no bells
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No Bells originally began in 2021 as a bit of a catch-all for niche music blogging and pieces collecting digital dust. It’s since become a hub of the wider internet underground, looking forwards and backward at the records that shape scenes and shake our bodies. Shoutout to Srikar Poruri for leading art direction and web design (if you remember when I ran this site solo you’re officially a Day 1) and shoutout to Joyce Ma for the logo. Finally, shoutout to all the blogs that paved the way–Passion of the Weiss, 2dopeboyz, Cocaine Blunts, Tone Glow, etc etc. Hopefully, we will achieve a fraction of their excellence and inspire a few folks, too. Check out our pitching guidelines if you’re interested in writing for the site. – Mano Sundaresan Source
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| Scope | Consumer, African-American/Black |
|---|---|
| Language | English |
| Country | N/A |
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Recent Articles
Search ArticlesInside the Christopher Emond factory
Christopher Emond is at the center of a budding, barely-definable New York experimental emo scene. Maya Rajan stops by HQ to find out what DIY looks like in 2026. On the last night of February's cold, Property is Theft hosted an emo show. A fundraiser for families affected by I.C.E. I knew all the names on the bill apart from Christopher Emond. An army of boys with crossbody bags blocked my view of his set, but I was drawn to the sound immediately.
Five Years of No Bells
So we're throwing a party. TL;DR NO BELLS 5 YEAR PARTY THIS WEDNESDAY IN NEW YORK. NIGHTCLUB 101. TICKETS HERE. The plan initially wasn't to do anything for the No Bells five-year anniversary, as we've been slower with the blog of late. It's hard to do something for the love when everybody involved now has a Real Job. But two years into editing Pitchfork, I still get hit with the "No Bells, right?" from strangers in the wild.
Raw thoughts (Jay-Z edition)
"So...let me explain the delay to you guys," Jay-Z mumbled after performing his opening song, The Dynasty intro. It was 12:20 am, over three hours after he was expected to go on. "It was like, 10,000 people outside, and they closed all the doors because somebody rushed the doors." I can't say I was surprised.
An interview with Milwaukee rap starlet Myaap
Myaap has been a local staple since her first song went viral at the age of 17. (Graphic by Tyler Farmer) A few months shy of her 20th birthday, Myaap showed up with a quiet, unassuming air. She had no crew by her side, just two Roc Nation label reps and her girlfriend, fellow Milwaukee native 414JungleBaby, all sitting in the far corner booth at Waverly Diner a few blocks off Washington Square Park. A few coffees were ordered, but Myaap refrained.
Clout Rock
Searching for substance within a fleeting subgenre. Last July, the crypto-powered music marketplace nina protocol unveiled a new playlist called “cloudrock,” and, much like Spotify’s infamous “hyperpop” one, with it seemed to coin a new genre. The inaugural edition featured Danish alt-pop songstresses ML Buch and Fine, Dimes Square adjacent rock outfits Chanel Beads and patch +, LA slowcore group untitled (halo) and Swedish Alex G impersonators Horse Vision.
Dealers of God are rebuilding the ultimate Australian saga
It’s difficult to tell fact from fiction when talking to Dealers of God, but one thing’s clear: there are four core members right now.
Searching for autonomy in the Hungarian underground
Graphic by Rozi Vincze and Gergely Csontos. “Shall we have an event tomorrow?” asked Gergő, in between sips of a crisp Kőbányai and puffs of a well-rolled cigarette. I thought he was joking. I had landed in Budapest less than 12 hours earlier, and I’d only known Gergő for maybe five minutes. Before I could ask questions, he was manically pacing around the little outdoor table we were stationed at, speaking rapid Hungarian into his phone and gesturing wildly with his cigarette hand.
The rise and fall of Strappnasti
Sam always wanted to be a rapper, but life and the inexplicable sauce of destiny had another purpose for the young Canadian. (Graphic by Tyler Farmer) Scrolling through Instagram Reels one evening, a familiar face pops up in my feed. It’s Sam, the guy that works at the liquor store down the street from my apartment. “Guys, whoever sold me that fake phenibut, count your fucking days, I know that shit was fake.
MVMBO, the producer from Rome who helped shape Philly drill
In the past two years, Philadelphia drill has quickly become one of rap’s most ascendant regional subscenes. Besides the indomitable and inscrutable propulsion of Gen Z shitposting (SIX SEVEN), what’s really driven its rise is its distinct, ominous production. Gothic choirs and ghostly opera samples are paired with pounding 808s and macabre lyrics of real-life violence; the results sound demonic.