Slipped Discs

She-Devils - She-Devils

Chiffon bombs ticking in double-edged pleasures offer scintillating lust-encrusted invitations from vixen-commissioned dream-pop laced in swirling subversions; She-Devils’ groovy girl-group subterfuge hides contagious stalker-rock dangers inside bewitching pinafore choruses. Weaving steamy seductions in waltzing subterranean sock-hops and purring black-widow pillow-talk, the duo’s self-titled debut’s brooding duels wrestle suppressed affections threatened by schizophrenic tensions into irresistible temptations deploying coy post-modern decoys.

Juana Molina - Halo

A primordial courtship between sultry synthesized slithering and limber South American rhythms, “Halo,” percolates in balmy cyber-samba calm, looping smoky jungle fugues around languid sleepwalker tangos to color galactic tapestries with eerie delirium. Soothing computer voodoo spawned from quirky circuitry, Molina’s sleek creatures oscillate between aqueous gymnastics painted in exotic polish and savvy electro-folk magic rooted in woozy spooky sensuality.

Hollow Everdaze - Cartoons

Rockin’ cosmopolitans, over-the-moon psyche-pop crooners and fab gentlemen tripsters, Australia’s Hollow Everdaze indulges in nostalgic pageants soaked in Sixties mystery, injecting hallucinogenic benders sprinkled in continental splendor and cat-burglar nerve. Touched in lush xylophone and champagne strings, “Cartoons,” draws curious augmented chords while artful guitars melt melancholy melodies into fuzz-pedal buzz and furious indie-rock exhaustion plunges into chronic symphonic sonnets. 

The Mountain Goats - Goths

Opening momentary microcosms littered in descriptive images, semi-fictitious reminisces and surprising rhymes, “Goths,” criss-cross dreamy sax, casual lounge-jazz accents and earthly pearls plucked from teeming streams of a novelist’s consciousness. Rich, suggestive hearsay plants information-packed narratives inside episodic tunes to sow knowing poetry; The Mountain Goats coast over draughtsman characterizations in ruby-slippered elocution, undressing life’s undercover essence with semi-urgent mercy.

Deb Talan - Lucky Girl

Gentle ballads dabbling in sad absences alongside boppy folk-pop cocktails anchored in hidden wisdom; Talan’s talent for enriching simple instances and reaping deep emotions makes her songs stellar testaments to perceptive, independent spirits. Very much a solo endeavor, “Lucky,” assigns lyrical reminders inside restless blessings, lighting life’s common longings and unmanageable challenges with glowing social revolt and warm, cozy counsel.

Fake Shark - Faux Real

Non-stop power-pop frolics in hyperbolic gimmick-rich shtick, uncorking Fake Shark’s ultra-catchy packages of spring-loaded ear-worms and hook-riddled rock-outs. From crunchy funk shot out of a cannon to auto-tuned struts flushed with cheeky pleads keen on creamy harmonies and glitch-inflicted party-rock, “Real,” squeals in wicked wit, indulging endless remedies for an audacious mental vacation booked with smarmy charm and kinetic cool.

Noga Erez - Off The Radar

Succulent grime plops dollops of basement sound-polyps atop, “Off,” to skitter in coin-roll rhythms, punching grungy gunshot-drums under flinty zip-line synths while slinky banshee samples unfold around probing split-screen vocals. From needy mediator to temptress messenger, Erez prowls through clairvoyant clamor; sending sassy trap-beat panache and solemn art-pop calm through broken post-millennial prisms focused on escape-plan precision and street-wise conviction.

Dougmore - Outerboros

Tasty woodland fables laid out like chamber-Celtic banquets, Dougmore’s florid feast serves hopeful banjo opuses where cantering chanteys skip in delicious mythical chivalry sweetened by lush chorales and song-bird sonnets sprinkled with baroque notions tell spry, pastoral stories dipped in wishful minstrel kismet. Cinematic maps cataloging the home-sick and lovelorn, “Outerboros,” prances with intoxicating revelry, foolhardy artistry and whimsical innocence.

Marika Hackman - I’m Not Your Man

Wary, unsparing post-modern fairy-tales gilded in silky will and sugar-coated thrills, “Man,” fans cozy smoldering love-potions into rampant vampire fires; sensuous gender-politics slipped into breezy indie-pop hospitality explores coy detours enticing ulterior queries from brazen phrases. A fertile mind bursting with intrepid methods, Hackman tactfully reels from servant to serpent, engaging both sides to pit and outwit her divided desires.

Two Inch Astronaut - Can You Please Not Help

Stretching reckless leads around bounce-house percussion, steeple-chasing bass and baited statements, Two Inch Astronaut’s cobra-brokered roller-coasters design sole-survivor idylls from mosh-pit pillage riding quick-draw pile-drivers into falling-down-the-staircase riffs. Capsized catapults swing cathartic slingshot catechisms to conquer doubts, expose fear and avenge offenses, helping, “Help,” delve deep to reap woeful social stingers, wringing impending send-offs with ecstatic bashes and infectious kvetching.

Kacey Johansing - The Hiding

Bright, feathery jazz pirouettes spun in curious flurries from gossamer longing and carefree teases, Johansing’s creamy coos and rippling guitar bask in masterful afternoon-cafe dream-pop as airy arrangements sweep caressing suggestions into thoughtful possibilities. Immersed in warm massaged chords , “Hiding,”  guides and confides; ethereal sun-bleached weariness gliding and aligning gentle sentimental melodies, transparent romantic semantics and blushing, air-brushed pageantry.

Alison Moyet - Other

Heart-felt swells among spectacular swoons, “Other,” discovers heaven-sent eloquence inside synthesized magic-carpet rides. Swinging from stern urban grit to selective introspective affection, Moyet’s regal details, smoldering diction and choir-quiet interludes offer fearless, clear-eyed soul inside morning-after ballads and midnight minimalist’s techno-symphonies; adventurous experiments in story-telling soundscapes where funky skulking runs among poised rejoicing and ominous taunts tangle with sinful intimacy.

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