Andrew Earles

Record Store Day is a time every third Saturday in April when vinyl nerds worldwide spend hours in line outside music shops and drop hundreds of dollars on waxy black discs. Some of it's good, and some of it should be avoided like botulism.

It's common knowledge that several forms of metal weathered a serious beating at the hands of 90s alt-rock, with hair-metal forced into a well-deserved dirt-nap. The adaptive gestures executed by many of these bands constitutes a collective phenomenon...

At some point last year, an acquaintance made me aware of RecordFlipper, a blog that aims to serve as an investment tip sheet for the release and future release of hyperlimited vinyl titles. I decided to interview one of the main flippers about it.

Ok, so why did you open and handle the record with your big, fluid-gorged sausage fingers? Why can I see the record in your picture? Because you needed to check the color? Check this color, hoss (helps to visualize an extended middle digit right now).

Fan Fiction based on inner dialogues of hilarious generational dissonance: legendary classic rock guitarist Steve Miller’s first-person account.

Some writing on the bad writing it inspired.

I’m going to wager that a widely understood chronological line of demarcation is drawn in the Matador Records catalog, denoting an “After” good-times vibe and a “Before Slanted and Enchanted” soul-sucking vortex of...

We threw the best prank caller in the world on this fucking American Idol call. He only got one question in among the robots and shit stains, but it’s a funny one.

TWENTY-ONE INTERVIEWS IN TWO DAYS WHILE RECUPERATING FROM A BURST APPENDIX.

When Vice approached me about writing a guide to music (and arts!) festivals, the rollicking extravaganzas were the last thing on my mind as I mulled over the ugly prospect of pitching reviews of shatterproof phone receivers to American Jail ...