid staff, a budget of $0 and zero experience planning out a single live show, let alone a multi-day festival. Those were all insignificant particulars to be dealt with later—the important  part was having the vision, and hell yeah, did he have that covered.

Nick mostly conjured these ambitious offerings while he was housebound, struggling to adapt to the cocktail of treatments he was undergoing to treat his stage 4 colon cancer. Despite experiencing every sort of pain, Nick’s mind stayed sharp and he never wavered from his Broken Dreams Club goals. As the cancer progressed, he only tightened his focus, coming up with ever more inventive ideas for the fest, which grew to include a vinyl store pop-up and a comedy showcase. 

On March 14, 2025, Nick finally succumbed to his illness. Sadly, he was never able to see his glorious concept of the Broken Dreams Club Music Festival come to fruition. Damn, it’s hard to type that sentence without tearing up.

While we weren’t able to succeed at that venture, we will never forget Nick or his fearless outlook on life. On Saturday, February 7, we will honor his memory by hosting the First Annual Nick Medvedeff Memorial Fundraiser Concert. The show will take place at Kilowatt—exactly the kind of small, wonderfully grimy music club that Nick loved patronizing—and will feature performances from Luke Sweeney, Lucky and Torpedo Wharf. 

Outside of spending time with his wonderful wife Silvia and their adorable, precocious daughter Aurora, nothing brought Nick more joy than watching live music. I’m confident that this show—with all his friends gathered, having fun and listening to great tunes—is how he would like to be remembered. 

The show will run from 6 p.m. – 9 p.m. on Saturday. Tickets are available to purchase at the Kilowatt webpage here. There are multiple tiered payment options, and revenue from the ticket sales will benefit the college fund for Aurora as well as UCSF’s Young On-set Colorectal Cancer Program. There will also be posters for sale (designed by Galine Tumasyan), with proceeds further benefitting those two causes.

We are specifically calling this the first annual fundraiser concert because we are all fully committed to making this a yearly event. It’s our small way of supporting Nick’s family while keeping his memory alive for as long as we are. 

And who knows, maybe this fundraiser concert will one day be the centerpiece of a Broken Dreams Club Music Festival. I still know absolutely nothing about how to pull something like that off, but an utter lack of experience never deterred Nick. In fact, I’m already thinking up new additions to Nick’s original vision. This first show is just the beginning of something bigger—a sentiment I know that Nick—someone who always dreamed big— would appreciate. 

Show Details:
Luke Sweeney with Lucky and Torpedo Wharf
Where: Kilowatt
When: 6 p.m. – 9 p.m., Saturday, February 7
Tickets: $13.39 - $70.04, available here.

Bay Area Record Spotlight: Weekend “Sports”

Here’s the second feature from my new monthly column highlighting great local albums. For my latest piece, I focus on the transcendent debut release from San Francisco post-punk trio Weekend.

Arriving in late 2010, the album received universal praise and acted as a reminder that there was more to San Francisco than its famous garage rock scene. Led by songwriter Shaun Durkan, “Sports” distilled all the best parts of My Bloody Valentine and Joy Division into a strangely accessible post-punk masterpiece.

Read all about their landmark inaugural record here:

Man, that opening track.

First the drums come marching in, setting a deliberate and ominous tone. Then the staccato guitar spikes saunter along—plinking motions that skitter and crawl in parallel to the percussion. Next up are the softly haunting wordless melodies, adding an extra layer of atmospherics, before an absolute fucking wall of feedback and noise clearly states the epically ambitious scope of the creation.

Yeah—as far as first songs go, it’s hard to top the soaring heights of “Coma Summer,” the perfectly honed post-punk treatise featured in Weekend’s debut album, “Sports.” If you’re one of the few people who still listen to albums from front-to-finish (hi!), there is nothing quite like an indelible opening track—a mission statement and preview for what’s on tap. And “Coma Summer” is the perfect tone-setter for “Sports”—one of the best albums to ever come from the Bay Area.

