2018 ALL

******** - The Drink

The title-track takeoff's howling barrage over a laugh track is an anomaly; the howling barrage part anyway. Thereon out you've got a guy/girl dynamic that's rudimentarily repetitive with drollery and crudeness as their charm. Slow+sparse+snobby enuff to chafe just about anyone, they read as a sillier Throbbing Gristle; or perhaps if being generous, The Vaselines as art-school burnouts. Machines tap, violins creak, drone groans, guitar crackles, grooves stay simultaneously shaky+steady, cheap three-note hooks languidly ring out and linger. But right, the drollery. "I'm a Zookeeper (Not a Goalkeeper)" is not about being a zookeeper or not being a goalkeeper, rather it's more about being/not being any ol thing one could be/not be that ends in 'er'. Its most upbeat involves seltzer testing and its most dour stars a very unfunny traveling comedian. Elsewhere, a rather masterful sendup of Supertramp's "The Logical Song" illogically segues into "Gangsta's Paradise", a duel deadpan wedlock decision is made during a Christmas tune, suicide-method suggestions are begotten via Reddit, a readymade is made ready and readymade. And most epic of all for the finale, the tale of a doomed friendship with a drunk dog. 8/10

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A.A.L. (Against All Logic) - 2012-2017

Covert compilation under covert alias of household-name electro-man Nicolas Jaar, which left unexposed perhaps coulda comfortably sunk into the colossal online sea of anonymous house music. Lotsa leets will groan about old-hat singing samples and approachability I'm sure, but hard to deny that this goes deep or how fun the dang thang is. Paramount is the balance struck between expertly and sketchy -- its soulful funk and warmth met with dusty lumps and the weird, a vivid timbre mixture and legitimate swagger weaved with offhandedness and static. True to style it'll lag fairly far from the finish of its hour-plus runtime; but right it's a compilation, take in small doses and skip around to what really tickles your fancy. Top Tickler for me has gotta be the invincible piano trance and gospel chops of "Some Kind of Game" a mere ten minutes in, also momentous is the one right before it which echoes something that kinda sounds like "I feel awesome". And so will you. 8.5/10

Amnesia Scanner - Another Life

In true AS fashion they waste no time displaying their demeanor; i.e. bursts of contorted squeal-n-squall so blaring it may make it or break it for just about anyone. But their butchered balance of contortions and The Club is still the handy silver lining, and on a full-length following a pair of increasingly intriguing EPs they've further harnessed the knack. Ugly, fierce, abruptly acerbic, disorienting, yet its danceability and vividity can't be diminished; and even the meandering cool-downs usually wind up blowing your head off. And as relief for all those altered-pitch garble vox, let's hand it to Pan Daijing for some still-bizarre lucidity that's analogous to the project at hand: "Last year was a KO / What a complete KO", "All around you it's just AS AS AS". Whatever gets you movin'. 8/10

Anenon - Tongue

Maybe obvious from an opener named "Open" that's replete with bird tweets, but through all the lonely airy sax and loopy piano layers and weepy drone it's capturing+integrating the 'outside' elements that ultimately sells it. The actual alfresco, sure -- window ajar on a windy day, close-by chimes, a ship off in the distance, rainy dayz -- but also the warmth that comes with hearing the performer's shuffling about and maneuvering fingers. Securing a synthesis on both synth-n-saxophone that's bewitchingly haunting and bonafide beach-breeze, well that certainly helps too. 7/10

The Armed - Only Love

Painted in a Noisey piece as an assortment of anonymous-ish identity trolls whose weirdness seemed engineered; reliant on hype via a try-hard+enigmatic 'what even is a band, man' eminence -- so perhaps just let the music here speak for itself. Helpful that Ben Koller took over the crew's kit and Kurt Ballou is producer and Convergean consultant and quite possibly covert bandleader. Solidifying their excellence however is standing out from the hardcore/metalcore hive-mind stylistically, careening past copycat status. Synths stab through the chaotic muck, vox got variance, unadulterated vehemence and all-out scuzz make room for melody and noise pop calm-downs. And just when you think you're goin' out on a calm drift towards Jupiter, there ya are blasting off into a black hole. 8/10

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

awakebutstillinbed - what people call low self​-​esteem is really just seeing yourself the way that other people see you

Recoil if you must from thatbandname and long-ass album title and lowercase necessity and screamo kicking off 2018. But their organic old-school mien and quiet-loud facility strike a nerve; if too sad or shy or sweet for too long in comes that resounding eruption and the bloodcurdling shrieks for catharsis. Good on the canorous pop-punk immediacy and raw rabidity right along with the tension building and truly tender. 7/10

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bad Gyal - Worldwide Angel

Spanish dancehall whose only discernible function seems to be serving as club fodder, and it's forgettable fodder at that. Simultaneously shrill and stale and a steaming pile of auto-tune mush, I find myself pausing numerous times during this sub-half hour listen for sanity breaks. Not wanting to blame a language barrier for contributing to the drivel, I searched and struggled to gather translations; eventually settling for this FACT Magazine excerpt that summed up my suspicions: "On 'Realize', she sings about smoking a blunt at the party wearing Luis Vuitton, while on 'Trust', her heart pines for her "baby" and his sadness is "the worst thing in the world"." ~*~meh~*~

Bamba Pana - Poaa

An endurance tester and epic assault, fusing ruthless repetition that's best reserved for masochists with enough velocity and waggishness to bemuse even the biggest bummer. So right, I think it's a blood-pumping hoot. The one overtly sung-over rendition here is a welcome change but goes to show these instrumentals are likely better left on their outrageous own -- rigid+protracted as they may be they also offer constant vigor and a galloping-n-busy blur worth immersin' your brain in. Never underestimate the pummel-power of primitive patterns all pilin' on ya at once, particularly when it's this playful. 8/10

Courtney Barnett - Tell Me How You Really Feel 

Lyrically inspired as her preceding breakthrough was, it also lent itself to the record's undoing for me -- which may be why I prefer this more moderate effort. The songs here are comparably slack but confident+charming as such, admirably rawer yet still a bit too deep in the realm of drably stated garage-alt regularity. Faves come precisely at beginning middle end: the nervous bass-lined tread of opener "Hopefulessness", the snarly keys-as-weapon determent of insecure men from "Nameless, Faceless", missing someone's face on singularly intimate ender "Sunday Roast". For what it's worth, her live performance conveyed a much less rockstar'd combo of Kurt and Courtney (Love, that is), so that's promising. 6/10

Behemoth - I Loved You at Your Darkest 

Not sure I could name a name broadcasting Satanism more earnestly and large-scale than Behemoth chieftain Nergal. His growls perpetually powerful and snarls always spiteful, metal that's severe and colossal but suitable for stadiums or symphonies -- a commixture of carnage and speed and class that's acute enough to make you consider conversion. Seemingly resting on their laurels a bit here tho, laudable laurels they may be; perhaps guilty simply of not possessing the insistent impact of its predecessor. But hey, they've even got the kids-n-choirs involved. And what aspiring atheist hasn't gotten a kick outta replacing prayer's 'heaven's with 'hell's? Now they just get to hear it roared atop some sincere+epic fury. 7.5/10

Between the Buried and Me - Automata I

First half of divided full-length issued independently months before part two -- less for aesthetic reasons and more cuz it would prove more palatable than yet another enormous prog-pill to swallow methinks. Hence it reading like an extensive EP instead of concluding on a cliffhanger I spose. As is often the case for highfalutin concepts in the extreme metal sphere, the one here is basically invisible; and that's likely for the best. Raspy vox goin' ragged and persevering gaudy awk mitigated by boosting the urgent gruff a bit and the fact that these guys have seemingly been touring+recording complicated-ass music 350 days a year for like 15 years now. Going through the motions maybe, but those are still some instrumentally impressive motions. Momentous Moment Within Motions: premiere guitar hook on "Blot", which is both intriguing and abominable. 6/10

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

Blocks & Escher - Something Blue

A propensity for predictable patterns and 6-minute trax may tire, but keeping you glued is its mysterious night-ride mood and mash-up of elements -- driving+detailed drum-n-bass, airy jazz, ambient, breathy ladies. Somber and ominous in spades but great at gettin' ya spastically grooving, they keep the percussive plentifuls punchy and the ghost synths hazy+gazy; horns profoundly flutter off into the atmosphere while stop-n-go breakbeats give it zip and enhance unease. Bewitches and goes bonkers with the same calm. 8/10

Bloodbark - Bonebranches

Its pace can be plodding and the dramatic rigidity nears comical, but coming through at the end of the day is a damn-well symphonized and enthralling epic. Too pretty and measured to transmit malice but thunderous and blackmetals with the best of em -- the type that WOULD have icy Planet Earth-esque cover art instead of cryptic scribbles, and actually kinda live up to it. Keybs feign flutes+strings+ghost choirs, cymbals splash, pianos twinkle, somber soaring is on point, snarls are strong, thrashin' is intense-n-touching; and it's all immaculate enough to render it straight stately. Would be nice to see a followup tarnish things up a bit tho. Presumable title of followup: 'Tendontrunk'. 7.5/10

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

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Camp Cope - How to Socialise and Make Friends

Admired this mostly for them decidedly doubling down on the barebones+loopy trio config, and hey if the tune is middling Maq can always just start wailing. What I miss most, other than a shortage of middling tunes, is the wit-n-minutia. This sees a spike in spite and sulk that presently resonates hard but often they're too stiff or subdued to really sell it -- instrumentally, anyway. For voxer/songwriter Georgia, it can seem like an exercise in rawly hamming it up validated by a couple pressing matters and a dedication for dad; which tends to drift freely from riveting to redundant. In this case let's call bass that saving grace. 7/10

Cardi B - Invasion of Privacy

Siked on her stripper-to-stardom success story and unfiltered persona, the wordy grit and wit, the well-engineered loud+proud debut roll-out. But her rapping is only slightly less grating than her interviews; which admittedly is part of the appeal. Plus so many mentions of money bags and possessions while drowning in drama-n-hostility is taxing on its own. LOL moments include a plethora of pussy-popping techniques, YG's so-bad-it's-good "She Bad" hook, and her revengeful proposals for seeing shit she don't like on her man's phone: telling his mama that she raised a bitch, posting his received nudes on the Gram, cutting the tongues out of his sneakers, getting stabby, feeding him bleach-laced cereal like "bon appetit". 6.5/10

