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Chat Pile / Hayden Pedigo: In the Earth Again Album Review
Music

Chat Pile / Hayden Pedigo: In the Earth Again Album Review

by jummy84 November 3, 2025
written by jummy84

In the Earth Again is set at a glacial pace, allowing each element to coalesce in its own time. The first two tracks descend into murky purgatory: Instrumental opener “Outside” is led by Pedigo, his plaintive guitar backed by additional axe work from Chat Pile guitarist Luther Manhole, Busch, and Cap’n Ron, who traditionally handles percussion but plays a powerslide lap steel on some of these songs. That track flows seamlessly into “Demon Time,” a hypnotic number in which Busch prophesies the burning of all the castles in the world and the return of every demon. “And they will find you/And they will fuck you up,” he sings, his voice low and even. Despite their tranquil sound, “Outside” and “Demon Time” are all tension, no release. So when “Never Say Die!” begins with a bulldozing power chord and a nuclear kick—the first percussion on the record—it’s pure catharsis. It’s the most characteristic Chat Pile cut on the album: sludgy, detuned, and merciless.

The rest of In the Earth Again alternates between vocal-centric songs and instrumental tracks. “Behold a Pale Horse” is a Pedigo/Manhole duet full of lovely counterpoint curdled by reverb. “Fission/Fusion” begins as a noisy, jolting scrum before settling into something more Metallica adjacent. And “I Got My Own Blunt to Smoke” finds Busch alone with his guitar, seemingly interpolating Timbaland. It’s only a five-note descending scale, but Busch draws out its melodrama to an almost cartoonish degree. It’s hard to imagine that, in light of the goofy cultural references he’s sprinkled across Chat Pile’s past work, he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing.

Where field recordings and tape loops make indelible contributions to the record’s atmosphere, they fall flat on its eight-minute centerpiece, “The Matador.” “Things fall apart!” Busch yowls several times, and it’s here Chat Pile and Pedigo’s shared sensibilities hold together least. They open the song with nearly two minutes of tape loops before the drums, bass, and guitar build gradually into a monster lick. The music chugs ceaselessly but loses its punch on the home stretch. There’s a great four-minute song here, but the long closing guitar solo is gratuitous, as is the sluggish intro.

November 3, 2025 0 comments
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Ninajirachi: I Love My Computer Album Review
Music

Ninajirachi: I Love My Computer Album Review

by jummy84 November 2, 2025
written by jummy84

A friend of mine has a gripe with most modern filmmakers: She says they don’t really know how to portray smartphone use. Shouldn’t people in films, she often wonders, be texting and scrolling more and talking less?

It’s true that, for whatever reason, certain art forms have been slow to address the fact that, since the introduction of the iPhone, many relationships are largely mediated through screens. For a lot of people, computers and phones provide a central hub to find not just connection, but meaning, comfort, and thrills. Countless artists have dealt with this in a broad way over the decades—think Magdalena Bay’s Imaginal Disk, a hero’s journey from tech-addled nihilism through to human feeling, but also Kraftwerk’s seminal 1981 record Computer World, a still-prescient exploration of what happens to a tech-reliant society—but fewer have explored the connection that, I, and perhaps you, have on an individual level with our devices.

Enter 26-year-old Nina Wilson, aka Ninajirachi. She wants to fuck her computer. Kind of. A track on her excellent, aggressively stimulating debut album I Love My Computer is called “Fuck My Computer,” and it’s kind of a joke, unless it isn’t? “I wanna fuck my computer/’Cause no one in the world knows me better,” she deadpans. “It says my name, it says, ‘Nina’/And no one in the world does it better.”

“Fuck My Computer” is an assaultive dubstep rager that yearns for the days when you could download Adventure Club remixes for free from Hype Machine, and it arrives early enough into I Love My Computer that you can play it off, on first listen, as irony. But it quickly becomes clear that Wilson, who grew up in Kincumber, a regional town in New South Wales, Australia, is playing her album’s conceit straight; this is a concept record about Wilson’s relationship with her PC, emphasis on the P. Moving between EDM, tech-house, speed garage, dubstep, and hyperpop with the jerky irregularity of a spasming ocular muscle, I Love My Computer is sincere and uniquely moving—smartly sidestepping newspaper opinion section questions around Tech Addiction and a Disconnected Society, Wilson instead chooses to tell a specific, personal story about growing up with the screen as your mirror.

