Slipped Discs

Illuminati Hotties - Let Me Do One More

From pop-punk spunk to soft indie doo-wop, the chameleonic Illuminati Hotties’ frantic antics layer coy patience over spicy crisis for well-rounded musical playgrounds unleashing fiery irony with blistering proficiency and slinky riffs. A crash-course in tempting sensual vengeance, “More,” launches muscular hustle within sly bangers and catnip ballads; rampant cantankerous vamps whose wry side-eye hides tender contentions and guarded affections.

Eleanor Buckland - You Don’t Have To Know

Expanding from her acoustic roots with Boston folk trio Lula Wiles, Buckland’s rolling backroads rodeo addresses life’s unavoidable messes with fearless lyrics and perceptive pep captured in galloping backing circling twang-jangle heartache and rockin’ wanderlust. Wisdom distilled into compact two-act story-songs, “Know,” smolders in incandescent electricity; thumping drums, race-car guitars and assorted keyboards empathizing beneath poetic connections and restless introspection.

The Wombats - Fix Yourself Not The World

Erudite court jesters postulating brave mania while populating metaphorical stories with cock-eyed logic and flash-mob glamour, The Wombats announce private thoughts with demonstrative aplomb; devil’s advocates and savvy satirists jimmying pithy aphorisms into buff, customized pop-rock. A party record for intellectual refugees, yuppie nerds and polyester lotus-eaters, “Fix,” twists convincing epiphanies into pulp-fiction pop-quizzes, smooth clues included in crackerjack ear-candy.

Garcia Peoples - Dodging Dues

Slick city mystics enlist country squire blues to fuse the kaleidoscopic, “Dues,” into beautiful communal tribunals, six-string kingpins dodging and dislodging medieval folk inside cosmic jangle and twang. A positively electric collective, Garcia Peoples crackles in tight micro-jams, a psychedelic carnival breeching seamless transitions from root-rock prophecies sketching interconnected ecstasies to elevated revelations digging bicoastal hypnosis and soft-spoken psychedelic rainbows.   

Paul Draper - Cult Leader Tactics

Interstellar rock accosting institutional consumerism, Draper’s livid polemics and vivid pyrotechnics orchestrate cheeky malfeasance in lush strings, guitar armies and digitized rhythms; pairing logical consequence to sardonic politics with élan, romantic semantics dancing from clarity to despair. Packed in palatial sophistication. “Tactics,” elaborates dramatic synth-prog passages, manufacturing tough-love bluster alongside chrome-plated diplomacy, breathless depths messaging dancefloor quests wrestling pragmatic compassion.

A Place To Bury Strangers - See Through You

Flooded in ideas manifesting ominous promises APTBS balances leveraged heft and abrasive grace to fling abstract cataclysms into an overdriven abyss, grabbing frenzied slabs from distorted quarries for crushing alt-rock infrastructure on the brink of self-destruction. Lustful catapults crashing into trigger-happy bombast, “See” seethes in deep dark feelings buried by craven cave-ins, phantom landslides submerging furious blurs into willful thrills.

Pink Mountaintops - Peacock Pools

Distorted sorcerers, courting, cavorting and teleporting, Pink Mountaintops’ monster stomp-box gypsy-rock climbs sublime heights casting nomadic paranoia down dark wells buzzing in six-string floods and dunked in glorious glam-punk thunder. Hurtling cataclysmic theatrics into scorned hornet downpours and swamp-boogie chainsaws, “Peacock,” scours around demonic romps propped up by flashy cabaret pushing savage myths stirred by gravelly wit and raggedly mosh-pits.

Monophonics - Sage Motel

City-street soul floated on solar winds, “Motel,” swells with psychedelic spells grounded in vigilant precision, silk-lined teardrops from fallen-angel falsettos into gritty head-trips slamming, jamming and getting down. Humble pulpit revivalists, the cosmic Monophonics stand tall with heads bowed, rainbow warriors armed with Latin percussion, fuzz-laden leads and voodoo grooves sweetening punchy brass-plated pleads rocket-launching rallying melodramatics into locomotive rapture.

Kristeen Young - The Beauty Shop

Furious grandeur manufactured in glamourous prog-pop calamity, seething blitzkrieg grievances and operatic alt-rock passions, Young’s eerie fearlessness plunges from sweat-soaked robo-aerobics to petulant hysterics erupting in run-away cravings, gauntlet-launching symphonics and dervish-curated curveballs. Crunchy cyber-funk chasing cabaret appetizers, “Beauty,” fuses militant malevolence with thunderbolt emotions for gadget-packed pageants cashing in multi-tasking athletics and aria-strewn galas splashed in stomping Broadway fever-dreams.

Kamikaze Nurse - Stimuloso

Fertile whirlwinds simmering in hypnotic oddities, “Stimuloso,” sows swinging indie-bop hypotheticals tainted in zany bangers and blazed jangle; frothy, punk-pop chaos flossed, crossed and tossed into fun-fueled hallucinogenics dosed in cozy mind-blowing comas. Devious creatures flexing aggressive eclectics etched in progressive textures, Kamikaze Nurse divebombs shoegaze melancholy with spirited bluster, reeling in bendable schizophrenia, holding opposable notions in dynamic panoramas.

Elf Power - Artificial Countrysides

Subtle chords poured over chiming timebomb rhymes, “Artificial,” imparts strangely pragmatic magic with soft prophecies monitored in indie-rock objectivity, earnest doubt sensing ephemeral peril and spouting concrete lyrics hiding oblique secrets. Generated from structured percussion, hounded bass and synchronized synthesizers, Elf Power’s deadpan candor lands methodical thoughts caught in unstoppable clockwork swarming around elusive proofs, descriptive lists and existential chemistry.

SRSQ - Ever Crashing

Glazed in tasteful, celestial flamboyance touched in undulating funk and painted in palatial pathos, SRSQ’s phosphorescent sentiments glow beneath velvet proclamations, yearning harmonies reaching past heartaches’ maze braving flashy orchestral collapses in underwater operas. Cavernous hazards challenging craggy dramatics ghosting emotional moments behind lightning-swift riffs and hungry, thundering hooks, “Ever,” revels in sophisticated mayhem, fabulous happenings, bold, voluptuous and scintillating.

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