British-American DJ Leon Vynehall‘s newest release Rare, Forever, underscores a depth in ambient trance unseen in his previous, more narrative-focused works. Vynehall has a precarious way of making deep house that shines murky light on the personal experiences of the artist, making largely wordless music conceptual, while still setting the stage for electro fans to move on the dance floor. In Rare, Forever, the artist gives us a bigger peak into his persona, rather than the story that makes it such.

His premier studio album, Nothing Is Still, reflects on his grandparents’ voyage from London to New York City. Per the artist’s own words, Rare, Forever “starts off where Nothing Is Still left off,” but shifts into something he describes going so far as “sinister.”

This darkness bleeds through in tracks like “Mothra” (third on the album), which transforms his favorite influences, along with “Snakeskin ∞ Has-been” and “Dumbo.” Tracks like these make excellent backdrops for running down hallways with peeling paint, as in a first-person video game or a distorted chase scene in a slasher/thriller flick. Heart rate is climbing, lights blink. More mellow tracks like “Worm (& Closer & Closer)” call back to Vynehall’s style of downtempo ambiance, doing so with a pointed darkness that suggests wary explorations into the mind’s Shadow.

But despite their melodic electronic nature Vynehall’s latest songs, even at their most mild, may not be found in an elevator near you. This holds true unless, of course, that elevator was filled with sweaty bobbing bodies in day-glo and torn fishnets, testing the max weight capacity with reckless abandon on their way to the rooftop rave. This is the future of the post-vaccine party scene I hope for: one where we’ve been inside bored enough to be tortured into exploring our own minds sufficiently to the point of being ready to lose them all over again. When comes time to unleash whatever we came across in our heads out into the strobe-lit world of abandoned warehouses or dance halls, Leon Vynehall’s Rare, Forever will be waiting for our submission in the seediest corner of the nightclub.

Leon Vynehall’s Rare, Forever is our on April 30, 2021

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Valley Maker’s Austin Crane has shown a commitment to a style of lush, yielding folk music for eleven years now. While consistent, Valley Maker’s newest album set to release February 19^th, When The Day Leaves, feels in no way stagnant. The artist, a Ph.D. candidate in Geography at Washington University, constructs gently powerful soundscapes that complement a long, contemplative walk through the winter woods, led more by a sense of personal exploration than by a map of the terrain.

Titles like “Branch I Bend” and “Pine Trees” reference images from northern forests, which may be more fresh inspirations for the Seattle-based project, combined and assimilated with Crane’s Southern upbringing into the creative process of his songwriting. When The Day Leaves departs from 2018’s Rhododendron, produced by a friend and former classmate at the University of South Carolina, Chaz Bear of Toro y Moi. Valley Maker’s latest release takes on a more solemn, though see-sawing, tone. Compared to earlier work, where Valley Maker addresses politics and religion with frankness in lyrics, When The Day Leaves deals in abstractions of hope and potential, love, and journeying.

Valley Maker’s moody, Pacific style and ambiance sits on the other side of the coin from the fellow west coaster, singer-songwriter, and park ranger, Liz Harris of Grouper. Where Grouper is percussive, breathy, and expansive, Valley Maker creates volume with little negative space. Rich, standout songs, like the single “No One Is Missing” and “Instrument,” underscore both the steadiness and fullness of Crane’s vocals and guitar compositions.

Backing vocals in “Line Erasing” deliver a soft texture, while horns closing the song lead the album out with an understated glory that sinks into the more subdued title track finishing the record. This two-song sequence all but visualizes the progression of day’s end, when the golden hour just before sunset fades into a furtive, maybe restful, maybe somber nightfall. When The Day Leaves adds a refreshing, grounding piece to Valley Maker’s humble and consistently luminous body of work.

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London-based seven-piece Black Country, New Road, release their murky, theatrical debut For The First Time on February 5^th. The album opens heavy on percussion, setting the stage for an experimental, genre-bending experience calling to klezmer, jazz, art-rock, and opulence.

Lead singer and guitarist, Isaac Wood, introduces his thick, unwavering vocals on the second track – their first single, “Athens, France”— a black comedy in lyric about sexual dysfunction and pop music. For as serious in tone as Black Country, New Road presents, their lyrics are self-aware, bordering on whimsical (referencing Nutri-bullets, Instagram baddies, and their often-compared math-rock predecessor Slint), and irreverently cutting.

