Slipped Discs

Sharon Van Etten - Are We There

The patiently restrained and bewitchingly intimate sophistication exhibited with, “There,” wears its dawning longings, waking aches and compelling compulsions beneath a seething spirit bound and determined to find fulfillment through indie-folk hopes swaddled around chamber-rock promises. Possessing a deep dusky voice to administer her full-throttled melancholy, Van Etten’s sweeping needs and tireless desires relish delicate emptiness poised beneath bittersweet completion.

PAWS - Youth Culture Forever

Frank cantankerous angst from rambunctious punks whose brawling odysseys turn meaty hooks, mammoth jams and contagious outrage into harsh cathartic brilliance; Glasgow’s cavernous mavericks tunnel through thundering dungeons with heavy-handed candor capturing ravishing guitar-powered howls through raw, honest squalls churned in tactical smack-downs. Convincingly succinct, PAWS’ steely zeal propel, “Youth,” into non-conforming storms of jagged gonzo-pop and incorrigible, uproarious rock.

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah - Only Run

Dire diary-writing draped in mind-altering escapes, “Run,” funnels adamant battles from unraveling battalions into humane refrains, seething pleads and heartening pardons. Savory synth-blues bravery caked in dream-pop decay and alt-rock camaraderie; the band’s solid apologist and heroic motivator Alec Ounsworth masterminds a dynamic stamina fortifying resolve as it exposes our most vulnerable sides. CYHSY play Madison’s Majestic Theater June 12th.

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.

Miniature Tigers - Cruel Runnings

The light fluffy buzz inherent in Miniature Tigers’ synthesized dollops of summer-time power-pop trigger snickering predictions from romantic grifters; slippery dilettantes cultivating sly, shy conceits through cheeky star-spangled jangle garnished in varnished harmonies, pining ironies and subversive mirth. Schooled in bright-colored cool, “Cruel,” balances bashful nostalgia beside smarmy charm; hunting love’s wily smiles while juggling smug bop and irrepressible zest. Be sure to check out the band when they play Madison’s The Frequency July 22nd.

Turn to Crime - Can’t Love

Jack-hammered spooks grooving on chill-punk gotham-rock, the Detroit trio Turn to Crime’s charred barrage slithers in dank midnight sizzle; amniotic zombie soundtracks scrounging for seedy psychosis chasing impatient basement jollies. Flirting in diverting mercies, spastic gymnastics and minimalist kismet; “Can’t,” plants tattered mavericks in subterranean craniums as cage-rattling blasts poach kettle-quivering rhythms moving a mesmerizing hysteria headlong into post-modern purgatory.

Vulkano - Live Wild Die Free

Fed in shredded unvetted energy, drenched in effervescent discontent and buoyed by devilish bubblegum crunch, “Wild,” piles tribal-pop trials onto feverish Swedish punk from swishy witches dishing delicious dirt. Gleeful banshees ransacking mad-hatter attics, Vulkano’s tangled pagan bounce pounces and denounces, piloting untamed raves, frantic chants and game-changing bangers for synth-pinched party-time in sugar-shack shin-digs hosted by giddy little anarchists.

White Fence - To the Recently Found Innocent

A preening bohemian swaddled in caterwauling twang, uncurbed reverb and delicate psychedelics, White Fences’ Tim Presley blazes deeply between heady reverie and rabbit-hole reality. Dripping in mythical ripples rinsed in renaissance ruffles, “Innocent,” cements White Fences’ heightened hippie-rock senses; jamming in jagged cosmic jangle while groping dislocated ghosts and deconstructing cock-eyed looking-glass blues through sparkled chakras dressed in electric petticoats.

Merchandise - After The End

Literate dilettantes skimming deep wells stocked in jealous rebels, vampire-rockers Merchandise power around cool moody subterfuge; smoldering consolers rebounding from romantic panic through calm elegant honesty, a brave sincerity born from seamless melancholy adrift in glittering indifference. Distinct but distant, muscular yet paralyzed, “After, ” unmasks underhanded candor, conjuring dark theatrics composed over steely blue-eyed soul and post-punk dance anthems.

Elephant Stone - Three Poisons

Hard-wired McGuyvers tripping in interstellar systems, Elephant Stone’s sneaky dream-rock stalks snarled schematics engineering half-magic acrobatics as wavy sci-fi soul barrels through dharma bum blues. Crafted micro-encapsulated psychedelics harness mod-melodic pyrotechnics while groovy utopian glow flickers in glam-trampled guitars and incense-dispensed sitars; “Poisons,” seep between sleepy memories and swimming visions, bending minds in polished cosmic doppelgangers and throbbing phosphorescent testaments.

David Kilgour and the Heavy Eights - End Times Undone

Glistening six-string christenings switching luscious crushes for electric caresses, New Zealand’s Kilgour masters a placid muse whose seashore chords splash beneath brackish clatter, carpeting soft, focused vocals in heavenly cushions drawn from swampy tsunamis. Blessed by restless alchemists, the rambling strands holding, “Undone,” together converge in tender suspension manifesting languid jangle inside knotted indie-rock; serpentine designs assigned behind blustery bliss.

The Kooks - Listen

Exuberant suitors courting flashy blues-rock habits teeming in dreamy Motown, The Kooks erupt in a funky lather of swagger and lager as downtown boogie fitted with hip-swiveling missiles send warning shots over classic bar-room ballads fused to toe-tapping passions. Wicked, snickering hits, “Listen,” pricks ears and kick-starts bristling trashcan symphonies smothered in hardy bravado, genuine sentiment and spirited good cheer.

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