Slipped Discs

Slow Hands - I’ll Find Me

Playful studio guru and crafty master-dabbler, Slow Hands’ breezy sound-sculpted sequences paint swirling modern-pop murals depicting beat-driven whimsy in seductive productions; midnight flights igniting robo-guided sambas strutting through Spanish Harlem in buff, air-brushed percussion while lasered techno-funky soothsayers step out into hep discothèques. A slick, wicked playground, “Me,” lounges around silky fan-dancer cabanas, lurching animated circuses and celluloid funhouse pool-parties.

Soldiers of Fortune - Early Risers

A heat-seeking cluster of scavenger bluster propels sweltering spells into blues-sutured garage-rock nirvana; “Early,” hurtles mortared support behind a loosely-knit super-group wailing away in blissfully blistering six-string raves. Out of the gate swinging, SOF’s raucous caucus rides an iron-clad herd in hammering rambling stampedes, raging against life-sapping apathy with cannonball abandon splattered in muscular gusto, friendly benders and cathartic kick-starters.

The Most Serene Republic - Mediac

Fissionable fictions written by curious observers scribbling Monday-morning epiphanies on cosmopolitan roadmaps, TMSR’s classy musical passages host bright concise cross-examinations mounted on enterprising melodies. Groomed illumination overflows in rosy, double-edged prose working casual magic with terse outbursts residing inside tireless desires as the esoteric collective’s action-packed, “Mediac,” ransacks sentimental conventions with charmed aplomb, manufacturing rallying ballads over sharp, driven rhythms.

Maserati - Rehumanizer

Subterranean refrains engrained inside caged Krautrock aftershocks, the muscular, “Rehumanizer,” welds defiant alliances among hard-wired cyber-revisers, plotting and concocting spirited conspiracies for toppling mechanical overlords. Led by thundering drums and bass building skyscraping metropolises, Maserati’s single-minded monsters unleash cool moves beneath crashing thrashes, slamming industrial-strength ambushes with hypno-groovy space-jams commanding menacing momentum that takes no prisoners and shows no mercy.

The Eastern Sea - The WItness

Charging headlong into brave songs sheathed in armored calm and cavalier confidence, TES’ actively placid tactics release well-honed prog-pop chops dancing around waltzing novelist’s thoughts where cross-purposes surface in savvy brass, fleeting beats and sophisticated wordplay. Tender, nuanced movements cushion, “Witness,” in majestic suggestions from level-headed devils; hopeful toasts promoting compassionate facts draped in dramatic mathematics and dazzling jazz-rock acrobatics.

Lanterns on the Lake - Beings

Swelling, compelling melancholy turns turbulent uncertainties into stormy scorn from vanquished angels. From subtle symphonics to labyrinth electronics, prowling guitars and gothic violins, “Beings,” seethes and seizes, casting curdling urges upon washed-out shores of wind-stripped islands. Lofty offerings from estranged maidens, bewitching dream-rockers LOTL flock around phantom camps flaunting haunted providence with searing atmospherics battling spacious impatience with ghostly commotion.

Jessica Jones Quartet - Moxie

Reuniting long-time band-mates, JJQ’s two-tenor chemistry broadcasts micro-brewed cool with daring flair and dazzling magic, quicksilver bop sopped in swinging ba-da-bings spun from unpredictable rhythms and rich wind-blown tones. Trembling, bending and disassembling, “Moxie,” unlocks a simmering hornet’s nest of hot mess coalescing intuitive grooves from dueling schools, shadowy solos crawling through marinated menageries like cobras eloping with bipolar ghosts.

Cage the Elephant - Tell Me I’m Pretty

Grimy highway boogie blowing gaskets and squeezing out sparks both fresh and familiar, the cheeky Dan Auerbach-produced, “Pretty,” twitches with unbridled pride and predatory courtship. Growling, carousing groove-funk hound-dogs painted with fanged blues-rock rancor and bristling in honky-tonk psychedelic bangers, CtE’s blatant harangues and slippery prescriptions stomp in street-wise pomp, slithering with greasy mischievous secrets and primed in slacker-backed ballyhoo.

Sky-Pony - Beautiful Monster

Equally adept at electric threats as unfettered regrets, Broadway-trained musicians Sky-Pony telegraph walloping dollops of invigorating pop-rock gossamer as grand-standing damsels gripped in ripping wit stage narrative marriages ablaze in contagious three-part harmonies. Launching lightning-cooked ironies inside attractive flash-mob sophistry, sinister princesses administer pragmatic melodramatics while, “Beautiful,” pursues divalicious role-playing through irresistibly twisted tales relayed in lusty, fussy well-rehearsed urgency.

Alba's Edge - Run to Fly

Tender touches flushed in cantering fantasies corral galloping rallies into tranquil sanctuaries filled with mingling traditions sprinkled in casual pizzazz from fine-tuned moves; the resplendent, “Fly,” ties silky Celtic-jazz passages to sizzling midnight jigs flitting in firefly nose-dives and grasshopper tail-spins. Parading, persuading and evading, Scotland’s exuberant Afro-Cuban fusionists, Alba’s Edge soars in intrepid pep steeped in nimble sunlit steps.

Sally Sparrow & the Old 41 - Never Far From My Mind

Bittersweet folktronic-pop carving hard facts from sand-shifting sympathies, “Mind,” unwinds in synth-driven inquiries divvied between good-natured bounce rattling complacent agents and steadfast crackle whose welcoming glow exposes deep-seated suspicions beneath soulful devotions. Cushioned in compact choruses and studio ingenuity, inventive Dropbox collaborators SS41’s tentative elegance fences leathery rock to cotton-candy daydreams, adding booming salutes and layered surveys to pensive introspection.

Deantoni Parks - Technoself

Harsh sound-bitten ignitions syncing deconstructed visions scratch catchy, contracted tracks into banging gangland demolitions; cyber-percussionist Parks’ random tangents stitch goose-step mosaics around semaphore euphoria where teething seizures birth squirmy creatures in ghetto-echo. Piling writhing revisionism into jagged pageants, the ultra-propulsive, Technoself,” unrolls jarring barrio beats fashioned from McGuyvered crate-divers; serpentine survivors from mouse-trap snaps blasting balloon-popping tunes with glitch-enriched aphasia.

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