Even though I shared a hometown with this trio—composed of vocalist/multi-instrumentalist Shaun Durkan, guitarist Kevin Johnson and drummer Abe Pedroza—the first time I had heard of Weekend was when I read Pitchfork’s laudatory review of “Sports.” It took me only moments of listening to the album to know that it was instant classic (also, that fucking album art! Are those keyhole glimpses into something menacing? Fiery comets travelling in opposing directions? An exit out through a dark, foreboding cave?)

Like all great post-punk bands, Weekend harnessed the volatile energy of guitar feedback into something approximating pop songs on “Sports.” Even at their most violent and amorphous, the tunes on “Sports” always gravitate towards an end point that is satisfying and fulfilling. Beneath the grit and dust and sludge is a sonic landscape replete with surprisingly accessible and approachable hooks and harmonies.

Take, for example, the two-track suite that makes up “Monday Morning” and “Monongah, WV” (a distant Appalachian town beset by coal mining tragedies. There are some seriously spooky backstories there.) 

The former song is a billowing production of floating white noise, a constellation of imperceptible noises that distinctly feel like they are building to a crescendo—a future coda in the offing. That crest occurs in the latter track, which borrows the same melody as “Monday Morning” but maxes up the volume levels and pacing, taking a slow-burning space rock song and transforming it into a militant shoegaze anthem. By the end of that one-two punch, you’re ready to start karate kicking people (but in a fun, healthy way!) 

And while audiophiles will love the attention to detail of those songs, there is truly no better way to experience the companion tracks than by watching the music video—a joyfully nihilistic look at suburban culture that ends with young and old subjects alike bathing and imbibing a dark, oily liquid (making for an honestly terrifying and stirring visual spectacle.)

Those three tracks alone, which make up the first four spots on the album, would make “Sports” an imminently memorable record, but the back half is just as formidable as the front. “Age Class” is in the vein of “Coma Summer,” a steadily escalating feedback ride that culminates with Durkan defiantly repeating the warning, “There’s something in our blood.” An argument could be made that “End Times,” the eighth track on the album, is the strongest of the bunch, as Durkan and company make their love for Joy Division clear in a number that feels like a lost track from “Unknown Pleasures.” The first time I heard that song, I thought, “whoa, these guys are fucking SERIOUS.” 

The album closes with “Untitled,” an urgent, abrasive and pummeling piece of shoegaze that acts as the perfect companion piece for “Coma Summer,” bookending “Sports” in a way that reiterates again that snarling dissonance can be the unlikely handmaiden to beautiful moments of reverie. It was a lingering reminder of Weekend’s ability to infuse a fresh, exciting and unique perspective to the template laid out by The Jesus and Mary Chain—an attempt tried and failed by so many lesser bands. 

Durkan’s lyrics are wondrously oblique and elliptical, with his vocals falling just a register below the wall of sound of his bandmates, adding an extra layer of interpretiveness to them. When he sings, “I awoke from a coma summer/Tell me you're true,” is that a hopeful declaration of devotion or an accusatory, defeated statement? There are little riddles like that throughout the album, with the narratives deftly straddling the balance between hope and despair.

There are countless nuggets that make this album special, but what really sets it apart is the band sounding so much more than the sum of its parts. Weekend are in lockstep throughout “Sports,” morphing from a lean trio of guitar, bass and drums into some kind of super instrument, a singular force that fills every aural square inch of the album with meaningful, measured noise.

In so many ways, Weekend illustrate the magic of the Bay Area ecosystem. Durkan, whose father Tom, fronted the great underground band, Half Church, grew up in the North Bay along with Johnson (the two first met in band practice in sixth grade.) They connected with Pedroza while attending college at the San Francisco Art Institute, and the trio all lived in San Francisco or Oakland for many years after officially forming as a band in 2009.

They were pals with other local like-minded acts like Tamaryn and Young Prisms and they were on the esteemed and beloved Oakland label, Slumberland Records. Coming of age in the late aughts and early 2010s, Weekend highlighted the stunning depth and breadth of the local music scene at the time, which also featured acts like Girls, Ty Segall, Mikal Cronin, Thee Oh Sees, Dominant Legs, Sonny and the Sunsets and countless others. Everything seemed geared in place to ensure that Weekend would take their place among the pantheon of durable, lasting Bay Area indie rock bands. Unfortunately, things haven’t quite gone according to plan.