November 2, 2025 0 comments
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Common: Resurrection Album Review | Pitchfork
Music

Common: Resurrection Album Review | Pitchfork

by jummy84 November 2, 2025
written by jummy84

Though it might seem crazy now—considering their personalities, and five years after Cube virtually ended N.W.A. on “No Vaseline”—Common annihilated Cube with his response. The Pete Rock-produced “The Bitch In Yoo,” issued as the A-side of a split single with No I.D. in 1996, is one of rap’s most brutal diss tracks. The first verse alone is a thorough dismantling of Cube’s career, with Common claiming his West Coast cred is ridiculous (hiring the Long Island-based Bomb Squad for his debut), calling out his blatant careerism (“Went from gangsta to Islam to the dick of Das EFX”), and insinuating he’s a bad actor (with sly references to Higher Learning and Friday).

It took the deaths of 2Pac and the Notorious B.I.G., and the intervention of Louis Farrakhan, to squash the beef. At the Hip-Hop Summit in Chicago in April of 1997, Farrakhan addressed the assembled rappers, including Cube, Common, Snoop Dogg, and the Dogg Pound: “All this turf you fighting for—East Coast, West Coast—who owns it? Not you.” Farrakhan is acknowledged for ending the feud, but the deeper truth is that both men had changed. For Cube, he’d successfully made a transition to acting and was gradually assuming a role as a family man. Common had also recently become a father, and he was transformed by the Million Man March, which he attended. As he writes in One Day It’ll All Make Sense, the event inspired him to be comfortable with expressing love and solidarity.

To date, Resurrection has sold fewer than 250,000 copies, but it earned Common Sense respect. It also attracted more national attention, including from a California-based reggae band with the same name that sued the rapper over the rights. Common dropped the “Sense” before the 1997 follow-up LP, One Day It’ll All Make Sense, which simultaneously refined and expanded on the approach he and No I.D. took on Resurrection.

Shortly afterwards, he will leave Chicago and move to New York City. He will go and join the Soulquarians collective, garnering him larger audiences and further accolades; then he will drop an ambitious, experimental, psych-informed album that will bomb. He will date singers and athletes and movie stars; then he will think he can act. He will become an actor, questionably; then he will fight Keanu Reeves, believably. He will constantly cycle through success and embarrassment. He will come remarkably close to an EGOT. And all along, the sun will still rise every day over Lake Michigan.

November 2, 2025 0 comments
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We Are the Fruits of the Forest
TV & Streaming

‘We Are the Fruits of the Forest’ Review: Rithy Panh’s Insightful Doc

by jummy84 November 1, 2025
written by jummy84

Rithy Panh can credibly hold the title of both Cambodia’s most important film director and one of the greatest documentarians alive. A survivor of the brutal Khmer Rouge regime that claimed the lives of his family members, he began studying filmmaking in France before returning to his native country in the late 1980s. His nonfiction output largely focuses on the aftermath of the Cambodian genocide and moves fluidly between brutally direct vérité (“S21: The Khmer Rouge Killing Machine,” 2003), archival material (“Irradiated,” 2020) and, in the case of the his most celebrated film “The Missing Picture” (2013), claymation. With his most recent film, “We Are the Fruits of the Forest,” Panh opts for a more restrained but still incisive approach to the plight of a specific group of downtrodden people in his nation’s present.

After a brief drone shot over the trees, “We Are the Fruits of the Forest” begins with Panh’s main recurring formal gambit for this particular project: a split screen presentation of silent black-and-white archival footage. The subject in both that found material and his film at large is the Bunong people, an indigenous ethnic group living in the highlands of northeastern Cambodia. Historically, they have grown large-grain rice in mountain forests, clearing sections of trees to create fields according to their ancestral ceremonies and offerings. By the 21st century, the Bunong have become beholden to the demands of companies seeking to access their cultivations, forcing them to harvest and clear forests at a much more rapid pace and take on additional products like cassava, rubber and honey.

