Slipped Discs

Modern Nature - How to Live

Combining the creative forces behind Ultimate Painting and Beak, Modern Nature deploys calm post-rock opuses, embroidered maps hosting python sax and whispers draped over ubiquitous bass swimming in rambling trance; jazz-dappled appetizers bobbing in Krautrock punchbowls. A fluid, nuanced fairy-tale, “Live,” lives in backwater bliss, minimalist Zen head-trips circling feudal fields and pagan forests with unflinching mystery and intuitive moods.

Pretend Collective - Pretend Collective

Cornered formulas morphing crackling day-tripping narratives into thoughtful yacht-rock holidays, “Pretend,” befriends memorable templates decorating electric rodeos and paisley parades in work-week secrets and slow-burning concerns. Rallying ballads dipped in hazy persuasions co-opt pop conventions and sprinkle winks among earnest coercion as the eclectic Pretend Collective sprinkles slightly sinister melancholy into time-warped stories supported by cavorting metaphors and sneaky clichés. 

Chelsea Wolfe - Birth of Violence

From hallowed to harrowing, Wolfe’s unholy folk hosts throaty subterranean ghosts channeling incandescent animals prowling around divine shrines; mythic predicaments floating in glowing omens and soaked in soul-baring prayer. Visceral riches twist, enrich and bewitch with lusty bluster and sizzling whispering while the sophisticated, “Violence,” casts silk nets over raging seas; trembling requiems scored in scorched mourning and glorious euphoria. 

Mermaidens - Look Me In The Eye

Cryptic silhouettes dancing in choreographed collapse, “Eye,” rides calculated landslides, conspiring in spiraling riff-driven narcolepsy with shadow-rock cliff-hangers roaring through murky, mascara-laden psychedelia and furious stiletto-pedaled shoegaze tracing pinpoint precision around drowsy indecision. Bubbling in subtle eruptions and dizzy indulgences, the tide-turning Mermaidens’ dynamic calamities yield surprisingly lucid moods from anxious, contagious beats, swirling minor-key revelry and cosmic pole-vaulted free-falls.

Jenny Hval - The Practice of Love

Playful and provocative, Norwegian novelist and evocative sonic adventurer Hval juxtaposes persistent rhythmic flow with inquisitive philosophical prose, taming origami angels whose pressing questions bend and fold into majestic revelations; coded poetry posing unfinished riddles. Sensuous fantasy planted in mind-expanding mantras, “Practice,” packages pensive transcendence with earthy images, stacking florid organic mysteries with perplexing reflections, impenetrable connections and perceptive conjecture.

Frankie Cosmos - Close It Quietly

Resplendent in sterling yearning, metered sweetness and cheery lyrics, “Close,” throws mid-tempo hope into discreet plain-spoken diplomacy, unmasking passive-aggressive pursuits against gorgeous porcelain choruses for sly bedroom bop spackled in dazzling rainbow refrains.  Catchy, compact melodramatics wrapped in carefree melodies and heavenly delivery, the starry-eyed and silver-tongued Frankie Cosmos spins eyewitness dishing elevated in kittenish bliss and romantic guitar-pop side-trips.

Hiss Golden Messenger - Terms of Surrender

Born from dive-bar backrooms and blue-collar bayous, Hiss Golden Messenger’s lonely indie-folk holds deep-fried asides against gritty blacksmith licks, free-range tumbleweed twang strung from barb-wired country and roots-bruised blues. Rugged hungers fed thankful banquets, “Surrender,” values valor, neighborhood labors and noble fellowship devoted to roadhouse shuffles bathed in Hammond organ and rambling self-examinations woven with hard-won truths and trust-worthy verses.

Lady Lazurus - Impossible Journey of My Soul Tonight

Rooted in simple acoustics and raised in self-appraisal, Lady Lazarus’ restless quests meander, unhampered by conventional structure; sage, languid language relaying authentic sentiment with picturesque speculation, intriguing secrets and elegant acceptance. Auditorium performances disclosing hopes, reasoning feelings and examining ramifications as recital-hall piano wafts in haunted reverb, “Journey,” ties recurring reminders to tender memories, skeletal melodies baptized in lyrical inquiries.

Devon Welsh - True Love

Personal searches versed in complex moods, “True,” brews tactfully monastic passions with pondering honesty, plush constructions buffed with minimal stimulus and maximum impact. A naked voice that aches to divulge stubborn secrets, Welsh swells in embellished telepathy, ravishing pathos and secular connections, mesmerizing with openness and purity, candid transparency lit with cathedral candles and layered in weightless, storied moral inventories.

Anna Meredith - FIBS

Punctual pop whose splashy neo-classical maelstroms fuse Broadway bravado to scorching film-scores for cyber-phantom ear-candy, Meredith’s immaculate factories spew algorithmic symphonies gifted in ripped rock riffs, space-age whimsy and ironic art-pop homilies. The glib, “FIBS,” digs, wiggles and flies, defying, confiding and pacifying, rendering frenzied crescendos and sweetening synthetic beats to baffle in playful clatter and delight in daredevil feats. 

Longwave - If We Ever Live To Forever

Triumphant and forthright, wandering and despondent, ”Forever,” weathers emotional storms, disembodied indie-rock melancholy pledging edgy amendments to precipice confessions through prowling guitars, climatic choruses and head-rushed rhythms. Breathless manifestos addressed to friends, banging in subterranean strangeness, Longwave plunges desperate hungers into rattled nostalgia, leaving heartbroken heads to sort jealous dregs from shipwrecked regrets, holding wildfire trials with burnt bridges juries.

Shana Falana - Darkest Light

Possessed by Jungian thunder tunneling deep beneath primordial glories, Shana Falana champions new beginnings born from dire finality; unshackled majesty zapped in synaptic rapture twirl bare-foot shoe-gaze voyagers on tribal journeys through starlit forests. The karmic, “Darkest,” blazes in gothic mosh-pit steam-punk, dredging and shredding dream-rock prophecies while reaping intergalactic gypsy-folk with interwoven harmonies, oceanic tantrums and powerful bell-tower percussion.

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