Following the universally-positive response to “Sports,” Weekend toured relentlessly before putting out two follow-up efforts—the 2011 EP “Red” and the 2013 full-length, “Jinx”  (the nickname of Durkan’s dad.) Both those albums are amazing, underrated gems, although they did not reach the critical heights of “Sports” (but seriously, go and listen to those releases again right now—they are stone cold classics.)

In 2013, Durkan, Johnson and Pedroza all moved to New York City, building upon a long-gestating dream to live in Brooklyn. The plan was to release more albums, capitalizing on the vibrant, burgeoning Williamsburg scene that was almost freakishly prolific and adventurous at the time.  

As I’ve written about before, those dreams were waylaid by Durkan’s crippling drug addiction. He has since recovered—and in utterly inspiring fashion, replacing chemical dependencies with an affinity for trail running, fitness and the occasional candy splurge.

In the interim period since Weekend’s last release, Durkan has produced a number of albums and filled in as a touring musician for bands like Deafheaven and Soft Kill. He has now scored a somewhat unexpected success with Crushed, an awesome alt-rock outfit he formed with Bre Morrell. Crushed has released a full-length album and an EP—two splendid records that have garnered some really great critical praise.

While interviewing Durkan in 2020 for my story in the SF Weekly, I heard a sneak preview of the songs for Weekend’s still TBD third album. The brief snippets I was able to listen to were thrilling. The band sounded as vital, urgent, daring and skilled as I first remembered hearing them, some 10 years earlier. It was a tantalizing experience. But to date, Weekend’s third album is still unreleased.

I’ve spoken with Shaun many times over the years for various stories. He’s one of the nicest, most candid and accessible dudes I’ve ever interviewed. When we speak, I feel like he gives a slight wince at times, knowing that I’m going to bring up Weekend’s lost album, and I hate putting pressure on these guys. I’ve seriously gotten very Zen about everything at this point. Shaun is doing great things with Crushed, Kevin is playing in other outfits and living the good life in Vancouver and Abe was living aboard in Australia last I checked. Everyone in Weekend is doing fine and well.

It's just that, by listening to “Sports” repeatedly once again for this column, I’m reminded of the brilliance of this band. Hopefully, they regroup for that third album. If not, their legacy as a venerable San Francisco act will be forever secured by their blazingly magnificent debut release.

“Sports” by Weekend is available for purchase on Bandcamp here.

Bottom of The Hill Forever: My 10 Favorite Shows at the Legendary Venue

Julien Baker, from her 2016 performance at Bottom of the Hill.

The Bottom of the Hill is my favorite music venue of all time and second place isn’t particularly close. From the moment I first stepped into the venerable punk bar in Potrero Hill, I knew I had found a home.

I love the creaky neon sign on the front of the venue. I love the graffiti covered bathroom. I love the smoking section out back, where you can hang out between acts. I love the fact that a beer and a shot won’t set you back $20. I love the calendar posters that deck the walls—evidence that the Strokes and Arcade Fire and the White Stripes all played at this intimate, tiny venue. 

I love the immediacy of the experience—that when you first step through the doors, it’s only a few quick paces before you’re directly in front of the band. I love my secret listening spot—facing the right of the stage, next to the riser steps—which seemingly is always available for me and my friends.

Most of all, I love the amazing lineups hosted at the venue over the years. From local San Francisco acts to mid-level touring bands to pre-stardom arena-rock groups, Bottom of the Hill has always consistently featured music that I’ve loved and admired over the years.

All of this is why it was so devastating to hear the news that Bottom of the Hill would be closing at the end of 2026. In San Francisco, we have become inured to the idea of revered institutions shutting down, but this one fucking HURTS. I cannot think of a single music venue in the Bay Area—not the Fillmore, not the Fox, not anywhere else—as universally loved as Bottom of the Hill. This was our scrappy, scuzzy, no frills, beautiful punk bar (also, Thee Parkside must now be protected at all costs.)

