Slipped Discs

Lime Cordiale - 14 Steps to a Better You

Bouncy, baggy, thrift-store swagger from sweet-talking Chaucers, Lime Cordiale slings winding rhymes in smitten wingman sunshine, secret weekend love-stories scored for honky-tonk jaunts bobbing in shuffling percussion, carefree melodies and street-wise advice. Blue-eyed seaside soul, “14 Steps,” sends friendly recommendations rich in elastic toe-tapping dramatics for bold, romantic interventions vented in salty pub-crawl solace, boogie-sugared vaudeville and swinging indie carnivals. 

Dream Wife - So When You Gonna…

Saucy, frothy, vengeful and sensual, “Gonna,” guns for fun; happily reprehensible New Wave races painted with pit-stop thoughts raring for tasty punk-pop chases, hunting unsettled bellwether regrets with bewitching misfit sympathy. Bridge-burners, table-turners and fast-learners, Dream Wife marries fearless sneers to thick-skinned grins, hiding sensitive intentions beneath sassy tactics and actively distracting open emotions with improper propositions and incriminating persuasion.

Alice Ivy - Don’t Sleep

Head-turning studio connoisseur Ivy designs tantric dances sparkling in tweaked rainbow-soul, lavish post-dub love and tempting bedroom R&B; manna to famished radio-friendly pop-gods yearning for stroboscopic mojo polished in unrepentant phosphorescence. Intense blends producing ultra-groovy fusions overlapping fluid rap with hard-wired beats dipped in auto-tuned funkiness, “Sleep,” reaches for the stars, elevating commercial appeal to musical fireworks for the masses.

Kllo - Maybe We Could

Swift rhythmic rivers bubbling beneath hovering ghost-lovers as whirling glitch-riddled world-beats sweeten smooth translucent grooves, “Maybe,” flavors fashionably passive contrasts with elegant well-spent intensity, alluring superlatives and exotic optics. Partnered in luscious seductions and vacuum-sealed feelings, Kllo’s silky guilty pleasures wrestle passionate tempests, out-of-reach treats surrounded by flickering vixen singing, diva high-dive descents swept into nets rescued by heavenly consent.

The Beths - Jump Rope Gazers

Fueled by an enthralling fondness for rom-com bop-rock, The Beths jet from romantic ransom for platonic hostages to sour-grape escapes crafted in unrequited politeness and compatible compassion. Pairing jangly affairs with pivoting riffs, “Gazers,” blaze in roaring choruses past splashy backing vocals casting snake-charming harmonies into exuberant tunes and lifting superior lyrics enunciated with reckless directness into cheerful empirical delirium.

Silver Scrolls - Music for Walks

Intuitive moods gifted in unforced metamorphosis, “Walks,” stretches and expresses counter-culture cool, kicking psycho-tribal myths in hip sidewinder grifts with sparring guitars darting in uprooted confluence, hornet’s nest buzz turned spider-web shimmer. Zen-rock contenders, tag-team bohemians and downtown dreamers, Silver Scrolls roll in concrete canyon jams and dappled electric-folk rapture; six-string spirit-walkers straddling casual conjecture, exploratory chords and energetic calm.

Turning Jewels into Water - Our Reflection Adorned by Newly Formed Stars

Stoked techno-global alchemists mixing restless temporal mementos, TJIW’s sonic bonfires melt organic samples onto studio-manufactured curios, spawning alien tailgate anthems rich in primitive synergy and city-slicker sophistication. Processed poly-rhythmic glitches stitching indigenous snippets to twitching subterranean mania, “Adorned,” swarms with cultural storms, flowing DJ mosaics and neural surveys luring murky anachronisms onto mythical rituals, rhythmic-shifting enigmas and flickering shadow dances.

Fantastic Negrito - Have You Lost Your Mind Yet?

Action-packed melodramatics dipped in soul-assisted sizzle,” Lost,” back-talks in consciousness-raised exorcisms, casting out demonic preponderance with headline-grabbing stabs, contagious salacious tastes, pumped pulpit polemics and cartoon falsettos. Streetwise post-ironic operettas woke to urban-legend amendments, Fantastic Negrito’s possessed personas groan and moan with fierce hep-cat testaments delivered with revival-tent intentions and rallying ballyhoo, eliciting stinging organ wipe-outs alongside gut-wrenching guitar meltdowns.

Logan Farmer - Still No Mother

Cloud-bursting chamber-folk whispers drifting in lonely post-rock daydreams from graveyard-shift witnesses to lovesick mysteries, Logan Farmer’s solitary odyssey fosters tender acoustic clues to evasive destinations, unsettled melodies fallen into hollow waltzes and blank verse. Cloistered choices hidden in hard decisions,” Mother,” harbors ghostly poetry floating over rhythmless abysses; porous orchestras and electronic fog incorporating factual fictions held in emotional prisons.

Oceanator - Things I Never Said

Doom-laced about-faces placed between apocalyptic quips and rose-colored devotion, “Said,” hedges bets, pledging unhesitant punk-folk allegiance with cunning wonder, penetrating directness, cantering stanzas and charging carnage. Lean, deliberate and triumphant, Oceanator baits inescapable truths to crunchy riffs and shifty charisma; biting back-up for unflappable ballads ransacked in surplus purpose escorting scorching discourse from edgy fledgling revelations to sinister, rhythmic intimacies.

Secret Machines - Awake in the Brain Chamber

Adrenaline engines slipping into psychotropic over-drive, Secret Machines’ streamlined restraint moves in fugitive grooves, anchoring abstract contracts through insidious diligence drenched in desperate heft and unstoppable moxie. Tungsten bluntness coupled to nonchalance comeuppance and brooding aloofness, “Awake,” negotiates and instigates, taking vintage synth-rock wisdom simmering in divisive suspicions and updating the stakes for heroic pandemic redemptions and willful insurgent resilience.

Kelly Lee Owens - Inner Song

Artificial fissures waxing syncopated flashes in glowing closed-circuit percolations, “Song,” ping-pongs, dodging obvious logic while conjuring choreographed distractions; waterfall data-hauls sprinkled in cyber-annihilated limbo. Magical electro-pop fractals dazzle in fluid loops, angelic coos and soft polished cycles as icy maestro Owens sows digi-disco crystals from pensive reflections refracting radiant rainbow clusters in chill trills, slippery push-button percussion and plastic fascination.

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