Slipped Discs

Braids - Shadow Offering

Luscious skullduggery hugs, “Shadow,” with REM sleep temperament, unrequited insight and fevered inquiry controlling unfolding emotions in wild strides and lover’s leaps; sweetened secrets creeping among bruising truths torn and reborn in vivacious vocals, push-button percussion and majestic melodies. Self-examining Canadians, Braids’ determined urgency consolidates personal journeys into bewitched conflicts, stockpiling peak feelings from misty memories seeking an uneasy peace.

Deathlist - You Won’t Be Here For Long

Armored martyrs reincarnated, wedged between midnight insights anchored in severed memory’s embers and thick rich cyber-rock fissures, the deliciously demonic Deathlist manifest gothic operatives dredged from granite trances and refined in grinding mindfulness. Flood-gates tease check-mates with industrial maelstroms washing ”Won’t,” in rigid insistence and cataclysmic opinions, mountain-climbing caution scaling skyscraper impatience with gritty riffs, cloaked vocals and crooked hooks.

Man Man - Dream Hunting in the Valley of the In-Between

Flamboyant stories whose core reinforces simple human flaws in buoyant poignancy, zany complaints and zinger wisdom, “Hunting,” guns, puns and stuns reassembling baroque folk, circus klezmer and power-pop lounge into marimba-driven whimsy and sinister loony-bin precision. Cheeky uber-musical court-jesters, Man Man tackles cackling theatrics, creating dazzling magic stitched in acerbic wit and curried wordplay; idyllic mischief riddled with smart-ass panache.

Chicano Batman - Invisible People

Sun-baked funk itching and flinching in lazy summer rhythms, “Invisible,” reveals ticklish metaphysical epiphanies and polyester flower-power philosophy squirming under candy-coated soul. Sweet-talkin’ sonic saunas whose pliable grooves sashay in bottom-heavy euphoria, Chicano Batman’s slow pastel jams, beach bodega boogie and glittery street carnival vibe light bright R&B breezes beneath psychedelic seaside flights; a slick, frisky discothèque dispensing sensuous transcendence.

Diet Cig - Do You Wonder About Me?

Clear-eyed slop-pop misfits balancing emotional avalanches and knotted logic, Diet Cig twist, bop and swoon bouncing from earnest word-salad ballads to headstrong bittersweet love-songs; perceptive punks crunching irrepressible face-melters among soft-spoken alt-folk heartbreakers. Rummaging among complicated feelings with percussive fuzz and relentless tenderness, ”Wonder,” plunges in tattletale details, defeated sleepers and upstaged players song-journaling from bedroom outposts and carpeted garages.

Ohmme - Fantasize Your Ghost

Sweetly off-beat modern-rock teased in clinical wizardry, Ohmme’s staggering imaginations push measured perfection into jagged pageantry; fussy crushes crackling with electric pleasures, seductive rebuttals and nimble collisions. Tirelessly engaging, “Ghost,” glows in gleeful gambles, leveraging dolled-up feminism inside radicalized trash-talking; coy, caffeinated laughter brewing sly, funky pedal-board orgies with chrome-plated rage and unrepentant torch-song eloquence drenched in sharp, double-parked harmonics.

Sondre Lerche - Patience

Stymied irony underlines Sondre Lerche’s foppish playboy-pop; frivolous and meticulous with gorgeous chords supporting Proustian fountains cascading inner thoughts into contemporary fairy-tales; fair-weather fanfares commanding tender amends with savvy cabaret. Polite advice from timely hindsight, “Patience,” unfurls tap-dancing tempos gliding over cosmopolitan overtures as delicate shrugs, cavalier strolls and polished melancholy frolics in fashionable jaunts, respectful reflections and cooing preludes.

Gordi - Our Two Skins

Subtle, vulnerable touches climbing behind deep-feeling pop-soul weariness and aspiring folk-tronic fire, “Skins,” swim in warm embraces, nurtured by determined searching purging confidential mentions with fluid communion. Lasting passion grasping gilded lyrics, Gordi implores and restores; her vocal’s expressive faith breathing life into songs trimmed in minimal instruments restlessly coalescing into formidable storms; humanity’s poignant calamities placed beneath piqued beats.

Lime Cordiale - 14 Steps to a Better You

Bouncy, baggy, thrift-store swagger from sweet-talking Chaucers, Lime Cordiale slings winding rhymes in smitten wingman sunshine, secret weekend love-stories scored for honky-tonk jaunts bobbing in shuffling percussion, carefree melodies and street-wise advice. Blue-eyed seaside soul, “14 Steps,” sends friendly recommendations rich in elastic toe-tapping dramatics for bold, romantic interventions vented in salty pub-crawl solace, boogie-sugared vaudeville and swinging indie carnivals. 

Dream Wife - So When You Gonna…

Saucy, frothy, vengeful and sensual, “Gonna,” guns for fun; happily reprehensible New Wave races painted with pit-stop thoughts raring for tasty punk-pop chases, hunting unsettled bellwether regrets with bewitching misfit sympathy. Bridge-burners, table-turners and fast-learners, Dream Wife marries fearless sneers to thick-skinned grins, hiding sensitive intentions beneath sassy tactics and actively distracting open emotions with improper propositions and incriminating persuasion.

Alice Ivy - Don’t Sleep

Head-turning studio connoisseur Ivy designs tantric dances sparkling in tweaked rainbow-soul, lavish post-dub love and tempting bedroom R&B; manna to famished radio-friendly pop-gods yearning for stroboscopic mojo polished in unrepentant phosphorescence. Intense blends producing ultra-groovy fusions overlapping fluid rap with hard-wired beats dipped in auto-tuned funkiness, “Sleep,” reaches for the stars, elevating commercial appeal to musical fireworks for the masses.

Kllo - Maybe We Could

Swift rhythmic rivers bubbling beneath hovering ghost-lovers as whirling glitch-riddled world-beats sweeten smooth translucent grooves, “Maybe,” flavors fashionably passive contrasts with elegant well-spent intensity, alluring superlatives and exotic optics. Partnered in luscious seductions and vacuum-sealed feelings, Kllo’s silky guilty pleasures wrestle passionate tempests, out-of-reach treats surrounded by flickering vixen singing, diva high-dive descents swept into nets rescued by heavenly consent.

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