The silver lining of this sad announcement is that the venue still has a full year of operations left before it finally closes its doors. I plan on making as many shows as possible. In the interim, I thought I’d honor Bottom of the Hill by listing my 10 favorite shows I saw at the venue. Here they are:

10.) Bear in Heaven / Cymbals Eat Guitars, March 25, 2010: A perfect example of the kind of bands you’d see at Bottom of the Hill during the heyday of the indie blogosphere. Cymbals Eat Guitars were loud, erudite Built to Spill clones and Bear In Heaven specialized in silky synthpop. A total contrast in styles, the bands made for the kind of dichotomic bills that are so fun to watch, and both acts were touring behind critically acclaimed albums. Now both disbanded, in a perfect world, Bear in Heaven and Cymbals Eat Guitars would have elevated to a new level of fame after this tour, but at least I got to see them at the peak of their powers in 2010.

9.) Times New Viking, October 29, 2009: For those unfamiliar with the term, shitgaze refers to bands whose sounds and production values don’t quite meet the basement-level standards of lo-fi. Times New Viking, a glorious trio out of Columbus, Ohio, were a progenitor of the genre and one of the best damn bands of this century (who apparently are reforming for their first show in a decade.) My memories of this show are as follows: it was incredibly loud (and fucking awesome); the opening band—aptly titled Psychedelic Horseshit—used an empty Budweiser case as their kick drum, and I drunkenly sang the lyrics of “Drop-Out” to vocalist/drummer Adam Elliott after the show and he somehow knew what I was talking about. In retrospect, that dude was an absolute saint—he acted like a complete gentleman, despite me approaching Punisher-type fan levels with him. 

8.) Beach House, March 15, 2008: While Beach House might not have reached the ridiculous heights of other Bottom of the Hill bands (seriously, did you know that Imagine Dragons played at BOTH? I don’t know a single one of their songs, but I think they played at the Super Bowl?), this Baltimore dreampop duo went on to much, much bigger things after this Bottom of the Hill performance. This show was particularly special for me, as they were touring (mostly) behind their debut, self-titled album, a lo-fi effort that still stands out as my favorite record in the Beach House discography. 

7.) Empath, August 31, 2019: My friend Josh from Club Night clued me into this noise-rock outfit from Philadelphia, and I interviewed them prior to the show for a story in the SF Examiner. Josh and I ended up going together to see them play, and they were loud, catchy and amazing (even overshadowing the headlining act, the great Mannequin Pussy.) I remember chatting with the band after the show, smoking cigarettes together outside the venue during an unseasonably warm August night in San Francisco. 

6.) Magnolia Electric Company, August 4, 2006: This one is memorable for so many reasons—it was my first ever show at Bottom of the Hill and it was the only time I ever saw the late, great Jason Molina perform live. It was a packed house and I remember being in goddam awe of the place—freshly relocated from Maine and thinking, “holy shit, I love this city.” 

5.) The Blow, October 25, 2013: I was a huge fan of The Blow—“Paper Television” remains one of my favorite albums of all time, but I got the distinct feeling that I was never going to see them live after their original incarnation—composed of Khaela Maricich and Jona Bechtolt—split ways. Thankfully, Maricich teamed up with her partner—visual artist Melissa Dyne—for a reimagined version of the outfit. This show was on a Friday night and I remember it starting very late in classic Bottom of the Hill fashion. By the time the electrifying Maricich took the stage, everyone was in a place of wonderfully blissful drunkenness.  

4.) Smith Westerns / Yuck, February, 2011: I was already a huge fan of the Smith Westerns (if this band ever reunites, I will be the first person to buy tickets), and I was super excited to see them after they blew my mind opening for Girls at the Great American Music Hall the year earlier. They were great again, but the real treat was discovering Yuck, an amazing indie rock outfit from Britain. The cab driver who took us to the venue actually preached about Yuck prior to the show and he was totally on-point with his praise. Yuck went on to put out one of my favorite albums of all time (a theme you’ll notice a lot in this list) before their main songwriter, Daniel Blumberg embarked on a career as an Oscar-winning composer (!!) for this work on “The Brutalist.”

