Advertise with The Big Takeover

SUBSCRIBE NOW

Shop our Big Takeover store for back issues, t-shirts & CDs


Recordings
MORE Recordings >>
Subscribe to The Big Takeover

SUBSCRIBE NOW

Shop our Big Takeover store for back issues, t-shirts & CDs


Follow Big Takeover on Facebook Follow Big Takeover on Bluesky Follow Big Takeover on Instagram

Follow The Big Takeover

THAO - Show Me (Kill Rock Stars)

20 October 2026

Six years is a long stretch of silence, even if Thao Nguyen was never idle. Between ‘Temple’ (Ribbon Music / Domino Record Co., 2020), with Thao & The Get Down Stay Down and now, THAO guest-hosted a podcast, fronted a public television series, developed a musical, scored films, started a book, and watched a marriage and a house come apart. The old band name went too. What she walked out with is ‘Show Me’, and it sounds like a person who spent years answering feeling with a shrug and finally got tired of the routine.

It opens with “Fossils,” and the title says plenty. Old habits, old loyalties, old versions of a self, all dug up and turned over in the light. Some get kept. Some get left in the dirt. The mood is sifting rather than wallowing, which turns out to be the right posture for everything that follows. Then “Sick of the Times” kicks the door open. Built as a rally song, it brings in Merrill Garbus and Nate Brenner of Tune-Yards, who also share production duties with Nguyen, plus The Linda Lindas. The casting is smart. A band that learned urgency young, lending it to a songwriter who has had plenty of years to earn her own. Nobody on that track seems interested in being polite about the state of things, and the song is better for it.

After that, the record goes inside. “Nguyen Nguyen Lose Lose” turns her own surname into a game, almost as if testing how it sounds with the armor off, and Adrian Quesada of Black Pumas adds guitar. It’s quick and a little sly, though the self-examination underneath isn’t joking. “Take It Easy” and “Give & Want” read like two halves of the same argument: one is advice nobody in the song can follow, the other is an honest accounting of appetite versus generosity, two things that almost never balance. “Enemy” sounds like the fight that keeps going after the other person has left the room.

There’s humor here, and it matters. “Jeans/Genes” is a pun with some reach, one syllable between what a person wears and what a person inherits, and it opens a door onto family, lineage, and who gets to decide what gets passed down. Nguyen has said this is the first time she has written directly about sex and queer identity, and that frankness gives the album a loose, unguarded warmth. It’s physical without being coy. It’s also funny the way real intimacy is funny: nervously, then all at once.

“How I Needed You” could only be sung in the past tense. The title alone carries the particular ache of saying something true to someone after the need has already changed shape. “Catch As Catch Can” brings in Neko Case, a voice with weather built into it, and the pairing makes sense on paper and in spirit. Two big, unhurried singers meeting inside a song about taking love as it comes, improvised and a bit reckless, the way life tends to insist on. Nguyen has said hearing Case on it brought her to tears. Easy to believe.

“Close Up” tightens the frame to skin-level, the sort of nearness that’s thrilling and frightening in equal measure, and it sets up the closing title track. “Show Me” is a dare. It’s also an invitation and a plea, all in two words. Nobody is being asked to prove anything. Nguyen wants a love that doesn’t require her to perform ease, and she’s offering the same back.

Nothing gets wrapped up neatly on this record, and that’s its saving grace. Forgiveness shares a room with unrequited longing. Resolve keeps bumping into doubt. Anyone hoping for a straight road from heartbreak to healing won’t find one, and a record this honest couldn’t have drawn it anyway. The songs were written while the dust was still in the air, and none of them pretends to know more than it did on the day it was made.

Brenner, Garbus, and Eli Crews give the production a lived-in generosity, roomy enough for guests to drop by without crowding the host. Through all of it, Nguyen’s voice stays the center of gravity, dry, tender, quick to swerve. ‘Show Me’ belongs to a writer who has quit managing her own vulnerability and started spending it, a risky trade she makes with her eyes open.

Releases October 30, 2026

For more information or to pre-order, please visit Kill Rock Stars and Bandcamp