Slipped Discs

Sondre Lerche - Please

A level-headed specialist of delicate spectacle and suave carver of melodic marvels, Lerche flirts in elaborate studio panache, dabbling in compact jazz-pop magic whose breezy teasing belie deep emotional dissonance within finely-chiseled songs. A bon vivant post-divorce discourse, “Please,” flees into clever revelry, sly asides digging swinging sophistication, popping corks in proto-baroque explosions primed in champagne refrains and bittersweet cheekiness.

Niagara - Don’t Take It Personally

A denizen of resplendent gremlins scurrying from hallow choirs to ghostly commotion, “Personally,” pushes plush-pop envelopes into spackled abstractions; swirling, curling ambient stampedes washed in sunrise and dried in twilight wade through translucent truces padded in digi-glitchy mystery. Lost in galactic pageants, the seamlessly silky Niagara aptly captures cagey space-age Camelots fraught with slithery jitterbugged nano-bots programmed for luxurious purpose.

The Kooks - Listen

Exuberant suitors courting flashy blues-rock habits teeming in dreamy Motown, The Kooks erupt in a funky lather of swagger and lager as downtown boogie fitted with hip-swiveling missiles send warning shots over classic bar-room ballads fused to toe-tapping passions. Wicked, snickering hits, “Listen,” pricks ears and kick-starts bristling trashcan symphonies smothered in hardy bravado, genuine sentiment and spirited good cheer.

Cookies - Music for Touching

Trigger-happy theatrics sampling cyber-soul crooners, synth-lounge prowlers and cruise-controlled romancers, “Touching,” ushers in a cosmopolitan collage of post-modern facades. Ranging from smooth nightclub melancholy to savvy alt-pop sunshine, the cautiously exotic Cookies spotlights pitch-perfect song-merchants flipping switches on thrusting struts, lusty stardust and crushing burlesque; sunshine hipsters on a mirror-ball holiday venturing into sensuous Afro-Latin sass covered in techno-drizzled sizzle.

The History of Apple Pie - Feel Something

Raucous frosted Britpop anarchy glazed in porcelain voices, buzz-saw guitars and rampaging bass, bull-riding china-dolls THOAP grind through divine side-show glamour with fuzzed-out jousts around wiry New Wave may-poles. Capturing frazzled carousels spinning in paisley mayhem, “Feel,” reels in snap, crackle and pop, unfastening gung-ho poses around reckless psychedelics; coy, turbo-charged laments played cool, laid low and catchy as hell.

Avi Buffalo - At Best Cuckold

Lofty pop-rock toffee well-versed in majestic modesty, “Cuckold,” sports side-winding stories spiced in lyrical curve-balls and electric fireworks; a tender independence ascending from hungry imaginations lavished in biographical avarice. Wide-eyed and sure-handed, Avi Buffalo’s sophomore foray solidifies jangly band mechanics with living by your wits wisdom and gentle folk-poet moments powered by an unquenchable curiosity, uplifting sympathy and brilliant resilience.

Itasca - Unmoored by the Wind

Diaphanous old-world folk, Itasca’s singular picking, sophisticated visions and fearless lyrics weave caressing investigations into candle-lit fairyland dances, folding post-hypnotic layers of murky memories into bewitching pond-water ripples trickling in wintry introspection. Wandering through sweet twilight-inspired delights whose exquisite clockwork searches cloak endless questions, “Unmoored,” explores ghostly foreboding within magical acoustic madrigals, dissecting enduring desires lost, squandered in romantic longing.

Ex Hex - Rips

Shotgun pop-rock fire roaring chords and tricky riffs as, “Rips,” trips in guitar-powered powders showered in barracuda cool and driven with seductive friction. Bossy posses plying the raucous art of ominous harmonics, Ex Hex’s sparring darlings toss delicious barb-wired hooks baited in amazing zing, air-brushed lust and late-night flings packed in glitter-punk crunch, passion-trashed flash and polished New Wave cravings.

Steve Gunn - Way Out Weather

Organic, multi-stringed folk-symphonies seethe in slithering space-blues figures anchored in wriggling gringo rhythms; Gunn’s chattering talisman groove in elaborate slabs of tubular nuance. An unfettered zoo wild with collaborative habitats, “Weather,” churns electric devils from avenging crescendos; jammy candied banshees roasted in campfire crackle and dry-wood moan, baking tasty bandit-rock from sunny alt-country cunning, quicksilver shadows running under reclusive guru-roots.

Bell Gardens - Slow Dawns for Lost Conclusions

Swaddled narco-ballads whose whispery distance colors subtle sunrises in heavenly meditations, “Slow,” flows in deep-breathing twee seasoned in glacial vapors and hazy flavors. Demure concerns addressed in heart-piercing directness, scant demands stand beneath beautiful hues while Bell Gardens’ delicate, speckled moods rise in majestic splendor amid grand piano, yawning laptop-steel and comforting choirs; somber insomnia slogging knee-deep towards celestial serenity.

Martin Carr - The Breaks

A perceptive pop pariah, plundering jukebox wunderkind Carr’s uncanny knack for rapturous rhapsodies brews crooning magpie stews steeped in aptly-turned phrases painting ingenious scenery and ultra-melodic blossoms falling from hummable humanist tumbles. Guided by a scavenger’s waggish navigation, “Breaks,” traipse British quips around ironic wit, bubblegum fuzz and sumptuous chamber-jangle; slyly colliding upbeat epiphanies into cheeky sympathies and colorful imagery.

Pieta Brown - Paradise Outlaw

Recorded in Bon Iver’s Wisconsin studio, “Outlaw,” echoes in abandoned canyons, riding lively gypsy rivers down to lazy pools of mountain-blues. Creaky swamp-waltzes canter and meander as Brown’s pliable folk-bop juggle love-note lullabies and cautionary propositions through hand-holding coaxing and coy phantom incantations. An amiable auteur adept at story and song, Pieta performs October 17th at the Stoughton Opera House.

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