It’s been eight years since we last had a full-length dispatch from New Orleans’ indie-rock trio Pope, and frankly, their timing couldn’t be better. Their new record, BFM (Big F*cking Music), lands in the sweet spot of the ’90s rock revival currently being spearheaded by Gen Z. We’re seeing this DNA everywhere—from the chart-topping pop-rock of Olivia Rodrigo and Beabadoobee to the “grungegaze” boom of Wisp—while legacy giants like Deftones and The Smashing Pumpkins ride a wild surge in popularity.
There is a delicious irony at play here. Pope have always been unashamed nostalgists, appearing on the scene over a decade before the guitar resurgence was even a glint in the TikTok algorithm’s eye. Their survival and sudden “relevance” comes from a generation raised on streaming, listeners who sidestep the old-school tribal BS that once defined (and eventually destroyed) music scenes. To this crowd, fuzzy guitars are just good fun, and that instinct leads us directly to the doorstep of BFM.
BFM delivers 13 tracks of high-order melodic tuneage, propelled by booming, reverb-drenched drums and an unapologetically in-your-face bass presence. Lead single “Newboi” has been a CONE favorite for months, delivering a healthy kick in the ass with its effortless Teenage Fanclub-esque vibes.
The trio shows off their range elsewhere, too. “Point of View” finds the band locked into a laid-back groove practically built for a humid summer eve. Meanwhile, “Make You Feel” builds a smoky atmosphere on a pillar—nay, a wall—of crunchy guitars.
The album takes a welcome tonal shift with “Nothing For Nothing,” featuring guest vocals from Julia Steiner of Chicago’s Ratboys. With splashes of mellotron, stripped-back acoustics, and raw room recordings, it serves as a lovely, intimate intermission at the record’s halfway mark.
If there’s a critique to be made, it’s that the record loses a bit of steam on the back end. “Town” and “Good Enough” feel somewhat lost in the sequencing. Buried somewhere in here, there’s a leaner, punchier 10-track album trying to break through.
The band’s intricate guitar work shines when they put their foot on the gas. But they’re less convincing when they lean into the plodding “slacker jam” mode of Pavement. As pretty as those moments may sound, they tend to drain momentum.
Ultimately, BFM isn’t trying to be the most groundbreaking release of 2026, but it is a damn fun one, though. It’s the kind of record that makes you want to get in a garage and make a racket with your friends. And there ain’t nothing wrong with that. These songs are built on a foundation of Houston-born friendship and New Orleans grit, and they make the kind of tunes that you know will kill live. It’s the sort of high-energy noise that makes you want to catch them in the flesh immediately.
It’s good to have them back. Now, where did I put my Big Muff pedal?