Car Seat Headrest - Twin Fantasy (Face to Face)

Toledo revamping his 7-year old Bandcamp breakthrough may seem a bit superfluous, but it serves as a testament to relative newcomers like myself that he's long had an appetite for ambition. And whereas mainstream breakthrough 'Teens of Denial' took seventy minutes to get through twelve tunes, here it takes that to get through ten; with a less fluent flow to boot. Though his nervous+mopey mutterin' talk-sing tends to wear thin, Will is a stirring and sympathetic character who's also up for going hoarse and harmonizing; and spread through the many passages that are dynamic and immerse ya in greatness you're sure to find declines in direction and declared descents into cliche and dull+sulky diary-reads bout how he's not doing "shit" cuz he's not traveling the world like last year. Most convincing when resisting schizophrenia or in a room that's spinning. 6.5/10

The Carters - Everything is Love

Double Fantasy this ain't -- Jay and Yonce's coupled collab is essentially an exercise in stated+sonic opulence, their lifestyle and story and mutual affection safely amorphous besides a few distinct-yet-dubious detail-drops, and even during back-n-forth bickering over some bygone shit it never seems like they're really in the same room. "I don't give a damn about the fame", right; now plz bless us with more boring brags about your collective assets and status. But they as dynamic vet team and all dat money are persuasive, particularly when the bills are going towards the beats. Neither of em access the candor or character achieved on respective recent solo releases, but transmitting its own sort of magnetism is them casually killin' it while simultaneously kinda just mailing it in. Can they still cling to street authenticity? Are they truly stressing over false arrests? Is Beyonce really dropping her daughter off at school personally? They're big enough to make you ponder it, and it's pretty easy to be reminded as to why. 7/10

Cavern of Anti-Matter - Hormone Lemonade

These kraut-revering synth-ultraists still churn out exquisite groovework and cohesive layering like no one's business; steadfast shooting you off into space while keepin' it busy+upbeat. Making em rather undeniably engaging is their fusion of man and machine, deep dark galaxy drifts and video game fun-time, jammy goodness and sincere sound-care. So the dearth of character and a creeping feeling of caution may be permissible I spose. But few of these trax are the tremendous treks that so many on their last one were. Matter of fact, the 16-minute opener (by far the longest tune here) on its own sums this all up pretty unsuccinctly. 6.5/10

Elysia Crampton - Elysia Crampton [EP]

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

Cuco - Chiquito [EP]

Closer "CR-V" is cute and catchy and curt enough, refreshingly self-aware bout his dorkiness to boot. But namedropping Santana/Lennon/1960 for surface-level "psychedelia" is painfully platitudinal. Stiff+sleepy delivery and kissing my bitch with LSD spit and luv in the sun and bleary production on the other hand are just painful. ~*~meh~*~

Cupcakke - Ephorize

"This rated R, not PG." Yeah yeah she's lewd and makes ya laugh. Right, not just lewd but dicks deep inside spread asses and cum as cake batter; makes ya laugh as in being the reason for your man's lotion-y phone and Bob The Builder reconstructing pussy walls. And steering it just clear of sheer shock-value novelty is how hard she spits and confidently she sells it -- the wit to push sex into the absurd, true tude for the cocky tuff stuff, touches of those 'other' topics like self-reflection. Literally jumping up+down on dicks but demanding devotion and wondering what it's all for and whatnot. Oh and a rhyme reserve and supply of similes unlimited enough to not need 100% win-lines. And even when playing profound and hailing (ahem) "the gays" comes off kinda contrived or a cereal is reduced to corny catchphrase, the beats-n-hooks continuously bang-n-bounce. Most Blush-worthy: "Spoiled Milk Titties". 8/10

Denzel Curry - TA13OO

Solidifies Zel's transition from Soundcloud standout to illustrious luminary. He could almost get by on ferocity alone, but salient+savored here is upping the lyrical lucidity and formidable flow-n-flows and versatile vision on the whole. Poppier and smoother ventures truly pop; and when he pokes holes in peer's propensities for buck-stuffed pockets and percs and depression-as-nifty-demeanor it's keen and catchy as hell. And as much as "Sirens" seems like a singular flutterer that faces the frustration of today's fucked up world, let's hand it to him for ending it on a demonic note and classifying America as a fort. But "Donald Trump / Donald Duck / What the fuck / is the difference"? Dat duck deserves better. 8/10

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucy Dacus - Historian

Dacus+crew's superficial downfall is imparting the sound of customary-n-cautious indie singer/songwriter -- seldom not slow too, which can make it wane. Lucy's grace and modesty as a voxer however are harder to challenge. Hers is a steady down to earth divinity that's downplayed enough to make ya proud in the rare instances that she breaks out and just belts it. Matters that stick don't hurt neither: being creative without calling yourself a creator, riots, spit, grandma turning into dust, acknowledging that you'll turn into dust while sucking on a ginger root, etc. 6.5/10

Dance Gavin Dance - Artificial Selection

Deep in the caverns of imagination is 2001 me patting present me on the back while a mere-two-months ago me looks on in awe and disdain. From a download to see how bad they REALLY were came a guilty pleasure turned purchased CD turned cautiously yet unquestionably gung-ho for album. A consummate contrast of appallingly appealing cleans and angsty throat shredding that's silly and seductive, dramatic and dazzling, swarming with sweeping skillz. It's hard to tell if this is frontloaded or if they're just taxing in general or both, lyrics legible or not are oft absurd to the point of asinine and/or conjure a cringe -- beautiful catharsis, not wanting to be treated like a psycho, belly-placed popcorn tellin' ya things, bright asses in battle, smoking weed out of a pussy filled with money, etc. -- but this sheen-n-severity stew consistently strikes a nerve. Many a lil memorable touch and quirk; but they're surely just a bonus to some stupidly huge hooks+harmonies that you'll unabashedly wail in your worst falsetto. Sing along, now: "Don't fight, it's too magnetic." 9/10

Deafheaven - Ordinary Corrupt Human Love

Hate to keep harking back to Sunbather since their trajectory since has grown stylistically and certainly ain't without its merit -- it's just that none of it has been blistering or persuasive or beautiful as that pink-painted classic could be. This beats New Bermuda on flow and tenacity but ups the drippy and long-winded; which at times can transmit strikingly. Too often tho there's a whiff of cheese and a willingness to make intensity sound languid. Flashy yet kinda flat, punchy but predictable and exceedingly polished. Plus some solos still make me groan. 6.5/10

Death Grips - Year of the Snitch

Complaints of tone-downs or muddling are reasonable, but if you ask me this is batty and boisterous as ever. All at once desultory, disorienting, anthemic, absurd; this is a group that's increasingly cocky and curious and cryptic and prolific and not givin' a shit since melding their aggro with the portent of pop promise on The Money Store six years ago. Currently it seems less about Ride's rants and full-on frenzy and more set on sketchy-n-spastic assemblages that regularly make you wonder how you got here from there, enough so it's difficult to still designate as hip-hop. Brandishing an Andrew Adamson cameo and an outro before the weirdo-hardcore outro, part of the thrill here is the continued uncertainty after alotta listens. Other part is it's a sonic hoot, duh. 7.5/10

Dedekind Cut - Tahoe

Leads with an ambient hush that's hard to hate yet easy to ignore, a sufficient synthesis of somber and elegant and barely there. Which is adequate and all, but I'm relieved when they eventually supe up the sounds and incorporate nature -- bit more tension, bit more weird, bit more glow. Ride the ripples of those gurgling streams through forests from dusk til dawn, encounter a cauldron and some throat-singers along the way; just be back on shore in time for church. 6.5/10

DJ Healer - Nothing 2 Loose

Commitment to the hush may be healing for him or y'all, to me however he's DJ Dozer. This is where aspirations of unadorned purity end up just plain plain -- even though there's something to be said of its simplicity and subtleties and all-textures-matter mien, too much of the material here either starts sterile or gets there eventually. The house is good, for a few minutes anyway; some poignant patches of funereal ambient; bit of an eye-roll when it goes robot or tries hard to be heaven. Most vocal spots repeat-n-repeat til they match the plain; worst offender being whispering "everything is everything" in your ear 500 or so times for the finale. It suuuure is. 5/10

DJ Koze - Knock Knock

Comes with some slight snags: chirpy festival-esque fluff, drawn-out runtime that nears an hour-twenty, off-key blurts, the thought of tunes on teeth. But its dream-stated sprawl-as-adventure and colorful detail and contagious warmth make this a summer-electro selection for the ages. You'll convincingly move in a liquid and may wanna wave a lighter; get lost in the wide array of vocal guests and deep house cuts with sampled hooks that equal em; see or at least hear aliens and oft dip into the nocturnal; wonder if the creepy kid singin' bout the guy who's got the whole world in his hands slyly pertains to Trump; get suckered into whistling those aforementioned blurts. Classic Contrast: Speech falling deeper in love and driving a droptop jeep vs. Kurt Wagner jumping off a building. 8/10

DJ Taye - Still Trippin'

Refreshingly proportional+proper welding of hip-hop and footwork, of the vocalized and the non-; but winds up a somewhat tepid tangle. Out of the gaggle-o-guests DJ Paypal probably pays off the most, assuming you prefer it blippy and blistering and kind of annoying. On the whole tho its chill ain't really celestial, its birr rarely floors, and raps so oft tend toward torpid tales of doing drugs and how potent those drugs are it just might make ya crave more abstract sputterin'. 6.5/10

Dr. Octagon - Moosebumps: An Exploration Into Modern Day Horripilation

A reboot no one really needed, but now that it's here and Dan The Automator is executive beat-man and they made sure to follow in Dr. Octagonecologyst's footsteps to a T, sure we'll take it. When beats do break out that mold a bit they stick, but prevailing is still the thrill of Kool Keith's rhyme-stuffed serious-bout-absurdity rollercoaster flow. As hinted from opening with a song called "Octagon Octagon" that samples Dr. Octagon and octagons everything in sight, he's either overly confident in his self-mythology or just trolling; but his non-sequiturs are more often than not a hoot to trail -- lotsa animals, colors, lechery that's almost always attached to a laugh. But even when curbing it to only one porno sample this can't help but feel a bit dated+awkward at times, and I like scratchin' as much as the next guy. Not that it's full-on Awktagon, just doesn't have that same album flow or belly-fire or edge, and I wouldn't expect it to. Not to mention, KoRn chords just ain't what they used to be. 6/10

