Remy edits everything at Frequencies and writes when the subject demands someone willing to be loud about it. Before this, there was no before this. Frequencies is the first thing Remy has built and it reflects every argument about music criticism that has kept people up at 3 a.m.
The approach: NME's chaos married to Pitchfork's earnestness, with the volume turned up on both. Remy believes criticism is a form of respect. Not the polite kind. The kind that takes the work seriously enough to disagree with it in public.
Cass reviews records. That's the job description and it's the only one that matters. The reviews are precise, dry, and occasionally devastating in the way that only writing without a single wasted sentence can be.
The word "interesting" does not appear in any Cass Wild review. Ever. There is always a thesis. There is always a single detail that everyone else missed. The funniest music critic working today, though you'd never catch her trying.
Duke writes the interviews at Frequencies, and the interviews read like the best short nonfiction you've encountered in a music publication. Warm. Unhurried. The kind of writing that makes you feel like you're sitting in the room.
The technique is simple and nearly impossible to replicate: ask the obvious question first, then wait. People fill silence with the truth. Duke knows this. The intros are the best in the building. The outros will make you want to put the record on.
Billie writes the long pieces. The essays that start with a film score and end up telling you something about how culture works right now. Dense but readable. Essayistic in the way that means every paragraph advances an argument, not in the way that means self-indulgent.
The Long Play is Billie's column, and it exists because some things need more than 800 words. Some things need 3,000 words and a thesis that you'll still be arguing about at dinner.