Panh’s contemporaneously shot footage forms the bulk of “We Are the Fruits of the Forest,” remaining focused on the inhabitants of what appears to be one unnamed village as they cycle through the various duties needed to maintain their already precarious status. Though there are scenes reflecting a more relaxed way of life, including a few of the village children watching an action movie on a cellphone, the vast majority of sequences take place without any obvious visual signifiers of a more putatively modern world.

To convey that, “We Are the Fruits of the Forest” relies equally on extensive voiceover. Though no specific credits are provided, it seems that one single male voice is used to represent the anxieties of his village, if not his entire people as a whole. It is his words that are used to contextualize the images of work on screen, explaining various customs and the animist beliefs that govern their society. Also addressed are the various classifications of forests that the Bunong may or may not work in, the increasingly predatory bank loans that they must rely on as their crop yields become ever poorer, and the racist insults that wider Cambodian society uses to refer to them. The man occasionally mentions his father, but his words are generally used in an explanatory manner, informed by a deserved pride in his people’s work and understandable concerns about their future.

Such a monovocal approach, especially considering that little of the frequently heard dialogue between the village people is actually subtitled, does run the risk of being repetitive, as the same problems surrounding each facet of the Bunong people’s lives are evoked again and again. But there’s an elegance to Panh’s rhythms and his focus on the many faces of the village that continually proves of interest. Even as this might be Panh’s first nonfiction film to avoid even a glancing reference to the Khmer Rouge, the numerous references to modern capitalism’s erosion of Bunong customs (including some of their people’s adoption of Christianity) ensures that this new focus for Panh is by no means a lighter or less urgent topic.

All this, of course, is tied back into Panh’s use of archival footage. While past and present are juxtaposed less frequently than might be expected, the material is used in an overtly poetic manner, offering brief glimpses of a previous way of life. Most strikingly, the same image is often displayed in both frames, as if to suggest a double vision that seeks to divine a greater understanding of these long-gone figures and landscapes. Woven throughout “We Are the Fruits of the Forest” is an image of a topless Bunong woman, often shown in a brief flash that intrudes into the present. Whether this is meant as a literalization of the spirits of the forest or (as suggested by the voiceover) a bad omen is left up to interpretation, but it captures the vivid past and present lives of these people, and how quickly modern forces can cause them to fade away.

November 1, 2025 0 comments
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Oasis: (What’s the Story) Morning Glory? (30th Anniversary Deluxe Edition) Album Review
Music

Oasis: (What’s the Story) Morning Glory? (30th Anniversary Deluxe Edition) Album Review

by jummy84 November 1, 2025
written by jummy84

You might have heard, but Britpop’s greatest group returned this year in a blaze of summer-dominating, triumphal glory. Plus, easily missed, Oasis got back together, too.

Odd as it is to say now, Live ’25 wasn’t a nailed-on success. Questions swirled: Would the irascible brothers keep their egos and fratricidal instincts in check? Could they swerve notoriety for playing so slowly that the life drains out of even the most committed loyalist? Any chance the setlist might show proof of their existence past 2002? (Yes, yes, no.) Demand for the tour was insane, some 14 million trying for the UK dates alone, a nearly 600 percent leap on 1996’s immortalised pair of Knebworth shows.

Once the ticker tape from the opener in Cardiff confirmed that they were not just in decent form, but had actually exceeded all expectations, a funny kind of tremor swept Anglophiles the world over, like the aftershock of a bliss nuke. With tabloids and legacy music media fixated on tracking the brothers’ every move, even a brief pat on the back sent people doollally. Out went strappy tops and cigs, in came bucket hats and more cigs, as Planet Gallagher blotted out the sun. And lo, just in case you thought they hadn’t raked in enough cash already, here arrives the 30th anniversary edition of (What’s the Story?) Morning Glory, a reissue of a reissue of a reissue. You may not like it, but this is what Peak Oasis looks like.

As the world’s most ardent proponents of Lennonism, the only comparison Liam and Noel will brook these days is against their idols. So let’s begin there. Socially, in 2025, Oasis are bigger than the Beatles. Chalk it up to heavy competition in the ’60s, or a total collapse of aesthetic progression since the ’90s, but you can only tackle the void in front of you, and Oasis did so with brutal efficiency. If you cup your ear today to the ballad of the pub man, you won’t find gents in collarless grey suits harmonizing “Day Tripper” at closing time. What you will find, however, is middle-aged men greying around the temples and young lovers with live forever inked in cursive on their calves, arm in arm, belting one of modern rock’n’roll’s universal standards: “Champagne Supernova,” “Wonderwall,” “Don’t Look Back in Anger,” or, plausibly, all of the above.