3.) Phoebe Bridgers, April 27, 2018: One of my more epic concert-going experiences, I actually caught TV on the Radio opening for LCD Soundsystem at the Greek Theater this same night, before ditching James Murphy and company early to Uber all the way over to Bottom of the Hill. I arrived just as Bridgers was taking the stage to play songs from “Stranger in the Alps,” (yep, another one of my all-time faves.) She sounded amazing, and was joined by the ever-grumpy Mark Kozelek of Red House Painters fame for a few songs. Perhaps a little tipsy from four hours of music shows, I belted out a song request to Kozelek and promptly got screamed at by him. My friend Marisa said she heard Bridgers repeat this story of my public scolding at two different later shows in the Bay Area. Thank you, Bottom of the Hill for making me infamous.

2.) Handsome Furs, April 15, 2008: Isn’t this Wolf Parade revival thing amazing? Thank you to the gay hockey show for introducing this band to a whole new audience, and thanks to Wolf Parade guitarist Dan Boeckner for fronting his wonderfully quirky and catchy synth-pop collective, Handsome Furs. This duo, made up of Boeckner and his then-wife Alexei Perry, played an absolutely banger of a show that night. I remember Perry dancing barefoot on stage and then when I went to give her a high-five after the show (standing in my secret spot near the stage steps), she kissed my hand. Pretty great. Sadly, the marriage didn’t last and Handsome Furs broke up in 2012, but I’ll never forget this show.

1.) Julien Baker, February 25, 2016: Because of Boygenius, Julien Baker is now legit famous, but long before that trio formed, she was touring behind her amazing debut album, “Sprained Ankle.” I remember her wending her way through the audience before this show, dutifully talking with everyone who stopped to say hi. Although she looked so diminutive upon the stage, she completely captivated the crowd from the onset, entrancing everyone there with her poignant, emotionally laden vocal delivery. The songs on “Sprained Ankle” are painfully candid, but Baker held nothing back that night, fearlessly brandishing her heart on her sleeve, opening herself up so completely to a crowd eager to embrace her into our collective arms. Her stirring rendition of “Rejoice,” was a damn-near religious experience for me, and I cannot think of a better place to hear that song than the Church of Bottom of the Hill.

Broken Dreams Club Best Local Albums of 2025

I feel incredibly lucky to live in a city with such an exciting, flourishing local music scene. Yes, the Bay Area is a punishing place to live as an artist. But bands continue to make this place their home and they continue to build off the energy of their community to create music that is unique, adventurous, inspiring and profound.

Here are my favorite local albums of the year, in alphabetical order by artist:

Falling Window – April Magazine: San Francisco’s finest sound collagists continue to make beautifully somnambulant tunes that mine the gray areas between sleep and wakefulness. Imagine if Grouper’s Liz Harris spent a day walking the streets of San Francisco and you’ll get a good approximation of this seven-song EP, which came out in April. And if you’re looking for a connective tissue in the local scene, search no further than April Magazine’s Peter Hurley, whose art, music and community spirit is a driving force behind San Francisco’s vibrant creative culture.

Joy Coming Down – Club Night: This album is a miracle in so many ways, what with the band members split up among multiple states and their label disappearing for several years. But not only did “Joy Coming Down” finally debut in 2025 after a six year break between Club Night albums, it’s an absolute revelation—a genre-defying journey that is as unique as it is thrilling. I’ve said it before and will say it again—NO ONE sounds like Club Night. Kudos to the fine gentlemen from Club Night, who are truly some of the best dudes in the business and good pals. 

More from the Broken Dreams Club archive: “The key to Club Night is a musical formula that can only be described as generous. Egalitarian to the core, Club Night songs are composed like a puzzle, with each member nestling their contribution within the bigger picture—all making their individual mark known without distracting from the end goal. Tatum’s guitar licks range from delicate, gossamer ribbons to thick, chunky riffs, Trainer and Cowman’s rhythmic concision forms the foundation of the sound and an array of samples and eerie voice manipulations add to the world-building feel of the music.”

No Scope – Crushed: Technically, Shaun Durkan, one-half of this dream-pop duo alongside Bre Morell, doesn’t live in the Bay Area anymore, but he’s got a ton of local roots and this album is too damn good not to mention here. 

