• “Golf Cart Life” is your sixth album and it spans rock and roll, psychedelia, Americana, R&B, and soul — seemingly all at once. At this point in the band’s life, is the genre-hopping a deliberate creative choice, or does it just reflect the honest range of what Idiot Grins naturally are?

A lot of reviewers mention the number of genres we “explore.”  To be honest, we don’t ever set out to have a rockabilly number, a reggae number, and then a power ballad, etc.  We all have been listening to lots of music our entire lives, so the way we play any particular song is an expression of who we are – the songs themselves really dictate how they are played.  It’s hard to explain, but when John and I write a song, or if Mike or Evan come up with one, the songs seem predestined to come out the way they end up.  For example, on this record, take Evan’s song Lizzie.  I guarantee you if you heard it the first time he played it for us, you’d just know it was going to be a country/bluegrass type song.  So now it’s genre-hopping.  To be fair, Evan played it to us on a mandolin, so he might have tipped the scales.

• The album opens with “Hell No” — described as organically grown from a single member’s seed — and closes with “The End of Everything”, a campfire singalong ghost story. How intentional was that arc from defiance to something quieter and more ghostly, and how did you approach sequencing this record?

I think we approached sequencing by moods, trying to come up with a natural sounding flow.  But it’s so entirely subjective that eventually you just have to make a decision and go with it.  End of Everything was last primarily because it was written and recorded after the album was basically finished and the sequence pretty much decided.  In fact, John had to be pretty much begged to come back to the studio to sing it.  The rest of us recorded it without him and I sang a scratch track – in effect daring him to let an Idiot Grins song come out with my awful singing.  It worked – he wasn’t about to let that happen!   And, of course, it is last because it’s the End of Everything.

• “Riff 24” is described as simple rock and roll that’s just more enjoyable to play and listen to than complicated rock — and it’s also apparently a song about RFK, his mom, and his son. That’s a fascinating combination. How did those two things — the simplicity of the riff and the weight of the subject — end up in the same song?

That description came from Evan, the bass player.  I guess he’s right.  That riff was the first thing I played when I was trying out a new Telecaster a couple of years ago.  Forgot about it until we started writing this album, and then remembered it might make a good song.  There were completely different lyrics right up until the night we recorded the vocals.  I’m pretty sure that was the day RFK, Jr. was announced as the new HHS Secretary.  I started thinking about what an iconic hero his father was, how devasted his mom must have been with all the tragedy in her family, and how disgusting it would be to deny basic health care to children.  That’s what that song is about.  And there’s a line about Kristi Noem’s cosplay outfits.

• Your 2020 album “Thoughts & Prayers” was a full reinterpretation of the Louvin Brothers’ 1959 country-gospel record “Satan is Real” — one of the more unexpected creative swings in recent indie rock history. What possessed you to take that on, and what did that project teach you about your own range as a band?

The truth is that we had just released State of Health, which had a nice run and what we consider to be a hit song for a nowhere indie band (Get Busy Dying).  We were pretty worn out by that and not ready to face writing an entirely new album.  I thought it would be fun to try a cover album, thinking it would occupy us for a short period while we wrote some new songs.  For some reason, I became fixated on Satan is Real.  The other guys thought I was out of my mind.  I’m grateful they went along with it, but I suspect they wouldn’t have if they knew how hard it was going to be.  I think it was worth it, both because of the material and because of the growth.  I may be the only one.

• “State of Health” remains arguably your most critically acclaimed record, with “Get Busy Dying” hitting the Top 10 on digital radio and praise from HuffPost, Blogcritics, and Seattle PI. Looking back at that album now — does its reception still surprise you, and how much did that moment shape where the band went next?

First and foremost, the Byrd Sisters are amazing people and performers, and their contribution was a revelation that took our songs places we could never go without them.  This was also our second album with horns, which was a continuing delight and inspiration.  We also brought in an incredible pedal steel player for a couple of songs.  We’re quite proud of that record.  I think at the end of that album, though, we felt like we had gone as far as we could go with outside musicians.  Anyway, it was fun to experience that world where session players are routine, but it was time to dial it back.  Hounds of Mess Around still had horns, and our friend Patty Spiglanin threw in some oohs and aahs with Evan, but not on every song.  The current album, Golf Card Life, is just us and Johnny Bamont (sax) on a few songs.  That’s our frame of mind right now.