November 1, 2025 0 comments
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Baahubali  The Epic
Bollywood

Bugonia Movie Review: A Paranoid Fable for The Conspiracy Age

by jummy84 October 31, 2025
written by jummy84

Yorgos Lanthimos’ Bugonia is a film that exists somewhere between satire, science fiction, and psychological thriller and true to the Greek auteur’s temperament, it refuses to pick a lane. The director, known for his surreal dissections of human behaviour in The Favourite and Poor Things, reimagines the 2003 South Korean cult classic Save the Green Planet! for a modern audience. The result is a film that is both audacious and uneven, equal parts allegory and absurdity.

The story follows two disillusioned men, Teddy Gatz (Jesse Plemons) and Don (Aidan Delbis), his neurodivergent cousin, convinced that a powerful pharmaceutical CEO, Michelle Fuller, played by Emma Stone, is, in fact, an alien orchestrating humanity’s demise. Acting on their paranoid conviction, they abduct her and hold her captive in a basement, hoping to extract a confession that could “save the planet.” What follows is a strange, often disturbing tug of war between delusion and truth, power and helplessness, rendered with Lanthimos’ signature blend of deadpan humour and unnerving precision.

The director has worked once again with long-time collaborator, cinematographer Robbie Ryan, who has used wide-angle lenses, one-point perspectives and exaggerated depth of field to create a world that feels both clinical and grotesque. The film is shot in VistaVision, giving its carefully composed frames a heightened sense of visual distortion. Every space seems too bright, every face too close, every pause too long. It’s a movie built on discomfort, using form as a mirror to its fractured themes.

At the heart of this disorienting narrative are two magnetic performances. Emma Stone, continuing her fruitful collaboration with Lanthimos, turns the cool composure of a corporate titan into something eerie and unreadable. Her role demands restraint and ambiguity and she excels on all fronts. Another Oscar nomination seems to be on her way. Whether she’s a manipulative CEO or an extraterrestrial predator is never entirely clear and that’s exactly the point.

Opposite her, Jesse Plemons delivers a career-best performance as the unhinged beekeeper-turned-conspiracy theorist. He embodies his character’s paranoia with terrifying sincerity, balancing absurd humour with deep tragedy. Plemons steals the show, grounding the film’s surreal energy in something painfully recognisable, the modern paranoia that fuels online misinformation and distrust. Aidan Delbis is himself autistic and hence his act rings with lived-in truth.

Thematically, Bugonia dives into various terrains: environmental collapse, corporate greed, and the seductive logic of conspiracy theories. It’s a film about power structures and the fragile human need to find meaning in chaos. In that sense, it feels eerily reflective of our own moment, where truth has become a matter of belief and belief a weapon of survival. Lanthimos doesn’t spoon-feed his audience answers but crafts a cinematic space where absurdity feels like the only rational response to the world.

Yet for all its ambition, Bugonia is not without flaws. The middle act, dominated by the hostage scenario, begins to drag under the weight of its own repetition. The tonal shifts from farce to horror to philosophical reflection can feel jarring, even indulgent. The film raises questions about faith, power and truth, but leaves them suspended, unresolved, perhaps intentionally so.

Ultimately, Bugonia is a film that dares you to either engage or walk away. It’s not meant for those seeking tidy endings, straight narratives or moral clarity. But for viewers willing to surrender to Lanthimos’ warped worldview, it offers a biting, funny, and often haunting reflection of contemporary anxieties. Like the best of his work, it finds beauty in the bizarre and discomfort in the familiar.

In the end, Bugonia may not convert anyone who isn’t already in Lanthimos’ corner. But for those attuned to his peculiar rhythm, it stands as another fascinating, if imperfect, entry in a filmography obsessed with human delusion and the strange, buzzing noise it makes when confronted with the truth. Just like the much-loved bees, so central to the film. The end will shock you for sure. But the absurdity of the human condition, even in its collapse, will bring a smile as well. Are we really needed in this world to keep? Wouldn’t it fare better without us? Such questions will haunt you for sure, much after the end credits roll away.

