Slipped Discs

Mittens On Strings - Let’s Go To Baba’s

A veritable garden of quirky curiosities, existential wit and literate kismet, “Baba’s,” boasts both gray, no wave guitar psychedelia harvesting lofty, alt-Goth waltzes and banjo, cello and mandolin spiking pastoral, prog-rock rodeos. MoS’s smirking, earnest grandeur merges into democratic genre-jumping offering sentimental laments and mocking double-talk, deadpan stanzas and granola-soaked anecdotes.

Editors - In The Light and On This Evening

Stone-cold vocals unfold over debonair synthesizer rock; “Light,” galvanizes wickedly deliberate defiance into smoldering allegiance and stylish, mass hysteria. Thuggish Messiahs embracing urgent moon-lit palpitations, The Editor’s barbed grooves and commanding choruses courageously encourage icy retorts impassioned anthems wrenching feverish chills from charismatic menace, glowering insolence fueling twilight wrecking-balls.

Jatun - Blanket of Ash

Mammoth swells and wordless vertigo, heavenly fades snap, crackle and pop in Jatun’s stellar noise fest. Aural spelunking, “Blanket,” buzzes with grizzled sizzle, hovering over bold, smoldering, char-broiled electronics, forging and foraging under plummeting cascades and seething dreams. Channeling ambience into unwavering space-rock intensity, Jatun’s saturated abstractions subtly morph into intricate, factory packages.

Local Natives - Gorilla Manor

Beach Boys blessed, L.A.‘s Local Natives engage the ears in genuine rhythmic ingenuity - spirited hoedowns equally inviting, intriguing and entertaining, spiraling barbershop chops integrated into tightly-knitted drum circle blissfulness. A hook-filled ride smoothly somersaulting into playfully cosmic pop; uplifting enthusiasm bathes, “Gorilla,” in campfire choirs, irresistibly jubilant licks bobbing around cheerfully twisted lyrics.

AM - Future Sons & Daughters

Cozy consolation from sweet-talking tunes, AM skips, dips and cozies up with revitalized nostalgia. Laid-back enlightenment straddling singer-songwriter folk, sunshine rock and blue-eyed soul circa early seventies, “Future,” fires up smoky, hip-swiveling riffs conjured from snappy brass, deep-fried bass, cantering congas and sly, knowing vocals stretching familiar formulas into tasty upbeat treats.

Lindstrom & Christabelle - Real Life Is No Cool

Sequined sequences and programmed pandemonium yield funky disco struts, swooning grooves and intoxicating non-stop dance-pop. Nordic maestro Lindstrom’s machine-tooled moxie finds a soul-mate in Christabelle’s sensual vocals to make luxurious flirts slink, sweat and sashay. Flippy, trippy, club-dizzy fantasies, “Real Life,” turn relentlessly inventive dimensions into an audio odyssey.

Archie Bronson Outfit - Coconut

Cathartic rock and roll raptures careen around deranged psycho-zombie grooves as, “Coconut,” provides an insatiable frenzy of Jamaican bass, slippery guitar and jungle drums whose reverberating assaults seize and bleed into invigorating delirium. ABO’s hyperactive mastery of rabid stabs, jolting pokes, and pummeling rumbles funnel an inexhaustible squalor of gripping rhythms and dub-crazed hobgoblins.

Little Boots - Hands

Unabashed yet subtle, upfront but elaborate, “Hands,” is a perfectly delicious guilty pleasure. Commanding an army of musical machinery, Victoria Hesketh’s frothy wink, slither and thrust eroticism tempts and teases, unfurling come-hither fictions and sharp, empowered bravado. Dolled-up disco meets electro-pop fairy tales in a heart-pumping collision of techno-baroque tangos and strutting electric drum majorettes.

These New Puritans - Hidden

A bewitching inquisition, “Hidden,” deftly blends the symphonic with the synthetic, yielding sensual sounds that jar the senses and fires the imagination. Combining the soothing alongside the savage, TNP’s bold and evocative vision molds malevolent drums and majestic orchestras into an intriguing schizophrenia of eye-opening opuses, artfully manipulating a breathless spectrum of sonic possibilities.

Apples In Stereo - Travelers In Space and Time

Scrumptious, spunky, bubblegum power-pop reign over Vocoder choruses, old school Britpop sunshine and back-loaded, rebooted boogie. “Travelers,” lift retro-fitted futures into wholesome computerized majesties through infectious, vacuum-packed R&B, can-you-dig-it cowbells and groovy mechanical utopias where heart-broken teens love to dance. The Apples take over Milwaukee’s Turner Hall May 3rd.

Midas Fall - Eleven. Return and revert

Darting apparitions coo fluent, fleeting meanings as, “Eleven,” traverses immense emptiness where textures stretch, catching regrets swooping through crashing percussion, lofty intergalactic guitar and tender piano soliloquies. Banshee ballads anchor tumultuous emotions as MF’s ferocious vocals wrangle phantom fandangos, surfing past oceanic auras, shivering within shadowy despair, impulsive thoughts and half-abandoned memories.

La Strada - New Home

Liberating librettos waltz happily as frisky Cossack accordions whisk past sky-high strings twisted into gypsy symphonies flowering bright, boastful brass. “Home,” decorates in frolicking caroling, thoughtful nautical merriment and rousing chamber-folk philosophies, rearranging metaphors and upholstering fables flavored in twinkling mischief. La Strada’s harmonious ensembles feather eloquent nests in jubilant ruminations.

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