• “Hounds of Mess Around” saw “Not Reggae” reach #3 on the Digital Radio Tracker Independent chart — and now “Golf Cart Life” arrives hot on its heels. Does commercial momentum change the way you approach making a record, or does Idiot Grins simply make whatever feels right regardless of outside expectations?

Digital Radio hits are good for the ego, but they are definitely not commercial successes.  I guarantee you outside expectations never enter into anything we write or play.  We are five guys who have been friends for decades who live to play music and hope to keep doing it as long as we can

• Six albums, fourteen years, and a catalogue that refuses to repeat itself. What does the road ahead look like for Idiot Grins — and is there a sound, a theme, or a creative territory you haven’t explored yet that’s quietly calling to you?

There’s that genre hopping question again!   We’ve already started recording the next album – 5 songs pretty close to done.  They sound like us.

From the outset, the sonic world feels intentional. Warm, rhythmic undercurrents meet sharp, modern production, creating a space where retro soul textures and contemporary pop sensibilities coexist seamlessly. It’s danceable, yes, but more importantly, it means something.

At the heart of it all is a voice that doesn’t hesitate. The vocal delivery is bold yet nuanced, shifting between playful phrasing and assertive clarity. There’s charisma here, but also control; a sense that every note and inflection is placed with purpose.

The track shines in its refusal to dilute its message. It opens with a grounding sense of inherited strength, “Mama said, believe in yourself, don’t let anybody stop you,” before quickly stepping into self-definition. What follows is not a narrative of becoming, but of claiming.

The recurring line, “I’m a self-made woman”, acts as both anchor and anthem. It’s reinforced with one of the track’s most resonant images: “Nobody made my throne, I built my own queendom.” There’s power in that phrasing, not just in its message, but in its imagery. It reframes success not as something granted, but something constructed, deliberately and independently.

The song’s tonal balance is, also, worth noting. The song doesn’t remain in intensity alone, it allows room for wit and lightness. Lines like “I’m that sweet, sugar, honey wrapped around the groove” add a playful self-awareness, while still maintaining the overarching sense of confidence. Even humor becomes part of the assertion, not a detour from it.

The chorus expands with layered vocals that feel almost communal, as if the statement being made is larger than a single voice. “I don’t have to choose, I play by my own rules” captures one of the track’s central tensions: the pressure to define oneself within narrow expectations, and the quiet rebellion of refusing to do so.

There’s a richness in the arrangement that supports this message. Hints of funk, touches of rock energy, and the warmth of soul all come together without overwhelming the vocal presence. Instead, they elevate it, giving the song both movement and grounding.

By the time it reaches its final moments, the track feels less like a performance and more like a declaration that has fully settled into itself. “You better get used to what women can do” lands not as a warning, but as a calm, assured truth.

What lingers is not just the melody, but the clarity of identity it carries. This is a song that doesn’t ask permission, doesn’t negotiate its space, and doesn’t fragment itself to be more palatable. It simply stands: bold, playful, and entirely self-defined!

‘Terry’ is the title of INDOLORE’s latest single. The singer and songwriter with Irish roots and a base of operations in the French capital, presents his listeners with ‘Terry’, a song written for his friend, English music icon Terry Reid. Written shortly before Terry’s sudden health deterioration and his passing away in the summer of 2025, INDOLORE managed to run the song by him and get his heartfelt approval right away, and listening to the song, it’s honestly not difficult to understand why.

‘Terry’ is a soft and warm ballad that sounds exquisite. With its roomy and restrained bass and drum section and the fragile swoons from INDOLORE, ‘Terry’ establishes an outstanding groove and an extremely warm vibe. The electric keyboard is masterfully struck. There is honestly a general sense of tasteful restraint that runs throughout this professional and focused mix, all in all making ‘Terry’ a truly gorgeous piece of music to listen to.