Also Read: Upcoming Hollywood Releases This October: Tron Ares, Bugonia & More

October 31, 2025 0 comments
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Snocaps 'Snocaps' Review
Music

Snocaps ‘Snocaps’ Review

by jummy84 October 31, 2025
written by jummy84

Blood harmonies: there’s magic in ‘em, literal and figurative — nature and nurture, love and rivalry, atmospheric alchemy born of living room dust and familial mishigas. Blood harmonies alone would be reason enough to cheer the surprise debut of Snocaps — Waxahatchee’s Katie Crutchfield and twin sister Allison Crutchfield of Swearin’ and P.S. Eliot, the best-known of their teenaged pop-punk sister acts. Of course, Sister Katie is also coming off two of the decade’s best albums, St. Cloud and Tigers Blood, the latter distinguished by her delicious harmonies with MJ Lenderman (whose electric guitar work is all over this new project, alongside Waxahatchee wingman Brad Cook) and her remarkable songwriting hot-streak.

That streak continues here, but the real delight of this ostensible side project is Allison Crutchfield’s return to the mic after an extended absence, and the rebirth of a sibling rock band, apparently sans fistfights or cricket bats. That means two great songwriters who, one senses here, write a little differently working together than they do separately.

The first release by Snocaps — a band name shared by a tooth-cracking old-school movie theater candy and a kneecapping new-school cannabis product — suggests as much. For one, this feels like a classic indie-rock record, minus the pedal steel and other signifiers that rebranded Waxahatchee as a kind of New South country-rock project. The songwriting’s shared, Katie getting six songs to Allison’s seven, which seems fair — Allison’s last record was Swearin’s fine 2018 Fall into the Sun, so she’s playing catching up, per usual, having come to songwriting a bit later in life than her sister.

“Coast,” which jumps off a discount-store drum-machine pulse, is one of two Allison songs that open the album, and it sets the tone for a song set that lives and bleeds largely on the road, emotions churning as time and miles hurtle by. “22nd is a straight shot south,” she sings, rhyming it with “you finally open your mouth” and confessing “I got the pedal on the floor/ or I’m slamming on the breaks/I could never just coast” — the twins leaning into the last line like a shared secret so foundational it becomes private language. 

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It’s the sound of women who’ve spent much of their lives driving from show to show. On “Over Our Heads,” it’s “40 East half past eight,” On “Angel Wings,” the singer narrates: “I ride down 29th/I delight in the spectrum of this yearning.” If you guessed that’s a Katie song, you’d be right, and it certainly could pass for a Waxahatchee track, like others here — “Wasteland” in particular, with Lenderman’s trademark bent-note sparkles on the outro. But Katie’s writing feels punchier, more direct than usual, harking back to records like Cerulean Salt and P.S. Eliot’s Introverted Romance in Our Troubled Minds. See “Cherry Hard Candy,” a mid-tempo chugger that spits clipped couplets breathlessly: “I’m a comet/I am heaven/I’m a wave crashing/I’m on my own/I got money/On our failure/I’m a sinner/I’m forgiving/You got time to kill/And I’m on the phone.” Even ballads like “Hide,” with its simple repeated rhymes, feel streamlined.

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Allison, meanwhile, wants mostly to rock. “Brand New City” takes flight like vintage Guided by Voices, a heart full of unsettled hope lofted higher by Lenderman’s chiming 12-string, ditto “Avalanche,” an exultation of falling hard with the guitars partway between the Byrds’ “Mr. Tambourine Man” and The La’s “There She Goes.” Whatever sibling rivalry exists finds a handsome stalemate in this band, each woman’s songs stronger for the harmonies and tag-team company of the other’s.

There’s certainly no question that Waxahatchee is one of America’s greatest rock bands. But the push and pull of styles here between two artists with different obsessions and skillsets — the mark of so many touchstone bands, sibling acts or otherwise — makes Snocaps an equally-compelling outfit. The sisters’ statement, released with the album, claims they’ll do a few shows in the coming months, at which point the band will be “put on ice for the foreseeable future.” But like the torch-passing reprise of “Coast” that ends this record, their eyes are on the road in front of them. And encouragingly, they leave the door open. Catch ‘em while ya can.

