Slipped Discs

Bats - The Guilty Office

A peaceful student riot organized into reasonable demonstrations, the almost indifferently literate Bats’ unique bounce and jangle sparks and tranquilizes, urges, encourages and informs. A cool, muted tapestry of unassuming anxieties; “Guilty,” processes overloaded guitars, sentimental missives and sharp drums into mesmerizing compositions of shimmering indie innocence swung around frenzied, art-punk thunder.

Builders And The Butchers - Salvation is a Deep Dark Well

Seductively sinister, TBAB’s hangman’s requiems creep and crawl then pounce and preach for exhilarating alt-folk accusations. Sawing fiddles, flaming brass accents and brittle banjos expose twisted desert confessions of demonic dirges and eloquent exorcisms as, “Salvation,” indicts, smites and incites through ruthless acoustics and menacing melodies.

Baby Teeth - Hustle Beach

A contagious array of classic rock, seventies garage and old school new wave makes, “Hustle,” fun, muscular good times.  Energetic hooks, gung-ho vocals and lean, mean arrangements spiced with vintage synth sounds, BT’s blue collar fodder bounces and blasts, assailing the senses and revving memory’s motors in desperate elegance and no holds barred bravado.

Lou Barlow - Goodnight Unknown

Lo-fi tonics for unquenchable curiosities, Barlow’s restless quests yield broken folkie’s splintered tales harvested among indie-rocker’s ragged holy grails and bedroom pop’s heavily-weathered details. Smothered in casual confidence, tamed by infectious melodies and danced around forthright beats, “Goodnight,” offers a friendly hand to help you down the road - entertaining, authentic and entirely welcome.

Brazos - Phosphorescent Blues

Brazos’ alt-folk affectations give way to minimalist chamber pop; textural confections fostering poetic ambitions, ceaseless free verse tumbling over cascading counterpoint. Twittering figures build sensuous tensions while, “Phosphorescent,” generates images and visions bound to exultant beats, hobo hopes stitched with hippie mantras seething beneath solemn streets, a stage-struck bohemia of everyday opulence and casual insight.

Blunt Mechanic - World Record

Pearls wrapped in raucous romps and splintered soliloquies, Kind of Like Spitting’s Ben Barnett’s perceptive meta-conscious songs blast, slash and busk, plucking ragged realizations from personal observations and dressing them in lo-fi riffs and full-blown garage band trips. “World,” swirls; brandishing guile while collapsing from overloaded amps, slacker-crashing gallops and jagged, electric, alt-folk journalism.

Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson - Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson

Joyfully boisterous political burlesque, “BBAJ,” spin power-mongering parables into fame-driven morals and energetic allegories. Charismatically arrogant characters burst into effervescent bravado as gorgeous hoi polloi choruses orchestrated by rockin’ rabble rousers provide spot lit soliloquies inside rock-star bluster and feisty, foul-mouthed fanfares squeezed between bittersweet pop-rock pleads. Smart, sharp and sarcastic, “BBAJ,” deliver amusing historical buffoonery alongside theatrically hijacked fact.

Blood Red Shoes - Fire Like This

Taking no prisoners, “Fire,” ignites a hailstorm of monster tremolo, big-screen screams and explosive grooves. Circling like muscled vultures, Shoes’ shiny goose-step rock assaults with two-fisted rivers of hard-nosed prose and sizzling riff missiles. Blasting past unrepentant petulance, “Fire,” builds tense acrylic retaliations, guarded shards accosting blockbuster structures, flaunting dive-bombing stomps and stoked locomotives. BRS crash Chicago’s Subterranean October 29th.

Breathe Owl Breathe - Magic Central

Blissfully breezy, B.O.B.‘s fluid musings sly rhymes and placid tactics combine sophisticated kinderpop to whimsical chamber-folk. Ballads of benevolent sentiment happily waxing philosophic, “Central,” sneaks heartbeats between light-hearted lullabies leisurely weaving intricate sympathies from nimble narratives; encouraging enticements tinged with Cuban rumbas, timid tangos and tottering waltzes. B.O.B. plays Milwaukee’s Cactus Club Nov. 9th and Madison’s High Noon Nov 10th.

Birthmark - Shaking Hands

Synthesizing and simplifying haunting chamber-jazz into sequestered sambas and cinematic symphonies, Joan of Arc’s multi-instrumentalist Nate Kinsella spawns songs drawn from resplendent intelligence; composing potent tones honed and harnessed, methodically weighed and conveyed. Smoothing moods and stirring scourges. “Hands,” cerebrally conceived art-folk moments juggle backwards tracks and monochromatic mantras to create precarious canvases, pairing acoustic solitude alongside avant rabbit-hole confessions.

Broken Records - Let Me Come Home

Galloping gasps of forthright sincerity ride high on unforced remorse and fitful decisions. Soldiering through storms and craving calamity, the British band’s anthems stampede between brawny leads, fashionably cinematic passions and desperately perplexing pleads. Simmering in boisterous deeds, Broken’s emotional depths stomp and ponder a heart’s worth of tender regrets as the artfully upset, “Home,” delivers galvanized symphonic rock salvations.

Braids - Native Speaker

Studio Druids who exorcise as they harmonize; Braid’s brave, orchestrated forests swirl with cricket-filtered choirs and crocheted waves of aquatic mathematics. Expansive trance textures rise and subside in phosphorescent dimensions while chirping, gurgling reverb and plush, double-ply synthesizers dart, march and multiply. “Speaker,” neatly consecrates complicated interconnected catacombs, building layered labyrinths of omnipresent percolations for twilight flights into madcap tapestries, Braids play UW-Madison’s Rathskellar February 25th.

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