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Electrical impulses zap through your brain like meteors across a galaxy; synapses of light flash like distant quasars, baking every planet, living being and robot in its star system. In universal terms, does it make a sound? If a tree falls off a planet made of maggots of the mind of the universe, and no one is there to see it... does it have a taste? These questions were explored on records past, but for decades remained unanswered. Now, in the two thousand-twelfth year A.D.,... (read more)

Ack! Ick! What happened over the weekend, some homeless folk come in and use our warehouse as a shit station? It's so fucking filthy in h... oh wait, that makes sense - Toward the Low Sun, the new batch of jams from Dirty Three, is shipping out to mom and poop shops all 'cross the USA this week, duh!!! Maybe you heard about these guys from down under (definitely come from under sumpin...), Dirty Three? It's been seven years since they made... (read more)

Arting is such sweet sorrow - but someone has to do it, and that someone around these parts is The Red Krayola. In December, their name stood out among the few leaked from the loose lips of publicists whose job it was to set off the news of the forthcoming Whitney Biennial. From their salad days of putting the 'art' into 'upstart' on the mid-60s Houston garage scene to their legendary psychedelic and post-psychedelic albums on International Artists to Mayo Thompson's fabled... (read more)

Ever wonder what it's like being in Black Bananas? Hitting the road with rockin' icon Jennifer Herrema, getting stoned, getting ripped off, changing lives (and clothes) at the shows, swimming in the hotels, and sleeping by the pools? It's a wild ride, but it's supposed to be... or is it? You be the judge, as Black Bananas say it is, then say it isn't. But that's the life of a lifer, ok? Shit's real when you're on the peel, just like Black Bananas... (read more)

JACK ON!

Boy, what you doing standing there with your hands not in your pockets? Ain’t you glad to see us? Well stand at attention, then! Your friendly neighborhood Drag City Drone is floating way over your head, ready to blow you away at the first sign of life down there. So shake us a tailfeather please.

And – phoo – excuse the rain of crypt-rust – our outer layer’s a little dusty. But as you’ll soon see, we’ve got an insectoid world of wonder... (read more)

The month of February often conjures thoughts of hibernation, grayness and icky greeting card "holidays." Thankfully, this year we've got Sophia Knapp to help us think a little differently; Into The Waves brings aqua sea-foam auras and vintage, oceanic sunsets to the forefront of our frontal lobes, and it'll do the same for you on February 28th, when it funnels into your local record shop.

To get you in a beach ball-state of mind, chill(wave)y zoned as February may be, we've got a limited supply... (read more)

There's an 855 foot ship docked in Miami, like right now, just waiting to load up with rock kids of all kinds, boys and girls alike, for a three day exercise in avoiding mono while sleeping near a glory portal (I think we just got mono envisioning that! Or at least HIV). They call this high seas adventure The Bruise Cruise. Poor kids from glamorous locales all across the country like Chino, Lincoln, Denton, and Park Slope will board the floating phallus of phun... (read more)

Drag City types love all the fan mail you folks send in on a daily basis; it's our mission to ignore more pressing matters and respond to each and every letter received in timely fashion, gold pens in hand. Sure, we're used to the blood-scrawl of many an inmate, and always pass each of those tear-jerkers on to the artist to which they're directed. Most exciting are the letters full of mystery and intrigue to which we're obligated to investigate. Below is an excerpt from... (read more)

Tomorrow evening Bill Callahan will make his Lincoln Center debut as a part of the Center’s American Songbook series. It’s pretty pretentious - I'm sure you've seen it on TV. Somebody performs your song while you sit up in the mezzanine with a smile plastered on your face, trying to live through the moment with a medal rainbow-strapped around your neck. It's a good moment for mom, but for the rest of us...

Oh, wait, that's the Kennedy Center Honors, right! No, no - this... (read more)

For those of you who were born yesterday, it's hard to talk about 2001 without choking a bit. You know, when Y2K killed everyone and all their stuff, things were nuts, dude. We were eating dog food, drinking science water, making up sign language to indicate how high we were, reading the words in magazines, asking strangers for the time – just nuts. Then Damon & Naomi with Ghost called (on what you call a "land line") and they were all like “we made an... (read more)