October 31, 2025 0 comments
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Baahubali  The Epic
Bollywood

Single Salma Review: Heart in The Right Place, but Execution Falters

by jummy84 October 31, 2025
written by jummy84

Nachiket Samant’s Single Salma is a film that means well, it wants to talk about choice, womanhood, and the complex mess of modern relationships, but the storytelling doesn’t always keep up with its good intentions. Its heart is firmly in the right place; its execution, unfortunately, isn’t.

Set in Lucknow, the film follows Salma (Huma Qureshi), a bright, no-nonsense woman who works for the city’s urban planning department. She’s the family’s emotional and financial anchor, engaged to Sikander (Shreyas Talpade), a dependable, well-meaning man who represents traditional stability. Salma, though, isn’t entirely convinced she wants the life that everyone else seems to have charted for her.

The film begins on a refreshingly grounded note. For once, government officers are shown working in earnest, preparing for a Smart City Conclave in London with genuine commitment. Even abroad, they’re seen learning and representing their city with professionalism, a detail rarely captured with such authenticity in Hindi cinema.

In London, Salma’s world shifts. She meets Meet (Sunny Singh), a charming planner from the London town planning department who believes in open relationships and is already involved with his girlfriend (Lauren Gottlieb). Drawn to his easy confidence and free-spirited approach to life, Salma finds herself pulled into unfamiliar emotional territory. When she gives in to her desire and loses her virginity to him, what follows is confusion, she wants something deeper, and later he too convinces himself he should marry her and follows her to Lucknow.

The film’s most compelling stretch comes when Salma becomes the target of public shaming after photos of her in a bikini are leaked online. Instead of melodrama, Samant crafts these moments with empathy. Her male colleagues rally to defend her, a quietly powerful reversal of stereotype. It’s a scene that captures both the vulnerability and dignity of a woman reclaiming her narrative.

Huma Qureshi carries the film on her capable shoulders, lending Salma warmth, humour, and a believable mix of confidence and self-doubt. Though her character feels like a patchwork of different ideas. She gamely rises above it all and gives her 100 percent. Shreyas Talpade plays Sikander with restraint and decency, and with his comic timing spot on. He’s the narrator of the film, something like the unreliable narrator of How I Met Your Mother and we wish was given a freer hand. Sunny Singh’s Meet exudes an easy charm that later gives way to unexpected introspection. Navni Parihar as Mrs. Shrivastav, Salma’s senior colleague, and Nidhi Singh as her outspoken best friend, add texture and energy, giving the film its liveliest exchanges.

However, despite the strong performances, Single Salma struggles with tone and rhythm. What begins as a layered exploration of identity and independence slips into formula, the conservative girl falling for the first man who makes her feel seen, mistaking attraction for love. There are moments that remind you of Queen (2014), but without its effortless flow or organic humour. Where Queen felt like an unforced journey of self-discovery, Single Salma feels more like a well-meant essay on liberation.

Sohail Sen’s music barely registers, and the film’s pacing, particularly in the second half, is uneven. The narrative loses its spark just when it should be finding its emotional peak.

Still, there’s sincerity in Single Salma, in its attempt to portray an independent woman not as a stereotype but as someone flawed, curious, and learning to define herself beyond societal labels. It’s a film that tries to empower through empathy rather than rebellion, even if the craft doesn’t always rise to the occasion.

All-in-all, Single Salma is a well-intentioned, occasionally moving story that needed sharper writing and lighter storytelling to truly shine.

Also Read: Huma Qureshi Engaged To Acting Coach Rachit Singh?

October 31, 2025 0 comments
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Florence + the Machine Bring Brutal Honesty and Cathartic Transformations to Everybody Scream: Review
Music

Florence + the Machine Rise Again on Everybody Scream: Review

by jummy84 October 31, 2025
written by jummy84

“The closest I came to making life was the closest I came to death,” Florence Welch told The Guardian last month. She was referencing a miscarriage that she experienced in August 2023, flush in the middle of a European tour with Florence + the Machine; an ectopic pregnancy forced Welch into emergency surgery, which saved her life. “I felt like I had stepped through this door, and it was just full of women, screaming.” This formed the basis of Everybody Scream, Florence + the Machine’s latest effort.