The group has a thick skin and daring disposition born only of conflict. The project emerged following a controversial disbanding of their previous group, Nervous Condition. Claims of sexual assault against the former lead singer, Connor Browne, led to members of Nervous Condition distancing from him and recreating their sound as Black Country, New Road. The effect is a style heavier and more matured, less advised by screechy pop-punk. Despite being told by Brian Eno “I can’t believe 40 years after I invented this genre people are still trying to do it,” concerning their sound, the ensemble ventures into new avenues with their debut.

Lewis Evans is a powerhouse on the saxophone, beeping and fluttering on the almost 10-minute long saga of “Sunglasses,” cooing and moaning on the closing track “Opus.” Coming up playing with a broad mix of Cuban, Nigerian, and Jewish folk musicians, Evans gives their jazz influence a world edge, distinguishing them from fellow Londoner and deep-voiced saxophone enthusiast King Krule. The mix of abstract and concrete post-punk revival materializes as a tough love child of Interpol and early Sonic Youth. Georgia Ellery, an orchestrally trained violinist, adds to the nightmarish, sultry Eastern European twinge.

Described by The Guardian as essentially a Gen Z band making Gen Z music for Gen Z kids, it’s exciting to recognize artistically that these fresh-faced 21-year-olds have tapped into some superficial morbidity of the modern age in ways paradoxically still and erratic. This being the debut album, we anticipate seeing the directions Black Country, New Road spread into on records to come.

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WILL THIS MAKE ME GOOD, Nick Hakim‘s first album drop in three years, breezes through an intricate mix of melancholy and whimsy. At the intersection of psychedelic pop and classic funk, Hakim’s return echoes with memories sung into fuzzy, haunting songs like “VINCENT TYLER,” “SEEING DOUBLE,” and “WHOO.”

Hakim uses nostalgia and mood to build upon the last decade’s synthpop chillwave movement. However, where early favorites like Neon Indian and Toro Y Moi evoke more sunshine, less structure, Nick Hakim’s album edges into territory that is heady, occasionally somber, and often cathartic.

Both the lyrics of expansive, flowery “BOUNCING,” which tell about “all these lonely strangers” wandering aimlessly in search for “peace of mind,” and the uncharacteristically deconstructed, grating vocals that closing out the track “WTMMG” dance around bleak overtures, but really show that Hakim can take on heavy subject matters with salience.

Take for example, “QADIR,” a longer and stranger song than others on the record Named in homage of Hakim’s late friend, Qadir Imhotep West, “QADIR” conjures a deep pain that devolves into a heavenly distortion of found sounds and flutes, laced with the voices of collaborators KeiyaA, Pink Siifu, and Oyinda. As written on Hakim’s Bandcamp, “QADIR” serves as a reminder to look out for the emotional health of people in your circle. Now, months into the pandemic and all its associated losses, so many are struggling more than usual, quietly and alone.

Hakim wants us to understand, from time to time, that we all need someone to care. May the gentle, flowing melodies on WILL THIS MAKE ME GOOD give listeners the pause to reflect and check-in with one another. You never know how much a check-in text can open a deeper conversation, can maybe make someone good… or at least better than they were before your reaching out, especially given all these changes.

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Obaro Ejimwe, aka Ghostpoet, digs deep into his inner psyche on his latest record I Grow Tired But Dare Not Fall Asleep, released May 1st. This heavily introspective album leans harder on percussion and bass than electronics, marking a slight shift in direction for the London-based artist. I Grow Tired… cozies up to seminal albums from fellow British trip-hoppers, like Massive Attack’s Mezzanine or the self-titled debut from Damon Albarn’s project Gorillaz. 

Ghostpoet’s pre-apocalyptic blues prove fitting for the times. Ejimwe’s haunting melodies are interspersed with existential spoken word verse. The album opens to blatant nihilism on “Breaking Cover” but does not drag or wallow. Ghostpoet plays into the inherent contradiction of man. His lyrics speak to being out of touch in one line, then Instagram filters in the next. Sonically, the no-wave guitar riffs on “Nowhere To Hide Now” are attention-grabbing. Likewise is the juxtaposition of bird song and futuristic ringing stands out on “When Mouths Collide,” a harrowing song where Ejimwe’s cries out lovelorn pleas with half a heart, like he knows his efforts are doomed from the start, but still can’t change the course of his desires. 

