Slipped Discs

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.

Car Seat Headrest - Teens of Denial

Armed with genuine guards-down charm amid snowballing squalor, CSH addresses post-millennial conflicts encapsulated in slow-roasted, lo-fi epics. Experimental adventures toasted in triumphant trumpet and scrawny six-string flings bursting in quotable anecdotes, ripped quips and free-floating slogans, “Denial,” piles autobiographical slacker-passions propped onto soapbox indie-rock; mild-mannered rambles germinated in good-natured swipes ignite penetrating mayhem ripened under road-tested tempests and street-wise cries.

Cool Ghouls - Animal Races

A late-sixties throw-back telegraphed in kaleidoscopic jangle wrangling brittle six-string synergy, “Animal,” tips a narcoleptic Stetson to West Coast ghosts wrestling echo-laden wig-outs tripping in electric finger-picking and sweetened with tumbleweed pedal-steel and heady harmonies. Yearning folk-rock hold-outs prone to exquisite psychedelic rampages and transcendental anecdotes, Cool Ghouls’ concrete cowboys pound paisley pavements chasing hard-scrambled solos engulfed in house-party R&B.

Allison Crutchfield - Tourist In This Town

Sweetened in synths and reinforced by lean, muscular percussion, “Tourist,” empowers and devours with life-affirming urgency, plunging into epic alt-rock with beguiling folk-pop honesty, confronting psychological obstacles in uninhibited descriptions and first-person certainty, Branded in animated hindsight, unapologetic conjecture and level-headed revelations Crutchfield’s enlarged heart reveals a restless edginess that takes no prisoners while liberating desperate efforts with infectious messages.

Tim Cohen - Luck Man

Warm and fuzzy wonder washes over Cohen’s cozy notions, trippy sympathies and jocular journeys, elevating quasi-narcotic concoctions from hippie-dipped simplicity to epic medicine for psilocybin sentimentalists. Narrative clarity surrounding whimsical kismet propel, “Luck,” constructing a rich, ramshackle tapestry from home-grown pop-rock options whose welcoming tones and elemental metaphors navigate uncertain times with winsome wisdom captured in shining pearls of self-assurance.

Crushed Stars - Displaced Sleepers

Rainy-day tranquility steeped in soft-spoken elegance, “Sleepers,” keeps secret dreams shrouded in patient, complacent guitars, jazz-brushed percussion and swaying bass. Slow, suggestive solos from liquid synths drip beneath cymbal-less rhythms while gossamer flotsam flounders and lounges extracting existential penance from lost romantics. A quivering equilibrium between mild-mannered melancholy and candle-lit bitterness, Crushed Stars’ beautifully mired mirages disappear into twilight hindsight. 

Cold Beat - Chaos By Invitiation

Rinsed in kinky synths programmed for cynical, clinical minimalism, “Chaos,” micro-manages galactic sadness seized in seductive electro-pop buzz and scrubbed with candy-coated vocals from moonstruck cyber-waifs. Mining ghostly tones from computer ghouls schooled in fleshy caresses, dabbling sound-lab collaborators Cold Beat unleashes fiendish dreams firing laser-guided desires via stratospheric lyrics; tempting tingling senses with machine-tooled cool engineered in space-ballad algorithms.

The Clientele - Music for the Age of Miracles

Courtly discourse awash in posh, wishing-well novellas, “Miracles,” wield well-mannered analysis whose royal harpsichords, sea-side calliopes and Tudor lutes scoop gilded dream-pop sorcery into swinging, psychedelic elegance. Golden moments polished and placed in Carnaby storefronts, The Clientele’s soft-sell intel makes marvelous foggy waltzes; coy, buoyant sophistication tripping down magical rabbit-holes, surrendering pretensions and hosting heavenly energies cast in silver-screen cinematics.

Circuit des Yeux - Reaching for Indigo

Torn from deep-forest oracles uttering complex hexes beneath prophetic jazz-folk recollections, “Indigo,” growls in exquisite misery, casting microtonal omens with bellowing joy and evoking eclectic memories shrouded in shimmering enigmas. Boisterous voyager and sonic conqueror, Circuit des Yeux battens down and plows ahead navigating treacherous questions through hurricane refrains; sophisticated tsunamis crooning enchanting demands summoning plummeting plans with resurrected textures.

Colleen - A flame my love, a frequency

Happily matching bubble-wrapped palpitations punctuated by cooing computers, buoyant, electro-ballerina Colleen composes unfolding emotions with pure, gurgling circuitry, merging prancing raindrop phantoms with chattering digital patterns. Coy, vacuum-sealed calliopes rejoice in voiceless poise around impish art-pop fairy-tales regaled in calm, experimental sound-stencils, “Frequency,” knits parallel systems both natural and artificial; tranquil sanctuaries filled with sublime baroque designs refining interactive strategies.

Calexico - The Thread That Keeps Us

Strong songs conjuring nuanced narratives inside miniature cinema soundtracks, “Thread,” strings laughing brass and growling guitars between barrio blues and field-hand fiestas hopping from solid indie-rock to gentle Tex-Mex chamber-folk to quinceañera party-funk. Ignited by vigilant sympathy for modern hardships, Calexico translates pride and honor into cautious optimism and valiant perseverance detailing small-time triumphs over age-old challenges and down-to-earth concerns.

Hollie Cook - Vessel of Love

Pulled by shore-bound waves, Cook’s blazed reggae bobs and drifts in tranquil tropical awesomeness providing shaded sanctuary to supple supplicants rockin’ narcotic positivity with destressed treasures tethered to spiritual pleasures. Freedom squeezed between sun-baked melodica and dub-soaked trap-kits, “Love,” liberates minds, hearts and bodies in suggestive festival caresses from hemp-temptress’ beckoning questions offering sensual sea-side redemption through prime island unwinding.

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