For six albums and 15 years now, Welch has built her artistry on a kind of ritual self-destruction: the barefoot sprinting across stages, the operatic wailing, the physical and emotional exorcism that defines a Florence + the Machine performance. She broke her foot at Coachella in 2015, pushed through it, kept going. The emergency surgery finally forced her to stop. And yet, the new album born from the stillness of recovery is about the irresistible pull back to the very thing that nearly killed her. Everybody Scream isn’t just Welch processing her trauma — it’s Welch realizing she might not be able to stop performing it.

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That thin line between life and death also speaks to a larger battle in Welch’s life and career: the threshold between her body and its limits, the tension of being a woman and an artist in a world that regularly discounts both. On Everybody Scream, Welch interrogates herself with newfound specificity and higher stakes, resulting in some of the most honest epiphanies and sharpest writing of her career. In a strange way, though, the album does not present Florence + the Machine reborn. It still functions as a ritual of bloodletting, a summoning, a desperate quest for cathartic release through operatic force and mythological imagery — the same function as every album before it. What’s different is that Welch has become more self-aware about this cycle.

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Instead of using every song as a means to reach a full-throated catharsis, she lets the words tumble out of her in a sheer outpouring of thought. The lyrics on Everybody Scream often arrive in torrents, skating across syllables with barely a pause for breath. She’s always a line away from something cutting, devastating, evocative, or deeply revealing. Welch invokes unified imagery like dirt, witches, trees, fruit, critters, wind, divine intervention, killing and crushing, and, most of all, screaming.

She does scream and howl, certainly on the title track, but this time, Welch opts for a more understated way of expressing a carnal, teeming desire for release. The lyrics consistently build in dramatic tension, exemplified by a couplet in “One of the Greats” where Welch spits the words “You’ll bury me again, you’ll say it’s all pretend/ That I could never be great being held up against such male tastes,” chewing on “such male” and letting her rhythm fall slightly behind the beat for the sake of emphasis. She really lets it rip a few lines later, sneering “Now don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan/ You’re my second favorite frontman.”

In a truly exciting way, Welch is unstoppable on Everybody Scream. She likens her body to both alien and sea monster on “Kraken,” but rather than frame her experience as that of someone who is damaged, she’s empowered by the feeling, conjuring a kraken’s astonishing power with enveloping harmonies and a driving rhythm. “You Can Have It All” is a late album highlight, Welch performing a seance with the album’s rolodex of witch-y imagery to fuel an awe-striking ‘rise from the ashes’ moment in the chorus. “Am I a woman, now?,” she asks with a wink after the song’s final transformative climax.

Welch’s exploration of gender and the body is another way that she advances upon prior themes in her discography. Much of Everybody Scream is a way for Welch to reframe the trauma around her pregnancy, miscarriage, and recovery from surgery. The idea of ritual and ceremony has been important to Welch on prior albums (she literally put out a record called Ceremonials), and this time, Welch uses performance (i.e. seances, spells, commands) as a way to explore an outsized, complex portrayal of womanhood. She employs language of body horror-esque transformation, possession, and rebirth; she rails against the trappings of being seen by the public as “too feminine to function” and contrasts meditations on womanhood with unshakeable notes of violence, decay, and destruction. On her last album, Welch sang “I am no mother, I am no bride, I am king.” Now, post-operation, body forever changed, Welch can’t quite figure out what she is, which she seems to find both horrifying and empowering.

She reaches some unsettling epiphanies on “Drink Deep,” a slow-burning folk-horror cut that appropriately brews and stews as Welch describes imbibing a potion she was given to drink. But at the song’s climax, she reveals that the drink came from her all along. After an album spent processing what her body endured (the pregnancy, the emergency surgery, the forced reckoning with physical limits), “Drink Deep” suggests that she’s always been feeding on her own destruction, that the catharsis she seeks requires her to continuously offer up pieces of herself.

