June, in review.

The Bear (Hulu, 2025). Somehow, new seasons of The Bear pop up at times in my life that are more stressful than others—June 2025 was a particularly wretched month that included one vet trip, one animal hospital trip, and two biopsies among its roster of indignities. The fourth season of Hulu/FX’s extremely Chicago restaurant drama felt a bit lighter in spirit than its predecessors, even with the dramatic event of a middling review in the Chicago Tribune kicking things off, clocks and other timekeeping devices everywhere, and a gut-punch of a musical cue to close out the fifth episode. Perhaps it was the presence of Sugar’s baby, or the lovely way that this season's bottle episode turned out, or the stern yet serene presence of [CHARACTERS FROM PREVIOUS SEASONS REDACTED FOR THE SPOILER AVERSE], or the way the ever-determined pastry genius Marcus worked through his own dark moments. (Also, does anyone else eat really crap food while they’re watching TV about lovingly prepared meals?) If it ended here, I wouldn’t be too sad. Three and a half out of five “yes, chef”s.

Pulp, More (Rough Trade, 2025). Reviewed this for Rolling Stone, haven’t stopped listening to it since (a rarity these days, even for records I like). I love picking out similarities between songs in my celestial jukebox, and it always tickles me how “Grown Ups”—the lament of a shark swimming around the calmer, more practical waters of middle age—has an opening guitar sound that takes me back to “Foxes,” a track by the experi-goth Baltimore band Celebration that came out in the era when I was first becoming “part of the pub conversation.” Five out of five Jarvis sighs.

Veterinarians and their support staff. Lovely people who are compassionate and kind, especially when you’re sobbing over your poor cat’s ongoing maladies. I hope to see them as infrequently as possible in the coming years. No rating. Just send some good thoughts Nuno's way.

The Mets. I don’t even know, man. Negative five out of way too many botched scoring opportunities.

Hangman Adam Page’s opening promo at AEW Grand Slam Mexico (Max/TBS, June 18, 2025). He may not have been carrying the belt—yet—but he’s my champion, as this short speech combining grace and vengefulness more than proved. (And oh my Lord, he’d better win in Dallas in two weeks.) Five out of five buckshot lariats.

Call Her Alex (dir. Ry Russo-Young, 2025). I went into this Hulu-distributed documentary about Alex Cooper, host of the popular podcast Call Her Daddy, with some trepidation—the Barstool link raises a red flag for me. But I was struck by how deeply her bawdy enthusiasm registered with young women (even as the reports of Gen Z being sex-negative continued to pile up) in such a male-dominated field (“what do you call a group of men? a podcast,” etc.), and it made me wonder if there was a figure similar to her during my college years. We had Susie Bright, and Ask Isadora, and Liz Phair, and all the alt-weekly sex columnists, sure, but there’s something about the way she captivates these huge numbers of people while being so unapologetically—and, for the most part, proudly!—lusty that we didn’t have back then. I’m probably not going to become a regular listener, but I came away from this with a newfound respect for what she’s built. Three out of five podcast bros.

Hamilton Beach Electric Vegetable Chopper & Mini Food Processor. Nuno’s recent ear afflictions have affected his ability to eat—nerve paralysis, Dr. Gallant at Angell told me on Saturday—and he can only really consume purées at the moment. He was already on a pretty limited diet because of his missing teeth and overall pickiness, and the one purée he was enjoying, Weruva’s Name 'Dat Tuna, has been in short supply at local pet stores. Last night I had the desperation-fueled inspiration to mash up a food that I knew he did like with my potato masher and a little water, and it worked to a point, so I decided to acquire a low-end food processor just to handle his nutrition and medications. I took one of the foods he hasn’t been eating lately and made him some duck soup—it kind of looked like a Frosty—and while watching him eat I thought, “Now this is what it means to scarf something.” Eight out of five Frostys.

Talon, “Bracelets” (Cheese City Records, 2025). Cute, gooey girl-crush alt-pop from Brooklyn that would have definitely been on a Kill Rock Stars comp 30 years ago. Five out of five charms.

@weddingprocass (TikTok). I am not getting married anytime soon, but I am always absolutely compelled by the mini-dramas put forth by this Western Pennsylvania-based wedding planner who wants to teach couples how to say “No, we won’t be doing that.” Using wild hats and wigs, household-object props, and scenarios that go far behind even those depicted on Very Special Episodes of Bridezillas (a recent line of dialogue: “Yeah, you don’t accidentally steal $15,000”), she’s amassed enough material for a one-person show at, I don’t know, a wedding themed after a Fringe Festival? There has to be one of those out there, right? Five out of five stolen invitations.

This has been the first installment of my monthly reviews, which will appear on the last day of whatever month they’re covering. Other regular features will be rolled out in the coming weeks. If you have a suggestion for something you’d like me to cover or a regular bit, I’m all ears.

Recent radio show playlists are archived at maura dot com. Recent Rolling Stone reviews, which include writeups of Lizzo and Yungblud, are archived at Rolling Stone, which is where I published a list of the 2000s’ best one-hit wonders last month. I talked about that list with NPR’s Asma Khalid on Here and Now earlier this month; a week or so later, I appeared on CBC’s The Commotion to talk about Addison Rae, Lorde, and Turnstile. Would you like me to write for you or appear on your radio show or podcast? Drop a line.

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