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ed Schrader's Music Beat - Riddles

True to post-punk norms vox convey a mumbly spectral crooner and dramatic wildman, but this bassfuzz/drum duo is texturally punchy and dancy even at their dinniest. A good giant distorted bass line always works, but ample piano and a bit-o-sax and twinkling Springsteen+New Order worship make em a bit more than rowdy beatkeepers. That being said, the more beat usually the better: see "Dizzy Devil"s yelly percussive overload and "Rust"s rigid ruckus. 7/10

Delroy Edwards - Rio Grande

It's all in the aesthetic on this one: consistent room hiss, homespun VHS/video game vibe, blocky bass and whiny funk-synth that would fit fittingly with a night-cruise circa early 1980s. Vaporwavish one could say, tho it's headmost a thudder. Its house is playful and not quite boring -- ay it even works backwards -- but none of it really goes anywhere either. Nearly every track is like a compressed draft that's all too similar to the one before it. Perhaps great in small doses, a small dose being any 5-or-so selections at random. Much more than that and watch playful turn plain+painfully stiff. 22 of em, and well, oof. 5.5/10

Elucid - Shit Don't Rhyme No More

All the understated murk and scrappy structures might have ya seekin' some more solidity, but this transmits quite the brusque throwaway weirdo charm. Its brevity make his dense+ramblin' flows a bit easier to dig through, "Hyssop" wins with dreary drone before rapidly collapsing, "1010 Wins" reads as resolute garage rock before going slo-mo, "Rick Ross Moonwalk" has a silly skimpiness Da Boss would probably abhor. Guest-free but sampled females provide accompaniment -- noteworthily, Bjork for the kickoff and Chelsea Wolfe's snarls/Laurie Anderson's airplane prophecies for the vampire bar. 7/10

Empath - Liberating Guilt and Fear [EP]

Demo tape that's 60% birdy psychedelic squall and 40% promising noise-pop -- rough and radiant, rowdy and chirpy, fun and to the point while making room for protracted droning. Would love some louder vox, however. 6.5/10

The Ex - 27 Passports

Post-punk veterans from The Netherlands who are immensely diligent when it comes to the ol long-winded dry repetition, even in a genre where that's convention. White toast with nothing on it kinda dry. So they let groove be their guide and exert their stiff charm, coupling stripped back fuzz with cohesive hypnosis. Part-woman part-metronome Katherina Bornefeld as terrific+gentle timekeeper and part-time voxer, three guitars intertwining with always at least one giving way to din. From which you'll remember maybe three melodies on the whole. Not sure chief voxer Arnold de Boer's bashfulness does enough for em drive-wise -- squeal here or a shout there is nice, but I like best when he gives his spoken word some snarl: "It's the worst job I have ever had". Source being epic ender "Four Billion Tulip Bulbs", best of the aforementioned maybe-three melodies and a post-punk exemplar methinks. 7/10

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Father John Misty - God's Favorite Customer

I cringed at Honeybear's contrast of lush and lewd tude but appreciated the aptitude; thought Pure Comedy was a pretty bold-n-grand beast bursting with smart-if-slightly-ridiculous satire and ambition. And this is, well, just alright. He's got the chops to lean on and a persona that'll prohibit true generica for the time being, but this just kinda seems safe and sappy; few keen lines here few duds there. Carries a certain egotistical quality like the rest of em, only last time out he really earned it. 5.5/10

George FitzGerald - All That Must Be 

Bit bigger, less alien, more glimmer, vox/sampling broadened yet not quite as crucial -- growth that accentuates the shades of hackneyed or basic that exude from FitzGerald's nighttime house-pop. But he also remains a well-honed layerer who's superbly sturdy and makes both alot out of little and alot sound like little. Its swells are simple+satisfying rather than spellbinding, grooves-n-soundplay safe but spotless, moodz huge yet subdued. Rich in subtlety and texture and thump; yet too forthright for flubdub. 7.5/10

Frankie Cosmos - Vessel

Whereas the meekness and transparent tunes worked as a strength on Next Thing, here it's just straight tepid. If anything the tunes are beefier, more oft upbeat; but also perpetually in a mid-pace safe-zone. Polite band-in-a-room pleasant and not without its intimate-yet-guarded charm, but this just refuses to thrill. Potential downfalls may be median song lengths of 1:50 and the oh so monotonously modest vox. ~*~meh~*~

Ezra Furman - Transangelic Exodus

Ezra's eclecticism is both a quirk and a curse, his pen and scene-setting tend to fold to trembly self-focused theatrics and platitudes -- but there's a life-affirming urgency and raggedy runaway backdrop that give this detailed departure a rather rousing oomph. Hitting the open road and evading authorities alongside a celestial hospital escapee with no plan other than living as free-ass freaks functions as a prominent thread; and what it lacks in denouement it makes up for with detours towards introspection and nostalgia. Stylistic grab-bag and sporadic arrangements give it spice; even if it means going from buzzy wailin' to doo-wop worship to sour western to conceivable showtunes. Mope about a maid sweeping up his ~very significant~ breakfast remnants he may, but dig the ingenuity of involving "Thin Mints" and "Winstons" in losing his "innocence" to "Vincent". 7/10

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

God Is An Astronaut - Epitaph

Their last one had enough flux and bits of shimmery beauty to prevent its postiness from gettin' too prosaic; this on the other hand could pass for an epitaph to trying. Predictable post-rock buildups will sometimes lead to heightened horsepower and welcome pedal howl, but you're mostly drifting through placid patterns and the humdrum doldrums; occasionally interspersed with generically inspirative rays of hope of course. Its darkened decorum is appreciated, its strained drama and dry production ehh not so much. ~*~meh~*~

Guerilla Toss - Twisted Crystal

Thus continues their recent streak of records that are irresistibly intriguing yet as wholes seem weirdly truncated or not quite fully-formed. But since trading in much of the dirty+difficult din for a dancier poppier demeanor their stylistic palette is a thing to behold -- a fun fusion of punk-funk groove and synthy psychedelic oomph that's catchy and curious, full-a perk and vague absurdity, layers squooshy and massive, loud yet light-hearted, boisterous yet candied. Kassie Carlson's vox being the cutesy android icing on the wacky-cake; oft wavering between near-nursery rhyme and straight talking. 7.5/10

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hamell On Trial - The Night Guy at the Apocalypse: Profiles of a Rushing Midnight

From what I understand Hamell is now long clean, but oh how convincingly he can still play the madcap fucked up miscreant. Figure fragments are factual experiences from a former era of his and the bulk be tall tales that are terrifying, vivid, hilarious, arguably ethically sound most of the time -- hey, could likely be real somewhere. But enjoying Nick Cave on new levels when he's high as the moon or living+dying for drug deals and bar brawls or hangin' with some shady sorts in his time I could see, murdering a pedophile D.A. with the assistance of a selfie-prone masturbating companion; doubtfully ever his bag. In either case though he'll spin one hell of a yarn, and the solo rough-n-raw rover man recording corresponds all too perfectly to his road-made realm: the near-always present bar filled with friendly-til-they're-not felons, loaded with fucks and fights and filth with a few flubs to boot, and right, blood everywhere. Pimp grenaded, Nazi "cut from cock to chin", numerous other lowlifes dragged/drowned/slapped/burned/sniped/whathaveyou. Bandcamp note from the single song that dares to break out a crude drum machine: "Recorded Nov 20, 2017 in Jeff Onore's closet Boston Mass". 8.5/10

Anna von Hausswolff - Dead Magic

For being built around an eminent Copenhagen church's pipe organ this is epic+eerie as it deserves to be. Five colossal compositions, the last three of which hinder the momentum of the first two and just may be better for it; cuz on the whole boy what a bewitching and dizzying blend-up of the blissful and the beastly. While accompanying drown-worthy droners are able to go heavy and feathery and dread-inducing dronier, it is ex-Electra Hausswolff's flying-colors vocal-accord with all of the above that makes it. From serene seraph to rabid howler-n-hisser to guttural anguish to falling down a pit. Makes one wonder why ya'd ever mutter. 8/10

Hell To Pay - Bliss

Think Nails essentially; albeit a somewhat run-of-the-mill rendition. Their terse bursts of hardcore/grind provide persuasive pummelings but ain't the most powerful or put-together, interspersions include sludgy slowdowns that dare to stretch past the 3-minute mark and samples that'll help ya gear up for a resistance movement. Goes out on "Battle Hymn of the Republic" juxtaposed with humans aflame. 6/10

The HIRS Collective - Friends. Lovers. Favorites.

Intolerants and formalists may dismiss it as a gimmick, but the recent alt-gender surge in hardcore has been pretty refreshing+becoming. Omitted identities bursting through in an infamously routine scene is always thrilling to behold, especially when their long-overlooked maltreatment translates into a grinding fierceness few can muster. Kicks off with a bloodcurdling scream that inflames-n-stuns every time and really doesn't let up from there; constantly clobbering you over the cranium with its sound and ranting doctrine and sub-minute razings. And tho they seem consumed by obstinate vengeance and the struggle to survive and abhorring authority (i.e. everyone else), their collectivist configuration and collaborating with everyone from Martin Sorrondeguy to Shirley Manson convey a cute+comforting sense of tight-knit camaraderie. See when they give love to their friends/lovers/favorites for being "the sweetest people" and remind em they're gorgeous. Or on "It's OK To Be Sick" when they advise them to "take it day by day, take care of yourself, and ask us if you need anything"; right before hitting em in the face with a bass drop. 8.5/10

Hookworms - Microshift

Production doesn't always properly showcase the cram, strip away some minutes and their rigorous momentums and a layer or four and they may depict dime-a-dozen dance-rock. But this goes deep -- assertive and infectious, reassuring and radiant, formidable flow+stunner centerpiece as decisive selling points. Grooves and discord are straight from the punk-kraut playbook, shimmering simmering synth-dives consuming, warbles-n-wails that, well, certainly could be worse. 8/10

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Iceage - Beyondless

Trades in some of the ragged despondence and punky pummeling for arrangements that dip into bluesy, symphonic, shaker-filled -- nicely dense and rough around the edges, for the most part diggable, but these half-awake-rolling-in-a-gutter vox certainly ain't lendin' it propulsion; something that seems achingly absent here. Part of me likes the near-cheese "Take It All" best cuz it just goes for it emotively. 6.5/10