Heady and experimental, I Grow Tired But Dare Not Fall Asleep is perfect for an after-dark listen, on those nights when the noise in your head keeps you from sleep. Replace your thoughts with Ghostpoet’s ominous voice on this record, and muse with him there on the fine line between a nightmare and a dream.

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A duo born of the Colorado Rocky Mountains crosses state lines to bring together Nashville-based singer-songwriter Michelle Mandico and New York City jazz pianist Eunha So for the collaborative EP titled Something New.

Eunha So’s first solo record, 2019’s Reminiscence, looks back on memory and leans as much on funk as it does on jazz standards for a cool, dynamic listen. Meanwhile, Michelle Mandico’s west-meets-east folk-pop style recalls natural landscapes, birds, and angels in her preceding release titled Ptarmigan.

On Something New, the artists merge styles. Mandico’s vocals shine with depth and softness throughout the tracks, while So’s melodies keep afloat a wistful, romantic hope. The piano succeeds in leveling these love songs, opening each track to the possibility of tenderness that rings more authentic than maudlin.

“Just Gonna Try” alludes to a story of faithfulness, consistency, and surrender in love. In the track “Mr.” Mandico pleads and goads after color-coated lovers, where her sweet and natural harmonics blend with So’s smooth piano for a jazzy, seductive effect. The traveling spirit is touched upon in “Long Island Heart,” a grounding and somber introspective piece. So’s piano offers aspirations for a wayward woman in search of her own calling, navigating through instinct, belief, and connection to family history.

All in all, Something New makes for an affecting teaser of songs from two talented upcoming musicians. So’s exquisite piano complements Mandico’s brand of sensitive Americana, adding layers of emotionality to the gentle and naturalistic style. Check out the collaboration here for a mellow springtime listen to invite tranquility into this brave new world.

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Today STRFKR released their first album in four years, Future Past Life. On the opening track, “Dear Stranger” lead singer Joshua Hodges moans lazily about being all “alone and safe in a room,” eerily resonating with some of us in the 2020 quarantine age through synth-pop psychedelics.

STRFKR are known for smart music that makes you want to dance, and Future Past Life no doubt carries on in this trend. Mellow disco grooves sprinkled throughout the album, like “Deep Dream,” can get your head bopping and foot-tapping as good as any. But through the years, STRFKR has matured, and the tracks on this record feel more downplayed, less house party. 

Though more low-key, the production value is strong, and the songs lose little of the catchy appeal STRFKR showed off in earlier albums. The Portland-based group carries on with their signature mopey lyrics recalling vapid youth and perilous love stories, highlighted in tracks like “Second Hand” and “Budapest” featuring Shy Boys.

Broken hearts notwithstanding, STRFKR’s latest record can manage to offer us some “Cold Comfort” in these strange, isolating times through our solo dance/cry sessions. Future Past Life makes for a great, versatile quarantine deep listen – poppy in the right places, light on the beat, heavy on the brood, and satisfying all around. 

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San Fermin, Brooklyn-based chamber pop eight-piece (named for the infamous Spanish festival involving the running of the bulls) wrapped up their American tour last Friday. On the road to promote their latest release, The Cormorant I, the band played expressive, dynamic music to a fresh-faced audience at the Brooklyn Steel.

Fronted by the vivacious composer and multi-instrumentalist Ellis Ludwig-Leone, San Fermin proved that they have a lot to offer in a performance. A non-exhaustive list of instruments played during the hour-and-a-half set included keyboards, violin, bass, guitar, saxophone, drums, and maracas. At one point a trumpet got caught in a guitar chord, and the crowd shared a little chuckle with the band for their endearingly awkward transition. There were several occasions of big laughs on stage. The bandmates clearly have a good time playing together, and a hearty passion for the music. There was a kind of youthful purity to their set, a very light and fun big band geek energy. 

San Fermin shined brightest when they dove head-first into their dramatic anthems, stunning with tracks like “Bride” and the more recent release “The Hunger.”

Leading ladies, Karlie Bruce and Claire Wellin, are impressive vocalists, offering range and feeling in their honey-smooth voices.

The lulls involved San Fermin’s slower songs. “Cerulean Gardens” could have been left out of the performance and none would have mourned, I suspect. During that song, I looked over to see one audience member yawning. Then I yawned.

