Slipped Discs

Deathlist - You Won’t Be Here For Long

Armored martyrs reincarnated, wedged between midnight insights anchored in severed memory’s embers and thick rich cyber-rock fissures, the deliciously demonic Deathlist manifest gothic operatives dredged from granite trances and refined in grinding mindfulness. Flood-gates tease check-mates with industrial maelstroms washing ”Won’t,” in rigid insistence and cataclysmic opinions, mountain-climbing caution scaling skyscraper impatience with gritty riffs, cloaked vocals and crooked hooks.

Man Man - Dream Hunting in the Valley of the In-Between

Flamboyant stories whose core reinforces simple human flaws in buoyant poignancy, zany complaints and zinger wisdom, “Hunting,” guns, puns and stuns reassembling baroque folk, circus klezmer and power-pop lounge into marimba-driven whimsy and sinister loony-bin precision. Cheeky uber-musical court-jesters, Man Man tackles cackling theatrics, creating dazzling magic stitched in acerbic wit and curried wordplay; idyllic mischief riddled with smart-ass panache.

Houses of Heaven - Silent Places

Whirlwind warlocks, fallen hobgoblins and metallic talisman circle hard-wired bonfires as Houses of Heaven’s drugged spark-plugs ride reckless techno-pagan waves sprayed in rattling factory malice and etched in rampant interplanetary anvils. Subterranean synths pinned in solemn robo-pulses dance around thunder-dome percussion piloted by glacial masons, plummeting, “Silent,” from elusive pursuits to ambient panic, half-cocked stalker-rock wrapped in urgent, nervous worry.

Chicano Batman - Invisible People

Sun-baked funk itching and flinching in lazy summer rhythms, “Invisible,” reveals ticklish metaphysical epiphanies and polyester flower-power philosophy squirming under candy-coated soul. Sweet-talkin’ sonic saunas whose pliable grooves sashay in bottom-heavy euphoria, Chicano Batman’s slow pastel jams, beach bodega boogie and glittery street carnival vibe light bright R&B breezes beneath psychedelic seaside flights; a slick, frisky discothèque dispensing sensuous transcendence.

Diet Cig - Do You Wonder About Me?

Clear-eyed slop-pop misfits balancing emotional avalanches and knotted logic, Diet Cig twist, bop and swoon bouncing from earnest word-salad ballads to headstrong bittersweet love-songs; perceptive punks crunching irrepressible face-melters among soft-spoken alt-folk heartbreakers. Rummaging among complicated feelings with percussive fuzz and relentless tenderness, ”Wonder,” plunges in tattletale details, defeated sleepers and upstaged players song-journaling from bedroom outposts and carpeted garages.

Car Seat Headrest - Making A Door Less Open

MIDI-triggered sizzle bolsters throaty indie-rock neuroses inside the bipolar, “Open;” whose plastic masks cast throbbing insomnia born from troubled struggles and societal trials. Half rash reactions to impatient paralysis and half obsessively clever kvetching, Car Seat Headrest channels manic challenges through cathartic artifice, taming stinging instincts in articulate schizophrenia, a language-filled meringue connecting tart emo-slacker jive to convulsive digital digressions.

Tengger - Nomad

Dawn wanderers fleeing sleepy beacons, Tengger blends dimpled ripples, grazing radiance and ambient organics into trippy bliss and mesmerizing effervescence; tidal fly-bys weaving wavering vapor-trails into fondled electronics from passive satellites. Secret sequences frequenting spacey places, “Nomad,” tranquilly zig-zags in astral patterns while etherized voices and delayed fades trade glazed gazes from serene submarines lighting mental trenches with psychic sunshine.

Tenci - My Heart is an Open Field

Intimate invitations addressing simple bedroom-folk apparitions, the beautifully unassuming, “Open,” offers honest confidence in wandering songs, sharing private performances coddled in sincere inquiry and hospitable synergy. Sturdy melodic purity guided by bold, intuitive curiosity, Tenci’s debut wanders into strange chamber arrangements, cozy disposable moments turned relevant and indispensable; relaxed distractions becoming catchy after-thoughts framed in anchored bass and sparkling guitar.

Ohmme - Fantasize Your Ghost

Sweetly off-beat modern-rock teased in clinical wizardry, Ohmme’s staggering imaginations push measured perfection into jagged pageantry; fussy crushes crackling with electric pleasures, seductive rebuttals and nimble collisions. Tirelessly engaging, “Ghost,” glows in gleeful gambles, leveraging dolled-up feminism inside radicalized trash-talking; coy, caffeinated laughter brewing sly, funky pedal-board orgies with chrome-plated rage and unrepentant torch-song eloquence drenched in sharp, double-parked harmonics.

BOYO - Where Have All My Friends Gone?

Glossy claustrophobia convincing drifting semi-charmed harmonies to rock out to sleep-walking prophecies, “Gone,” spawns air-tight alibis served over ice-breaking aches with cool logical grooves producing drowsy pronouncements lifted in billowing micro-riffs. Steadily ascending meditations, BOYO’s lush alt-rock textures envelope hook-filled haikus flying through scissor rhythms propped in narcoleptic affection; abbreviated verses surfing unexplored shores with lazy patience and boyish buoyancy.

Sondre Lerche - Patience

Stymied irony underlines Sondre Lerche’s foppish playboy-pop; frivolous and meticulous with gorgeous chords supporting Proustian fountains cascading inner thoughts into contemporary fairy-tales; fair-weather fanfares commanding tender amends with savvy cabaret. Polite advice from timely hindsight, “Patience,” unfurls tap-dancing tempos gliding over cosmopolitan overtures as delicate shrugs, cavalier strolls and polished melancholy frolics in fashionable jaunts, respectful reflections and cooing preludes.

Gordi - Our Two Skins

Subtle, vulnerable touches climbing behind deep-feeling pop-soul weariness and aspiring folk-tronic fire, “Skins,” swim in warm embraces, nurtured by determined searching purging confidential mentions with fluid communion. Lasting passion grasping gilded lyrics, Gordi implores and restores; her vocal’s expressive faith breathing life into songs trimmed in minimal instruments restlessly coalescing into formidable storms; humanity’s poignant calamities placed beneath piqued beats.

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