Idles - Joy as an Act of Resistance

Talbot's strength lies in snotty singalongee snarler rather than wise wordsmith; hence when spouting social-political usually the sentiment is greater than the articulation: calls for unity and loving yourself yet kicking "douches" in the mouth and classifying someone as "one big neck with sausage hands" for example. And hey I hate homophobes too, but professing to puttin' em in coffins akin to a wrestler is basically pure bro-talk. But beefy punk din and dirty bass lines and gangbuster choruses galore are their true bread-n-butter. And after seeing Idles in the flesh and watching a dozen-or-so vintage hardcore tuffs ardently shout along with "A beautiful immigrant" and "I kissed a boy and I liked it", I supposed sentiment is sometimes enough. A penchant for spelling is nice too. 8/10

Imperial Triumphant - Vile Luxury

Vile Luxury turns out to be a rather valid synopsis of the deportment within; i.e. clangin' and bangin' blackened death metal that torments/disorients/enthralls with its formidable tangle of technicality, tenacity, capacity, strange structuring, and of course, utter filth. Really runs the gamut in its own inimitable way: slow and sparse sections met with mind-boggling barrages, horns-n-piano used for straight jazz breakdowns and stumbling into a sleazy lounge at 3 a.m. and emulating some sort of preposterous parade, frontbeast Ezrin's near-comical slime-growl contrasted with Yoshiko Ohara's absurdly bloodcurdling guest shrieks. Seemingly glad to stumble over their own skill so long as the resulting slop adds to the frenzy, and right, they scare the shit out of me too. 8/10

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jean Grae & Quelle Chris - Everything's Fine

Increasingly eerily-lifelike interludes carry most of the satirical titular theme -- when it comes to the songs, often beats are too lo-fi and raps too muffled+stuffed with obscure references to outright lay down the law. Not that I'm complaining, what with all this wit and tude and worry and wooz to wade through. In your face intermittently but a lyric sheet is sure to help unveil some gems: "I ain't social til I'm belchin' off of brewski suds", "Conspiracy craze a wave, a phrase that pays / White collar suits that look like Dave Coulier", "Your balls and malt balls, same scale". Final third is the true convincer, though: "Scoop of Dirt" gets dirty with da Droog, tension-filled/lecture-led "Zero" is Grae-exclusive and goes the hardest, "Waiting For the Moon" and "River" are Anna Wise-assisted emotional+durational peaks, "Everything's Still Fine" features Nick Offerman's broadcast from a feasible future. 7.5/10

JPEGMAFIA - Veteran

Amateur+disheveled Death Grips devotee who's barefaced bout all that -- while I dig some of the bodacious beat choices and altered homemade ambition, much of this is ruffled to the point where it hangs somewhere between frivolous-n-frustrating. Oddball abrasion and ODB's ghastly gurgle as ginormous guest spot and soulful transitions into doubting a car's ability to create happiness, okay awesome; the dull doodling and hollow aggression tho? He says he don't care and frankly hey me neither I spose. 5/10

Joey Purp - Quarterthing

Can't help but pine for some more personality comin' from Purp, but his adaptability and confidence and vigor go far; not to mention being backed+boosted by one of the best beat-batches in recent hip-hop memory. Love when he mad-dog mocks his peers' mania for materialism even though he's guilty of draggin' on about it too; appreciate his ability to go from grateful-yet-distressed gospel guy to aggro dealer dude to freaky funk-house dabbler to stupidly catchy stupor victim; on the fence about a majority of the songs lasting less than three minutes. 7.5/10

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Matt Karmil - Will

Karmil's staunch minimalism here is surprisingly substantial and curiously comforting, and also as a whole comes off more cohesive+calculated than its somewhat erratic prior. You'll still find some basic house thump here-n-there (particularly on, of all things, "Can't Find It (The House Sound)", who'd a thunk it) but it steadily revels in ambient murk with a commitment to low-key constraint. Thing with minimalism sometimes tho, it's got that damning fusion of moderation and monotony. There's just too many inert loops that are simply fine to pass the time with and not much else -- for extremest and bleakest example see the 17-minute ender, which I may request for my funeral. 6.5/10

Keiji Haino & Sumac - American Dollar Bill

Haino a guru in outlandish improvisation and collaborating, Sumac a three-piece supergroup of post-metal sludgsters. And over a presumably unedited and definitely extemporaneous hour-and-then-some you'll get the desultory gamut: pandemonium, rumbling, squealing, meandering, shriek-rants, psychedelic sprays, time-outs. A glorified jam that's capable of cohesive invigoration but also tends to sound hesitant, a challenge due to its intensity and patience-testing span but also cuz there's a paucity of ideas. 6/10

Kids See Ghosts - Kids See Ghosts

Once again, the 7-track 20something-minute format proves a hella G.O.O.D. format for airtight beat-work and artistic showcasing. It's not as definite as Daytona, but ya gotta hand it to Kanye as curator -- not only does he know what makes Cudi tick, but as a duo they auspiciously click; and together they craft a riveting recovery record that's far more poignant and playful and diverse than Ye's pompous Ye. Mental mantras go "keep moving forward", "stay strong", "I feel freeee"; Pusha T and Ty Dolla $ign are pulled for braggadocious grit and ginormous gospelized bellows respectively. Even the Kid's moaning muppetry and sad demo-ish acoustic strummin' are well-implemented. 7.5/10

King Tuff - The Other

KT's locutions tend toward the trite and silly: put your hand in mine, tonight we're gonna fly, the time is gonna come, isn't life bizarre??, we'll meet again someday, the moon is looking wicked good, etc. But his proficiency at painting a picture paired with big+beaming instrumentation carry him along. A softie depressive slow-burner intro and the soaring glammy psych-rock that follows underscore his captivation with the enigma that is The Afterlife; the vibrant bounciness cushions defeated nostalgia and elementary existentialism and certain doom. Helps too that most of these songs have some distinct sonic trait -- "Ultraviolet"s classic stoner guitar groove, epic bright-blue-sky synth on "Thru The Cracks", g-funk squeal for sempiternal sunshine and sweaty rattlesnakes, angel harp for the ender, harmonica here, sax there. And tho I do dig his imagery of phone abuse by everyone from cops to street punx to himself, anyone who actually thunk it to be "paradise in the palm of their hands" don't know shit. Kinda like if you're expecting death i.e. The Other to be a wonderland, when you're probably gonna be, ah what was it again? Right, "laying in some hole." 7/10

Rich Krueger - Life Ain't That Long

Lyrically lush and casually impassioned and pouring persona -- enough to coax me out of a comfort zone that often discounts the barroom bluegrassy blues types, especially a dude whose open mic live videos don't garner 500 views. But this random rambler wields a backing band that's classy and comprehensive, a gospel choir that are set to stun and seem to really care bout being there, and most imperatively a confident welding of wit, wisdom, affection and detail. He drunkenly falls for the bar singer night after night, Sex Pistols and f-bombs ain't just exclusive for flashbacks of being a dumb+horny 17-year old; yet he has the warmth to do the ol soulful chestnuts of church bells ringing and a light shining down justice. A sucker for kinda-cynical Christmas closers that casually segue into "Feliz Navidad" I am, but let's give it up for "Ain't It So Nice Outside Today", which oh-so-affably condoles and buoys those with maladies: the bent and broken, the deaf and blind, the shaky-handed and wooden-footed, the ones that bleed every time they take a shit. 8/10

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lil Yachty - Lil Boat 2

Be it the flourishing fame or haters or turning 20, this ain't the same Yachty that sheepishly sang "Minnesota" or penned a 'positivity song'. Thing is tho his tude seems tacked on trying to stand up against this bevy of moody-banger beat-men and superior guest spots. Some silly shouts and softie mope and hooks sure; wealthy toughguy monotonous mumbler who insists he'll get my bitch and emptily shit-talks baby daddies however don't impress-a me much. Notice how finale "66" is such a bright breath of fresh air. Notice how hard Trippie Red outshines him in it. 5.5/10

Lost Girls - Feeling [EP]

Girl+guy lost inside 2 tracks/25 minutes of meditative electro and clatter: calmly communicated inner monologue, whispering, floating, sobbing, howling, panting, "the vast expanse, or whatever". 6.5/10

The Lovely Eggs - This Is Eggland

"Repeat it repeat it repeat it repeat it.." goes their seventh mantric hook in seven songs. Said and remaining songs don't impart much beyond their titles and operate on an average of two chords per, so repeat it repeat it they do and do. This hubby/wife drum/guitar duo has the android propulsion and sunny snot tude down pat, unadorned however they might seem of meager means -- fortunately the production shoots for concentrated buzz-saw; the processed everything and shameless psychedelia and pedal profusion past in-your-face and on towards larger-than-life. Blunt+blaring funny fun, really. Methinks Mark E. Smith would've been proud of her word-ending 'eh's and the 2-minute ode to a dickhead. 8/10

LSDXOXO - Body Mods

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

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

Peder Mannerfelt - The 3D Printed Songbook [EP]

Title+cover suggest some sort of lush journey via psychedelic symphony, but alas, it's a short stint of transformative techno. Compact and vivid deliverer of varied virtues -- mystery, ambiance, groove, thud, scuzz, squeal. 7/10

John Maus - Addendum

Aptly titled as it does mostly read as a middling tack-on to his recent and rather great Screen Memories. For Maus this just seems like going through the motions -- funniest/only funny repeat-o phrases are the first two, in which he calls out outer-space ignoramuses and takes a baby to the dump; deja-vu arrangements are recurrent and most-a the mumblin' don't amount to much. But his old-school drum-machined motions do tend to strike a nerve musically, even when tunes are trivial. 6/10

Maxo Kream - Punken

Dat Trap Lyfe is all Maxo knows, save for the effects of Hurricane Harvey and his inevitable oh-so-many hoes. And with his name in a news clip to prove it, his criminality is the real deal -- so with the understated beats and smooth deadpan flow to slash celebration, he's got some stories to tell and an upbringing to hash over, complete with the sketch of a sketchy family tree. Mama an ex-booster who's forever working doubles and facing eviction, Pop an ex-prisoner who's flooded out and stuck on the roof, admired Uncle Main a fatal stabber who smokes crack on occasion. Otherwise it's lots of the ol serving outta vacancies, hatin' on snitches, plain intimidation, narcotics+cash as semi-lamentable relief. Which, when paired with precision and mood and a handful of genius offhand hooks, is fine too, sure. 7.5/10