She continues with this interrogation on the outstanding “Music by Men,” a companion to “One of the Greats” in its unflinching exploration of her status as a woman in music. Rarely has Welch written so overtly about her own career and doubts, referencing a lackluster experience in couples counseling, the ways in which her job makes it impossible for her to maintain a relationship, and the contempt it leads her to develop for the men in her life. There are about 14 lines you could easily classify as ‘absolutely brutal,’ but for its concluding bridge, Welch parts the storm clouds to offer an important plea: “Let me put out a record and have it not ruin my life.” That line, right there, is the thesis for Everybody Scream: How can she possibly keep making art like this if it’s destroying her?

On closing track “And Love,” Welch assures us that “peace is coming,” but Everybody Scream has spent too much time interrogating itself to let that promise land without skepticism. This is, after all, an album about someone who nearly died, recovered, and promptly made a record about wanting to return to the stage — something Welch will certainly do, with a massive 2026 tour already planned. Everybody Scream poses questions about whether being aware of self-destructive patterns is enough to break them completely, and Welch leaves them mostly unanswered. It’s also, overall, a reprisal of the same musicality that she’s employed throughout her catalog.

But Welch has always been both the hurricane and its eye, capable of summoning awe-striking force while observing it with crystalline clarity. On Everybody Scream, she’s simply turned that gaze inward with uncompromising honesty. If she can’t escape the ritual, at least now she understands what it costs. And even if she’s still paying for it, it’s clear that the closest she’s come to death has resulted in some of her most vital, illuminating work yet.

October 31, 2025 0 comments
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Single Salma Review: A Good Subject But The Story Goes Astray! | Glamsham.com
Bollywood

Single Salma Review: A Good Subject But The Story Goes Astray! | Glamsham.com

by jummy84 October 31, 2025
written by jummy84

Details
Huma Qureshi’s film “Single Salma” is a romantic comedy starring Huma Qureshi as Salma. In addition to Huma, Shreyas Talpade and Sunny Singh also appear in pivotal roles. The film is directed by Nachiket Samanta.

Story
The story of the film “Single Salma” is set in Lucknow and London. Huma Qureshi plays Salma, a modern-day girl burdened with family responsibilities.Salma works to support her family, but despite being 33, she is unable to get married. Meanwhile, there’s Sikandar (Shreyas Talpade), who, despite being 40, is also unable to marry due to responsibilities. Sikander and Salma’s marriage is finalized and about to take place, when Salman has to travel to London for work, where he meets Meet (Sunny Singh). A different track begins there, and the story continues.

Writing and Direction
The film Single Salma was co-written by Mudassar Aziz, Amina Khan, and Ravi Kumar. The subject of the film is good where a girl is passionate about fulfilling her responsibilities even when her father has given birth to many daughters to have a son. We often see in our society that many people give birth to multiple daughters in the hope of having a son. The film also portrays a girl’s desire to fulfill her desires, her freedom, and her willingness to choose happiness. In our country, the aspect of parents wanting their children to get married at the right age is good but the script is weak.

Sometimes a film’s theme sounds appealing, but when it’s translated to screen, it falls flat. The film Single Salma seems to have met a similar fate. The film begins in Lucknow and offers the feel of a good story, but once it reaches London, it begins to wander. It feels like the story has stalled. The drama also becomes overdone after the interval.

Some of the film’s dialogue is good and suits the characters. Shreyas Talpade’s 40-year-old look also doesn’t look good. His character’s mustache and hair were dyed brown to make him appear middle-aged, which didn’t seem right. Some of the film’s scenes are well-written, especially those featuring Salma and her friend. Some of Shreyas and Huma’s scenes also feel authentic.

Acting
There’s no fault in the acting of anyone in Single Salma. All the actors have played their roles well. The story revolves around Huma Qureshi, so she is the leading lady of the film.

He’s played the role he’s been given with a masterful performance. While Shreyas Talpade’s look as Sikandar may seem a bit odd, he’s portrayed the undereducated and burdened Sikandar with a strong sense of responsibility. His scenes with Huma are also good. Sunny Singh plays Meet, a modern boy. He fits the role perfectly.

Overall
The film Single Salma is billed as a romantic comedy, but I feel it lacks comedy. Shreyas’s dialogues are laughable at times, but not enough. Of course, the film’s subject matter is good, and at times, it feels realistic. The film’s subject and the warmth of small town love are well portrayed, hence the film gets 2 stars.

October 31, 2025 0 comments
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