I got my Tascam 388 fixed, the same tape machine I had used to record my first album, King Tuff Was Dead. It had been sitting in my parent’s house in Vermont for the past 14 years, but I had finally dragged it out to LA. The first song I recorded on it was “Twisted On A Train”, and I was shocked by how instantly I sounded, and felt, like myself again. In fact, I wrote and recorded the whole dang song in the span of a few hours, which was basically the opposite of how I had been working in the computer. Spending hours moving waveforms around like a zombie, comping vocals, second guessing, trying to make things sound not lifeless, trying to make anything sound good at all, took months. But here on the tape it was so much more alive. More like painting or collaging. More like making actual music. Every move I made stuck like super glue. It was effortless. It was pure joy. I stopped caring if there were mistakes. There’s not enough mistakes. I played my old, blue, Gibson SG, Jazijoo, and she spewed mangled electrified gold. For once, I sang and I didn’t hate my voice. I played the drums badly and bounced them in mono to one track and it sounded like glorious shit. I wish it sounded even worse. Rock & Roll is the music of rodents and bugs. It should sound like it crept from a decrepit trashcan or a crypt or a toilet. It is not chill or vibey, autotuned or on the grid. It is not perfect, which is why it’s perfect. And I don’t care if it’s dead or alive, cool or uncool: when I hear it, and when I play it, as a chubby and balding 43 year old punk weirdo, I FEEL ENERGIZED. *** Sometimes it takes a side quest to reach the place you were always meant to go. A songwriter for more than half her life, Morgan Nagler has contributed her poetic approach to melody and wordcraft to hundreds of sessions during the past few years, stretching across genre lines to help other artists get to the core of a feeling. Previously at the helm of bands such as Los Angeles stalwarts Whispertown and Supermoon, Nagler had decided to put her own projects on the back burner while building new muscles as a collaborator. She was already highly regarded among her creative community, and had struck musical gold on early co-writes with HAIM and Phoebe Bridgers, earning a Grammy nomination with the latter for her contribution to the song “Kyoto.” Nagler has since become a hugely in-demand presence in writing rooms, frequently sought to help her collaborators tell their stories with depth, humor and authenticity. Her recent work includes songs with Margo Price, Kim Deal, Madi Diaz, Claud and Tyler Ballgame. In the midst of that all, Nagler realized that she still had her own stories aching to get out. In early 2024, on the precipice of the devastating break-up of her engagement, she turned to her guitar to sing her grief, and once she’d opened that channel, the ideas came rushing through like an emotional tsunami. She soon amassed dozens of songs that she knew were the start of something important. As raw and vulnerable as the process was, Nagler says she felt more like herself than ever. All the skills she’d honed in countless hours of collaboration were being distilled into her truest musical statement yet. I’ve Got Nothing to Lose, and I’m Losing It, Nagler’s debut solo album, is a stunning testament to her skills as a songwriter, as well as to the unique beauty and tenderness of her approach as a singer. From the anthemic, fuzzed-out album opener, “Cradle The Pain” to the joyful country stomp of “Grassoline” to the stunningly spare closing track, “Heartbreak City,” Nagler combines her gift for musical earworms with candid, evocatively detailed lyrics. And then there is her sweet, plaintive voice, which feels like a friend singing directly to you, letting you know you’re not alone.