Migos - Culture II

On one hand it's rather remarkable how much they've got their shtick down to a science, on the other their ability to incessantly churn it out is extinguished by mindless+egregious excess. No one needs a hundred-plus minutes of Migos, and the handful of slight standouts ain't worth the slog -- this is quintessential quantity over quality; an adequate autopilot mass meant to manipulate streaming platforms and bound to wallow in the background. Given the infinite mentions of the ice they're rockin' and infatuation with further broadening their bank accounts, no shame in the ol illegal download with this one. ~*~meh~*~

Nicki Minaj - Queen

So much talk of this being an overstuffed+substandard past-her-prime product -- I call it an imperfect tour de force with a little help/harm from her friends. Sure Labrinth and Eminem make "Majesty" a bonafide bungle either way you look at it, but thankfully it's over with early on; and despite some dips into the generic the remaining near-hour is brimmin' with hits, knowhow, and lolz. Her adaptability and self-assurance make it: bars-n-rhymes over bangers are clearly her forte but the r&b is convincing; she goes head to head with Foxy Brown and complements Ariana Grande; zens her body via abstinence then boasts about her valuable vag that you'll need a kneepad to orally stimulate. Half cartoon half superstar, half vicious half vulnerable -- makes many-a rapper comparably seem like a little dustball. 8/10

Mitski - Be the Cowboy

Decidedly designed to be a dead-set for Mitski, palpably polished+punchier while pushing for a sort of pithy pop-rock perfection. Which, in its own prudent and persona-pressing way, it kinda accomplishes. But starting suitably with the introductory explosion of "Geyser" is a feeling that a tunna the tunes are cut short prematurely, or more precisely, just outta caution. I applaud her song-set solidarity and grounded grandiosity and linkin' of lush/loud/tender, but it becomes a bit guarded-gone-drab. A husband-n-wife sticking together is the jocose jaunt surrounded by deadpan-desperate seekings of affection+attention, the depth is dubious, the distinction is there, the disco is real. To be honest, could use more power chords. 7/10

Janelle Monae - Dirty Computer

In a superior world Monae would be a pop star with as much attention as, oh let's say, The Chainsmokers. Alas, it's too electric, eclectic; too protestive+provocative for the prudes. In other words: "I'm always left to center and that's right where I belong / I'm the random minor note you hear in major songs". Thing is tho, these songs ARE major: hooky and momentous, confidently pumpin' out sex positivity and female empowerment and compelling modernity, bursting with fun funk and smarts and chuckles. It's incensed but always open for embrace; usually more elaborately than 'we're all screwed so let's all screw' but rocks that route too. Janelle is The American Dream who also happens to be naked in a limousine, inciting pussy riots in peppy packages, singing like a champ while spitting bars harder than most in recent memory. See "Crazy, Classic, Life" for a premium pop/hip-hop combo, "Django Jane" for said hard bars, and "Americans" for finale fireworks and satire for the ages. Prince would be proud. 9/10

T. Hardy Morris - Dude, The Obscure

Minus the help from his Hardknockin' band-backers Hardy M gravitates away from grunge; leaving this more hushed, lush, personal. Still grunge in mood and mumbliness, but it's less buck and more morose; taking the time to acoustically layer with a newfound taste in glam+psych. Personally, I think there's more heart-n-guts in the scuzzy catchy country ruckus of yore, tho listening back reminds me he did always have a knack for the gently gripping grandeur, the quieter; and that is righteously retained and highlighted here. Yeah yeah a successful solofied maturer strip-back, but could've used a bit more 'shit in the wind' -- slogans that were worthy of shouting and attitude-wise. 7/10

Mount Eerie - Now Only

Chronicling a coda to something as crushing as A Crow Looked At Me less than a year after the fact reads like exhaustive therapy and an unnerving fixation. To continue down this conceptual path is a stretch, but the guy undeniably groks; plus who's gonna be the callous fuck that tells him to cease? This isn't a copy of 'Crow' cuz nothing really could ever be but also cuz instrumentally it reflects Elverum gradually moving forward -- bleakness broadened via fuzz and layers and numbness and some melody. There's a slight sense of solace among the suffering, some wit within the weariness, bit less recording "the death songs" and more recording songs about recording the death songs. Full of detailed memory-floods and spooky speculation and random rants in an attempt to dot-connect, very aware of the absurdity of playing those death songs at a music festival alongside Skrillex. Of course when he thinks he can have a lil romp in the grass with the sweet kid up shows those once-buried bleached bone chunks and up comes the exact process to secure said bone chunks. Dryly rosy chorus that's becoming sadly befitting for all of us: "People get cancer and die / People get hit by trucks and die / People just living their lives get erased for no reason / With the rest of us watching from the side". 8/10

Kacey Musgraves - Golden Hour

Amongst the bewildering abundance of praise for this Beige-ish Hour is GQ somehow calling it 'gutsy' (I hear "High Horse" in Stop&Shop), which makes me assume they considered her previous works outright terrifying. Tame as they may be, there's something to appreciate in the feather-in-a-breeze production and tidy arrangements; but where's the spunk? The country? The wit? At least her trite used to have bite -- now it's "You've set my world on fire", "You look out the window while I look at you", "looking at my phone, putting it back down", "everything that goes up must come down", marveling at how time zones work and that plants are real. And barring a moving moment for Mom, I struggle to see the much-touted 'most personal' artistic statement shine through much. I'll take Dime Store Cowgirl over Dime Store LSD-lite Pop-Rock in this case. 5/10

Meg Myers - Take Me to the Disco

Seldom will I say this, but I kinda wish this actually took me to the disco -- instead we're stranded in the endlessly dully dour with diddly-squat for diversity or character. Traits include strained made-for-TV angst, some of the most foreseeable quiet-loud formulas and obnoxiously explosive choruses this side of 1995, wringing said choruses dry, vox and song-paces so narrow+monotonous it's laughable. Looking back, many-a trait that were there on her last one. But long gone is the creeping carnality turned to threats of murder and the hook-stuffed shark-chomp miracle quirk of "Lemon Eyes" and any attempt at pep. Also good for a laugh are guest vox provided by one "Leggy" on the aptly titled "The Death of Me". ~*~meh~*~

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nadine - Oh My

Placidly minimal pop arrangements, passing moments of pep, moderately soulful, cautious coffeehouse complementer -- but far too reserved for resonance. 5/10

No Age - Snares Like a Haircut

They may never again be as hungry as on decade-ago-now-wow Nouns, and comparatively our current musical climate ain't exactly hungry for no haze-punk dudes neither. But these two dudes happen to be a prevailing powerhouse -- in that they can stir up quite a racket but also really know how to write a tune, plus they've got the sunny shimmer/basement scuzz synthesis down to a T. Xtra dreamy interludes are more substantial and less obtrusive than previously, vague monotone shout better than overdoing it and fits fine amongst hard-hitting vigor and catchy muck. And when they snatch a riff from Nirvana's "Been a Son", well that's a-ok with me. 7.5/10

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Oneida - Romance

Fractured and firm and down with minimalistic hammering+dissonance, all admirable attributes. But really too stationary and longwinded for their own good most of the time -- its kraut will catch you in its hypno-trap of staticky buzzwork and fluttering psychedelia and insistent jams, but when going the distance (as they near always do) their repetition reveals its limitations. Don't help that vox when there are pretty vacant whether dreamily moaning or stony-faced sing-talking or punkin' it up or buried. Consider the 18-minute ender both a climax and the choriest. 5.5/10

Oneohtrix Point Never - Age Of

My first go with Lopatin via 2015's GardenofDelete intrigued yet irritated; flashes of disturbing brilliance in an electro tangle too disjointed. Hearing his more accessible work as a major arranger for Anohni cemented continued interest, and here I am now with Age Of and I'm siked I stuck around. Still a total tangle flow-wise -- but the erraticism is both enhancement and enigma, patchy enough to still stay surprising+intricate ten listens in. Perhaps this one just has a brighter palate: medieval MIDI strings stick it somewhere in the classical cheese canon yet doesn't abstain from factory doom; and yes the singing from Trixxer himself, which balances out the ol screams/squelches/static and is a game-changer even if a bit garden-variety. Or maybe I've just grown warmer towards his webs -- definitely enjoyed GardenofDelete somethin' extra on a recent return listen. 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

Ought - Room Inside the World

On one hand it's swell to see Ought divagate some from their preceding post-punk apery, on the other kinda quashin' the dissonance tends to trim the propulsion, the tunes, the catchy catchphrases. Structures knottier but shakier, Darcy's sarcasm-n-solicitude converted to a calmer crooner, still good for slyly guiding you through a gratifying buildup. And they're rendered beautiful on a centerpiece once again -- this one comes with gospel singers. 6.5/10

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Panopticon - The Scars of Man On the Once Nameless Wilderness

Vox are frustratingly faint on the black metal side, hesitant-n-mumbly on the americana side. Its 2-hour length is ludicrous, and oh right it's been requested per Panopticon that you listen in full while hiking or something. Whatever way you decide to get it done, it's a demanding commitment that's rewarding perhaps because it's made by someone that's demanding and committed. Helps too when it's not only atmospherically absorbing no matter the half, but able to aurally convey the gravity+sanctity of the great outdoors through-n-through as well. Impenetrable guitar stacks, brutal+beautiful+busy drumming, crisp acoustics, violins and accordions, the mix of fury and the forlorn, wise readings, crackling fires and forestry, wailing wandering solos worthy of a mountaintop, the symphony and scale and progression of it all -- this thing is rich and dirty. When some words become audible on the americana side, we get pickup trucks on the highway; the triviality of his own mortality; scratching the itch in the room that is Donald Trump without mentioning him by name. 8/10

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

Pianos Become The Teeth - Wait For Love

Overly reticent and tautologic tone-wise, nil screams and less explosive escalations -- no doubt it can feel torpid. But that adamant aura of ache-n-shimmer seldom ain't pretty or poignant to be in, their subtle bustle and structures banking on vigilance while the vocalist aims for passable. Kudos to the dutiful drummer who's determined to keep em outta the doldrums. 6/10

Pinkshinyultrablast - Miserable Miracles

A name like Pinkshinyultrablast sorta promises lustrous thrills and a sense of vacuity, and for better or worse methinks they attain that. Electronix are oft blissful busy and bouncy but seldom emit something extraordinary, Lyubov Soloveva's singin' is calmly celestial yet also stationary and aloof. So while track by track it may be a bit forgettable, the astral aura and adequate momentum and few highlights win me over on the whole -- one highlight being an opener that makes you wish they'd always try that hard, another being a closer that makes you wish they'd crunch more often. 7/10