More from the Broken Dreams Club archive: “Much like the first release, “no scope” is drenched with atmosphere, as swirling guitars, spectral samples and ambient soundscapes create a rich, textured feel to every song. Tracks like “starburn,” “weaponx,” and “heartcontainer” showcase the band’s ability to meld woozy, hypnotic beats with lyrics and narratives that pierce through that haze. Like Durkan, Morell is unafraid to pen lines that are desperately plaintive, highlighted by the opening couplet of “heartcontainer,” when she mournfully laments that “I’m on my knees/ I’m crying for you.”

Dirt – Galore: This awesome quartet drifts between post-punk, indie pop and garage rock genres without ever sounding derivative.  Their latest album is another example of the band’s collaborative, communal songwriting spirit.

More from the Broken Dreams Club archive: “Like all Galore songs, “Bastard” defies easy convention. It’s lean and unadorned, full of crisp guitar lines and steady rhythm movements, recalling sleek and slender acts like The Feelies or The Clean. But guitarist and singer Griffin Jones’ clear, ringing vocals belie the slacker insouciance of those bands and her earnest delivery adds depth and poignancy to the song’s lyrics of self-loathing. Because as one could expect from a song called “Bastard,” the track isn’t exactly an ode to the human spirit. Jones catalogs her various shortcomings in a haltingly reflective manner, highlighted by her declaration that she’s “the bastard of almost everything.”

Arrow of Love – Hectorine: An ambitious concept album that makes the connection between mythological epics and modern day romantic struggles. 

More from the Broken Dreams Club archive: “Borrowing from the dreamy airiness of Fleetwood Mac’s later discography, the dramatic flourishes of Kate Bush, and the symphonic movie soundtracks of classic 80s movies, the album feels both medieval and alien—the score from a distant, foreign world. Tinkling synths and billowing waves of sound provide a warm, lush ambiance to the album, with ornate instrumentation—glockenspiels and marimbas are featured prominently—imbuing “Arrow of Love” with an apocryphal, mythical atmosphere.”

Doin’ Fine – Josiah Flores: A product of the prolific wellspring that’s Speakeasy Studios, “Doin’ Fine” finds Flores evocatively delivering wounded cowboy lullabies. Mournful pedal steels and dobroes dance along to Flores’ plaintive narratives of wronged lovers, wayward souls and endearing drifters. Paying homage to both Chicano singer-songwriters and legendary acts like Hank Williams, “Doin’ Fine” is a wonderfully modern update to the classic tears-in-your-beer ballads that are a staple of country music.

Lucky – Lucky: A rollicking good time of indie country and Americana from Andrew St. James and Peter Kegler, two guys who are as fun to hang out with as their music is to hear.

More from the Broken Dreams Club archive: “Their album kicks off with Kegler taking the lead on “Falling Through,” a whirling, lilting jaunt about underachievement and disappointment that sounds like Merle Haggard injected with a high voltage shot of the Pixies. It sets the tone for a collection of songs that map out the highs and lows of relationships, the tenuous nature of being a creative person and the general volatility of post-pandemic life.”

Valerian Tea – Magic Fig: For the unapologetic D&D devotees of your friend group, this album is a blast of prog-rock goodness that’s unpretentiously grand and fun. 

More from the Broken Dreams Club archive: “A San Francisco supergroup of sorts (although what Bay Area band isn’t a “supergroup”), Magic Fig bring an undeniably unique sound and aesthetic to the local scene. Comprised of members from the Umbrellas, Whitney’s Playland, Almond Joy and Healing Potpourri, among others, Magic Fig specialize in proggy, psychedelic tracks that recall both the late 60s acts of San Francisco’s hippie heyday and 70s English bands like Yes and Rush.”

Waiting Room – Kathryn Mohr: I love spooky music, and this album is one of the more haunting records I’ve heard in years. Imagine if Slint further stripped the parts of their austere masterpiece, “Spiderland,” and you’ll arrive at the gorgeous negative landscape of “Waiting Room.” 

More from the Broken Dreams Club archive:  “Elements of Grouper, Slint and a host of bands from The Flenser can be heard in “Waiting Room,” but the vibe is unmistakably Mohr’s. While she acknowledges the profundity and brilliance of those artists, Mohr said she typically avoids listening to those musicians when making albums.

