Slipped Discs

Kinlaw - The Tipping Scale

Cavernous compassion pitched in ethereal field-trips embedded in micro-chip bliss and wind-swept sentiment, “Tipping,” slips wayward grace from turntable angels into sweeping keyboard voyages, coded mojo unfolding persistently mystical journeys by turning moody studio coos into breathless destinations. Diaphanous and dramatic, Kinlaw tiptoes through gossamer gardens anchored in radiant choreography and lifted in lavish telegraphic splashes from ravenous nanobot backing.

Tamar Aphek - All Bets Are Off

Phantom six-string jams spread over smoky vocals, skulking drums and basement bass, psychedelic shredder Aphek’s reckless segues, prowling growls and twisted minimalism roam over gloriously torrid territory. Fluid, late-night maneuvers chased by shadowy, blues-rooted grooves, “Bets,” lets eerie delirium guide bewitching jazz-rock instincts through gloomy beauty into slick liberation, lantern-lit pantomimes flickering in spitfire grit and chiseled in flinty riffs.

Casper Clausen - Better Way

Viscous post-millennial disco whisked in cyber-tweaked beats sweetened in rerouted Krautrock sonics and sleepy algorithmic sequences, “Better,” tethers secular digital wizardry to atmospheric lyrics, mirroring patient anguish with scientific tastes wrestling tranquil faith. Upbeat feasts seized with undulating hunger, Clausen’s sterling future-pop yearnings float on golden oceans, bobbing in glossy electro-symphonic moxie, tossing bright, percolating curveballs into shiny, sci-fi skylines

Still Corners - The Last Exit

Supple struggles coupled to edgy tempests and romantic tampering, Still Corners’ corrosive ghost-folk coasts over bruised truths topped in polished synths and free-range twang; spectral pledges measured in methodical melancholy and coddled in haunted longing. Barrio blues pruned from country roots, “Exit,” stretches beneath interconnected intentions, suggestive expeditions into dark hearts, imparting lost hopes within ephemeral surrender and plush seductions.

Pom Poko - Cheater

Swinging time signature wig-outs couched in crushed fuzz, “Cheater,” breeches and screeches crunching rambunctious punk and tumble-pop assaults into exuberant alt-rock chop-suey served with anointed cartoon counterpoint. Guitar-wielding Norwegian teasers and spunky bounce-house funkateers, Pom Poko conspire in wiry time-bombs; elastic tomboy bombast paving crazy paisley mayhem with brittle playground pick-ups sprinkled in slick ricochets, hurricane mania and wicked hiccups.

Goat Girl - On All Fours

Posh brush-offs from micro-dosed hostesses, South London’s Goat Girl combines delicious danger, refined strangeness and novel changes where soft glam-rock and cautious dream-pop whip up cosmopolitan subplots circling dancefloor emporiums. Sugar-coated rollercoasters fostering narcotic hostages, “Fours,” scores superhighway joyrides, blurry whirlwinds tinged in air-brushed bluster dishing sinister whispers inside precision rhythms spinning heavenly webs with intricate symmetry and sputtering loveliness.

Caithlin De Marrais - What Will You Do Then?

Mod prophet, visionary canary and psycho-social scientist, Rainer Maria’s imaginative De Marrais produces dark alt-pop tunes festooned in moody New Wave laments; semi-organic manifestos revealing candid tangible humanity through sweetly manufactured reality, secretive meetings breeched by treacherous synthetics. The quizzical, narcotic odyssey, “Then,” sends clear ideas into murky worlds, wrestling ever-present menace in ghostly diagnosis, spontaneous elation and potent hypnosis.

Nana Yamato - Before Sunrise

Crushed, hushed and slathered in foxy indie-rock chops and Zen-drenched attention, “Before,” explores the uproar from tender tensions bent by silky willfulness, a savvy gravity blessed in phat fuzz, coy voices and maverick studio alchemy. Single-handedly commanding a formidable MIDI universe, renaissance DIYer Yamato’s smoldering innocence ignites a thousand neon midnights glowing in alienated tranquility, precocious emotion and barbed calm.

Brijean - Feelings

Glossy peacocks and retro-posh swashbucklers, Brijean breathes lava-lamp leisure onto jet-set merry-making, creating heaven-bound soundtracks to ultra-cool get-togethers whose groovy pool-side rendezvous invite and entice hippie-chic paradise. Electro-lounge pleasure-seekers celebrating fleeting weekend sensations, “Feelings,” ripple in hip, sultry pan-cultural raves, equatorial boogie sauntering along sleepy Parisian salons fawning over satin-sheet beats billowing beneath pastel Latin jazz and sizzling international disco.

Alexander Biggs - Hit or Miss

Tumbleweed autobiography gathering metaphorical momentum shaded in collateral damage and random details, “Miss,” whispers in descriptive riddles, defining shining examples and revelatory rambles via moonlight acoustics splashed in friendly folk-pop jangle entangled in underwater consciousness. Charismatic narrator Biggs writes page-turning journalism coded in roadside rhapsodies, literate sympathies unraveling street-bleached poetry from story-teller cellars capturing parched heart’s mysteries inside honky-tonk homilies.

Sun June - Somewhere

Sparkling effervescence buoys distant sunlit wishes as the radiantly understated Sun June coast through bruised folk-blues into wheelhouse healing, mid-tempo meditations baking gracious mistakes into a melodic oasis sheltering humbled troubles and wounded humor. Unhurried discoveries injected with electric licks, “Somewhere,” sings in rear-mirror lyrics swimming towards gentle contentment, past mishaps navigating restless respect with introspective penance and fearless experience.

Bodies of Water - Is This What It’s Like

Adamant theatrics catapulting concise advice through scripted quips and glib prescriptions, “This,” clinches witty fictions in pithy insights, charming dramas built from funky synths, winsome violins and wanderlust percussion. Ambidextrous confessors, sensual self-professed tempters and entrenched messengers, Bodies of Water wobble, topple and weave in lively surprises derived from roaming personas; writhing, divulging gypsy-rock glories poured into slinky indie-pop operettas

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