INDOLORE is a great figure in French underground pop and soul landscapes. A singer/songwriter with an astounding heart, voice, and impact. We have lost an endearing figure from the infamous generation that initiated the British Invasion when we lost Terry Reid, and it is comforting that artists as tasteful as INDOLORE are treating this tragedy with enough grace and inspiration as to birth something as heartfelt as ‘Terry’

Long considered one of the city’s most electric piano forces, Van Eyes has spent decades deep in the roots of rock ‘n’ roll and R&B, building a legacy through his work with Vancouver institutions The Epics and The Trespassers, as well as touring with the Herald Nix Band, where he even shared stages with The Clash and sat in with Howlin’ Wolf’s band. Along the way, he’s lent his talents to artists like Colin James, The Yodells, GI Blues, Copyright, The Undertakin’ Daddies and Peewee Clayton, a résumé that reads like a history book of West Coast roots music.

“Ain’t That Loving You, Baby” was recorded at the legendary Mushroom Studios (now Afterlife) with Juno Award-winning producer and engineer Erik P.H. Neilsen, capturing that unmistakable vintage warmth with a sharp, modern mix. The result is a track that swings effortlessly, anchored by Van Eyes’ expressive piano work while letting the rhythm section breathe and stretch naturally around it.

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The title track, “Ain’t That Loving You, Baby,” is the album’s pulse, brass-forward, room-aware and paced by Van Eyes’ instinctive piano swing. “We cut it fast, no overthinking,” he says. “I wanted the take where the band looked at each other and went ‘yeah, that’s the one’.” The song lands with an easy authority, powered by live chemistry and an unforced, timeless R&B stride. Van Eyes and his band continue to bridge generations pulling in everyone from young retro-loving crowds to lifelong roots fans.

With “Ain’t That Loving You, Baby,” Mike Van Eyes leans into the soulful, romantic side of his sound without losing an ounce of edge or authenticity. The single drops January 14, 2026 on all streaming platforms, and further cements his place as one of Canada’s most enduring and unmistakable voices in traditional rock ‘n’ roll and R&B.

The song opens on a simple but evocative image: “Two men by the harbor.” From there, Jannert lets the scene widen slowly. One voice speaks of safety, “A home that shelters me / Warm lights, steady living,” while the other listens to a different pull, drawn by “the wild wind / Calling beyond the shore.” These lines are delivered without drama, allowing the contrast to emerge naturally rather than through confrontation.

The arrangement mirrors this balance. Soft soul-rock textures anchor the track, while Americana and indie folk influences drift in gently around the edges. The instrumentation remains warm and grounded, never crowding the lyrics. There’s a sense of patience in how the song moves, as if it knows the weight of its question and refuses to rush it.

The chorus distills the song’s emotional center into a few stark lines: “Two roads calling / Safe or free / Choose your story / Who will you be?” It’s a refrain that doesn’t seek to persuade, only to reflect. Jannert avoids signaling which path holds greater meaning, allowing both longing for security and hunger for freedom to remain equally valid.

As the song progresses, time quietly enters the frame: “Time rolls like the ocean / Old eyes still shining bright.” The two men build “a final vessel / To sail into the night,” suggesting not resolution, but movement, perhaps acceptance. The closing line, “Two men at the harbor / Never seen again,” leaves the story deliberately open, fading rather than concluding.

Two Men by the Harbor feels like an invitation to linger within uncertainty. Through its gentle storytelling and restrained sound, Ulrich Jannert creates space for reflection; reminding listeners that sometimes meaning isn’t found in choosing a direction, but in acknowledging the moment before the choice is eventually made..

Based in Hagen, Germany, The Cumberland River Project is a musical outfit spearheaded by Frank Renfordt, a virtuoso songwriter who began writing songs at the age of ten. After a prolonged hiatus in which Renfordt focused on career and family, he is now back with more songs that sound truly mesmerizing. ‘Looking For Romance’ is a wonderfully produced piece of sophisticated pop with elements of jazz, funk, and big band music. With the song’s rich horns, immediate melodies, and gripping hooks, ‘Looking For Romance’ is a song that can be replayed exhaustively.

