Slipped Discs

Sally Sparrow & the Old 41 - Never Far From My Mind

Bittersweet folktronic-pop carving hard facts from sand-shifting sympathies, “Mind,” unwinds in synth-driven inquiries divvied between good-natured bounce rattling complacent agents and steadfast crackle whose welcoming glow exposes deep-seated suspicions beneath soulful devotions. Cushioned in compact choruses and studio ingenuity, inventive Dropbox collaborators SS41’s tentative elegance fences leathery rock to cotton-candy daydreams, adding booming salutes and layered surveys to pensive introspection.

DMA's - Hill’s End

Brandishing mammoth jangle-pop sincerity grown from humble strumming and plainspoken hopes, ” End,” elicits supersonic pub-rock issuing epic declarations with bluesy introspections arousing courageous choruses inside passionate mop-top holocausts, yearning for stability, grateful for relief. Portraying everyday heroes facing hard-won options to honest problems, Australia’s demonstrative DMA’s doles out down-to-earth words rooted in the larger-than-life decisiveness of red-blooded unrequited confessionals.

Rae Fitzgerald - Popular Songs for Wholesome Families

Sequestered with questions and plagued by doubts, patient, sanctioned tales drift in cozy proposals and humane refrains while, “Wholesome,” promotes hopeful moments in hand-holding folk and frail, sophisticated soul. Confronting uncomfortable feelings with bare-boned poems gathered from tarnished karma, Fitzgerald builds strong confident pleads for intimate release, achieving subdued resolution after fever-breaking heartache cautiously launches tantalizing analysis over waltzing indie-pop.

Slow Club - One Day All of This Won’t Matter Anymore

Poignant, patient conversations negotiating bittersweet treaties, British multi-instrumentalists Slow Club subtly shifts between self-reflective messages rinsed in bubble-bath ballads and third-person uncertainties poured over sympathetic second-guesses. A restorative indulgence tossing slick licks among passive indie-pop and wary sincerity hidden in modern folk-rock, “One Day,” nurtures cozy vocals polished in chrome diplomacy, primed in well-timed kindness and settled in intelligent perspective.

Itasca - Open to Chance

Knitted in silvery bluegrass runs and muted flatlander-blues, “Open,” evokes folksy utopias centered in effortless memories dressed in overlapping calico tapestries; quotable poetic disclosures embrace graceful observations as lush haunted laments conquer fear and face rejuvenating futures. Embroidered in buoyant coordination, Itasca’s nimble guitars, sparse flute and ballerina violin waltz in restless tide-pool swan-songs, anchoring selective reflections around effervescent affections.

Tim Presley - The Wink

Connecting mismatched Mad-Hatter pitter-patter to snappishly synaptic punk-pop catastrophes, White Fences’ resident sound-chemist Presley severs and tethers, performing curious surgeries on tropical-goth, intentionally demented Baroque-folk and wobbly wizard-rock. Half-joking commotion roasted in paradigm rhymes from imaginative dream-captains practicing Dada black-magic, “Wink,” rethinks normal instincts in rickety syncopation, spindly persistence and elliptical dips merging absurd jabberwocky subversion into urgent fringe-art conversions.

Jordan Burchel - Vowel Sounds

An unmoored troubadour bobbing in pop-rock folklore, Burchel turns openly emotional stanzas into post-romantic mantras stashing breezy bittersweet reprieves inside waggish tragedies as jammy dynamics meander around soft-spoken poetry. Pining over hindsight’s tempting redemption while honing soul-seeking beacons with riff-lifted missiles, “Vowel,” powers searing sincerity, lobbing polished thoughts with profound lovesick deliverance covered in ragtag sadness and slowly burning yearning.

Fred Thomas - Changer

A modern chronicler with the gift for gab, Thomas’ uncommon commentaries nail contemporary life with supple wit whisked into frenetic sketches and melodic observations crammed inside ambling tangents. Offering heavenly synth instrumentals and rabid minstrel binges, “Changer,” ranges from solemn indie-rock to sly punk-pop for a petulant session compiling vital DIY spunk from shredded op-eds, savvy caveats and peanut-gallery rallies.

Bash & Pop - Anything Could Happen

Lo-fi tigers colliding in double-barreled rockabilly benders and smarmy garage-rock raves, Tommy Stinson’s Bash & Pop demolishes by swinging rhythms attacking deranged twang while trolling a rip-roaring Rolodex of snarling roadhouse blues. A rollicking, rocketing joyride, “Anything,” swerves with curve-ball assaults heralding feral melt-downs primed in street-wise desires and con-artist barn-burners. Bash & Pop play Milwaukee’s Cactus Club January 13th

Sallie Ford - Soul Sick

Surf-twang spit mixed with skiffle-riddled blues and punk-country gumption laced in boardwalk organ grinds; Ford subtly incorporates soul-sister back-up singers and braying hepcat horns to leverage vintage signature sounds into bawdy solace, howling accounting and smoldering testimonials. A rootsy groovy rock ‘n roll rodeo, “Sick,” whips juke-joint jive into revivalist pile-ups brimming in tart, razor-sharp whimsy and smarmy, charming camaraderie.

The Orwells - Terrible Human Beings

Gunpowder prowlers scarred in charred blues-rock scorchers and hot-wired wise-guy tirades, “Terrible,” bangs and boogies in snarky bar-room blarney. Partnered in tarnished guitar-slinger garnishes and slathered in wicked pithy wordplay, The Orwells’ gloriously sordid shenanigans pack feisty double-barreled rapture into cackling anthem-tantrum magic. Tireless renegades on record and on stage, the dizzying quintet swings into Milwaukee’s The Rave March 17th.

Los Campensinos! - Sick Scenes

Charging into civil frays rinsed in slippery wit, poet-soldiers Los Campensinos’ clever dismembered indie-pop memoirs brew effusive mulligan stews. Ladling beat-driven battle-cries into polysyllabic analysis, “Scenes,” reconvenes riot-act culture-wars with unruly punk execution and breathless intrepid reflections while lyrical volleys pitched to educated punks and literate misfits engage name-dropping brains and gyrate bohemian bodies for pro-active chitchat from socio-political riffraff.

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