Recent Articles

Recent Articles By Shae Moseley

National Features

  • Phoenix New Times
    Canine Crusaders

    That drug-sniffing dog up ahead? He may not be your best friend.

    By Ray Stern
  • Broward-Palm Beach New Times
    The Muscle Men

    Thanks to a string of Florida "anti-aging clinics," baseball's steroid scandal isn't limited to superstars.

    By Michael J. Mooney
  • Miami New Times
    Picked On

    Farm workers earn nada in America's green-bean capital.

    By Janine Zeitlin
  • Village Voice
    "Why I'm No Longer a Brain-Dead Liberal"

    An election-season essay from one of America's greatest playwrights.

    By David Mamet

The Forms spent 50 consecutive days in Chicago recording its new self-titled album with Steve Albini, a feat which tested the wills, sanity and pocketbooks of the Brooklyn band. But the result is a record that expands on the melodic post-rock experimentations of the band's daring 2003 debut, Icarus. While still a challenging listen — much of Icarus' odd time-signature looping remains — The Forms showcases the more accessible facets of the band's music, such as tuneful vocal passages, tasteful piano and hypnotic vintage-synth patches. The Forms convincingly channel the early post-hardcore stylings of underground acts from Washington, D.C., and the Midwest (think Jawbox, Shiner and Hum) – but still make a refreshing and relevant musical statement all its own.

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