True to their shining form, San Fermin brought back the energy to close out with a bang. Charlene Kaye, the former lead singer of the band, was welcomed to the stage as a surprise guest, much to the audience’s roaring approval. Kaye dazzled the crowd with a lively rendition of 2013’s “Sonsick,” during which, enthusiastic trumpeter John Brandon jumped into the audience, waking everyone up.

San Fermin gave a memorable and spirited performance, gifting audiences with unreleased tracks from their next release, and giving us all something to look forward to with the forthcoming completion of The Cormorant project.

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On November 22nd Animal Collective looks back on the glory days of the new millennium with Ballet Slippers, a live retrospective to commemorate the ten-year anniversary of their iconic album Merriweather Post Pavilion.

Animal Collective, made up of Avey Tare (David Porter), Panda Bear (Noah Lennox), Deakon (Josh Dibb), and Geologist (Brian Weitz), came up in the early 2000s as prep school boys turned psychedelics. Where contemporaries, including Vampire Weekend and The Shins, boasted Ivy League indie-pop perfection, Animal Collective veered off into the weird.

Ballet Slippers follows suit, free-falling into the strange, twinkling universe Animal Collective explored since their conception. The album invites us as participants, not voyeurs. The live tracks give more: more feeling, more yearning in spacy guitar strums and vocal echoes. There is less measured strain than the studio recordings, and the result is dreamy and intoxicating, borderline maudlin. Songs stand more tender in their live versions, even amidst heavy reverb, Ballet Slippers proves that Animal Collective makes love songs.

Including earlier releases from 2001’s Danse Manatee to 2007’s Strawberry Jam, Ballet Slippers is made up of summer songs performed on tour between late May and early June. Themes touch on intimacy encountered laying in fields, walking around at night, and at the swimming pool. Summer songs put out for a late November release mark the change ten years can bring. “Banshee Beats” crones on about what we choose to remember and what goes forgotten. On “My Girls,” the band plays with forsaking the material world for a simple life with loved ones. Ten years later, in the Instagram age, it’s hard to imagine indie megastars making such pure admissions. With Ballet Slippers, Animal Collective asks to transport us back in time to the transient: that first trip, that cool mixed CD your ex-girl gave you, other little things you almost can’t remember, but can never quite forget.

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Ty Segall’s international tour with The Freedom Band took hold of New York City’s The Bowery Ballroom last weekend. Segall’s career as a leading psych-rocker in the underground scene has spanned over the past 10 years and morphed from fuzzy, low-key, and lo-fi to an ambitious, experimental, grizzly rock n’ roll sound. This tour, Ty Segall and The Freedom Band promised full album sets, providing a look-back into the catalog of Melted, Goodbye Bread, Emotional Mugger, as well as the Manipulator. Quip ventured out to last Thursday’s show for a revisiting of Goodbye Bread as well as a complete performance of his latest release.

The California rocker rang in the show with strong openers from his newest album, the strikingly guitar-less, First Taste.  Sonically, First Taste bears evidence from Segall’s classic inspirations of T. Rex and Zeppelin but manages to deviate from his previous repertoire into an almost clean edge. Without guitars, songs from First Taste take on more structure and form. The album lends itself a dynamism that is less widely featured in earlier releases, going from heavy rock tracks to lolling ballads and back again in just under forty minutes.

For the live play, the frontman did, in fact, indulge us with his guitar stylings, when he wasn’t seated at the drums. Segall plunged into heavy bangers “Whatever” and “I Worship the Dog” to get the crowd riled up for a rough start with riot moshing under red light. The Bowery Ballroom’s smoky open space encouraged the raucous audience to crowd surf and dive into the scuzzy jam sounds of prolonged instrumentals.

The light shifted with the mood and change of epoch as Segall and The Freedom Band geared up to play Goodbye Bread under flashes of blue light. Even from the balcony, audiences could be heard chanting along with lyrics from the 2011 release. Coincidentally, Goodbye Bread was the album that got me on Ty Segall in the first place when he played a festival in my hometown for the local radio. Playing live at the Bowery last week, he brought more electricity and rage into the garage album. Classics like the title track and the heavy “Where Your Head Goes” sent the crowd into a frenzy.

Ty Segall has a great reputation for his live shows, and there’s no question to the contrary. Segall brings that classic hard and fast garage punk energy to the scene onstage. If you missed his sets this round, rest easy – the prolific artist has been consistently putting out new music and touring since 2008. Five back-to-back double-album shows in Brooklyn last week prove Ty Segall has the stamina to keep our heads exploding, and shows no sign of letting up.

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