Porches - The House

Followup to the precious 'Pool' is a bit bigger and blander -- moments that are more akin to club-house (not necessarily a bad thing) and too oft-lacking the soul and horsepower to contend either way (usually a bad thing). On one hand I admire his commitment to wounded warbling but it's oh so much whiny tedium; and be it the many middling shorties within or shortage of solid hooks this just becomes a big achy blur that I can't quite recall afterwards. Not much I'd call unpleasant on the whole however. Few standouts. Auto-tune heightened. Touch of sax in tact. 5.5/10

Portal - Ion

Thrashy and terrifying and extraordinary enough to tolerate the burnt-to-a-crisp trebly production, which don't exactly alleviate their penchant for erratic farragoes -- they make Krallice sound like groovemaster softies. Frontcreature's constant gasp-grunt bizarrely baleful but not the most dynamic of vox; sections of all-encompassing intensity outnumbered by strained slogs camouflaged in commotion; welcome brevity yet feels kinda brusque. Maybe-fave is "Spores": most clear-cut, most cacophonous, second quickest. 6.5/10

Preoccupations - New Material

Ever since they amended their name and started committing exclusively to one-word song titles they've sounded like a stiffer and tamer version of themselves. In that respect this doubles down on their last one -- this just isn't the same band that partook in hi-hat blitzkriegs and savage 11-minute bliss-jams. Now they near competent new-wave/post-punk cyborgs. The shrugness of naming this new material 'New Material' translates to the tunes as well; slow things down or take away a solid groove and bass-line and it kinda crumbles. But as always the production imparts an eerie warmth that goes a long way, instrumentals more engagingly plain than outright boring. Fave may be the ender's haunted VHS electro-drone, the only one that's vox-free btw. A sign, methinks. 6/10

Prime Minister of Doom - Mudshadow Propaganda 

An additional alias of DJ Healer, whose companion album to this prevailed in pretty much putting me to sleep. And tho this comparably bears many-a persistent house groove, it is similarly a snooze. Same attributes apply: his devotion to poise and texture and simplicity is palpable-n-palmary. But compositionally this is so uniform and immaculate it's tough to imagine who really gets their kicks sittin' through this stuff. Mesuspects it may be the same folk who are preoccupied with the bait of multiple monikers united in a mysterious web of artistic anonymity and limited vinyl-only releases -- that and/or patient house purists who don't need none of that there, ahh whatchamacallit, oh right, innovation. 5/10

John Prine - The Tree of Forgiveness

My first fling with Mr. Prine was earlier this year, when a randomly selected download of 1991's 'The Missing Years' wound up being quite the excellent eye-opener; singlehandedly solidifying him as a stupidly supreme songwriter who's earned his all-time-great country cred. Flash to present day and he is now around 20 albums deep and 71 years old, frailer-n-froggier after throat surgery and a couple bouts with cancer, calmly funny and casually intimate as ever. A tight ten tracks and abundant bareness showcases his skill at keeping it simple -- and barring rhyming "way I feel" four times over on the hopefully-sarcastic God ballad, still a master of the easy rhyme. Dig the 'uh huh's after getting mail at his domestic dream house/in his own head, the one that may subtly be about chasing your dick around circa 1967 before becoming a near-blind grandpa pissin' the bed, when he's knocking on your door for some help with a can-o-beans. Definition of Boundless Love: "If I came home would you let me in? / Fry me some porkchops and forgive my sin". Happily awaiting heaven too, he's got a master plan even. Which amongst the family-finding and forgiveness includes, yep that's right, smoking a cigarette that's nine miles long. 7.5/10

Profligate - Somewhere Else

Ultimately comes off awkwardly dour with their frigid jet black tude and pop-up poetry and whatnot, but a noteworthy electro-mingle whose traits tangle well. The austerity-n-intricacy of straight techno with not just singing but hushed and stone-faced guy/girl singing; staticky scuzz alongside the sparse+sad and a few almost maybe dance grooves; seriously despondent sinkholes and the screeching of nails on a blackboard. 7/10

Pusha T - Daytona

Accomplishes precisely what was hoped for outta this all-shortie 7-track Wyoming series: a superb sampling of the MC at hand and an airtight package of unassailable verse+beat solidity. Plus a hook or six. T goes hard-n-triumphant but is continually composed, full of exactitude and accentuation and detail -- the deficiency of gimmickry is wonderful, as is how his now-notorious ender-disses toward Drake and Wayne highlight hard truths rather than spit senseless spite. As is his disgusted yucks. Some Standout Sum-Ups: "So I don't tap dance for the crackers and sing Mammy / Cuz I'm posed to juggle these flows and nose candy", "The Warhols on my wall paint a war story", "I am your Ghost and your Rae / This is my Purple Tape". 8.5/10

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rich Homie Quan - Rich as in Spirit

He has me steadily double-checking that I haven't accidentally put on Young Thug, but Quan does impart a persona of his own -- instead of elastic wacky antics he tends toward croony forlorn flows; grieving over Grandma and waxing nostalgic and the conflicts+gratitude of coming up. But ooo does this get redundant and droopy quick. Many an instance of deja vu, all the more noticeable over a near-hour that's solely him save for a sufficient Rick Ross spot. Makes me yearn for cavalier yelpin' and low-minded one-liners. 5.5/10

Rico Nasty - Nasty

Tho she does dabble in the carnal don't assume she's Cupcakke type nasty -- Rico Raspy or Rico Rejector may be more accurate. Your bae pressin' her is more of a haughty hassle than a situation worth wallowing in; and rather than recite knotty-n-cunning wordplay she's good getting by on tuff spittle-spraying tude and aggressive ad-libs alone. Too cynical and severe for crossover pop potential but leans into it anyway; "Ice Cream" in particular being a standout sweetener for all that surl while winningly wielding all-too-obvious truck-type tunage. A while later is when Lil Gnar's gnar finally calls for the mosh pit its numerous metal leans hinted towards, only to be soon out-raged by Rico herself times four-or-so. And for the record, best bedroom boast goes to one BlocBoy JB: "I get ass like a chair". 8/10

Amy Rigby - The Old Guys

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

Rivers of Nihil - Where Owls Know My Name

Come to think of it, exactly what I hope for in an extreme-metal journey of epic proportions: all-consumingly heavy yet crisply-n-punchily produced, elaborate flow that don't overelaborate, intense both sonically and emotionally, synth odysseys on top of model tech-metal madness, the softie skills to balance the extreme. Their prog keeps busy and blows mind without kneeling to nonsense noodlin', winningly decipherable roar vox devour ya whole while making room for cleans/shrieks/murmurs, jazz flourishes are conducted with wistful+whimsical grace; at times reaching full-on beach level. Not that you won't hear every one of these absurdly talented gents loud and clear, but if you find the drums to be too deafening it's probably cuz they deserve to be. One more great trait that well-formed albums should possess -- a finale that reprises the intro and singlehandedly encompasses everything that makes said album awesome. 9/10

Rolo Tomassi - Time is Dead and Love Will Bury It

Their fierceness and delicacy both sport a sheen so clean and an aura that could soundtrack compilations of anime scenes -- and for the level of beaut they produce it's a satisfying shock when they go all opposite on ya and turn savage; only to meld it all magnificently to boot. It can come across long-winded and fickle but what an exceptional-n-powerful weep+roar patchwork: dreamy drones, post-y segues, bearable prog, menacing metalcore alongside epic emotional swells, Eva Spence vocally back-n-forth killin' it as subdued seraph and bestial shrieker. The thoroughly dramatic flow's decisive moments include the twinkling affability of "Aftermath" morphing into its game-changer aftermath and the stunning 8-minute blast of bliss that is "A Flood of Light"; which immerses you in exactly that. 8.5/10

Jeff Rosenstock - POST-

Rosenstock n crew pullin' the surprise New Years drop, one that with its nine sturdy tunes and meek five-second salutation forgoes the sporadic sprawl that was 'Worry'. A pair of puissant protractions, anthemic anxieties abound, rich and noisy and perpetually proficient at amplifying the 'pop' in pop-punk -- but what the diehards die for just kinda glides on by yours truly. Maybe cuz there's no peak, no lowlight but no real highlight either. Maybe cuz what might stick with me most is "Beating My Head Against a Wall" eliciting "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star". 5.5/10

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SAINt JHN - Collection One

He's kind of a generi-clone and can be a scumbag: the pair of god-blessers are beholden to Frank Ocean and Future respectively, and procuring the Porsche just ain't good enough; there's gotta be at least ten bitches inside too. He also prefers telling said bitches to suck it before they can ask, has a crib that's only open to lingerie models and porn stars, sends his steak back at restaurants. So it's striking when he somehow suaves his way through it. Could be his convincing low-key croon and Guyanese inflection or the stark+woozy aura or that damn catchiness, but the clincher for me is when that cocky coldness folds to vulnerability over gettin' too "litt" too often. The needlessly extended version of "Some Nights" in particular is genuinely and effectively pitiful. And hey, if you heard the soulful pop magic that is "Selfish" as a standalone you'd probably assume he's straight sweetheart -- little would you know it comes between correlating his GF-n-mistress with internet speeds and going right back to the ratchet bitches. His bucket list? "All I ever wanted was a brilliant bitch / with a nice ass." 7.5/10

Santigold - I Don't Want: The Gold Fire Sessions

As the season's first legit snow starts to pile up here in Massachusetts it's all too suitable to take solace in Santigold's tropical-island transmissions. Eternally exuding sunshine and spunk, her tude and enunciations and sack full-a irresistible hooks seem particularly piece-o-cake on these apparently subsidiary sessions. Simultaneously robotic and elastic, cutesy and peculiar, cheeky and cheery. Much props also due to front-2-back producer Dre Skull; whose uniquely uniform beats help make this a tight+true ten trax. Can I assume this is finally the 'dancehall' I've been hearing so much about? 7.5/10

Saweetie - High Maintenance [EP]

Saweetie's debut EP is short and saweet -- banking on hooks and thematically humdrum sure, but her tude is equal parts tough, silky, lusty, playful; with intoxicating beats to match. Most imperatively perhaps, there's catchy irresistibility. See the sub-2-minute "ICY GRL" and title track for non-stop vital verse-work. Qualifications for a chance at gettin' that "good good": having a hot whip, being King Of The Club. 7/10

