‘At Arm’s Length’ features Michael Pasuit, Ben Ross, Katie Cooney, and Lukas Hirsch, who present a unique sound together as Le Big Zero.
At times gracefully melodic, at other times thrumming with exhilarating immensity, The Shamanic’s ‘Traces and Spaces, Vol. 1’ pulsates with giddy sonic pleasures.
With one foot in the psychedelia of the ’60s and the other foot in the grunged-out ’90s, Helen Kelter Skelter delivers treacly imminence.
‘The Plague Inside Your Head’ successfully conjures up a cohesive offering of uplifting summer vibes. As far as the new generation of emo bands goes, Mighty...
Permeated with suffusions of pensive hues, yet never falling into the abyss of melancholy, K.ZIA’s 'Kintsugi Heart' offers lush, silky soundscapes.
Skin On Flesh’s new EP ‘Terrible and Sad’ is monstrously good, surging with visceral energy, hammering percussion, and the compelling voice of Laura Jiménez Alvarez.
Simultaneously contemporary and retro, with ‘Time Is Elastic’ (Little Planet Music), Middle Part expresses charming vulnerability and intimacy.
‘Ciao Bella’ discloses a dark catharsis, transported on heavy layers of ’90s grunge, accentuated by the stirring voice of Kyle Tekiela.
Equally balancing melancholy with brightness, the ‘Become’ EP (Sub Pop) remains aligned with the ethereal haziness listeners expect from Beach House.
Imagine Slipknot or Korn attempting to cover Baby Ford or even Kylie Minogue and pulling it off, and you’ll get a feel for ‘The Fire Within.’
Lusciously blurry, replete with gliding harmonic veneers, and the evocative, delicate voice of Jennifer Framer, The Know’s ‘EP2’ delivers luxurious dream-pop.
Mesmeric, almost hypnotic, ‘Aztec Jewel’ (Icons Creating Evil Art) establishes Murdo Mitchell as an artist to bask in and keep an eye on in the future.
Combining the swanky appeal of reggae, tight one-drop rhythms, and lush horns, Bumpin Uglies’ ‘Live at Sugarshack Sessions Vol. 2’ hits the sweet spot.
Drenched in the surging gloom of subterranean, glowering guitars, Lords of Dust’s ‘Kickin Dust Up’ churns up suppressed primal compulsions.
Laced with crazy, gritty ferocity, Modern Monsters’ EP ‘Malice’ reeks of palpable emotions, atavistic and biting, like a storm of sonic suppuration.