Slipped Discs

Juana Molina - Halo

A primordial courtship between sultry synthesized slithering and limber South American rhythms, “Halo,” percolates in balmy cyber-samba calm, looping smoky jungle fugues around languid sleepwalker tangos to color galactic tapestries with eerie delirium. Soothing computer voodoo spawned from quirky circuitry, Molina’s sleek creatures oscillate between aqueous gymnastics painted in exotic polish and savvy electro-folk magic rooted in woozy spooky sensuality.

This Is The Kit - Moonshine Freeze

Imaginative patterns invoking indigenous wisdom with delicate fellowship, This Is The Kit’s beguiling style allies curlicue grooves with mythical lyrics for rhythmic rivulets delivering indie-pop ingenuity inside butterfly jigs, healing reels and sober odes. Bouncing between jazzy smack-downs amid Celtic incantations and bewitching whimsy encased in brassy art-rock cool, “Freeze,” weaves wishing-well spells around joy-infused tunes and soulful post-folk adventures.

Gogol Bordello - Seekers and Finders

Punk gumption funneled into braying horns and dervish-serviced fiddles, the defiant, strident, Gogol Bordello’s quick-pivoting Balkan-rock rains raving Spaghetti Western rampages over Bolshevik-rich mosh-pits with skulking muscle and barking espionage. Growling defcon stomps packed in Cossack cool, “Seekers,” wreak compassionate havoc with gypsy-swinging opinions inhabiting iron-willed party-tunes. Opening for Modest Mouse, the band plays Madison’s Breese Stevens Field September 30th.

Monster Rally - Flowering Jungle

Looped grooves from Cuban big-bands mash hip-dipping cha-cha-chas to Hawaiian sunsets and moon-lit cocktails as lush, revisionist kitsch bewitches an inquisitive, “Flowering,” with vintage crate-digging synchronicity. Remixing exotica with hip-hop beats, Monster Rally’s balalaikas, marimbas, slack-key guitar and congas infuse the nostalgic scavenging with lavish backing for tasty sound oases, green bygone Edens spritzed in glitchy mystery and stereophonic harmonics.

Here Lies Man - You Will Know Nothing

Chugging jungle thunder plants head-banging chants among high-strung drum-lines weighing, “Nothing,” with festival heaviness whose rich rhythms spin rattle-snake earthquakes and ravenous Saturday Afrobeat raves. A thick stomp-rock stew cooked in psychedelic underbellies, Here Lies Man construct riff-rich rituals around bluesy boogies and heavy-metal head-butts, combining power, grit and agility to scoop hallucinogenic get-downs from tribe-inspired parties celebrating iron-clad madness.

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