Screaming Females - All At Once

I mean not to say there ain't a notable tune or four, but stylistically there is just something so pedestrian about em. A notion that's particularly prominent over the course of a near 50-minute runtime -- there hasn't been a full listen in which upon thinking it was almost over I wasn't astounded to find there were still 5 or 6 tracks to go. And when it comes to a cogent quaverer, I'll take Corin Tucker any day. 5.5/10

Ty Segall - Freedom's Goblin

At an hour fifteen it sports surplus sure, the fertile song-after-song format sans flow gets tiresome. But this anything-goes garage rock agglomeration seldom spits out a dud and the stretch makes room for heightened pop sensibilities, thrashers with spouse as guest shrieker, feelings beyond the fun+fuzz but yes plenty of that too. Horns come both classy and crude, and their divergent full-band durability bolsters balladry and crunch and the warped. As a parting gift, their very own "Free Bird". 7/10

Simian Mobile Disco - Murmurations

In collaboration with the cavernous+commendable all-female Deep Throat Choir this pair-o-producers sees their rather orthodox deep house go mystical, chilling, incantational, perhaps ice cold dance pop. It doesn't ever quite catch up with "Caught in a Wave"; which solidifies the tone early on and gloriously, emanating equal parts black hole and beautiful -- but those pining for primal-thump protractions with the chants to match and space soars and 'ahhh'ing into the abyss will surely find an agreeable groove to stick with. Choir that blurs cautious church-backers with warriors cert don't hurt. 8/10

Sinistro - Sangue Cassia

Though I spose Patricia Andrade's haunting+near-operatic exoticoo will surely remain the selling point, her accompanying sludgy post-metal is nothin' to sneeze at. Like so much postiness, overall pace plus a plethora of passages seem sluggish-n-safe; composure and drama slowly exhaust. But within there's certainly a fair share of beautiful bursts and soars, hypnotic roars, crusha crush, dark/shimmery atmospheric mingling, stalwart and epic crawl sprawls. Both uplifts and sucks the life out of ya, that's good. 6.5/10

Sleep - The Sciences

I may wind up murdered via bong-clutching metalheads by disclosing this, but I find their seminal Dopesmoker to be a bit of a slog. An obvious objection given its hour-plus "song" undertaking sure, but span ain't really the issue -- for me it's more a dearth of direction+deviation considering its duration. 15 years later: riffs, production, symmetry; enhanced unquestionably. Graciously sectioned off into song-songs even. Vox on the other hand kinda contribute a layer of xtra corn. Speaking of which, is it just me or does this sorta feel like Plainville compared to their raw+roary precedent-setting predecessor? Am I just over Sabbath riffs played loud and slow and steady? Is it sad that the intro intrigues me more than the majority of it? 5.5/10

Slugdge - Esoteric Malacology

Proggy death metal duo that has alot more goin' on for them than a gastropodous fixation, to put it lightly -- huge full-band fabrication many actuals would die for, mingling of growl/rasp/near-operatic cleans, robust+technical performances through-n-through, stockpile of riffage alongside labyrinthine structures. Encounters with deja vu and 7+ mins being the norm make em kinda tiresome, but there's so much elaborate heavy horsepower to dive into here; and ooo does it sound good. Slimy icing on the cake is also swimmingly integrating their sludgy namesake. 8/10

Snail Mail - Lush

From a foolhardy afar I suspected Lindsey Jordan would be just another strummer in the considerable herd of overhyped 90s hark-back singer-songwriters. And in some ways she sorta just is. But the tactfulness of her songwriting+tonage sneaks up on you, the emotion elicited ineluctable and free of bombast. And despite drowning a bit in convention and the nondescript emotional-struggle doldrums, she's wise well beyond her sub-twenty years: tunes steadily stripped back and clear-cut, bonafide and bored without being boring, despondent with drive. This is homespun purity harnessed and honed, an overhaul that doesn't overdo it -- plenty of time left for that methinks. 7.5/10

Elza Soares - Deus e Mulher

Perceptibly less dramatic than being at the end of the world two years ago; this can comparably come off like the casual b-siders of that same session. But in case you forgot these ain't just any sessioners -- Latin grooves meet post-punk righteously right down the middle and distinguish every tune along the way, a brew of schooled+eccentric instrumentation that has trouble not tantalizingly twisting the ears at any given moment. Elza's geriatric gravel, 'specially in Portuguese, apparently ain't for everyone. At the very least read her Wiki and respect how she somehow got right here right now aight? Isn't her fronting dark-n-fun jazz-punk the way it's just meant to be? Given the cackles that end "Hienas Na TV" and how snug she fits into its chase-scene-esque smash precursor, I think she should look into becoming a Disney villain. 8/10

SOB x RBE - Gangin'

Initially it's electrifying hip-hop for those sick of the same ol languid auto-tuned gurgles and oh so saturated trap sound -- vigorous youth-group dynamic that's hard-n-haughty yet convincingly pensive, coherent no-bullshit flows with melodic sangin' chops that don't go overboard, distinct beats and a throwback quality that don't ditto and maintain modernity. But tone, tempo, tude, themes; monotony city. 6.5/10

Sons of Kemet - Your Queen is a Reptile

Important lesson learned: never underestimate tuba as a bad-ass bass replacement in a jazz quartet; the remaining three players in this case being saxophonist and a pair of percussionists. Together they'll take ya on a trip on every tune but shun getting too airy or long-winded, collectively let 'er rip at times but stop short of mad squawkin' and tumult. Their forte is fiery directness; power and rhythm. Dips into the slower+softer aren't quite as successful but make for some fruitful breathers, and having a knack for swampy reggae cert don't hurt. And whereas we get lizardry, all their Queens are powerful black women -- see bookended voxers for some scarily relatable thoughts on the issue -- "Fuck the fascists, end of story / Fuck em all, fuck em truly", "Don't wanna hear that racist claptrap / Anybody chat that crap get clapped back / Don't wanna take my country back mate / I wanna take my country forward." 8/10

Sophie - Oil of Every Pearl's Un-Insides

After an excellent-though-lopsided compilation of singles+attachments called Product and contributing many-a bomb beat to Charli XCX, I was eager to see how Sophie would operate on a formal full-length. Turns out it's lopsided as well; but conjures up a flow that winningly correlates with the presence at hand: jerky and disorienting, warmhearted yet uncompromising, drives ya mad then eases you into cooling lapses. Its clang outweighs its cute but delivers ridiculously-n-epically for both while managing legit buildup balladry and an ambient soar that's immense if somewhat idle; jagged thwackin' is met with exactitude and pop music is perverted. Heck, squeaky clean mixed with disgusting -- hogs snorting their own slop could pass for both vox and beats at points. Fave point may be when you think you're at the fabulous catchy-carrot finish line that is "Immaterial", only to carry on for 9 more minutes of something akin to a beautiful torture dungeon that you die in. 9/10

Spiritualized - And Nothing Hurt

Sure he recycles quondam ideas and conveys a rather questionable commixture of mumblin' young'un down-n-outer and 52-year old who continues to call himself a lonely rock-n-roller and still wants to hit the road with you, baby -- guy's taken with kids btw. But above all else Jason Pierce is superb at soaring his self-indulgent sadness into the stratosphere; "wasted / faded / uneducated / doing the best that he can" with a propensity for buildups and the symphony. Acknowledging the ability to be a great guy yet giving up and dumping you instead is not only nobly pathetic but makes for some timeless tunes. Much cred of course goes to the presumably many many MANY other members, without whom such groove and psychedelic walls wouldn't be as proper+powerful. Excels in the pleasant, pretty, blaring -- bassy saxxy boogie, you say? See "The Morning After", which begins with Janey's problem with the modern world and ends with her tying a noose. That groove-n-wall, tho. 7.5/10

Superchunk - What a Time to Be Alive

The oft-plugged protest aspect here is so amiably and ambiguously delivered that most of it just comes off as your run-uh-the-mill fuzzy fervor. Which, them being them, is enough on its own. Helps that it's concise+consistent like a punk album perhaps should be, but ooo what versed maestros they are at crucial choruses, impeccable performances, melodic fire, whiny guitar hooks so obvious and ingenious you wonder if they're really NBDs. Impossibly vigorous and bright-eyed for a band that's collectively entering their fifties, not to mention maybe some of the most adept adolescence attainable at the moment. Blanket Tone: "Fight me / I don't like to get hit but fight me". 8/10

Sylvie Courvoisier Trio - D'Agala

Now I'm certainly no jazz guru, but methinks this deft piano-bass-drums trinity may be too aberrational for their own good -- I'll be damned if lotsa these detours don't seem dubious. Rapid+random key traipsing and being free-n-ugly while sustaining traditionalism, terrific; but so contented in creepin' and guesswork. Background or in passing okay, close+complete listens at times enthralling often frustrating and sometimes funny. Touches of abrupt commotion and meager creaking there to keep you on your toes; I prefer that out-the-gate lowly piano march and The Sierra Grille gone awry. 5.5/10

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tierra Whack - Whack World

Epitome of charm and palpable potential that both sustains and suffers cuz of its novelty -- i.e. the all being fifteen one-minute motifs; each of em distinguishable and delightful with a semi-centered trio of deceased dogs/bird-flipping yokeldom/Mario as the capstone, the bookends of which even incorporating a meow and Luigi for good measure. Give this a go in video form and jointly it feels more like a genuinely proper project, as a straight listen however it can't help but feel like a tease with its explicitly terse tunes. Heck of a preview nonetheless. 7.5/10

Justin Timberlake - Man of the Woods

Early teaser vids for "Suppli-i-ies" and the title track predicted this timbered Timberlake undertaking was gonna be polarizing when putting it nicely and painful if we're being forthright. Vids themselves each wretched commercial camp in their own unique way, the tunes close to that but hey I've hummed em -- which as a cram-full complete project is essentially the gist, only many ain't really hummers. I've been jivin' with JT's corn for a while now, albeit amidst the bolder+funner production of albums past. But this is so safe and stale and strained more often than not, something like fetching at times but moreso positively cringe elsewhere. So-called-Southern sounds/sendups and out of place XPeRiMeNTaL passages seemingly vacuous and phony as it gets, then comes the how-can-ya-not-laugh "Hers" interlude; which nearly confirms conceptual caricature. Most comfortable when cooing for wife-n-son, a good sign. ~*~meh~*~

