New Music From New Orleans: August 2025
New Music From New Orleans: August 2025
A beautiful mix of new music rings out from the city this month. Let's get into it - find our links to listen as you read to accompany each review. (Do you create music in New Orleans? Send us links to your new releases - outalldaynola [at] gmail [dot] com)
Reviews by Paul Oswell
Reviews by Paul Oswell
Live at the 2025 New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival
Mia Borders
“My name is Mia Borders, born and raised uptown New Orleans Louisiana who dat?” is the clarion calling card, voiced over a simple electric guitar chord before That Voice is launched high into the festival stratosphere, falling onto mesmerized ears. The opening lines to ‘These Roads’ announce that Mia Borders Has Pipes and she’s not afraid to celebrate them. I’ve used the word ‘imperial’ before when reviewing her music, and it’s hard not to come back to it. This is a magically assured, home turf set, mixing infectious rock, RnB, alt-country and soulful hooks with consummate ease. To enchant a barroom (which she does multiple times a week with her shockingly admirable work ethic) is one thing, to hold a festival crowd like this - even a hometown one - well, it’s just a joy to listen to.
Mia Borders
“My name is Mia Borders, born and raised uptown New Orleans Louisiana who dat?” is the clarion calling card, voiced over a simple electric guitar chord before That Voice is launched high into the festival stratosphere, falling onto mesmerized ears. The opening lines to ‘These Roads’ announce that Mia Borders Has Pipes and she’s not afraid to celebrate them. I’ve used the word ‘imperial’ before when reviewing her music, and it’s hard not to come back to it. This is a magically assured, home turf set, mixing infectious rock, RnB, alt-country and soulful hooks with consummate ease. To enchant a barroom (which she does multiple times a week with her shockingly admirable work ethic) is one thing, to hold a festival crowd like this - even a hometown one - well, it’s just a joy to listen to.
St. Claude Bridge
Tommy Cheek
If you can listen to the opening track (or any of these songs, to be honest), JB Blues, and not shimmy around with a smile on your face in whatever space you happen to be occupying, then truly, you’re made of stone. Tommy Cheek is a funky woodwind specialist, and he deploys his entire arsenal here, unleashing irresistible tenor and soprano saxophones, an alto flute and a bass clarinet with extreme groove-lead prejudice. Ghanaian percussionist Israel Annoh brings the beats, embellished by congas and bongos, with Ramsey Embick on keyboards and Sam Arnold on guitars and trombone. Infectiously catchy, and an all-round, tied-on good time.
Tommy Cheek
If you can listen to the opening track (or any of these songs, to be honest), JB Blues, and not shimmy around with a smile on your face in whatever space you happen to be occupying, then truly, you’re made of stone. Tommy Cheek is a funky woodwind specialist, and he deploys his entire arsenal here, unleashing irresistible tenor and soprano saxophones, an alto flute and a bass clarinet with extreme groove-lead prejudice. Ghanaian percussionist Israel Annoh brings the beats, embellished by congas and bongos, with Ramsey Embick on keyboards and Sam Arnold on guitars and trombone. Infectiously catchy, and an all-round, tied-on good time.
On My Knees
Deep Sleep Atlantic
On first listen, the broodingly stabby guitar intro has you suspecting that the vocal could go any one of a few ways. I was bracing for some primally screamed noisecore, but we step back from that brink and singer/songwriter Travis Marc leads us in an altogether more sophisticated direction. Seductively opulent instrumentation takes over as Marc slips into some timeless alt-rock, melodic and theatrical (but way short of camp) in a way that Muse or Queens of the Stone Age might be. Remember when guitar music had some edge, creativity and belief in its own power? This will jog your memory.
Deep Sleep Atlantic
On first listen, the broodingly stabby guitar intro has you suspecting that the vocal could go any one of a few ways. I was bracing for some primally screamed noisecore, but we step back from that brink and singer/songwriter Travis Marc leads us in an altogether more sophisticated direction. Seductively opulent instrumentation takes over as Marc slips into some timeless alt-rock, melodic and theatrical (but way short of camp) in a way that Muse or Queens of the Stone Age might be. Remember when guitar music had some edge, creativity and belief in its own power? This will jog your memory.
A Sip
Moon Soda
I popped open this can of fizzy, uncynical indie pop pretty randomly, and gosh am I ever glad I did. Singer Ben Adams has such a charismatic, euphoric baritone that you’re pulled in immediately by opening salvo Joyride, Celina Brown providing honey-sweet backing vocals. The band seem like they’re having the time of their life on Motown-tinged Bourbon Baby before we slow down (but only a touch) to the Belle & Sebastian-esque keys of New York. King and Turnstile round out the ep, showing off the flair and enthused lovability of the entire band. Refreshingly effervescent.
Moon Soda
I popped open this can of fizzy, uncynical indie pop pretty randomly, and gosh am I ever glad I did. Singer Ben Adams has such a charismatic, euphoric baritone that you’re pulled in immediately by opening salvo Joyride, Celina Brown providing honey-sweet backing vocals. The band seem like they’re having the time of their life on Motown-tinged Bourbon Baby before we slow down (but only a touch) to the Belle & Sebastian-esque keys of New York. King and Turnstile round out the ep, showing off the flair and enthused lovability of the entire band. Refreshingly effervescent.
