Slipped Discs

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.

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.

Sarah Neufeld - The Ridge

Scratching an itch that spirals into Möbius strips of flickering art-pop mischief, “The Ridge,” hypnotizes with raspy gypsy patterns whose bewitching births spark spirited omens drawn from curious, furious compositions releasing uncontrollable golems chasing scathing cadence with demonic logic. Magnetic, emphatic and enigmatic, violinist Neufeld follows her dark, archaic muse through lively, divergent paths that resonate in splendidly menacing cadenzas.

Porches - Pool

Calculated heartbreak slowly toasted over synthesized soul; Porches’ minor-key melancholy combines jazz accents, gleaming beats and delicate melodies to build sensible sentimental digi-pop props laced in restless pleasures. Underwater waltzes courting cyber-seamless teases, the terse, immersive, “Pool,” retools chilled skills with romantic stanzas, managing languid dangers through plush constructs tasked with humanizing plastic perfections, dissolving mechanical candor into well-timed designs.

Jennifer O'Connor - Surface Noise

Coated in dark sparkles and slippery ripples, the calm, self-assured, “Surface,” circles common ground with a keen eye and steady hand commanding savvy spins on contemporary opinions to spawn sing-song conversations within warm folk-pop poetry. Radiating extra-special perspectives with well-rehearsed purpose, O’Connor crafts casual parables through economic thought as savory displays of uncontested impressions negotiate gentle questioning beneath matter-of-fact compassion.

Mark Mallman - The End Is Not The End

Cheeky synth-rock blockbusters sprinkled in pop-culture touchstones uncoil panoramic calamities as Minnesota’s Mallman conjures ranting ear-candy fantasies from intricate survivalist’s instincts wielding studio-rattled razzle-dazzle. Lathered in flashy bombast, belittling wit and circumvented tension, “End,” sends lavish gadget-packed nostalgia into post-modern quandaries, constructing crushing sounds of heartfelt meltdowns from irreverent, cross-referenced intelligence marinated in daring flair, satirical lyrics and combustible hustle.

Emmy the Great - Second Love

Honeycombed moments dipped in pastel wishing-wells, “Seconds,” beckons elegant merry-go-round melodies around fairy-tale philosophies for tender feminine remembrances painted in dainty flames. Deep beneath meticulous whispers, nurturing curtsies and enchanting candor, ETG’s gift-wrapped happiness addresses strong ideas vacillating between empowered lounge whose underlying architecture plunder graceful modern-pop sophistry and perceptive serenity wrenched from creamy calypso, pixie-kissed minuets and space-age lullabies.

My Gold Mask - Anxious Utopia

Cellophane strumpets barreling through tough, buffed triumphs crunch sinful cyber-zipped dins into shiny futuristic visions; “Anxious,” fires glamorous anthems into transistorized extravaganzas packed with barracuda moves hammering risky disco-pop tonics into sublime electro-rock harmonics. Surging with combative techno-driven New Wave rage, Chicago’s MGM’s solid-state flood-gates open groove-glitched passion pits to power-hungry participants, subduing unrestrained campaigns through vigorous, sinister patch-bay subterfuge.

Wintersleep - The Great Detachment

Buffeted in brawny downbeats, arc-welded hooks and driving rhymes, Wintersleep’s wide-awake pop-rock earthquakes ride galloping ballads with strenuous tendencies into cruise-controlled crusades. Recorded live in the studio, “Detachment,” taps into an inexhaustible reservoir of palpitating percussion rushing over expansive working-man landscapes to brew soothing communities where toiling joy joins pure, earnest urgency for restless manifest destinies carved from hardy camaraderie.

Cullen Omori - New Misery

Effervescent sketches plastered in pillowed reverb and psychotropic commotion, “Misery,” rumbles with sumptuous alt-pop wonder, manufacturing haunted Phil Spector wet-dreams lacquered in heart-breaking infatuations. Streaming tear-stained refrains with prepubescent chemistry while drenching heaven-sent intentions in lollipop optimism, Omori layers tasty two-ply sighs over sugar-coated keyboards and triple-decker guitars. The former Smith Western frontman hits Madison’s High Noon Saloon March 25th.

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