All Ages -- Lincoln Drive is a four-mile stretch of highway in Philadelphia that seems to exist out of time, its winding turns taking you by cinematic river bends, dense woods, and inns and roadhouses that date back to the 1800s. Once used as a pleasure roadway for early motorists, it’s now the route Kurt Vile takes from his home in the city’s leafy Mt. Airy neighborhood to cruise into Philly proper. “Jump in my whip / My engine whines / Zigzag my way / Down Lincoln Drive / Puck on my lip, feel I can fly / For a while,” he sings on “Zoom 97,” the opening track on his tenth full-length record, Philadelphia’s been good to me (Verve Records). As Gold Tone mandolins swirl and dubby effects bubble around his vocals, an image of Vile driving with the window down, his signature shaggy mane rippling in the wind, begins to cohere. “My Philly is deceptively simple in a lot of ways,” says Vile, ever a zenned-out philosopher of the quotidian. “It's about driving back and forth from Mt. Airy to North Liberties, where my career started. There’s so many ghosts I can visit there—all friendly ghosts, really.” Released in God’s year of 2026, the 250th anniversary of the founding of America in Kurt Vile’s fine city, Philadelphia’s been good to me enjoys a similar time-collapsing quality, merging meandering balladry and horizon-chasing road songs with lines about “too many screens” and how “it was 2012 but it felt like 2014.” Philadelphia isn’t exactly Neil Young’s Malibu, California or Terry Allen’s Lubbock, Texas. But every great American songwriter needs to stake a claim for the town that feels most like home, and with this album, the man who came out of the gate calling himself “Philly’s constant hitmaker” has crafted a love letter to the city he never left, even as his career took him around the world. “This is my ‘bringing it all back home to Philly’ album,” Vile says. “I’m treating it like my last. I put everything into it. It’s my best vocal record. It’s my best electric guitar record. It’s my most organic record, made in the comfort of my own zone.” He created the album from late 2023 to early 2026, in what he describes as “an inspired state of flux,” capturing the odd melody on a Zoom recorder or loop machine between stints on the road. Though Vile’s travels led him to sessions in Memphis, Los Angeles, and Athens (Georgia, that is), he laid down the majority of the album in a basement studio in his Mt. Airy home, surrounded by humming analog organs, old tape consoles, records, and books about heroes like Young, Allen, John Prine, and Sun Ra—some of whom he now counts as collaborators. Built out with Violators bassist Adam Langellotti at the start of the pandemic, the space, dubbed “OKV Central” (for “Overnite KV”), has become Vile’s sanctuary, a place he can retreat to after a show in the city and receive a visit from the late-night muse.
“I’ll come back, high on music and life, inspired by friendships and all the laughter and jokes I had that night,” he says. “And I look around and see my studio in a new light. I just turn on a synth and a looper, strap on a guitar, and I put that beautiful night into some kind of song. This album captures all that, ya know?”
Largely self-produced, with assists from Langellotti, keys wiz Matthew Jugenheimer, drummer Kyle Spence, guitarist Jesse Trbovrich, and longtime Violators boardsman Rob Schnapf, the record sees Vile returning to his home-recording roots while also coming into his own as a producer, using time-tested and world-worn tools to fill the album with more warmth and bonhomie than you can fit into the back of a touring band’s van. “I’ve been waiting for that kinda natural element to show up again in my recordings, like the old home recording days,” he says. “I think I finally caught that again, but in a higher fidelity; it’s never overly polished, but it’s still pretty damn shimmery.” He’s especially proud of the sparkly lead guitar melodies he pulls from an old, hollow-body Gretsch Tennessean once owned by longtime friend and “one of my true heroes,” Travis Good of the Sadies. “It was shredded on for so long by one of the greatest guitar players in the world,” Vile says. “That guitar pretty much plays itself every time I pick it up because of where it came from.”
Though it’s a snapshot of his life at a particular moment in time, Philadelphia’s been good to me embodies Vile’s understanding of music as a conversation between people across time. Hometown ode that it might be, the title track—featuring a tribute to his city’s notoriously hard to spell (for outsiders, at least) Schuylkill River—is a riff on Tom Petty’s “California.” It might be “polluted as hell,” Vile sings. “But it runs through my town and I ain’t puttin’ it down.” Similarly, the photo on the album’s cover, an image of a ramshackle bar sign taken by the legendary photographer William Eggleston, actually depicts a scene in Memphis. Yet the never-before-seen original photo, which Eggleston’s son Winston sent to Kurt a few years ago, is as much a part of his history in the city as his old gig driving a forklift at the Philadelphia Brewing Company or his old haunts in Northern Liberties. Its origin is both immaterial and the key that unlocks its meaning.
Elsewhere, on “Chance to Bleed,” Vile looks back on his early days in the underground music scene. Featuring guest vocals from two OG Memphis scene greats—Natalie Hoffman of NOTS and Optic Sink and Greg Cartwright of Reining Sound and the Oblivians, who also contributes co-lead guitar (Kurt’s guitar is panned to the left, Greg’s to the right) —it’s an ode to “old-time, lo-fi, DIY rock ‘n’ roll nights.” It’s a catchy-as-hell barnburner he calls “hillbilly techno,” and appropriately, its music video was filmed at Fishtown institution Kung Fu Necktie, packed out with friends and collaborators. It even boasts a cameo from a fellow hometown hero: the one and only Schoolly D, popping up in his signature fur coat.
“Rock O’ Stone” lyrically references the music of legendary Texas hip-hop producer DJ Screw, and there’s a distinct country influence on “Every Time I Look at You,” which features sly spoken-word verses reminiscent of Allen and fingerpicking in the vein of the dearly departed John Prine. “It’s got the ’isms of the country greats,” Vile says. Meanwhile, “You Don’t Know Cuz It’s My Life” is his take on a stadium anthem. It builds up to a laid-back yet triumphant chant of “I’m from Phil-a-del-phiaaaaaah!” that you could imagine a crowd of Eagles fans singing at halftime, with the occasional affectionate kiss-off to the transplants who’ve left the city behind.
Finally, “Avalanches of Snow”—featuring Vile on a trumpet he’s had since middle school and a particular guitar outro moment from Trbovrich that Vile calls “his most beauteous contribution as a Violator”—transforms a mundane experience of shoveling snow on Christmas eve into a deep, mysterious journey to the end of the night.
Make no mistake: Philadelphia’s been good to me is the sound of Philly’s constant hitmaker coming back to kick ass, son the haters, and put on for the City of Brotherly Love. In true Kurt Vile fashion, he does so while sounding more relaxed than ever. Between the 250th anniversary of America and its hosting of select World Cup games, 2026 is shaping up to be a big deal for Philadelphia. “And then there’s one other thing,” Vile says. “I gotta be that third thing. Because I am Philadelphia. I gotta own it. I gotta rise to the occasion.”
