Slipped Discs

Broken Anchor - Fresh Lemonade

Stirred by sturdy alt-pop bop and rollicking indie-rock passions, BA’s well-crafted savvy targets strong longing and tart departures dressed in level-headed melodies and upbeat jangle. Friendly sentiments braced in introspective messages, nimble sympathies and easy-going emotions, “Fresh,” flexes in catchy treasures surrounded by crashing guitars, petulant drums and invigorating bass, perfect companions to uncertain futures, restless presents and crushing pasts.

Hellsongs - These Are Evil Times

Known for turning devilish metal into heavenly pop, Sweden’s ingenious Hellsongs expand their repertoire on the deep-feeling, musical chameleon, “Evil,” dispersing perky yet prickly originals beside subtly cuddly covers of Rammstein, Black Sabbath and Entombed. A smart, impish mix of wicked rock-pop chart-toppers and fanciful dance-able folk-rock anthems, the trio’s mid-tempo brio serve wholesome potions slyly seasoned in playful treason.

Trentemøller - Lost

Techno-driven symphonies spawn slippery epiphanies as skulking sonics apply jungle cunning to withering rhythms; “Lost,” offers grueling subterfuge hidden in subversive interludes, electric tempests ripe in cyborg orchestras exploring shrewd grooves. Insidious, sumptuous and irresistible, Trentemøller’s rumbling trance-rock earthquakes and chilled reptilian soundscapes deliver beautifully kinky delinquency; elaborate labyrinths built beneath elastic theatrics unmasking minor-key majesty trimmed in baffling catastrophes.

Chelsea Wolfe - Pain is Beauty

Unsparing prayers coiled in bewitching contrition, Wolfe’s murky voodoo dirges assemble hemorrhaging memories from heathen dreamers; rapturous magic meets claustrophobic moments drenched in digital dissidence and adrift in subterranean refrains. Pursued, seduced, imprisoned and let loose, “Pain,” remains positively aloof veering from maddening ballads tackling shrouded doubts to mermaid serenades baited with dusky percussion and cloaked in lush post-apocalyptic concussions.

múm - Smilewound

Vagrant angels float and sing, tangled in cheeky beats sugar-coated in covert emotions and catchy treachery; harnessing harmonious carnivals, deceptive fairy-tale affections and funky bungee-jumped productions, “Smilewound,” sprinkles slinky electro-pop trinkets in insect textures, painting dainty restraint beneath lively, spiraling strings. Coy, punch-card marvels orbiting chamber-pop concoctions, múm’s squeaky-clean demons dance between fleeting Mona Lisa teasers and sleepy deep-space complacency.

Neko Case - The Worse Things Get, The Harder I Fight, The Harder I Fight, The More I Love You

A passionate maverick whose nurturing assertions examine family abandonment, Case’s boldly told tales are iconic tonics spiked with intimate mysteries. Misfit gifts of casual confidence, strident kindness and placid tenacity dissect complex connections with strong-wills routed through militant resilience. Framed in twang and free-ranging harangues, “Harder,” harbors liberated fables; lean, dreamy, indie-pop thoughtfully pieced from personal concerns stirring incendiary insights.

Deer Tick - Negativity

Full-throttled trots and somber romps collide in rambunctious shanty-town rock as, “Negativity,” sizzles in rootsy, bluesy, barn-burning head-turners offset by tender, moon-lit, road-warrior ghost-stories and grizzled, chiseled, late-night heartaches. Sketched in five o’clock shadows and broken-promise honesty, Deer Tick’s savage alt-country jamborees expose a ravaged poet’s soul confessing pressing honky-tonk sonnets. The Rhode Island vagabonds play Madison’s Majestic October 13th.

Emiliana Torrini - Tookah

Painting bewitching pictures in post-millennial folk-pop, “Tookah,” produces an organic assortment of slinky jazz-chick calypso, willowy astral-ballads and sleek dance-beat rallies. A cross-pollinating angel piloting gentle landings under starry skies, Torrini’s cabaret princess carves delicious candle-lit synthesis slithering in flickering rhythms; silky, electro-pixie whimsy spins sophisticated dangers into sumptuous comforts as ravishing passions coated in mischievous teases net refreshing pleasures.

Mike Donovan - Wot

Tangled truths braised in greasy twang and buffeted by Mexicali brass, Donovan’s woeful solo nurses wounded tunes with casual valor and candid rambles. From hungry country shuffles to barking garage-rock and rural slacker blues, the Sic Alps song-smith slings deep-fried soul, pitting petulant prose against dusty roads. Twisted six-string wisdom knots, “Wot,” into gravelly salvations, weary appeals and tenuous celebrations.

CAVE - Threace

Slithering minimalism built from bebop chops and jagged jazz-funk romps, “Threace,” pieces subtle muscle to hip, interlocking riffs for panting jam-band trances whose understated patience uncoils marathon paragons of hypnotic providence and instinctive revision. Rocking to heady, rhythm-fed treasures thrashing in galactic dashes and pivoting syncopation, CAVE enslaves loose, elusive moves within jungle-fevered dreams; guiding driving jive around mind-melting stealth.

Raccoon Fighter - ZIL

A raucous caucus of secret-agent cool, lusty hustles and rock-blizzard boogie, RF slug and chug brazen side-street mayhem atop gloriously predatory choruses and scowling, prowling verses. Ravenous good-time pageants fashioning fuss-free struts, monster stomps and cathartic parties, the Brooklyn trio’s, “ZIL,” dives head-first into fiery low-rider pile-drivers; scorching fortresses whose take no prisoner sizzle ignites explosive doses of scenery-chewing cruises.

kwes. - ilp

Sensitive, tentative, lava-lamp samples twisted around cautious, spotless ominous sonics, “ilp,” sculpts spectacularly tactile fragments into immaculate cinematic packages carefully crafted in humble wonder. Vacuum-packed catalysts dissolve in a dramatic smattering of abstract clatter as head-swelling velvet coats well-placed bass. Diagnosed with sound-to-color synaesthesia, kwes melts languid spaces into thoughtful processes with a deft R&B vibe suited to late-night grooves.

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