Featuring the serene but powerful voice of singer Liliia Kysil whose soft delivery is dynamic, shapeshifting to settle neatly within the groove, or soar above the majestic horns whenever needed. The final piece of the puzzle is the fantastic production which is balanced, warm, and punchy. A truly professional piece of work that is vividly layered, rewarding repeated listens with more and more layers getting exposed with each new listen.

The gorgeous saxophone solo is simple and endlessly enjoyable, the distorted lead guitar solo as well is balanced and cool, sensual additions to an otherwise borderline perfect song, ‘Looking For Romance’ is a fantastic introduction for The Cumberland River Project into a brand new year.

In Camera Obscura, this unity is palpable. The trempette strides into the mix with a crisp brilliance that effortlessly slices through the heavy, almost metallic guitar riffs, as if declaring itself the compass of the entire record. Glittering chimes fracture around the edges, giving the music a cinematic depth, and the electric guitar solo arrives not as a contrast but as an extension of the same emotional space. When the trempette returns with a virtuosic solo, it feels like a statement of intent: technical command, yes, but also a sharp sense of narrative direction. The band sets the tone here, proving that even in dense textures, clarity can reign.

That clarity continues in BVFP, though the mood shifts entirely. A drum-forward opening tumbles unexpectedly into a breezy, beach-tinged groove, effortlessly light yet rhythmically grounded. The trempette floats through the melody with ease, reshaping it through different scale degrees as if turning a familiar phrase inside out. What’s striking is how the groove relaxes without losing precision; the band plays with freedom, but the identity remains intact, cohesive, unshaken.

Their re-imagining of Coltrane’s Naima reveals their emotional intelligence. The track widens the atmosphere, taking the original’s suspended hush and blending it with the album’s textures: chimes, understated drums, guitar bends that ripple like softened glass. It shifts the piece from solitary contemplation to a shared, collective breath. The trempette solo is tender but confident, elevating the emotional warmth of the composition and giving the ending a luminous glow that dissolves into fading chimes. It is homage and reinvention at once: respectful, yet unmistakably theirs.

Then comes Man in the Box, where the album bares its teeth. Here the trempette becomes something entirely different: edgy, defiant, almost insurgent, pushing back against the heavy rock instrumentation that surrounds it. The reinterpretation holds onto the tension of the original, not through mimicry but through psychological fidelity. The rhythmic tightness gives the track a coiled power, and the trempette’s refusal to “stay in the box” becomes the narrative conflict. It’s a musical struggle rendered with such focus that even the intensity feels controlled rather than chaotic.

Cactus offers a complete shift in scenery while maintaining the band’s unmistakable cohesion. The opening snare flicks like the sting of cactus thorns, mirrored by the trempette’s staccato – tenuto phrasing. There is Americana warmth here, a dusty glow under the subtle textures, yet the track never dulls its edges. The trempette plays with mischievous sharpness, emerging like a playful antagonist before the ending slips away unexpectedly, as though the cactus simply pulled back into itself.

In Lullaby for Zoey, the band leans into spaciousness: soft, dreamlike expanses where wide rhythms drift like slow-moving clouds. The trempette shapes emotion through delicate dynamics rather than virtuosic leaps, giving the piece an intimate glow. It rises toward the end, figuratively and literally, as if offering a final, gentle ascent before letting the dream settle.

Kasbah Knights jolts the album awake again: fiery, overdriven, charged with hints of Middle Eastern color. The trempette and guitar converse like two seasoned warriors sparring with mutual respect. Their interplay builds momentum and tension until a sudden moment of quiet enters: light percussion, a subdued breath before the final burst. The track feels like a cinematic chase, an adventure rendered with precision and narrative flair.

Their take on Riders on the Storm keeps the mysteries of the original but strips away excess. Clean, simple guitar lines drift under a quiet rhythmic pulse, allowing the trempette to glide through the melody with gentle restraint. Nothing is overworked; the band trusts the atmosphere enough to leave space, letting the calm breathe.

When In a Silent Way begins, a serene wave of sound unfurls: vast, sustained, meditative. The shift into the more upbeat passage feels like motion after stillness, brightening the sonic horizon before returning once more to introspective calm. The piece honors Miles Davis while interpreting the concept through the band’s own language: wide, luminous, and grounded in their distinct palette.

