Slipped Discs

Soldiers of Fortune - Early Risers

A heat-seeking cluster of scavenger bluster propels sweltering spells into blues-sutured garage-rock nirvana; “Early,” hurtles mortared support behind a loosely-knit super-group wailing away in blissfully blistering six-string raves. Out of the gate swinging, SOF’s raucous caucus rides an iron-clad herd in hammering rambling stampedes, raging against life-sapping apathy with cannonball abandon splattered in muscular gusto, friendly benders and cathartic kick-starters.

The Most Serene Republic - Mediac

Fissionable fictions written by curious observers scribbling Monday-morning epiphanies on cosmopolitan roadmaps, TMSR’s classy musical passages host bright concise cross-examinations mounted on enterprising melodies. Groomed illumination overflows in rosy, double-edged prose working casual magic with terse outbursts residing inside tireless desires as the esoteric collective’s action-packed, “Mediac,” ransacks sentimental conventions with charmed aplomb, manufacturing rallying ballads over sharp, driven rhythms.

Maserati - Rehumanizer

Subterranean refrains engrained inside caged Krautrock aftershocks, the muscular, “Rehumanizer,” welds defiant alliances among hard-wired cyber-revisers, plotting and concocting spirited conspiracies for toppling mechanical overlords. Led by thundering drums and bass building skyscraping metropolises, Maserati’s single-minded monsters unleash cool moves beneath crashing thrashes, slamming industrial-strength ambushes with hypno-groovy space-jams commanding menacing momentum that takes no prisoners and shows no mercy.

Lanterns on the Lake - Beings

Swelling, compelling melancholy turns turbulent uncertainties into stormy scorn from vanquished angels. From subtle symphonics to labyrinth electronics, prowling guitars and gothic violins, “Beings,” seethes and seizes, casting curdling urges upon washed-out shores of wind-stripped islands. Lofty offerings from estranged maidens, bewitching dream-rockers LOTL flock around phantom camps flaunting haunted providence with searing atmospherics battling spacious impatience with ghostly commotion.

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.

Sally Sparrow & the Old 41 - Never Far From My Mind

Bittersweet folktronic-pop carving hard facts from sand-shifting sympathies, “Mind,” unwinds in synth-driven inquiries divvied between good-natured bounce rattling complacent agents and steadfast crackle whose welcoming glow exposes deep-seated suspicions beneath soulful devotions. Cushioned in compact choruses and studio ingenuity, inventive Dropbox collaborators SS41’s tentative elegance fences leathery rock to cotton-candy daydreams, adding booming salutes and layered surveys to pensive introspection.

Deantoni Parks - Technoself

Harsh sound-bitten ignitions syncing deconstructed visions scratch catchy, contracted tracks into banging gangland demolitions; cyber-percussionist Parks’ random tangents stitch goose-step mosaics around semaphore euphoria where teething seizures birth squirmy creatures in ghetto-echo. Piling writhing revisionism into jagged pageants, the ultra-propulsive, Technoself,” unrolls jarring barrio beats fashioned from McGuyvered crate-divers; serpentine survivors from mouse-trap snaps blasting balloon-popping tunes with glitch-enriched aphasia.

Laser - Night Driver

Stroboscopic doctors operating on dance-floor courtesans kidnap ultra-metropolitan happenings and tunnel under hard-wired after-parties as master craftsmen Laser chills silken willfulness into delicious post-modern parables; frisky disco whispers visit neon grooves for synth-pop dipped in cloaked programs. Drive-by glamour-shots caught in paparazzi spotlights, “Driver,” slides behind electric dreams pulsing in sultry weekend getaways, speeding through tubular maneuvers, lighting incandescent souls.

Swahili Blonde - and only the melody was real

Junkyard-robot paradises swerving and lurching to choreographed sci-fi smack-downs, “melody,” builds rattling plastic masterworks pulled between trashy studio catastrophes; calm Kraftwerk charm spread over squelchy face-melters for a paved yellow-brick cavalcade. Spooky tinker-toy goofs spilling from ray-gun playgrounds in scintillating bionic burlesque, Swahili Blonde’s strong contradictory mysteries evaporate with strangely engaging after-tastes of timeless grinds from sleek, creaky off-kilter windmill-tilters.

Daughter - Not To Disappear

Cooked in narcotic tonics and strewn in saw-tooth gauze, Daughter’s frail pale sunset introspections turn veiled dream-rock into arrested confessions wrenched from tempestuous interventions. Drenched in repentant tension, “Disappear,” veers fearlessly into fierce bittersweet longing as hushed lyrics hung under contorted atmospherics bake deep existential aches into mesmerizing empathy, trapping slow claustrophobic explosions within tangled temptations roasting smoldering ghost-poached transmissions.

Quilt - Plaza

Wide-eyed pop-rock trotted through cosmic meadows and hatched inside blazing paisley; the sly unbridled psychedelics of, “Plaza,” waft through magical Saturday after-thoughts with trippy sixties innocence and wise enlightened hindsight. Narco-minstrel convictions gliding inside slinky guitar-driven rhythms, Quilt’s groovy moon-struck doodles swing between sparkling star-dusted harmonics and suspiciously delicious ear-worm turns for a sweet voyeur’s voyage around dreamy sugar-coated scenery.

Chris Storrow - The Ocean’s Door

Panning for AM Gold, Storrow strikes a rich gripping balance between personal concerns and universal truths, embracing muscular arrangements where sensitive perceptions harvest strong longing from bold, noble loneliness. Deep feelings disguised in common sense and sympathetic recollections, “Door,” restores faith in basics, turning mid-tempo mementos into defiant reminders decorated in lush, layered luxuries and galvanized in brassy, catchy catechisms.

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