‘The Artroom Wonder.’ The great former front man of Bauhaus, Peter Murphy, returns with an operatic ode to his sixth-form art class, where he and the band’s guitarist Daniel Ash recall first encountering the power and wonder of art. A new synth-pop gem.

—Brendan Hasenstab

The Atlanta-based, four-member band Mamalarky has a new album on the way, Hex Key, which comes out in a few weeks. Their style is down-the-line indie rock, but there is technical skill and playfulness here. The late BBC DJ John Peel would have loved it. Note: Anhedonia is the inability to feel pleasure.

—Brendan Hasenstab

‘Adagio.’ The Greek singer and artist Σtella is back with a new record of bosa-nova–inflected indie. You get a warm breeze off the Mediterranean with this one—even as Σtella struggles with her intended just not getting the message.

—Brendan Hasenstab

The visitor. Politically-minded Americans might have heard of some famous U.S. Supreme Court cases: Marbury v. Madison, Dred Scott v. Sandford, Plessy v. Ferguson, Brown v. Board of Education, or recently, Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, which ruled that the U.S. Constitution confers no right to abortion.

Seen from outside the United States, this seems rather peculiar. In Sweden, for instance, even the most obsessive political obsessive would struggle to name a single consequential Supreme Court ruling, much less a Supreme Court justice. But in America, the Supreme Court is a constant political flashpoint. Why?

Among all the books you could consult on this question, it’s still, after all these years, hard to beat Democracy in America (especially Chapter VI of Part I), published in two parts in 1835 and 1840 by France’s Alexis de Tocqueville. It’s an old book, yes, but it’s also an absolute classic that’s stayed in print on account of remaining so enduringly relevant. In the latest member’s despatch, we look at just how much Tocqueville could see of an answer almost 200 years ago …

—Gustav Jönsson

‘Buschtaxi.’ DJ Koze has a new club track, bringing jazz undertones combined with his usual space-disco shuffle, along with melodic flute over the top. Jungle sounds, a house high-hat, and some skat come in as it builds.

—Brendan Hasenstab

The former president of the Philippines Rodrigo Duterte was arrested in Manila by Interpol early-morning on March 11. Later that day, he was flown to The Hague, where he’ll face charges of crimes against humanity at the International Criminal Court. Prosecutors say Duterte, during his time as head of state and mayor of Mindanao, is responsible for the killings of more than 12,000 people allegedly involved in the drug trade.

But Duterte had withdrawn the Philippines from the ICC—and yet his successor as president, Ferdinand Marcos Jr., allowed Interpol to arrest Duterte. Why? It looks like politics: Marcos had been feuding for at least a year with the Duterte family. Duterte’s daughter Sara Duterte is Marcos’s vice president, and she’s leading in polls ahead of the next presidential election, in 2027.

Limited by law to one term as president, Rodrigo Duterte remains highly popular in the Philippines, despite his apparent disregard for the law, his public calls for the deaths of drug dealers, and his years of authoritarian rule. And Sara Duterte appears to follow the same script as her father.

Why would the Duterte family still be so popular in the Philippines?

In the latest member’s despatch, we return to our conversation with Alvin Canba on the populist style in Filipino politics—and how the kinds of narrative about good citizens being victimized by corrupt elites, which have been powerful in the U.S., Europe, and around the world, have worked for Duterte …

—Michael Bluhm

‘Praise.’ Panda Bear is back with a new album of sunny melodies and a familiar twenty-first-century-Beach-Boys tone. And yes, some sounds of his main band, Animal Collective, too. On this track, we get a duet with Rivka Ravede, the lead singer of the Philadelphia band The Spirit of the Beehive—and his wife.

—Brendan Hasenstab

Introducing Altered States. Corruption is everywhere. Or so you might think—because narratives of corruption are everywhere.

In the United States, Democrats and Republicans talk chronically of their opponents as being defined by it—Democrats seeing corporate influence, dark money, and foreign interference; Republicans, deep-state conspiracies, voter fraud, and graft in federal agencies. When either looks into the possibility that one or another of these things might be happening, the other claims the investigation is politically motivated. Which is to say, corrupt.

Neither is this tendency entirely new. From colonial-era anti-monarchists to contemporary conspiracy theorists, time and again, Americans have understood corruption as an existential threat to their republic—sometimes perceiving elaborate plots in sparse arrays of evidence. The country’s founders established the checks and balances characteristic of their constitution partly to limit what they saw as the corrupting influence of concentrated power.

Nor is the tendency unique to the U.S. In the United Kingdom, it’s common for Labour supporters to see the Tories as enmeshed with wealthy donors, tax-avoidance schemes, and privileged access for corporate interests—and for Tories to see Labour as corrupting Britain through union influence, local-council mismanagement, and left-wing bias in public institutions. You can find similar themes from Canada to Australia and throughout the democratic world. You can trace them back to the republican city-states of the Italian Renaissance, or back from there to ancient Athens.

And there are at least grains of truth to a lot of them.

If anything’s fundamentally different today, it’s that media is now everywhere; its dominant business model is based on engagement—the time you give to it; nothing drives engagement like fear, anger, and hate; and nothing drives fear, anger, and hate like narratives about internal enemies corrupting your country. People are freaking out about corruption all the time. It’s a lot for a democratic society to bear.

Unfortunately, there’s another problem with narratives of corruption being everywhere—which is that it can create a kind of interpretive smog, making it harder for us to see the worst forms of corruption right in front of our noses: Around the world, literal dictators and the autocratic governments they run are appropriating their countries’ wealth and using it to buy power and influence in democratic countries.

It’s been happening for years. It’s been getting worse. And now, it’s getting worse still. As we go to press with this, The Signal’s second print extra, new leadership in the U.S. Department of Justice is significantly scaling back anti-corruption enforcement—dropping high-profile corruption cases, firing anti-corruption prosecutors, and disbanding efforts to enforce sanctions against Russian oligarchs. An executive order from the president is meanwhile formally suspending the application of the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act, the landmark 1977 law that prohibits Americans from bribing foreign officials.

Corruption may be everywhere, because human beings are everywhere. But if we want to see it in real proportions, not just as our political biases want us to see it, we have to be able to follow real clues—not least, the money. And in 2025, that’s only getting tougher and more urgent.

—John Jamesen Gould

Lukashenka strikes back. This January, the president of Belarus, Alyaksandr Lukashenka, secured his seventh term with 87 percent of the vote. A big win, if true. But even if it isn’t, something has changed since the last election in 2020, when about 300,000 people took to the streets to protest falsified election results. Back then, when Lukashenka visited the Minsk Wheels Tractor Plant, the workers heckled him, telling him to resign. The European Union and the United Kingdom refused to recognize the result and the EU imposed sanctions.

During this election campaign, he visited the Minsk Automobile Plant, where a BBC reporter said he was greeted with “rapturous applause.” That may not be representative of wider sentiment in Belarus, but still, it is telling: The opposition seems resigned, at least for the moment. Why?

In this week’s member’s despatch, we explore this question with a look at Paul Hansbury’s Belarus in Crisis: From Domestic Unrest to the Russia-Ukraine War—a primer on Belarusian history and society, as well as an in-depth analysis of Belarus’s current affairs. It’s a murky subject, shot through with official obfuscation, but Hansbury sifts through the evidence like a detective …

—Gustav Jönsson