Slipped Discs

Portugal. the Man - In the Mountain In the Cloud

Blasting past glam-rock boogie, funky electric blues and Zen guitar furies, “Mountain,” amasses cosmic Pentecostal stomps amid narcotic rainbow gospel. Mega-ramped mantra rock crests, arrests and sets fire to spiraling psychedelia, cradling granola mellow soul between crashing surges of blazing impatience. Roving leprechaun pop accosting Gothic haunts, P.tM’s action-packed wisdom and wishes encapsulate zigzagging cascades of spotless lava lamp logic.

Release the Sunbird - Come Back to Us

Humble wonders, wistful intimacy and folksy tranquility highlight Rogue Wave front-man Zach Rogue’s new side-project. Friendly genuine vibes and idyllic upbeat rides, RTS’s unencumbered takes and minimal overdubs conjure sweet, unimpeded camaraderie within discrete, unassuming synergy. Effervescent messages bounce beside bright, pastoral chords from tight, tasty guitars and glazed, syncopated keys, “Come,” shines over softly-spoken joys infiltrating bucolic alt-pop ballads. RTS play Madison’s East Side Club August 25th.

Brian Eno and Rick Holland - Drums Between Bells

Spinning vigorously digitized Afro-pop and mesmerizing New Age, Eno pairs mystical rhythms and primordial chorales against Holland’s calm truths and processed epiphanies. Manipulated palettes gallop as velvety ooze moves through synthetic stews, grouping moody mathematics around deprogrammed metaphysics. Integrating techno-speak from cyber-specters and vivid images from androgynous monologists, “Drums,” plummet crystal epistles past philosophical obstacles, scorching horns and jazzy patterns.

Wooden Shjips - West

Churning, squirming murmurs battle seething feed-back and pile-driving percussion while slithering chainsaw blues cruise saturated flash in a combustible combination of mind-blowing bliss. “West,” masterfully plasters sulfuric solos over discordant storms, twisting fistfuls of fuzzed-out guitars and thick wicked organ. Seismic miners, WS’s sinewy squalor breech and buckle under scathing sonic séances, co-opting cross-wired chakras for absorbing amorphous phantasmagorical fibrillations,

Geoffrey O'Connor - Vanity is Forever

Crayon Fields singer’s plastic nostalgia buoys stately sustains and ominous bass, concocting frosty melancholy tossed over sophisticated chords and clinical beats for eighties soul-searching encased in faced facts, romantic traps and lapsed compacts. “Vanity,” uncannily channels overheated libidos by playing it cool; mod Aussie shoe-gaze smothered in shiny sounds and tragically poignant perceptions. O’Connor plays Chicago’s Lincoln Hall October 3rd

The Kooks - Junk of the Heart

Effortless Britpop perfection transforms trusted structures into sweet, savvy, alchemical delights, Two years in the making, “Junk,” mines bouncy countenance through space-age minstrels extolling earth-bound ballads. Hugging the beat around propulsive hooks soaring in choruses and immersed in flirty verse, The Kooks’ nicked riffs and sizzling sonic comments mix flippant misfits within sumptuous salads producing tuneful larks beside feather-weight heartache

St. Vincent - Strange Mercy

Cool, ghoulish guitars unraveling ripped runs from walloping chops and funky grunts against vivid synths and livid delivery, “Mercy,” serves gilded memories over liberated librettos packing punches inside tweaked dreams covered in pleasing pandemonium. St. Vincent’s discerning yearnings burst in sharp turns and wide-eyed surprises, melodramatic maneuvers proving irresistible crucibles for smoldering treasures. Catch her conquering Milwaukee’s Pabst October 3rd

Scott H. Biram - Bad Ingredients

Raw, rambling laments and roaring, storming bulletproof blues turn what often is Biram and one guitar into a cut-throat road-house smack-down. Tinderbox tempests unravel midnight confessions as ragged sour-mash mojo seeks open roads and honest hearts through rambunctious redemption. Covering Lightnin’ Hopkins and Bill Monroe, “Bad,” flags punk-roots magic from authentic Texas desperation, stirring gutbucket gumbo into fast-talking grifter wisdom

VHS or Beta - Diamonds and Death

Peek-a-boo grooves twist and shout unrolling house-rockin’ rhapsodies between steamy disco fevers streaming over non-stop strobe-lit fantasies. Throbbing spot-on hob-knobbing frolic in polished mosh-pit palpitations, robot hooks and dark romance, “Diamonds,” cuts rugs and fashion action-packed panache from dreamy sequencers and funky bass primed for gothic crimes. Four years since their last release, VHS or Beta mine refined, rock-hard tunes.

The Loom - Teeth

Bravely wavering between well-heeled alt-rock squalor and rustic murder-ballad pageantry, “Teeth,” embraces embroidered warrior voyages. Swooning in musical courtship, admonished sonics stir sea-worthy furies for elegantly tweaked chamber-folk fevers. The Loom’s hushed rustler’s rhetoric and wild-eyed folk-revival fosters sprawling banjo to brass passages, rip-roaring chorales built from war-torn madrigals reaping bonfire finales. The Brooklyn quintet plays UW’s Rathskellar November 12th.

Gauntlet Hair - Gauntlet Hair

Strafed in hyperbolic claustrophobia, mashed clattering and cataclysmic metaphysics, Gauntlet Hair’s groovy psycho-swampy rock resonates in unchained jangle bouncing soundly around syncopated reverb and euphoric Morlock melodies. Jungle-punk and soul-blues influences catapult the Chicago duo’s wind-tattered caverns through avalanche-managed planets. “Gauntlet Hair,” grows freefall cacophony for cosmic canvases, scathing, raving romper room operas drenched in glorious noise and industrial ecstasy

Treefight for Sunlight - A Collection of Vibrations for your Skull

Brimming with spinning day-glo piano runs, trippy choirboy whimsy and tumbling pop-rock glee, TFS’s cartwheel zeal manifests youthful truths into carefree catalysts; magical infatuations spawning epic fascinations, arm-stretching sections nestling plush harmonies over Danish retro-psychedelia. Crashing clouds of angelic after-thoughts led by radiant sages, “Vibrations,” bounces merrily knitting rainbow ballets stoked in action-packed happiness, shimmering hymns kicking in quivering climaxes

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