Slipped Discs

Jennifer O'Connor - I Want What You Want

Solemn problems cast in modestly frolicking waltzes, direct declarations trimmed in simmering sentiments and cordial worries; lyrical sharp-shooter O’Connor monitors life’s knotted plots in plain-spoken hopes, discerning turns and slippery commitments. Distant but determined, guarded but genuine, “Want,” prompts buoyant voyages past unsettled passengers clutching unsorted baggage, focused bouquets of self-guided providence providing cautious folk-pop solace and pensive indie-rock tenderness.

The Magnetic Fields - Love at the Bottom of the Sea

Understated plays of phonetic calisthenics elicit spooky amusements dipped in dry irony and tattered flattery.  ‘Kinetic suggestions lighting disembodied follies, “Love,” embraces fun-factory retaliations manufacturing impeccable satanic semantics around intrepid mechanical insanity./  Pioneering professors expert at blithe swipes for gala salads tossing melodically-rich tidbits into three minutes or less synth-pop dollops, TMF play Chicago’s Vic Theater March 26th and 27th.

Margot and the Nuclear So and So's - Rot Gut Domestic

Vagabond sonnets cooked in flagrant disdain, bruised blues and reflective messages rock out over weak-kneed pleads as Margot’s outraged sages and micro-managed philandering pine, resign and chomp at the bit. Dungeon hungers rise and plunder while passionate crashes turn personal crisis into frontline reporting. “Rot,” stalks, hawks and unlocks a seething cauldron fostering spiky rock chops among staggered social lacerations,

Gabriel and the Hounds - Kiss Full of Teeth

Communal collaborations coax magical madrigals from indie-rock epiphanies and singer-songwriter sympathies, “Kiss,” sits embroidered in butterfly flutes and branded in bold, swollen brass, a beautiful marriage of solitary thought and orchestrated flavors. Takka Takka’s Gabriel Levine’s harsh, narcoleptic guitars, twittering strings, whack-a-mole woodwinds and pratfall percussion journey from surf-rock noir to chamber-folk foliage, coloring flustered, rustic hubris from cathartic hearts.

Miniature Tigers - Mia Pharaoh

Sprinting in cheeky beats and catchy hooks, MT’s luminous bubblegum gumbo stirs kitschy mischief into New Wave pop doo-wop, tie-dyed calypso heaven and foxy dance-floor swan songs. Gloriously euphoric, Mia,” speaks to angel lovers, dreamboat captains and unchallenged talisman, tapping into romance’s candid soft-heartedness and photo-shopping in love-blind conga lines. Tight and bright, the Tigers hit Chicago’s Schubas March 30th

Young Prisms - In Between

Drenched in brittle sizzle and droning overtones, “Between,” streams hot pop ditties from subterranean caves; smothering heartache and deep-seated longing in turbulent solos amidst thorny storms. Clanging post-industrial frames hung around vulnerable understandings, lovesick ambitions and slow-dance heaven, the San Francisco quintet pummels and funnels raw electric vibrato into phosphorescent gloss and smoldering buzz-saw fodder into fantastic plastic shoe-gazing contraptions.

Lightships - Electric Cables

A mellow masterpiece of poignant jangle, Teenage Fanclub’s Gerald Love delivers a transcendent stew of effervescent restlessness and sparkling tenderness, painting embraceable odes over buzzing, cuddly, twang-filled tranquility. An immaculate pageant of meticulous pop-rock lullabies bathed in cooing beauty, “Cables,” cradles velvety synths, squirming drums and fidgety guitars in sinfully winsome innocence, sun-soaked hope skimming daydreaming secrets and soft-spoken smiles.

Greg Laswell - Landline

Moving cross-country and recording in an isolated church in Maine, Laswell’s soul-searching concerns blend soaring gorgeous rejoicing and candid candied choruses into complicated relations, casual kiss-offs and boldly open-hearted charges. Forthright emotional songs enhanced by co-ed cameos, muscular melodies and perceptive connections, “Landline,” redesigns romantic advances while sumptuous production camouflages terse wordplay conveying bittersweet bravado, therapeutic subterfuge and self-reliant defiance.

Greenpot Bluepot - Ascend at the Dead End

Exotic concoctions drawn from noisy orchestras of wheezing reeds, Thai beats and tinkling cymbals, “Ascend,” sends rampaging rhythms around feral spells from tarot card choirs. Twisting ethnic traditions resisting conventional wisdom, GPBP’s outlandish mannerisms stampede in haunting microtonal hypnosis, unleashing fearlessly multi-cultural boomerangs for swirling dervish curses chasing snakes and making faces from ruthless Kabuki spookiness and choreographed cyber-tribal kookiness.

Elephant & Castle - Transitions

Cellophane arrangements leap from dream-fragmented memories to deeply sleepy doldrums as E&C’s recombinant collage of opaque retakes, ethereal appeals and random phantoms feed pre-natal fables with shape-shifting glyphs and cosmopolitan cool. Sonic shards carved from ragtag blips, cosmic blobs and gravity-defying grace, “Transitions,” roams combing kamikaze origami into amorphous contortions, a slithering vision siphoning groove-filled ambience and liquid, back-tracked quadratics.

Nanci Griffith - Intersection

Uncovering long-forgotten gems and producing rousing originals, feisty folk-singer, troubadour humanist and starry-eyed archivist Griffith reflects pro-actively, learning from spurned lovers and turning everyday adversity into affirming portrayals of grass-roots salvation. Respect and regret mingle in sing-along story-songs strong in sympathy, social conscience and down-trodden decency, “Intersection,” questions countless doubts and nurtures worthy mercies, touching lives and trusting in people.

Hollows - Vulture

Subverting flirty girl-group goop into razor-sharp punk-pop spunk and organ-driven rock and roll, Hollows’ tough chick grit, wound-licking love songs and cheeky bee-hive hand-jive concoct bite-sized blasts of surf-rock rumble, lipstick lambasts and pajama party harmonies. Leathery electric boardwalks flashing retro-active packages, “Vulture,” circles Tin Pan Alley pasts while carving tart B-52 grooves from Suzi Quatro quatrains and Shangri-Las facades

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