Daniel Avery - Song For Alpha
Sufficient if you're seekin' some ol brain submergence with a beat, this is hushed house that's deep+dubby first and harping on playful-yet-prosaic melodies second. Spacey ambi-drone is a periodic hit-or-miss; his assets largely lie in bass and groove and echoes and the ensuing entrancement. Or is that lethargy? Frustration, maybe. So many duplicate tempos and static soundscapes. Preferred when it was four songs to Alpha instead of fourteen. 5.5/10
Bezier - Parler Musique
Difficult not to get down with lively melody-centric techno splashed with bright+soaring space-fantasy synth; boasting a near industrial-punk pace at times to boot -- at first anyway. Eventually it reveals itself as kind of a one-trick pony, its shiny spectacle tending to wear thin when taken as whole and many trax not evolving into much over time. Sooo many fluttering hi-hats -- not that I'm complaining. 6.5/10
The Body - I Have Fought Against It But I Can't Any Longer
First two tracks have me siked for a refreshingly subtler ride with the eventual potential to match the marvel of their last one. Then the ol standby mien that has previously crushed and elated and terrified me starts to kick in; albeit a seemingly stiffer staler sillier but ultimately still roaring+riveting rendering. Lotsa dependence on bass-blare blowouts and cymbal crashes, some fall-flat dramatic corn, craggy noise that sounds like a fan filtered through crunch, and of course that rooster a-crowing; which fades from creepy digitized abstraction of a scream into redundant frivolity pretty quickly. More evident here than heretofore is that these aren't actually troubled mutants, they just like playing em -- the consummation of which is a closing monologue so clumsy I find myself giggling at rather than sympathizing for someone who's reached the peak of emptiness. As far as the truly vibrant voxers go, allow me to quote an unfamiliar bench-sat skater from Supreme's 'Cherry' video: "Shoutout to the ladies, yo." 7/10
Elysia Crampton - Elysia Crampton [EP]
*******HIGHEST RECS*******
///BRAV-FUCKING-O\\\
It begins and ends abruptly as hell, sports 6 tracks in about 19 minutes and each seems like a slapdash sketch, yet it ends up perhaps the most monstrous-n-engrossing release of the year thus far. Terseness works cuz this is all guns blazing near invariably; and cuz it's Crampton actual guns blaze as well. Her heavy+hypnotic barrages go harder than ever while still supplying some of the best soundscapes going right now. Already a confirmed crackerjack at the jagged-yet-cushiony, now let's really hear it for her role as crafty conveyor: society crumbling with a reggae horn as the air strike signal, militant and primitive stomps warped and trapped inside a stridently sparkly wonderland, wistful and enraged and wild and focused all rolled into one. Brilliantly beautiful and ugly? Loud larger-than-life labyrinths that are fun and funny and stunning too? Drain-sucks beside serious business? Not too bad for dat duration. 9/10
LSDXOXO - Body Mods
*******HIGHEST RECS*******
Certainly less batty+stark than my last go with this acid-smoocher, 2016's 'Fuck Marry Kill' -- free of steel-door slams and broken glass, this one sorta simulates straight house; albeit on speed. It also showcases a newfound density and determination. Louder and funner and wilder than most house indeed, and at a comfortable 26 minutes or so there's barely a dull moment; thanx in part to that thump but also to all these blabbermouths. Blabber Bits: floating through the universe, layered 'hey'ers, sweaty breasts shakin' on the dance floor, something about a punk/skunk smoking weed, O-Ren Ishii calmly collecting your fucking head, etc. 8/10
The Maghreban - 01DEAS
*******HIGHEST RECS*******
The Maghreban is not particularly a master in any of em, but the copious fields covered here are consistently engaging, always finding ways to squirm outside the realm of ordinary house: piano jazz, organic?/may as well be organic drumming/percussion fests, a hip-hop circa 1988 flashback, "L's Theme" interpreted as frisky dream-funk, trippy creepy creepers, bright+drony thumpers. Often boasts a bassy boogie that sneaks up on you, and enough moxie and space-squelchin' to conceivably confirm the album art is half-shump. 7.5/10
Lindi Ortega - Liberty
Her wild-west schtick can seem like sort of a put-on and not all that, well, wild. But compared to what coulda been overblown yee-haw goof-offs the relative plainness is appreciated; cherished however is their commitment to the dark, the desolate, the tenderly haunting. Littered with devils and storms and horses and ghosts, rockers reserved for vengeful resurrections and callin' out fakes, Spanish apt enough to possibly woo the picturesque mystery man known as Pablo, a ballad bout her-n-her lover's love so cocksure and condescending you kinda hope their relationship fails -- when liberty finally comes it feels like a triumph. Having a voice between Dolly Parton and Angel Olson helps too. 7/10
Parquet Courts - Wide Awake!
It's been a pleasure hearing em progressively evolve and trickily come into their own -- performances and uptightness tightened, versatility and accessibility evinced, sprinklings of emotion+solicitude without withholding their bug-eyed+bewildered shout-talk. But through all the composed funk-punk and classic rock-esque accordance, I still find myself yearning for their more raggedy regimens of yore. More urgent and assured and shrewd and flow-centric than the last one methinks, which is swell, but the loaded lyricism tends to fall a bit flat -- maybe cuz they oft still sound ironic as hell. 7/10
Amy Rigby - The Old Guys
*******HIGHEST RECS*******
The sorta-scuzzy lo-fi production can be a hindrance or not be quite befitting for the tunes, but for this approaching-sixty seasoned amateur it discloses a dreamy-n-rough-n-rowdy charm. Standing tall tho are the songs themselves, fine a fusion of folk and garage rock as one could ask for; and of course Rigby. Want anthemic? See the opening duo in which alone-with-a-pen in-his-underwear Philip Roth mocks podium-poised Bob Dylan via email and she relives her thirties in the nineties. Want touching? "Back From Amarillo" and an appropriately precise mergence of "happy/sad" in memoriam of Bob. Cities to blame low self-esteem on or call insignificant? Pittsburgh and Cleveland respectively. And when her calmness finally cracks, she sees herself as a trio of TV crime lords. 8/10
Wreck And Reference - Alien Pains [EP]
Novelty quickie in which four classic cuts from GBV's 'Alien Lanes' are loosely covered, protracted, industrialized, fractured, dramatized. Hearing some of your fave rough-take alt-rockers receive the shadowy electro/stony-faced talking/harshly screamed treatment is a hoot and that in itself makes this a pretty commendable curiosity. Not sure it's really supposed to be a hoot, but hey. 6/10
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Debit - Animus 5/10
Kemialliset Ystavat - Siipi Empii 6/10
YFN Lucci - Ray Ray From Summerhill ~*~meh~*~
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