On This Day – Tony Molina: This guy just doesn’t miss. In his wonderfully varied career, Molina has always managed to capture the wondrous joy of finding that perfect pop hook, whether it’s buried in a wall of noise, submerged underneath lo-fi dissonance or transported cleanly through a perfectly lilting delivery. “On This Day” is a sparkly, clean collection of ebullient pop tracks and deeply nostalgic acoustic guitar ballads.

The Pennys – The Pennys: A bedroom pop gem that’s courtesy of Mike Ramos and R.E. Seraphin, two prodigiously talented local songwriters. 

More from the Broken Dreams Club archive: “Incorporating elements of gentle psychedelic rock, wayward Americana, lo-fi bedroom pop and 80s British twee sensibilities, the release feels completely fully formed, the product of two songwriters whose talents blend seamlessly. The EP comes out swinging with the beautiful, Girls-indebted “Say Something,” a desperate tale of longing punctuated with Ramos’ pleading chorus line, as he asks his lover to “please, please, please/Say something.”

I Dream Watching – Rhymies: A departure from the noisy outputs of her other outfit, Seablite (which, RIP), Rhymies has Lauren Matsui mining big emotions from direct and unfussy synth pop gems. 

More from the Broken Dreams Club archive: “Armed with an array of analog synths and keyboards collected over her prolific music career, Matsui set about recording a series of pop songs that emulated 80s new wave icons such as Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark and Depeche Mode while also capturing the radio-friendly classicism of megastars like Madonna. She immersed herself in the programming intricacies of the vintage machinery, teaching herself new tricks with sequencing, arpeggiators and drum machines. The result is a layered, voluminous sonic landscape, drenched in waves of ebullient, buoyant synth moments that feel big and bright.”

Novel Tea – Luke Sweeney: Technically Luke lives in Nevada City now, but he’s been a mainstay of the Bay Area scene for years and his latest album reflects his ability to deliver serious social messages in a charmingly offbeat manner. Also, one of the nicest guys around. 

From the Broken Dreams Club archive: “Album standout “Probably Me” is a Calypso-inflected chamber pop piece, in which Sweeney humorously details the multiple versions of himself, and the aforementioned “Subsidize Our Rent” has him doing his best Randy Newman impression—all rollicking piano interjection and witty vocal deliveries. The central takeaway of that song “subsidize our rents/when shit gets hard,” is so simple it’s almost koan-like, serving as a reminder again that although many of Sweeney’s subjects—young love, maturation, discovering the world—feel timeless, others are despairingly still topical.”

Scarecrow II – The Telephone Numbers: I hate to pick favorites here, but it would be tough to top this second full length from power-pop maestros the Telephone Numbers. Thomas Rubinstein has an uncanny knack for crafting deeply-stirring, emotive indie rock numbers. 

More from the Broken Dreams Club archive: “That melancholic, autumnal feel permeates the album, which artfully catalogs a changing city, relationships in flux, endless career challenges and other reference points that feel hyper specific to modern living in San Francisco. Among the many standout tracks on the record is “This Job is Killing Me,” an austere, gleaming observation about the insecurities and daily drudgeries of musicians who struggle to make ends meet in a city that’s prohibitively expensive.”

Long Rehearsal – Whitney’s Playland: In a year where there were no new releases from the Umbrellas and Chime School, Whitney’s Playland kept the local janglepop scene buzzing with this three-song EP released by Dandy Boy Records. 

More from the Broken Dreams Club archive (from the band’s response to a question about the new EP): “On “Sunset Sea Breeze,” a lot of the songs were brought to the project fully formed by George, while a couple were melodic and lyrical collabs between George and Inna. For the new EP, Inna wrote many of the lyrics, and Paul, Evan and Inna each contributed to the instrumentation and structure of the songs. Writing the EP was great! We really enjoy and get lost in the process of recording. Everyone has a unique ear for what’s happening in the song, and we’re all on the same page with adding our contributions in the effort to make the song as good as it can be.”

Other great local albums: Ryli – Come and Get Me; Now – Now Does the Trick; The Goods – Don’t Spoil The Fun; Andrés Miguel Cervantes – Songs for the Seance