Slipped Discs

Underworld - Barking

First-time use of outside producers, Underworld’s sixth disc remains indelibly true to its trance-disco roots. Corridors of escalating beats, sweetened in hip-swiveling jangle and arena-sized synthesizers, helicopter to rapturous pneumatic satisfaction. Tentatively menacing, “Barking,” revel in spotlight stares cast from lingering sizzle; steamy cybernetic sequences teasing secret night-time daydreams between pounding downtown declarations exuding cavalier club-hopping confidence.

Dryft - Ventricle

Cosmic concerts imprisoning hissing precision, Dryft’s murmuring currents and logical dawns sculpt cyber-swaddled sun-bursts from intergalactic grinds, Laboring into wakefulness under glittering alien skies, “Ventricle,” unfolds slowly, vacuum-packed and industrial. Eclipsed, frisked and whisked past paranormal storms of zero gravity ambience, Dryft’s subtle shifts and soft landings nestle against cloaked cacophony and trippy mysteries, thawed and refrozen; space-age rage rewired.

Notekillers - We’re Here To Help

Caustic hostages sorting through clustered squalor; surfing curling furies and polishing purring pandemonium, Philadelphia’s Notekillers burn through a blur of microtonal moments, pelting the ears like sonic grommets. Fine-tuned noise rock ruckus plus bluesy snaggled-tooth groovin’, “Help,” hosts vice-grip commitments to colossal oscillations washed in kamikaze tsunamis, wordlessly streaming careening frequencies in an onslaught of stuttering staccato and hemorrhaging tremors.

Braids - Native Speaker

Studio Druids who exorcise as they harmonize; Braid’s brave, orchestrated forests swirl with cricket-filtered choirs and crocheted waves of aquatic mathematics. Expansive trance textures rise and subside in phosphorescent dimensions while chirping, gurgling reverb and plush, double-ply synthesizers dart, march and multiply. “Speaker,” neatly consecrates complicated interconnected catacombs, building layered labyrinths of omnipresent percolations for twilight flights into madcap tapestries, Braids play UW-Madison’s Rathskellar February 25th.

Fujiya & Miyagi - Ventrilloquizzing

Chilled hip-swivelers practicing trained disdain, F&M’s cool, re-tooled, frequently seething, sequined struts bluff and chuff haughty, naughty vamps. Intriguingly pristine, anxiously apathetic, the restlessly suave students of clinically sinister catwalk Krautrock carefully enunciate puzzling instructions encased inside pharmaceutical funk.  Aloof and predatory, “Ventrilloquizzing,” courts haute couture, laying riffs super model cool over well-greased soul, window-shopping mannequins grazing jaded high society,

Delicate Steve - Wondervisions

Robo-rodeo rondos performing unmoored conquistador choreography, guitar-centric tunes swaddled in mechanized, tropical hop-scotch, “Wondervisions,” unleashes instrumental magic. Twitching and flinching over tweaked encyclopedias of improvised jams and antsy, animatronic enchantments, Steve’s smarmy origami twists and turns into jaunty Japanese-African slack-key flash-mob anthems. Criss-crossing snorting electric chords over frazzled surf-rock analogue, polished sonic notions regale new-fangled jangle beyond novel cyber-pop ditziness.

Elysian Fields - Last Night On Earth

Wickedly blissful whisperings slide between sumptuous chamber-folk symphonies , bluesy goth-rock siroccos and coy, alt-pop ballets, “Earth,” works sensual memories beneath placid passions toppling headlong down mesmerizing torch songs, potent potions quenching thirsty bursts from dream-laden maidens. Stirring purrs and banshee sweetness catapult EF’s mythological waltzes into melodic exotica, an embroidered fairy-tale cabaret pried from childhood fears and sentimental tension.

Portugal. the Man - In the Mountain In the Cloud

Blasting past glam-rock boogie, funky electric blues and Zen guitar furies, “Mountain,” amasses cosmic Pentecostal stomps amid narcotic rainbow gospel. Mega-ramped mantra rock crests, arrests and sets fire to spiraling psychedelia, cradling granola mellow soul between crashing surges of blazing impatience. Roving leprechaun pop accosting Gothic haunts, P.tM’s action-packed wisdom and wishes encapsulate zigzagging cascades of spotless lava lamp logic.

Brian Eno and Rick Holland - Drums Between Bells

Spinning vigorously digitized Afro-pop and mesmerizing New Age, Eno pairs mystical rhythms and primordial chorales against Holland’s calm truths and processed epiphanies. Manipulated palettes gallop as velvety ooze moves through synthetic stews, grouping moody mathematics around deprogrammed metaphysics. Integrating techno-speak from cyber-specters and vivid images from androgynous monologists, “Drums,” plummet crystal epistles past philosophical obstacles, scorching horns and jazzy patterns.

Wooden Shjips - West

Churning, squirming murmurs battle seething feed-back and pile-driving percussion while slithering chainsaw blues cruise saturated flash in a combustible combination of mind-blowing bliss. “West,” masterfully plasters sulfuric solos over discordant storms, twisting fistfuls of fuzzed-out guitars and thick wicked organ. Seismic miners, WS’s sinewy squalor breech and buckle under scathing sonic séances, co-opting cross-wired chakras for absorbing amorphous phantasmagorical fibrillations,

Host Skull - Totally Fatalist

Collaborating multi-instrumentalists concoct bristling hybrids plucked from tasty alt-pop influences. Thoughtful interlocking improvisations underline frolicking prog-pop playfulness haunted by jazzy contractions and mathematical happiness, “Fatalist,” yields exquisite eloquence from its sunny blues and clever new wave strategies employing artful brass and woodwinds.  Flipping from spastic to placid, HS’s skewed cool fuels back-lit mischief through cinematic poise and charming chromatic acrobatics..

St. Vincent - Strange Mercy

Cool, ghoulish guitars unraveling ripped runs from walloping chops and funky grunts against vivid synths and livid delivery, “Mercy,” serves gilded memories over liberated librettos packing punches inside tweaked dreams covered in pleasing pandemonium. St. Vincent’s discerning yearnings burst in sharp turns and wide-eyed surprises, melodramatic maneuvers proving irresistible crucibles for smoldering treasures. Catch her conquering Milwaukee’s Pabst October 3rd

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