For Finn Wolfhard, music has long existed as something instinctual. An outlet he’s returned to at every stage of his life, whether as a form of escape, expression, or something different entirely. His 2025 solo debut Happy Birthday captured that impulse in its rawest form, introducing a deeply personal songwriting voice. But with his forthcoming 2026 album, Fire From The Hip, Wolfhard shifts the lens, offering something broader in scope, yet just as personal in feeling.

“When I was on tour for my last album, I had such an amazing time playing with my friends who are also my backing band. After the last tour, I started writing new songs and knew I wanted them to capture the same energy of our live shows, the chemistry and the dynamic of our friendship, which ultimately became the inspiration behind the new album” Wolfhard says.

While the new record builds on thematic threads from Happy Birthday —nostalgia, uncertainty, the turbulence of growing up—it approaches them from different vantage points. Written during a period of transition, including a move back to Vancouver, the songs reflect an artist taking stock of where he’s been and who he’s becoming. As Wolfhard puts it, “Nostalgia is a big factor for me when writing and in my life. To me, music is something that’s universal and can be shared with each other. Everyone has a feeling of nostalgia for their past and I try to invoke  those feelings whether in the production of the record or in the contents of the song.”

Drawing inspiration from pivotal albums like Exile on Main Street and Beggars Banquet, Wolfhard leaned into a more expansive, collaborative sound—one that favors spontaneity and  atmosphere over precision.

“I’ll never forget recording this album. It was such a special experience being surrounded by some of my closest friends, whose support meant a lot to me. They brought so many incredible  ideas to the table, and their creativity helped shape the record into what it is” Wolfhard says.

The recording process centered around 24-track reel-to-reel tape, giving the album a tangible, analog warmth while still allowing for subtle modern touches. As Wolfhard puts it, “I feel like it’s just a bit bigger. If the last album was a movie it’d be shot on 16mm film and this one would be on 35mm. Just a bit more hi fi.”

That sentiment extended into the way the songs themselves were captured. Most of Fire From The Hip’s foundation was built from full-band live takes, the result is a collection of  performances that feel immediate and connected, where small imperfections became part of the record’s character.

Some songs originated during the same writing period as Happy Birthday , initially set aside but now finding their place within the new album. Alongside them are newer compositions that  reflect a shifting perspective, forming a cohesive narrative about change and self-perception. At its core is “Nice to Meet You Again,” a track that proves the album’s central idea—that identity is fluid, and each chapter introduces a different version of yourself. “I feel like I’m constantly coming of age and going through changes. Every time I make a new record, I feel like I’ve grown a little since the last one, so to me, each album feels like a kind of reintroduction” Wolfhard admits.

Returning to Vancouver played a quiet but meaningful role in shaping the record. The familiarity of home offered both comfort and contrast, grounding the album’s introspection in a physical place. That duality between past and present, runs throughout the project.

For Wolfhard, each release serves as a snapshot, capturing who he is at a specific moment in time. Fire From The Hip doesn’t just follow Happy Birthday , but instead heightens it and  presents an artist who is still evolving, questioning, and carving out his own place in the music  world.

Where his debut felt like an introduction, Fire From The Hip is the evolution.

As proven on their strange and beautiful new album Mudglimmer, the looming specter of artistic oblivion pushed The Slaps to lean into their idiosyncrasies: snaking rhythms, complicatedly interlocking guitar riffs, grubby yet alluring poetry, and homespun post-modern Americana sing-alongs all surge with a free-wheeling improvisatory verve informed by free jazz. It’s a stunning DIY comeback story, a doubling-down on avant-garde impulses that pays immediate dividends.

Spontaneous composition and earnest, threadbare folk collide on Mudglimmer. It’s a marvel of influential synthesis, evoking Slint’s comfortability with ominous tension (“Mudglimmer”), Tortoise’s slinky push-pull grooves (“Filthy Sex Manuevers”), Waxahatchee’s slice-of-life Americana gems (“Flip”), elliptical funk-punk a la The Minutemen (“Forward”), minimal grunge-pop in the vein of Sebadoh (“King”) and so much more.

Mudglimmer, in short, rips. Faced with existential threats, The Slaps reconfigured and reenergized — finding purpose, not in reaching for a brass ring, but in becoming fully, unashamedly, their own wonderfully confounding thing.