Slipped Discs

Flying Lotus - Cosmogramma

Hard-wired, narcoleptic kaleidoscopes; FL’s latest fractured trajectories spill into a barrage of schizoid collage, found sounds and re-mastered plastic. New age waves waft past acrobatic spasms, subtle puzzles melt trampled samples against unfettered fantasies while quirky flirtations glow, surface and evaporate. Riptide runs catapult sleepless beats, sweeping free jazz leaps as, “Cosmogramma,” builds into sweet cyber-jambalaya.

Nils Frahm and Anne Mueller - 7fingers

Patiently threading ghostly cello among surly chirps, slippery blips and peek-a-boo beats, studio guru Frahm’s effervescent collaboration suggests interstellar pinball coated in sublime intertwining technologies. Shifting indiscriminately, “7fingers,” skims and dips, soars and skips, amassing raspy atmospheres - engineered yet mysteriously romantic and beautifully alien, suspension bridges melting into a hypnotic fog.

Fences - Fences

Bedroom pop wallpapered in weathered regrets and street-fed wisdom, “Fences,” packages unsorted feelings into restless resolution, nimble pickin’ and waltzing melodies whose casual insight and gifted riffs bolster roller-coaster emotions through stoic brokered perspective. Personable and persuasive, Fences’ jaunty melancholy and placid happiness nestle together befriended by quietly spry lyrics, sly hooks and humble brilliance.

Fujiya & Miyagi - Ventrilloquizzing

Chilled hip-swivelers practicing trained disdain, F&M’s cool, re-tooled, frequently seething, sequined struts bluff and chuff haughty, naughty vamps. Intriguingly pristine, anxiously apathetic, the restlessly suave students of clinically sinister catwalk Krautrock carefully enunciate puzzling instructions encased inside pharmaceutical funk.  Aloof and predatory, “Ventrilloquizzing,” courts haute couture, laying riffs super model cool over well-greased soul, window-shopping mannequins grazing jaded high society,

Sallie Ford and the Sound Outside - Dirty Radio

Whack scats, romping bop and whip-smart jive straddle bawdy shotgun operas drawn from washboard boogie, barn-stormin’ rock-a-billy and smoldering back-alley soul. Ford and company’s vivacious revivalism injects contemporary perspectives into swinging traditions, pairing hootchie-cootchie come-ons alongside waltzing walk-on-bys. Channeling Patsy Cline, Big Bill Broonzy and Bessie Smith, “Radio,” radiates raw, feisty geek-girl charm for tasty raves and brash maverick ballads.

Eleanor Friedberger - Last Summer

From hepcat to hipster chick, Fiery Furnace’s Friedberger’s verbal mirth and squiggling riffs slide by bright funky hooks dodging retro-textured synths and post-bop bass for moon-dancing party-pop whose streaming subplots prop off-beat and foolishly groovy treats. Dabbling in schoolyard calypso, chic beatnik dreams and shuffling serenades, “Summer,” becomes a prize-filled grab-bag of flirtatious cadence, coy cathartic remembrances within laidback chitchat.

b. fleischmann - I’m Not Ready for the Grave Yet

Swirling percolations, ominous phenomena and placid pitter-patter knit bewitching synergies beneath academic oratory, semi-detached irony and cheeky offbeat sequences.  Austrian multi-instrumentalist fleischmann’s oddly logical, microcosmic dollops paint plaintive puzzles dressed in clanking rancor, anchored by bubbly brilliance, radiant cadence and literary lunacy. A whimsical symphony weaving sharp, sardonic comments around rhythmic fits, “Grave,” persuades and surveys, happily mapping sonorous scenarios

Sallie Ford and the Sound Outside - Untamed Beast

Level-headed reveler and simmering torch-song singer, Ford’s batter-dipped sass and tough-chick grit melts soapbox boasts into frosted caution drawing saucy celebrations from salty bop for lip-smacking, finger-snapping, rumble-seat gumbo. Bawdy stomps and jump-start romps ignite frisky epiphanies via jive surf-guitar bards and rock-a-billy fillies while, “Beast,” courts and cavorts in cheeky discourse. Ford and company play Madison’s Majestic March 31st.

Fol Chen - The False Alarms

Stalking exotic beats through fawning time-bomb cons, L,A,‘s Fol Chen upends modern dance-floor conventions in fearlessly delirious weirdness. Come hither synths with back coated in moody seducer’s detachment and playful tasered tact, “False,” waxes and collapses; a close-circuit circus wired to sci-fi funk crunched by leather-clad coquettes issuing illicit robo-pop operas decked out in teasing beliefs and slippery digitized charisma.

Free Time - Free Time

Feigned restraint swaddled in soft-spoken verse squirms beneath FT’s narcotic combination of Kiwi-twee and New York torque. Couched in leisurely sweetness, capsized happiness and upbeat appeasements, “Free,” stands knee-deep in riff-driven fits as solid, melodic swan-songs washed in bristling wishes, modest apologies and breezy seaside jangle form thorny six-string storms churned in playful pop-rock submissions spiked with flinty home-sick indecision.

Eleanor Friedberger - Personal Record

Placid ballads, lonely sambas and halting waltzes saunter along as earth-bound lounge in luxurious certainty capture first-class songs in pool-party impertinence; “Personal,” whirls in journal-churning thrills as quotable anecdotes and candid mandates stream and careen inside bohemian dreams knee-deep in coy Freudian rejoicing. Breezily leisurely, Friedberger’s flirtatious tastes snake through pithy sixties shin-digs, sprinkling torch-song soul around jazzy, chatty rigmarole.

Fox and the Bird - Darkest Hours

Humble tumbleweed homilies roasted in toasty campfire harmonies, cantering banjo banter, well-placed brass and slithering fiddle, “Darkest,” parlays a cozy homage to downtrodden commoners with robust busking cloaked in chamber-folk charm. Sorting through lonesome stories, cavorting in kind-hearted tales, FATB’s punchy, frontier fables resonate in tender remembrances, sage advice and friendly encouragements with a light touch and a steady hand.

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