Slipped Discs

Lydia - Liquor

Supple pinball rhythms rinsed in liquid moon-bounce bass and lush airbrushed keyboards, “Liquor,” flickers, baking swoon-induced soufflés draped in vivacious elations. Slithering among lustful seductions, affectionate rejections and moody approval, the understated synth-rich trio prove extra-hypnotic taunting melted velvet hearts behind soft peek-a-boo innuendo; pouty carousers conjuring nimble, narcotic indie-pop with foxy folk overtones sowing anarchist’s charms with tiki-bar carnage.

Valley Queen - Supergiant

Heart-pounding West-coast rock powered by smoldering Valkyrie vocals fusing cruising blues to jumping country, “Supergiant,” soars over placid spotlight ballads swimming in deep sleepy jangle, pairing curve-hugging percussion to soul-baring melodies while riding spiraling six-string flings. Steamy truths weave Valley Queen’s brave embraces, searching concerns and pending questions into curried fury and tactical passion, distilling shadow-filled thrills from incandescent wills.

Lotic - Power

Sonic knob-twiddler, sound-pioneer Lotic deposits exotic razor-sharp technology scoured in electro-probed Space Soul through unglued blasting-cap trap wrapped in satin-smooth slave-driver grime and machine-tooled glitch-stitched rhymes. Atmospheric experiences encapsulated in trampled samples and polished solitary clarity, “Power,” quivers and equivocates, agitates and palpitates in pixelated stages repaving edited sedatives into savory chaos, holy communion cleansing upended sensations with antiseptic tension. 

Meg Myers - Take Me To The Disco

Elegant rants fired in frantic enchantments, “Disco,” bewitches with absorbing, tormented pop dispensing unquenchable temptations through morbid pre-storm warnings cornering sleek banshee struts prowling around leather-bound lounges. Dignified by melodramatic diplomats practiced in unmasking black-cat tact from gothic moths drawn around unrestrained flames, Myers’ slinky unforgiving convictions link sentimental vengeance to manic, volcanic dances built to withstand scalding-hot grand-standing fantasies.

Collections of Colonies of Bees - Hawaii

Sophisticated noise-voyagers COCOB sail post-rock yachts past power-chord crashes, bouncing tweaked art-pop frequencies against roaming digital metronomes building shimmering waves of graceful relations. An ephemeral paradise shining with new-born glee and well-established ease, “Hawaii,” welcomes distinct strategic kinks into smooth musical executions, micro-massaging bright ideas into radiant harmonic sunshine. The Milwaukee ensemble plays Washington Park Summer Concert Series August 8th.

White Denim - Performance

Elastic glam-rock boogie percolates in prog-pop pyrotechnics dancing alongside White Denim’s fly jive zapped in sunshine street soul; funked-up dawn patrols cultivating evasive tastes for radio-friendly minder-benders, flammable jams and rush-hour hustles. Six-string hairpin flings propel, “Performance,” from greasy psychedelic teases soliciting slick lizard-king kicks to wicked interstate check-mates whose traveling strategy covers coast-to-coast mojo, top-down getaways and fuel-injected cool. 

Tomberlin - At Weddings

Perched between sweet stringed acoustics, spacious braided arrangements and poignant reflective melodies, “Weddings,” witnesses reserved turbulence tunneling deep into melancholy odysseys with calm, bare-boned folk blossoming into cosmic thoughts. A celestial muse whose literate pictures connect ephemeral memories to sensitive intellects, Tomberlin spins haunting plots within hushed buzz perusing half-lost options poised on an effortless precipice dressed in teardrop-embossed gossamer.

Bad Bad Hats - Lightning Round

Buoyant, nuanced pop-rock hop-scotch intoxicates in swinging riffs and sugar-coated wit capturing Bad Bad Hats’ tender demonstrations with lively head-bobbing promises hiding inside timid hip-swiveling invitations. Luscious percussive production infiltrates air-tight tunes with compact flash and casual sass as, “Lightning,” strikes a friendly blend of truth and groove for a cozy emotional bouillabaisse embracing brains and bop, mystery and intimacy.

The Beths - The Future Me Hates Me

Take-charge harmonies wrapped in sunny spunk unravel contentious sentiments with happy gallops and unflinching sprints providing the energetic, “Future,” with smart cathartic larks celebrating impractical attractions and infectious affections. Wry, wise-guy rockers with brisk, feminist twists ringing in pithy what-ifs and provoked who-knows, The Beths’ unleashed glee and bad-apple cheek release swift blissful blizzards conquering well-timed irony with jaunty honesty.

El Ten Eleven - Banker’s Hill

Inquisitive wizards riding flashy magic-carpets, El Ten Eleven’s heavenly beatbox take-offs and ambient lambswool landings curve, swerve and converge, etching aeronautical clockwork onto flexible guitar-powered instrumentals. Parallel carousel satellites coordinating stinging pin-hole solos around hypnotic electronics, “Hill,” shifts gears with triumphant rock-driven synergy and passive jazz-massaged majesty, sculpting regal, teetering attempts to overthrow rhythmic pedal-board overlords through slippery algorithmic manipulations.

Mass Gothic - I’ve Tortured You Long Enough

Hampered romantic seekers trusting thundering bluster and roaring scorn, Mass Gothic’s thick, glossy synth-punk assaults unearth super-sized pop surges through robust eruptions, sand-blasted passion and antsy panics tumbling and pummeling in interpersonal wide-screen purges. Apocalyptic space-rock staving runaway New Wave, “Torture,” scores stormy stomps with bottom-heavy romps holding strained refrains against roaring chords for desperate stretches cresting against steady head-rushes.

Seasaw - Big Dogs

Girlish verve swerves and snappy patter curls in silky butterfly trills and bright concise coos as ingénue groovers Seasaw bop, cleverly leveraging novel thoughts from tidy hooks, catchy choruses and bristling riffs. Combining focus and fury, the dynamic duo sizzle throughout, “Big,” digging in deep to stand tall, pitching enticing bite-sized plights over articulate misfit pop-songs colored in alluring coercion.

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