Finally, Tall Shoes Mary closes the album with its only lyrical moment. Americana warmth blends with rock guitar textures and jazz-tinged trempette lines, while the vocals, supported by soft, beautifully layered backing paint scenes of wandering cities, near-misses, fog, infidelity, unburned bridges, countless lifetimes, want, timing, and longing without collapse. The lyrics drift between clarity and fragmentation, like memories revisited in flashes, and the song wraps the album in storytelling that feels lived-in, tender, and real.

Across these ten tracks, the through-line is unmistakable: a sonic identity crafted with confidence, depth, and unmistakable mastery. No matter how far the album travels: across genres, reinterpretations, moods, or emotional terrains, it always returns to itself. And that is the brilliance of Baron von FrankenPaul: a sound so coherent, so intentional, that transformation becomes a form of continuity. This is not just fusion. It is authorship. It is a musical voice speaking ten different dialects with the same unmistakable tongue..

What’s immediately striking is the song’s sense of lived experience. The production glows with 80s warmth, yet nothing about it feels nostalgic for nostalgia’s sake. Oledude and Lindsey Wilson move through the melody with a kind of shared urgency, their voices carrying the weight of stories shaped by real workers, real exhaustion, and real demands. Their harmonies don’t soften the message; if anything, they deepen its resonance.

“TURNING TABLES” speaks with a clarity that cuts straight to the heart of economic struggle. It sketches families stretched beyond their limits, paychecks that dissolve before the week is done, and a system that treats labor as disposable. But the track never collapses into despair; it rises. Each line feels like it’s meant to be shouted in rhythm, held up collectively, sung back with conviction.

The groove itself becomes its own form of protest. A tight rhythm section anchors the track while guitar lines flicker around the edges, giving the arrangement a sense of steady, purposeful motion. It’s music with a stride: confident, unhurried, but undeniably pressing forward. Oledude channels decades of musical lineage and political memory, yet spins it into something distinctly his own.

“TURNING TABLES” doesn’t simply ask for justice; it insists on momentum. It frames resistance not as an abstraction but as a dance of determination, a chorus built to be echoed in rooms far bigger than the studio that birthed it; and as a doorway into PREACHER MAN – VOL. 1, this track feels like the ignition spark: fiery, grooving, and anchored in purpose. Oledude isn’t just telling a story; he’s summoning a collective stance.

The message is unmistakable: tables must, indeed, be turned!

Lazywall, a Moroccan alternative rock band known for blending rock with traditional North African influences, released an Arabic cover of Metallica’s “Nothing Else Matters” just two days ago (September 27, 2025). This version incorporates Arabic lyrics and instrumentation like the guembri (a traditional bass lute) alongside bass and vocals by band member Nao. It’s available on their official YouTube channel, with around 620 views and growing interest, including a reaction video from fans.

Apocalyptica (1998) An iconic cello-metal instrumental from Inquisition Symphony. As one of the earliest major covers, it’s a staple in classical-metal crossovers, with tens of millions of YouTube views.

Post Malone (2018) A stripped-down acoustic live cover performed on tour. Known for its heartfelt delivery, it bridges hip-hop and rock, amassing significant online buzz and views.

Gregorian (1999) A Gregorian chant-style version from Masters of Chant. This ethereal tribute transforms the ballad into a meditative piece, popular in ambient and crossover playlists.

Staind (2003) A heavy acoustic-rock cover performed for MTV Icon: Metallica. Aaron Lewis’s gritty vocals make it a staple in nu-metal tributes, with enduring popularity.

Bif Naked (2002) A punk-rock cover with raw energy, from her album Purge. It’s a high-energy tribute popular in alternative rock circles.

Die Krupps (1997) An industrial-metal version from The Final Remixes. One of the oldest covers, it adds electronic aggression, appealing to industrial fans.

First to Eleven (2020) A full-band rock cover with female vocals, gaining traction on YouTube for its faithful yet fresh energy. It’s frequently cited in fan lists of best modern takes.

My Morning Jacket (2021) A psychedelic-rock reworking from The Metallica Blacklist, with dreamy guitars and vocals. It’s highlighted for its creative deviation from the original.

