Slipped Discs

Kiwi Jr. - Chopper

Holding back this side of breaking down, “Chopper,” bops in cool grooves, a foppish mockery taunting rock’s honesty with civil wit fashioning detached actions cooked in jangle-emo hooks and sparkling snark. Comedic, cultured, class-war survivors and unashamedly brazen art-rock romantics, Kiwi Jr infuse laconic pity into electric New Wave Britpop, floundering in strait-jacketed compassion with stainless-steel feelings and doomsday ennui.

Kal Marks - My Name Is Hell

Calloused shadow-dancing with corrosive bulldozers, marauding toppler Marks’ cunning uphill testaments bludgeon jumpy boxer’s shuffles into jittery ninja fits kissed by kettle-whistle blitz, ham-fisted calamity slamming in muscular punctuality. Soaked in high-voltage polemics on an electric-fence tightrope, “Hell,” swells in relentless tension, each song making steady headway from edgy oppression to effective connectivity emblazed in collective rage and synchronized visions.

NNAMDÏ - Please Have A Seat

Hyper-imaginative future-pop grafting carefully caustic math-rock onto auto-tuned patch-bay prog-soul fusion, “Seat,” treats aural alienists to immaculate sensory assaults and candid romance, equally smug and modest, sly and honest. Astonishing melodic rounds circle fractal magnificence as NNAMDÏ hammers home ear-worm sound-quakes, lifting cartoon doom into trippy introspection while super-pumped joystick licks pitch gear-shifting mischief and tender frenzy for charming tsunamis.

Robyn Hitchcock - Shufflemania!

From swirling psycho-skiffle non-sequiturs to learned curveball meditations, “Shufflemania!” quaintly contains zany refrains among nefarious narrative dares tapping compassionate rapture with minor-key skullduggery. An illustrious bishop-baiting busker, Hitchcock eyes both sides and straddles the addled and the academic, mirthful dirges quoting interlopers and jumping trains with rambling shenanigans and post-mortem exhortations both spry and wise, quietly diabolical and oddly logical.

Disq - Desperately Imagining Someplace Quiet

A five-piece powerhouse whose indie cred shreds dread and vexes tech, DISQ pits misfit quips against slash and burn earnestness for boppy bombast and sizzling gizmo maneuvering swift ditties into fearless delirium. The polished demolished dynamic keeps, “Quiet,” lively, a quivering riddle where cool nerds surge and dodgeball rockers offer direct amends with energetic contentions battling malice with old-fashioned traction.

Brendan Benson - Low Key

Multi-talented maestro, Benson’s keen pop comprehension seeks encyclopedic feats with astute grooves depicting life on the road, whether paying dues in soulful brass wrapped around country-blues or tasting freedom gleaming in power chords rigged with pithy riffs. By reconciling miles traveled in clever couplets, “Low Key,” captures biographical snapshots in rearview mirror romances, ramping three-minute anthems into taunt cautionary tales.

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