Slipped Discs

Edward Sharpe And The Magnetic Zeros - Up From Below

IMA ROBOT’s Alex Ebert’s alter-ego gathered dozens of friends to help form a perfect storm of high brow hoedowns where solemn bursts into sunny and grand-standing kinderpop whose momentum turns monumental. A massive hippie happening, “Up,” offers effervescent testaments and smarmy camaraderie bundled together in a traveling rock-minstrel circus.

Hidden Cameras - Origin:Orphan

Pop songs draped in self-doubt, starched marches hurtling bittersweet syncopation, THC’s insistent post-modern skiffle tackles existential dilemmas through reverberating harmonies, organizing forceful oratory into glorious buoyancy. A Greek chorus of Canadian comedians, “Origin,” unleashes a somber circus whose pratfalls lines roll off the tongue and whose dark forest voices burst into song.

Tegan and Sara - Sainthood

Examining how far from perfect we are, T&S volley teasing, time-bomb tempos into impetuous, kinetic calisthenics, confronting choppy-water obstacles to snare love’s illogical lobbying. Tactful battleaxes parlaying blasts of bashing pop into frantic romance, “Sainthood,” is frosted to neon perfection - a pipsqueak blitzkrieg buffed into intense, anxious, well-timed insolence designed for maximum impact.

Laura Veirs - July Flame

Ticklish, rippling innocuous concoctions topped with whimsy and wisdom, “July,” flies coy and buoyant as summer bubbles through Veir’s sly metaphors and butterfly melodies. Strings swell and brass saunters as playfully layered arrangements cushion and quench, manipulating Jim James duets, artful finger-pickin’ and subtle lullaby hooks into cozy company and interesting conversation.

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.

Freedy Johnston - Rain On The City

After an eight year hiatus, Johnston’s smart, solid, far-away pop returns wrangling twang and rockin’ deep pockets, craftily mining the heart’s inevitable comedies. From tattletale lovers to bossa nova Casanovas, the winsome minstrel croons good-natured, vagabond songs, howling smoothly into classic pop-rock maneuverings moored to marooned romances and happily captured in happenstance.

Josephine Foster - Graphic As A Star

Honoring the anachronistic mysteries of American Transcendentalist Emily Dickinson, Foster’s iconoclastic a cappella transforms the poet’s oddly metered stream of consciousness into archaic hymns of ghostly hobo folk. Occasionally accompanied by guitar and harmonica, “Graphic,” coos eloquent testaments to the ability of a single unadorned voice to convey elusive, quietly haunting thoughts.

Shout It Out Louds - Work

A deceptively effortless atmosphere hangs over the suave and unassuming, “Work.” Swift, deliberate beats motor inside sweet, charismatic pop doused in determined waves of bristling hooks and insistent riffs drilling deep into the brain. Wrestling nervous restraint into patient self-examination, SOL pits keen observation against ominous uncertainty; swollen momentum carried with sadly placid efficiency.

One For The Team - Ghosts

Conquering, co-ed vocals doubling the already high emotional output - OFTT stacks pile-driving ire into sweaty testaments to romantic vengeance and its restorative powers. A lively, insolent energy crackles throughout the unrelenting, “Ghosts,” fueled by jilted lovers, re-hatched hopes and unleashed demons. Promising an exciting vibe, OFTT play Milwaukee’s Miramar March 25th.

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.

The New Pornographers - Together

Not deviating from their sterling template of sharp, power-pop hooks and posh, la-di-da lyrics, “Together,” proves one can never get too much of a good thing. Uncannily catchy pomp with panache, anthemic sentiments and pithy wit, Canada’s boldly literate misfits visit Milwaukee’s Pabst June 12th, swinging back around Aug 4th to sell-out Madison’s Orpheum.

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