Lucie Silvas (2005) A pop-acoustic single from Breathe In, which charted in Europe (e.g., top 40 in the Netherlands). It’s a softer, radio-friendly homage that emphasizes the song’s romantic lyrics.

Chris Stapleton (2021) A soulful country-acoustic take from The Metallica Blacklist, praised for its raw vocals and emotional depth. Fans often call it superior to the original in discussions, with strong streaming numbers.

Phoebe Bridgers (2021) An indie-folk reinterpretation from The Metallica Blacklist, featuring haunting vocals and minimal production. It’s celebrated for its introspective vibe and appeals to alternative audiences.

Steve’n’Seagulls (2015) A bluegrass-folk live cover with banjos and quirky instrumentation. Known for its humorous yet skillful viral appeal, it has millions of YouTube views.

Darius Rucker (2021) A country-rock version from The Metallica Blacklist, blending Rucker’s soulful voice with twangy guitars. It’s a fan favorite in country-metal crossovers.

Dave Gahan (2021) An electronic-tinged take from The Metallica Blacklist by the Depeche Mode frontman. It’s a dark, synth-driven homage that stands out for its new wave influence.

Macy Gray (2001) A soulful, jazzy rendition emphasizing emotional delivery. Featured in various compilations, it’s noted for its unique vocal stylings and R&B twist.

Mon Laferte (2021) A Latin-infused ballad from The Metallica Blacklist, sung in Spanish with passionate vocals. It brings cultural diversity to the tributes.

Dermot Kennedy (2021) An acoustic-folk cover from The Metallica Blacklist, focusing on intimate storytelling. Popular for its modern singer-songwriter approach.

Mickey Guyton (2021) A country-soul version from The Metallica Blacklist, with powerful vocals and emotional resonance. It’s a standout for its genre-blending tribute.

Shakira (2011) A live medley blending “Nothing Else Matters” with her song “Despedida” from The Sun Comes Out World Tour. The emotional, bilingual performance highlights her vocal range and has garnered millions of views.

Miley Cyrus feat. WATT, Elton John, Yo-Yo Ma, Robert Trujillo, Chad Smith (2021) From The Metallica Blacklist, this star-studded rock-pop rendition blends piano, cello, and orchestral elements for a dramatic reimagining. It’s one of the most high-profile tributes, with millions of streams and views.

Anchored by a bassline that bounces with swagger and drums that snap like a livewire, “Jumping Around” rides on a rhythm section that refuses to sit still. The groove is irresistible, tight but unforced, slick without losing its raw, live edge. There’s a natural chemistry between the musicians that makes the track feel alive, like it’s unfolding in real time.

On top of this rhythmic bedrock, Gianfranco’s guitar glides and stings in equal measure. He doesn’t just play, he converses with the music. His tone is clean yet bursting with personality, offering playful licks one moment and soulful phrasing the next. It’s a masterclass in control and flair, where melody doesn’t just accompany the groove, it dances with it.

The electric organ and keys layer in a dreamy shimmer, bringing warmth and spaciousness to the sound. One moment you’re vibing to earthy funk, the next you’re floating through jazz-tinged stardust. Subtle touches of percussion color the background, while a bold trumpet line slices through with bursts of brass brilliance, never overdone, just enough to make the track sparkle.

What’s striking is how fun this all feels. There’s nothing calculated or over-produced here. Instead, Gianfranco offers a snapshot of joy in motion. No lyrics, no gimmicks; just finely tuned musicianship that lets the instruments do all the talking. And the story they tell? It’s one of freedom, movement, and groove-soaked happiness.

“Jumping Around” is a promise of what’s to come in Gianfranco’s upcoming Giomané album, due this June. Thirteen tracks, all grounded in live instrumentation, all radiating this same DIY charm. For those who crave music that feels human, textured, and joyful: this is it! 

“Jumping Around” is mood-shifting, soul-lifting, body-moving Giazz. If this track is the preview, the album is bound to be a full-on celebration of rhythm and liberation.

Stream it. Dance to it. Let it soundtrack your commute, your kitchen dancing, or your spontaneous groove breaks. And if it moves you? Head to 96gfn.ch, support the artist, and keep this independent musical force thriving!