Slipped Discs

Mr. Universe - Everything’s Good/It’s Not Working

Armed with a Roland Rhythm 77 beatbox, expressive guitar and vagabond spirit, “Working,” marinates plain and simple longing in clear, sincere choruses and humble, observant verses. An emotional foot-soldier wielding laidback garage-pop scholarship, Mr. Universe peels back deep-seated concessions to brew self-reflective alt-folk nods to nomadic regrets, inevitable missteps and pitiless visions which explore ordinary ironies beneath ill-timed, half-defined kindnesses. 

American Wrestlers - Goodbye Terrible Youth

Vigorous pub-rock lullabies served in matter-of-fact rallies coat street-wise hope in staunch confidence as American Wrestlers’ muscular wonder feeds a needy hunger for earnest courtesies and compassionate actions through guitar-fueled power-ballads and sage, patient anthems. Cruise-missile crusades offer mighty tidal-waves of good-will, bonded fellowship and energetic connections, turning “Youth,” loose through layman’s lyrics to rouse powerful harmony within iron-clad camaraderie.

Wolf People - Ruins

Ancient pagan vibes ride cosmic prog-rock thunder to exhume spooky druid maneuvers from gilded warlock tombs; “Ruins,” fumes and swoons, slathered in psychedelic blues churning with epic, dark magic. Spellbinding titans lacing ravaged pageantry around ornate tornadoes, Wolf People’s scorching orchestral redemption gallantly balances meticulous riffs inside heavy-metal avalanches for a seething stampede of chivalry and revenge, nobility and rage.

Martha Wainwright - Goodnight City

Possessed with reliably pliable inflections directing casually jazzy gallops, Wainwright nurtures in purrs and bickering rebukes. Rock-banshee shrieks among soul-kissed convictions weave warbling stories stroked and coaxed with autobiographical swagger and withering midnight delivery. From delicate tenderness to red-flag daggers, “City,” sits pretty, offering refined pining through post-modern torch-songs while upholding bold uncensored declarations resurrecting unconditional love and world-weary wisdom.

Kristoffer and the Harbour Heads - EX/EX

Scoffing operas taunting two-act theatrics with elastic extravaganzas, the nefarious, “Ex/Ex.” splashes social catastrophes into sinful bingeing cinematics featuring ravenous lip-smacking tragedies. Plastering gossamer-rock gossip onto randy banter through catchy New Wave soul, Kristopher and company’s saucy scorn unfurl street-parade cabaret littered in prancing fantasies; lizard-king flings with glam-pop bell-hops dissecting delectable medleys painted in broad strokes and trifling vices.

Ian Fitzgerald - You Won’t Even Know I’m Gone

With a Shakespearean ear for fated turn-abouts and karmic comeuppance. Fitzgerald’s wry asides and respectable skepticism turn back-storied morality plays and tongue-twisted parables into stainless-steel honky-tonk detailing small-town heart-break, self-destructive desires and guilty-pleasure complications. The strong, wiry, “Gone,” present pithy ditties in philosophical scuffles with double-dipped wit fitting crafted, diplomatic passions encapsulating everyday characters with crossroad anecdotes and daring narratives.

Maria Taylor - In the Next Life

Home-grown odes doting over spiritual growth, bewitching submissions enlisting lazy persuasions for flirtatious equations, “Next,” connects relished recollections to fetching speculations circled by maternal murmurs and cool, coddling coos. Set against simple, sturdy pop ideas highlighting playful warmth and tender friendship, Taylor’s rich, welcoming voice nurtures beloved coupling with sultry, colorful lullabies; savory daisy-chain play-dates dipped in swampy honky-tonk stardust.

I Like Trains - A Divorce Before Marriage

Zen chemists blending sage New Age into post-rock solace, I Like Trains’ passive magic courses through ambient moods in fog-bound grooves consuming buoyant clairvoyance from narcotic robotics. Like dawn breaking over rolling thunder, “Divorce,” aches in graceful cravings stretched over colossal, docile, trembling telemetries; translucent nuance generating and infiltrating cloudburst landscapes swimming in shimmering horizons while steadily treading deep waters. 

Jordan Burchel - Vowel Sounds

An unmoored troubadour bobbing in pop-rock folklore, Burchel turns openly emotional stanzas into post-romantic mantras stashing breezy bittersweet reprieves inside waggish tragedies as jammy dynamics meander around soft-spoken poetry. Pining over hindsight’s tempting redemption while honing soul-seeking beacons with riff-lifted missiles, “Vowel,” powers searing sincerity, lobbing polished thoughts with profound lovesick deliverance covered in ragtag sadness and slowly burning yearning.

Ash Borer - The Irrepassable Gate

Torn in scorn, slow-core roars and turgid fury, “Irrepassable,” snarls with devilish embellishments dredged from vicious contrition supporting virulent conspiracies. Pulverizing pile-drivers trapped in pyroclastic blasts lashed to growling undertows grown from breakneck rage and pitch-black malice, Ash Borer’s glorious torrent dredges force-fed pledges, gouging monstrous preponderance between muscular clusters crushing relentless eruptions and irrefutable grinds etched on anvil canvases.

Soviet Soviet - Endless

Frenzied cadenzas bend in hyper-kinetic descents, writhing in spiked Molotov pleads and driving serrated stampedes; Soviet Soviet’s sinister dissidence unhinges Pandora’s sordid wardrobe of contorted buzz-saw gauze laid over restless hornet’s nests. Pedal-box rock wrought with electro-shocked sonics, “Endless,” ties live-wire funeral-pyres mired in corrosive moments to warehouse samurai wearing razor-sharp armor tunneling under nervous tournaments with terse, furious focus.

Eat the Apple - A Glimmer of Hope or Skin or Light

A daring, darling musical revue featuring punk-goth operas topped in macabre cabaret arias barging into off-Broadway ballads, “Glimmer,” dazzles in rapid costume changes applied with stylized guile. Sprung from the collective consciousness of KT Niehoff and Ivory Gray-Smith, Eat The Apple’s soundtrack to their unpredictably original 2010 project is stunning fun-house philosophy sporting dark carnal happiness from smart melodramatic radicals.

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