Slipped Discs

Sad13 - Haunted Painting

Alt-pop frolics populated in muscular spunk, “Haunted,” saunters and splashes in glib upbeat whimsy and pyrotechnic production; talented imagination coated in roller-coaster verses, reinforced choruses and blissfully rickety bridges. Melting bells and whistles over pajama-party disco and day-glo indie-rock, Sad13 distills effortless sincerity into coy toybox courtships, supernatural appetites brewing loose carousel hooks, precious athletic melodies and flirty flower-power fury.

Wax Chattels - Clot

Tactile blasting-caps unmask ferocious commotion among rampant rants, angular angst and prog-punk conundrums, aligning Wax Chattels’ grinding minefield zeal to fine-tuned minutiae unleashed into industrial wormholes and snooze-alarm tsunamis. Risky vindictive outbursts seething in diabolic mosh-pit tolerance, “Clot,” rocks bruising, stupefying counterrevolutions; anxious impatience reined in and directed into white-knuckle combustion teetering between stark barking catharsis and funky expunged grunge.

The Apartments - In and Out of the Light

Exquisite odes to heroic almosts, “Light,” casts beautiful sadness onto smoldering emotions reveling in exceptional depths and peaceful retreats; each song’s world-weary lyrics wrapped like gifts in bristling riffs and forlorn choruses. Touched and crushed, grasped and hushed, The Apartments’ restrained refrains canonize intelligent sentiment in wary despair framing spent feelings, recanted chances and ill-fated romances with bittersweet chamber-jangle poise.

Throwing Muses - Sun Racket

Stern nurturing raising searing spirits, the legendary Throwing Muses’ fearlessly eerie art-punk sleepwalks around barbed buoys past calculated catastrophes witnessed by tasered second-sight gazes moving through psychic mazes. Underwater waltzes cauterized in bulletproof sawtooth caterwauling, “Racket,” matches mystical grit to magnificent synergy conjured by long-time bandmates’ organic intuition creating rattlesnake cake-walks and insomniac stake-outs inside wind-tunnel funhouses and unglued romper-rooms.

Fenne Lily - BREACH

Gentle pensive memoirs gripped in insistent whispers battling frazzled attachments, “BREACH,” leaps and weeps with ballads and beats, even-keeled feelings rolling in slowly mounting counterpoint drawn from deep breathing and cutting subtext. Yoga composure swimming in thundering undertow, Fenne Lily’s figure-skating grace sparkles from bedroom reflections to coffee-shop bop, visiting nightclub rumbles stuffed with soft, dawning thoughts ready to pop.

Slow Pulp - Moveys

Adept at polished alt-rock and steamy dream-pop, Slow Pulp’s mellow melodramatics wax in compact mid-tempo compassion, persuasive complacency ignited inside gallant ballads burning bright with smoldering heat, unhurried studies and tasty temptations. Luscious bluster coated in coaxing vocals, sparkling guitars and hungry bass and drums, “Moveys,” smoothly conquers through grounded prowling, insidious insistence and heavenly threats issued in devilish relish.

This Is The Kit - Off Off On

Passive lyric fragments chase wonderfully breezy melodies while, “Off,” tosses bumblebee teases around hummingbird urgency, administering flickering jigs beneath posh horns born from British soul and rhythmic finger-picking plucked from intricate gypsy-folk. Contrapuntal tumbleweeds carving artful paths, This Is The Kit magically fits bouncy rounds tugging at windy beginnings into uplifted syncopation placed with graceful cadence inside loose, groovy haiku.

Jónsi - Shiver

Contoured forces purr as manicured metamorphosis sculpt electro-soul wormholes; Jónsi concocts nuanced booms, tweaked shrieks and swift glitches producing studio-driven visions from distant visitors. Pliable fly-bys inspiring angel-flanked contemplations, “Shiver,” impacts with suggestive perfection, spectral effects whose tender fine-tuned tensions blossom in cautious suspension, sonic architecture measured in broken beats and healing voices, warm storms built from daring serotonin commotion.

Pine Barons - Mirage on the Meadow

Risky trysts gifted in grand New Wave riffs wrung from psychedelic sideshows, “Mirage,” charges, barges, barks and barters, fostering tooth and claw rock inside fist-pumped power-pop and spawning dance-floor swansongs from underdog anthems. Choirboy voyagers and passionate navigators, Pine Barons engage and upstage, swinging casual theatrics from desperate precipices, on the verge insurgency partnering with exalted posture and enterprising empathy.

Spires That In The Sunset Rise - Psychic Oscillations

Guided by jellyfish kismet powering abstract Krautrock daydreams, Spires That In The Sunset Rise’s clipped manipulations transform noisy voices, percussive cello, spineless flutes and huffing saxophones into elemental experiments following optional logic.  Layered cascades weaving primeval sequences into elliptical telemetries, “Oscillations,” reverberate hypnotic electronics from gurgling ghosts, roping liberated loops paved in modulated delays, arpeggiated spacewalks and sublime unquantifiable designs.

Laura Veirs - My Echo

Perky mirthful folk-bop tongue-twists misfit feelings into posh holidays offering anecdotal motivation; “Echo,” glows with cozy brilliance bathed in rosy string quartets, sisterly choirs and homesick pedal-steel. Refocused hopes, positive resolve and sauntering confidence makes, Veirs’ lyrical clarity and subtle harmonies leap equally easily under full moons and sunny skies, bounding from maternal Laurel Canyon dinner-parties to intimate chamber-arranged love-songs.

Tiña - Positive Mental Health Music

Dark karma harvests cathartic bargains from Tiña’s bittersweet dream-pop, reaping peppery therapy that rolls with the punches, finding joy in the unavoidable while confronting existential menace with mocking deference. Untapped rapture wrapped in psychotropic disclosure and served in homegrown commotion, “Health,” invigorates with skeletal proficiency; bone-cutting bliss led by explicit simplicity, artistic consistency and devilishly level-headed instincts for redemptive tempests.

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