Slipped Discs

The Eastern Sea - The WItness

Charging headlong into brave songs sheathed in armored calm and cavalier confidence, TES’ actively placid tactics release well-honed prog-pop chops dancing around waltzing novelist’s thoughts where cross-purposes surface in savvy brass, fleeting beats and sophisticated wordplay. Tender, nuanced movements cushion, “Witness,” in majestic suggestions from level-headed devils; hopeful toasts promoting compassionate facts draped in dramatic mathematics and dazzling jazz-rock acrobatics.

Deantoni Parks - Technoself

Harsh sound-bitten ignitions syncing deconstructed visions scratch catchy, contracted tracks into banging gangland demolitions; cyber-percussionist Parks’ random tangents stitch goose-step mosaics around semaphore euphoria where teething seizures birth squirmy creatures in ghetto-echo. Piling writhing revisionism into jagged pageants, the ultra-propulsive, Technoself,” unrolls jarring barrio beats fashioned from McGuyvered crate-divers; serpentine survivors from mouse-trap snaps blasting balloon-popping tunes with glitch-enriched aphasia.

Sarah Neufeld - The Ridge

Scratching an itch that spirals into Möbius strips of flickering art-pop mischief, “The Ridge,” hypnotizes with raspy gypsy patterns whose bewitching births spark spirited omens drawn from curious, furious compositions releasing uncontrollable golems chasing scathing cadence with demonic logic. Magnetic, emphatic and enigmatic, violinist Neufeld follows her dark, archaic muse through lively, divergent paths that resonate in splendidly menacing cadenzas.

Agnes Obel - Citizen of Glass

Giving way to creative play inside courtly orchestrations, Obel’s spellbinding compositions refine micro-cosmic operas; teased glee pondering haunted sonnets while cultivated impulsiveness hide behind lofty subplots.  Feng shui dreams executed in soft Viennese elegance bending tender melancholy around fleeting boutique-pop, “Glass,” waxes with sensual specters donning sylvan slippers as scattered pageants gathered under luminous moons skim and swim on hummingbird-wings.

Wolf People - Ruins

Ancient pagan vibes ride cosmic prog-rock thunder to exhume spooky druid maneuvers from gilded warlock tombs; “Ruins,” fumes and swoons, slathered in psychedelic blues churning with epic, dark magic. Spellbinding titans lacing ravaged pageantry around ornate tornadoes, Wolf People’s scorching orchestral redemption gallantly balances meticulous riffs inside heavy-metal avalanches for a seething stampede of chivalry and revenge, nobility and rage.

Blanck Mass - World Eater

Adamant patterns saddling digi-shifted rapture capture shadowy carousels unraveling in harrowing goth-rocked proms; “Eater,” feasts on gnarly card-punched conundrums soaked in primordial ooze and plastered in redacted catastrophe. Cut-and-paste taste-tester Blanck Mass’ manipulated impatience distorts engorged discourse contorting dense agitated electronics into burning firmaments forming formidable sound-on-sound stampedes from ash-filled heavens as Jericho free-falls storm ghost-rattled gates in crushing vapor-waves.

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.

The Huntress and the Holder of Hands - Avalon

Willful pilgrims slashing past locomotive basses, stalking cellos and soaring violas, goth-folk Huntress kindles simmering myths with tarot-card charges. The solemn, promising, “Avalon,” snakes damning incantations over thundering tundra draped in phoenix-fired wakes, spinning earthy dirges into palpitating dares while lusty percussion dance beside nimble strings swimming in savage passion and warrior beats.  THATHOH play Milwaukee’s Shank Hall September 27th.

Circuit des Yeux - Reaching for Indigo

Torn from deep-forest oracles uttering complex hexes beneath prophetic jazz-folk recollections, “Indigo,” growls in exquisite misery, casting microtonal omens with bellowing joy and evoking eclectic memories shrouded in shimmering enigmas. Boisterous voyager and sonic conqueror, Circuit des Yeux battens down and plows ahead navigating treacherous questions through hurricane refrains; sophisticated tsunamis crooning enchanting demands summoning plummeting plans with resurrected textures.

Paul de Jong - You Fucken Sucker

A Turing test with Tourette’s, “Sucker,” disassociates and negotiates, stimulates and sublimates, leaping between the subliminal and the criminal through gothic-blues mind-control blending Dickensian references, terror-riddled ragas sparring schizophrenic targets and manipulated field-recordings exploring stymied ironies. Donning multiple sonic costumes, de Jong conjures conceptual laboratories to concoct provocative art, juxtaposing gross notions broaching social boundaries beside rebellious critiques preaching mirror-holding sociology.

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.

El Ten Eleven - Banker’s Hill

Inquisitive wizards riding flashy magic-carpets, El Ten Eleven’s heavenly beatbox take-offs and ambient lambswool landings curve, swerve and converge, etching aeronautical clockwork onto flexible guitar-powered instrumentals. Parallel carousel satellites coordinating stinging pin-hole solos around hypnotic electronics, “Hill,” shifts gears with triumphant rock-driven synergy and passive jazz-massaged majesty, sculpting regal, teetering attempts to overthrow rhythmic pedal-board overlords through slippery algorithmic manipulations.

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