Slipped Discs

Chris Berry - King of Me

Washed in frisky polyrhythmic bliss, “King,” crowns Afro-funky punches and nimble, bi-lingual chants extolling solid social conscience carried by humane refrains. California-born and Zimbabwe-educated, Berry, a multi-talented rhythmist, singer and international activist swims and swings in vigorous tropical pop drenched in contrapuntal wonders, spreading communal grooves between sun-roasted truths juggling tumbling drums, voracious vocalists, liquid bass and thundering thumb piano.

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.

Holly Golightly and the Brokeoffs - It’s Her Fault

Brimstone cornpone carousing around backwoods toe-tappers, “Fault,” exalts howling juke-joint boogie, muddy-water rockabilly and hog-tied honky-tonky for a formidable twist and shout from shotgun honeys wielding skid-row licks drenched in swamp-water kicks. Recorded on their Georgia farm, Golightly and partner-in-crime Lawyer Dave stay true to their country-blues roots reaping delicious rib-tickling kitsch beneath gritty buckshot ballads and rollicking hootenanny anthems.

Nikki Lane - All or Nothin’

Stoked in rogue rockabilly-folk and straight-talk country-pop, “All,” falls smack-dab between hard-bitten drifters smitten by smart, tart hearts and no-nonsense honky-tonk dressed to kill. Dan Auerbach’s bold, retro production booms and swoons in boot-scootin’ tunes tinged in vintage organ fills and lively laptop steel as romance wrangling Lane’s bruised moods deliver irresistible tips for extended stays at the Heartbreak Hotel. Nikki plays Madison’s High Noon Saloon June 16th.

Meshell Ndegeocello - Comet, Come To Me

Melted stealth poured over trickling riffs; Ndegeocello’s tasteful, playful forays into cozy soul, regal reggae and magical jazz conjure microcosmic blossoms inside pristine improvisations for celestial struts cast in smoky vocals and frisky apparitions carved from cyber-funky jams. Delicate senses tinted in textured menace, “Comet,” slinks, sinks and out-thinks buffed lust and supple mistrust; delicious mischief from exquisite art-pop pixels.

John Hiatt - Terms of My Surrender

Not going down without a fight, “Surrender,” delivers swinging pulp-fiction prescriptions inside stinging country-blues and Cajun-flavored folk blending broken souls howling in backwater train-yards with scrappy jackals laughing at obsessive confessors. The tender-hearted Haitt assisted by his savvy touring band, slow-cooks his character-driven narratives in vinegar and molasses; each tune brimming with simmering wisdom and affectionate connections to foolish pursuits.

Christopher Denny - If The Roses Don’t Kill Us

Major chord euphoria baptized in warm purring Wurlitzers, bantering pianos and gurgling guitars; “Roses,” flows in spunky country-gospel, embracing Church-bell bright liturgies and family-friendly redemption. Sprinkled in Dixieland boogie, dusted with evangelical twang and shielded by hand-quilted happiness, Denny’s folksy notions are pitched with revival-meeting zeal and colored in frontier lovers’ gumption, turning lively homespun wonder into gentle denim revelations.

Steve Gunn - Way Out Weather

Organic, multi-stringed folk-symphonies seethe in slithering space-blues figures anchored in wriggling gringo rhythms; Gunn’s chattering talisman groove in elaborate slabs of tubular nuance. An unfettered zoo wild with collaborative habitats, “Weather,” churns electric devils from avenging crescendos; jammy candied banshees roasted in campfire crackle and dry-wood moan, baking tasty bandit-rock from sunny alt-country cunning, quicksilver shadows running under reclusive guru-roots.

Thompson - Family

Captained by brother, son and uncle, Teddy, several talented Thompson tribesmen wrote two songs each cobbling accompaniments from spouses and siblings for a collaborative tag-team breeding top-notch folk-blues swaddled inside headstrong harmonies atop wickedly fidgety guitar-licks. Spinning cynical sing-alongs against co-dependent sentiment, the clan bands together giving, “Family,” a fierce independence, hoppin’ and sobbin’ over rocky relations and tender-hearted sanctions.

The Black Ryder - The Door Behind the Door

Vivid psycho-tribal simmering washed in haunting folk-goth simplicity, The Black Ryder’s starlit spider-web tapestries glow, draped in swamp-gas visions born from tumble-weed fevers. Finger-picked gifts rippling in slow-boiled riffs and disembodied choirs, “Door,” unlocks celestial textures, unleashing bare-boned moans from drowsy, drowning rapture; delicate treasures whose screeching, skyscraper-blues smolder, console and seduce through diaphanous passions, woefully floating below shark-infested loneliness.

Tom Brosseau - Perfect Abandon

Accompanied by his three-piece band and recording with a single microphone, sly, eye-twinkling troubadour Brosseau captures character-inhabiting sagas, tenderly spreading good-natured country-blues in crystal-clear cadence and disarming calm. Sweet, sleepy keepsakes tumbling from folksy podiums with minimal fuss, “Perfect,” births cozy poems detailing love’s errant struggles and life’s hard-won discoveries; hand-picked deliverance trimmed in ragtime rhythms strummed from beguiling smiles.

John Moreland - High on Tulsa Heat

Heavy sighs turn to deep breathing as sorrow finds a centered voice in Moreland’s sharp, Dust Bowl folk; gritty lyrical intricacy nurtures plucked heartstring intimacy with solemn six-string soliloquies tinted in rambling panhandler candor. Authentic connections riddle, “Tulsa,” with level-headed introspection riding beside hungry country kickers for an album challenged by life’s fated intervention and lifted in transcendent roadside redemption.

View More

Viewing Page 4 - of 6

‹ First  < 2 3 4 5 6 > 

Contact Maximum Ink music magazine

• Contact: Webmaster(at)maximumink.com
• (608) 245-0781
• No Longer Accepting Unsolicited Packages
  Please email Webmaster or call for more info