Grayson Haver Currin
- Indexed articles, last 90 days
- 8
- Latest publication
- Sep 29, 2026
- Outlet visibility, for Pitchfork
- Top 50K sites
- Earliest in this view
- Jul 4, 2026
Latest articles
How Dinosaur Jr. Learned to Tolerate One Another, Kind Of (opens the original)
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Every summer for the last 18 years, J Mascis’ family of three has made a pilgrimage four hours east across Massachusetts, from their home in Amherst to Provincetown, a fabulous vacation spot on the Cape’s northern tip. For three weeks, they ride bikes, swim, and share suppers with a procession of friends and family. If someone asks, Mascis may occasionally play a poolside party for Bear Week, strumming acoustic guitar for the world’s largest gathering of gay bearded men. When I stopped by in mid
Billy Strings: So Much for Goodbyes (opens the original)
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Friends don’t tell friends about Billy Strings, the songwriter. They rave, instead, about the guitarist who routes his acoustic through pedals that make him sound like Jimi or Iommi or Hammett or Hanneman, how it’s helped turn him into bluegrass’s first crossover star in decades. Depending on the particular breed of head they are, these zealots may also mention Doc Watson or Tony Rice or Tommy Emmanuel as evidence that it’s not all show, that the kid born William Apostol deserves the nickname an
The Afghan Whigs: Soft Control (opens the original)
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Sometime during the last dozen years, or after the Afghan Whigs consecrated their second iteration with 2014’s Do to the Beast, Greg Dulli seems to have realized his band’s sound was no longer shocking. A quarter-century earlier, the Cincinnatians were one of the first non-Seattle bands signed to Sub Pop, catalyzing waves of next-Nirvana hubbub. But they were always the American cousins of the Bad Seeds, pulling, to paraphrase Dulli from a 1993 interview, the guts out of soul to make bludgeoning
The Eagles: Their Greatest Hits (1971-1975) (opens the original)
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First but not necessarily foremost, fuck the Eagles. No other American act has been so responsible for the corrosive idea of rock bands as permanent brands, or as outlets for making so much money from selling so much stuff that they are simply too big to stop, no matter what senescence or death itself has to say about the subject. Summaries of their sins and absurdities have now filled several books, but a sampler is instructive. First up, in 1971, Don Henley and Glenn Frey—brothers-in-opportuni
Weezer: Weezer (Gold Album) (opens the original)
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After 30 years as a band, Weezer finally took the terrible but inevitable trip to a place called “Cuomoville”—that is, a song from the band’s four-part SZNZ slog where Rivers Cuomo sang of his homestead like the fabled setting of some Shakespearean saga. Despite the thrash-metal bridge, the band sounded utterly exhausted, their what-are-we-doing-here sigh audible amid the plod. Weezer soon decided the time had come for drastic change. For the last decade, the quartet has struggled through concep
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Top 50K sites
For Pitchfork, the outlet · Measured Aug 1, 2026
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