Demos and Dirt
Quarter Rats
A punk band plays in a Decatur Street dive bar. It could be 2025 or 2007 or 1993. They sound like a stripped-down version of Sonic Youth - not the unlistenably esoteric noise fumblings, but not the slicker, MTV-friendly singles, either. Somewhere in the muddy middle, but with a New Orleans swagger that’s been marinated in a thousand Miller High Life ponies and unfiltered cigarettes and the sweat of multiple summers in a beat-up practice room. Don’t try to look for them, they’re not there any more. Pretty, filthy [complimentary].
Quarter Rats
A punk band plays in a Decatur Street dive bar. It could be 2025 or 2007 or 1993. They sound like a stripped-down version of Sonic Youth - not the unlistenably esoteric noise fumblings, but not the slicker, MTV-friendly singles, either. Somewhere in the muddy middle, but with a New Orleans swagger that’s been marinated in a thousand Miller High Life ponies and unfiltered cigarettes and the sweat of multiple summers in a beat-up practice room. Don’t try to look for them, they’re not there any more. Pretty, filthy [complimentary].
Sassersize
Valerie Sassyfras
Honestly, a bubble-gum, synth-happy cover of Olivia Newton-John’s steamy 1981 hit is the summer banger I didn’t know I needed. This euphoric, lo-fi tribute is just part of a cardio-forward concept album by everyone’s favorite hometown musical pixie, Valerie Sassyfras. Val beams out from the record cover, bedecked in day-glo pink leotard, surrounded by retro clip art. It’s amazing. She thrusts her melodic keyboard and accordion skills into the gym, and boy do you get a fist-pumping workout. There’s even a saucy wind down (the surprisingly carnal last track, Let’s Get Stoned and Screw). Limber up and work up a sassy sweat.
Valerie Sassyfras
Honestly, a bubble-gum, synth-happy cover of Olivia Newton-John’s steamy 1981 hit is the summer banger I didn’t know I needed. This euphoric, lo-fi tribute is just part of a cardio-forward concept album by everyone’s favorite hometown musical pixie, Valerie Sassyfras. Val beams out from the record cover, bedecked in day-glo pink leotard, surrounded by retro clip art. It’s amazing. She thrusts her melodic keyboard and accordion skills into the gym, and boy do you get a fist-pumping workout. There’s even a saucy wind down (the surprisingly carnal last track, Let’s Get Stoned and Screw). Limber up and work up a sassy sweat.
The New Beginning
Trumpet Black
There can’t be a better posthumous album title. Travis ‘Trumpet Black’ Hill passed suddenly and far too soon on tour in Japan, just when his life was on an irresistible upward swing. After incarceration in his youth, TB had dedicated his life to youth mentoring and the redemptive power of music, as well as anti-violence activism (see the track, Trumpets Not Guns). He is missed, but this legacy release displays the talent and positive energy that was lost. A poignant cover of St James Infirmary anchors the album, but there’s lots to lose yourself in here, and the new beginning can be one that you choose. RIP.
Trumpet Black
There can’t be a better posthumous album title. Travis ‘Trumpet Black’ Hill passed suddenly and far too soon on tour in Japan, just when his life was on an irresistible upward swing. After incarceration in his youth, TB had dedicated his life to youth mentoring and the redemptive power of music, as well as anti-violence activism (see the track, Trumpets Not Guns). He is missed, but this legacy release displays the talent and positive energy that was lost. A poignant cover of St James Infirmary anchors the album, but there’s lots to lose yourself in here, and the new beginning can be one that you choose. RIP.
Three Birthdays One Funeral
Vinsantos
Far from being a tribute to the saccharin 90s romcom, this ep is a heartfelt hymn to the piercing, dreadful and all-encompassing passing of time. In Vinsantos’ own words, “I was born goth damaged and have had a nihilist attitude…what could be more macabre than the cruel and beautiful fate that defines our lives and ultimately our death?” 30 Years is an ode to the artist’s own 30th, and Daddy’s Turning Forty is a haunting riff on W. H. Auden’s poem ‘Stop All The Clocks’ (ahhh, that reference to Four Weddings and Funeral after all?). The Cure celebrates the 50th birthday of a dear friend, and then we don our sparkliest black formal wear and slip into funeral mode for The End Not The End. The songs are like an archfully mournful, knowingly (but lovingly) cynical set by The Magnetic Fields, performed in a lacey Victorian mourning dress. The Dragnetic Fields? If this is your vibe, Vinsantos will have you crying at your birthday party while you smile at your loved ones as fat, wet tears douse your candles.
Vinsantos
Far from being a tribute to the saccharin 90s romcom, this ep is a heartfelt hymn to the piercing, dreadful and all-encompassing passing of time. In Vinsantos’ own words, “I was born goth damaged and have had a nihilist attitude…what could be more macabre than the cruel and beautiful fate that defines our lives and ultimately our death?” 30 Years is an ode to the artist’s own 30th, and Daddy’s Turning Forty is a haunting riff on W. H. Auden’s poem ‘Stop All The Clocks’ (ahhh, that reference to Four Weddings and Funeral after all?). The Cure celebrates the 50th birthday of a dear friend, and then we don our sparkliest black formal wear and slip into funeral mode for The End Not The End. The songs are like an archfully mournful, knowingly (but lovingly) cynical set by The Magnetic Fields, performed in a lacey Victorian mourning dress. The Dragnetic Fields? If this is your vibe, Vinsantos will have you crying at your birthday party while you smile at your loved ones as fat, wet tears douse your candles.
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