Days after their farewell concert, Black Sabbath’s Ozzy Osbourne dies at 76.
Like most white guys, I discovered Black Sabbath in high school where their leaden, primordial take on heavy metal seemed aimed directly at my undeveloped frontal lobe and vague, acned angst at the world. Unlike Led Zeppelin, who only get worse on repeat listens every year after you turn 18, Black Sabbath and Ozzy’s singing in particular shine on repeat listens as an adult. In my 30s, Ozzy sounds impossibly young wailing on “Paranoid,” and it’s amazing that he found a perfect pocket for his workmanlike tenor that would ultimately define a genre for decades.
Anyways, better tributes will be written, but RIP dark prince, king of cocaine and enemy of bats.
Hey how about some Good Links?
Hope Ozzy isn’t next – Dead artists are seeing AI songs published under their name on Spotify. Super cool!
Like the day they discovered putting Oakleys on your forehead – it’s a big day on bald Reddit
https://www.vulture.com/article/best-billy-joel-songs-ranked.html
Honestly fucking sick – Dan Deacon sang the National Anthem at an Orioles game, confusing the olds but rendering the song newly beautiful
Weirdly, no recommendations for songs to drive to? – Car Culture aka Physical Therapy recommends a bunch of songs for hyper-specific situations on Nina Protocol
Now off to the best of the week! As always, you can follow along on our playlists on Spotify and Apple Music, which update (usually) every Tuesday along with the newsletter. Enjoy!
Geese – Taxes
Geese singer Cameron Winter’s solo record may be my favorite album of 2025, but I’ve never really been a convert to his main gig until “Taxes,” which wowed me with its off-kilter, glimmering groove. The song is an arpeggio that never settles, a plane forever landing but never touching solid ground. Speckles of lead guitar and piano layer on like a massive mound of yarn, but the song still breaks my heart every time.
Mina Tindle ft. Sufjan Stevens – Heaven Thunder
Mina Tindle's new track "Heaven Thunder" reminds me of the glacial, slow-motion drama of Sebastien Tellier, but instead of stately horniness there's a crisp, aspirational sadness. Sufjan Stevens takes the second verse, giving the song a doomed romantic gloam that fits the somber clip-clop of the song’s bleak New Wave.
Nick Sylvester – Sheila
Friend of the newsletter Nick Sylvester drops his debut(!) LP under his own name, after years crafting clanking, strange rock music as a drummer and then gorgeous, ubiquitous dance-pop as a producer. His debut Stereo Music for Breakbeats and Samplers is built from Nick manipulating drum breaks to their absolute limit with modular synthesizers, and it’s delightful how much the record sounds exactly like a guy in a room in a conversation with his machines. It’s a delight hearing someone who spent years honing how to be a weirdo within the confines of pop invert his instincts into intentionally jarring music (though “Sheila” lands the closest into what one might call a groove) and despite the abstract brief, the manipulated samples, and harsh noises, sound absolutely like himself.
Selwin Image – The Unknown
This was taken from All The Young Droids: Junkshop Synth Pop 1978-1985, a new compilation of DIY synth enthusiasts trying on the glossy new sounds popularized by Depeche Mode, but still careening into the songs with the “I can do that too!” thrill of punk rock. Not everything is pretty, and there aren’t any pristine gems, but the excitement of discovery is everywhere.
Airships on the Water – They Grow Where They Fall
Unfortunately, big roomy post-rock will forever work on me as someone who learned to drive during the 2000’s peak era of Godspeed! You Black Emperor and Mogwai. Searing guitars and big, roomy toms? Might as well be back in my Volkswagen trying to make it home before curfew again.
Tyler, The Creator – Stop Playing With Me
I don’t know if I love this record but boy howdy did he mix this whole thing loud as shit.
throwback
Micky Milan – Quand Tu Danses
Would I include this for the sick name alone? Yes, but luckily for you Micky Milan is the stage name of a French DJ legend who brought the sound of sticky U.S. discos to his home country and then released his own 12”s in the early 80s. He shares the low-talking horndog energy of Pinó D’Angió but leaning into denser, less subtle arrangements for a thicker (if less crisp) groove. The basslines are heavy, the vocals are silly – don’t think too hard, because they certainly didn’t.