Tropical Fuck Storm - A Laughing Death in Meatspace

Diggers like to sing the praises of Liddiard's lyrics, but the thick-n-slurred accent and confounding arrangements often camouflage em. Certain curiosities will cryptically poke through -- crackerjack Australian coke, the USSSSSR, an adios for the cast of Happy Days -- but his unstable snarlin' suavity does the trick on its own, with fellow Droneser Fiona Kitschin supplying sweeter+clearer femme-vox foil. As for those confounding arrangements: masterfully messy and in the moment, dirty yet diapasonal, colorful and chaotic, refreshingly radical for a rock band in 2018. An exhausting thrill and a half. 8/10

Turnstile - Time & Space

Akin to tourmate Angel Du$t's mergence of friendly-pit hardcore with boyish pop sensibilities and 90s rock, only Turnstile don't really take the complete leap. Still chiefly tied to an ol stock mosh-n-shout, their cleans are hit or miss, interloping touches are sorta tacked on: block clackin' and rapid-fire piano bit here, cute lil handclaps and elevator music morsel there. But a pithy jamboree with an approach I appreciate? Indeed. 7/10

Twin Shadow - Caer

Based on the initiatory trio you may assume George Lewis Jr. requires the ladied likes of Rainsford and Haim to generate the jumbo-stadium lighter-waver pop that reaches for the same Petty-n-Springsteen that said trio references. Yet even with should-be smash "Saturdays" supplying an impossibly irresistible boogie, I do prefer the palpably personal all-alone aftermath. He confirms the 'shadow' in his pseudonym is outta shyness, literally and artistically -- certainly don't make him any more anti-anthemic when he wants to be. But balladry and drama are kept in check obnox-wise while continuously grabbing your attention and heart strings, "Littlest Thing" is probably the biggest thing here, interludes offer soul searching and poignant origin recognition and rain. He yearns and loathes to simultaneously be cool, famous, quiet, faceless: any ol way he chooses, he tends to pull through; not to mention warrant that lighter wave. 8/10

Typhoon - Offerings

"Listen: of all the things that you're about to lose, this will be the most painful." So goes the introductory statement, which I'm fairly certain is supposed to pertain to memories or the world as we know it or something. A more manifest meaning however is the hour plus you're about to squander enduring this thing. Laden with tepid aughts-indie triteness, tedious whimpering, dozy dramaturgy. And given their 12-member lineup and orchestration often giving way to an exiguous acoustic, they manage to be both overwrought and impoverished. Typhoon not so much, more like Rainout. ~*~meh~*~

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kali Uchis - Isolation

Stylistic litheness here is laudable -- kind of a hodgepodge, tho a pretty winsome hodgepodge. Swanky sunny-island funk, dancy without dumb-downs, dreamy vibes-n-melodies, Colombian flava, classy balladry aboard an airplane. Tunes slickly straddle the line between radio-ready pop and richly+reliably arranged, a gaggle of guest-spots range from Tyler the Creator to the dude from Blur; wish there was more in the way of remarkable personality coming from Kali however. For my money, best in show is the simplest: "In My Dreams", in which her fancied utopia is both childlike and commendable ("I'm never stressing my bills, nobody ever gets killed / It's the dream world"). 7/10

U.S. Girls - In a Poem Unlimited

Meg Remy's disco-drifts further unshrouded from relative obscurity, still floating in a fog but with a newfound punch and fullness and flexibility. Sonically it's vibrant, varied, organic, a bit freaky, pops with pop potential and personality -- silly me misses the muck a bit. Singin' seems kinda stiffened and still demands a lyric sheet, but per usual peeping one pays off: "As if you couldn't tell I'm mad as hell" goes the buoyant chorus of a considerably veiled and regrettably refreshing Obama opposition, bold bangers "Incidental Boogie" and "Pearly Gates" are boosted by the subject of sovereignty reaped by many-a shitty male, and excavated from "Poem" is a mantra idyllic enough to warrant transparency: "No one needs to make a profit / No one needs to get paid". 7/10

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Voivod - The Wake

Ardent tellers of technological terrors that they are, perhaps Voivod saw the present as a particularly opportune time to give a record some extra oomph. Haven't heard anything past 89's Nothingface personally tho, so maybe that's presumption. But an album of this caliber this far downstream is a triumph; don't hurt that it also makes impending doom kind of a blast and effortlessly encompasses their mastery. An exercise in tightness+tone+chemistry that still riiiips, riffsriffsriffsriffs, prog with punch, dorky but persuasive, bassbassbass, oft funny (likely unintentional), drummer that's been there since 82. Theatrical in that its machine steam spurts and walkie-talkies and space drone put you precisely on location and it ends with minutes of nothin' but a dramatic violin duel; but it's their thrash and snarl technique making me a believer. Plus I swear I've battled an NES boss to the beginning riff from "Event Horizon". Distich most worth revisiting on 12-minute repriser-finale: "It's scary / it's crazy". 8/10

Vundabar - Smell Smoke

90s-centric indie-rock that's versatile and moderately melodic and pretty loud; albeit not particularly peerless in the stuff. They're cryptic but chipper, jittery and anthemic, unifiers of the jaded jagged structurally strange and emotive power-pop fun-times. Not afraid to mellow out but clangy+jangly at large. Lotsa guitar and guitar lines that are sung along to. And perhaps in homage to their Bostonian base, the catchiest chorus borrows from Mission Of Burma. 7/10

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Andrew W.K. - You're Not Alone

How can ya not have a soft spot for this white-denim-clad wonder. Gone from bloodied puker to authorized motivational speaker and has managed to redefine partying in his image. He emits so much earnestness, goes huge ceaselessly+unabashedly, pulsates with reassurance and victory and positivity -- all crucial and lovable traits but that don't mean it won't make you go blech. Going the protracted route has consistently turned up the dial on corn and exorbitance, but generally this is impressively epic nonetheless. Grandeur and energy and crescendos can't help but engulf, yet nothin' really has me hummin' afterward. Plus, that creeping feeling of a church service or children's TV show. Plus, is it wrong to desire a debut's brevity? Plus, am I a hopeless grouch if I prefer to skip minute-long pep talks? 6/10

Wendy's - webeefin?

In which a wise-ass fast-food Twitter account deploys a vanilla shorty mixtape to taunt its fellow corporate competition; welcome to 2018. Nothin' but semi-novel self-promotion trying to rope in the youth's dolla bills with teh trap musics, that seems obvious -- yet some YouTube reactionaries call it fire because, erm, you can hear words or something? Outside of its existence in general there's a few chuckles to be had: calling out clowns-as-mascots and busted ice cream machines and slack drive-thrus, pronouncing "principal" "prince-uh-pal", "4 For $4" an actual promotion turned into a rather crafty hook. But it's basically bitchin' bout Twitter beef with feeble beats and even feebler burger puns galore; all while asking "what's more childish than Twitter beef?". Good question but I think we mighta found it. Also disappointing that she does not once boast about their baked potato, a menu gem if you ask me. ~*~meh~*~

Kanye West - ye

Kanye's cumbersome ego-wielding is obviously nothing new, and unfortunately neither is his penchant for spouting hogwash. Thing is, this same kuh-razy cranium of his once led to some of the most fascinating artistic veering of the century. Present day however it's just horrendously hard to stay invested in the guy -- if "it's been a shaky-ass year" he certainly assisted in the shakin'. Beats and production shine no doubt; even if he does smuggle sections from way-smaller artists who he really coulda/shoulda shelled out to. But a bulk of this is a bit of a self-serving pseudo self-pity bore: bragging bout the drama he himself created, a gaggle of gag lines, topical namedrops just cuz, women appreciated only if they stick around through your shitiness or become your daughter. "I said 'slavery a choice', they said 'how ye'", Ye whines. Sadly, they're right. Kudos to the guests; particularly 070 Shake, whose troubled triumph may be the apex -- even if it is damn difficult to bleed via stove-burn. 6.5/10

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

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yo La Tengo - There's a Riot Going On

Lotsa complaints of tedium being hurled at this defiantly quiet riot; a shame cuz I find much amenity in its aura and a flow that's pensive, quirky, cryptic in the kindest way. Floppy pit-pat grooves, gentle vocalizations that come and go, afternoon laze and island breeze and heaven-wades and casual hypno-drone without the respite of squealy feedback pop or jam-outs. Even for a group that's long fucked with hushed, this is a cherished curveball that comes 15 albums deep; and further proof that for them "doing it wrong" is pretty damn difficult. 7.5/10

Young Fathers - Cocoa Sugar

Muffled roughness and a bit-o-silly always provides a fair chunk of their charm, resounding here however is how soulful they are when they wanna be. And while the songwriting ain't quite consummate or spirited as it could be, their 3-way vocal chemistry+variety and blip-n-buzz and toylike melodic thumper insistence secure exceptional emanations. Perhaps in defense of stirring emotions or soundplay over solidity goes the line "I didn't work this damn hard to stay where I belong"; right before taunting ya with a barrage of buggy 'na na na's. 7.5/10

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zeal & Ardor - Stranger Fruit

Siked foremost that Z&A administrator Manuel Gagneux has managed to forge a formidable full-length out of his dicey stylistic amalgam -- though it was an abbreviated mishmash, Devil Is Fine was fine as hell and bursting with potential and individuality. With xtra bolstering from a drummer and producer, this followup sees a satisfactory smoothing. Tunes buffer, metal less blackened, glitchy electro extinct, palette for soul/Satan/slavery/mortality vaster. Structurally however a number of these songs can come off unsure or clumsy. Screechin' and blast-beats as spurts rather than mainstays are sort of a tease, interludes are kinda fruitless, suddenly he'll get all Fithos Lusec on your ass, and at times they seemingly unearth a formula for nu-metal (middling chugga chugga squeaka riff+bluesy yells). Bit exhausting on the whole, yet enticement still overrules. 7/10

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Amen Dunes - Freedom 6.5/10

Aphex Twin - Collapse [EP] 7/10

Aux Field - Square Landscapes 7/10

Bbymutha - Bbyshoe [EP] ~*~meh~*~

Beach House - 7 7/10

Between the Buried and Me - Automata II 6.5/10

Blawan - Wet Will Always Dry 7/10

Blood Orange - Negro Swan 5/10

boygenius - boygenius [EP] 7/10

The Breeders - All Nerve 5.5/10

Brockhampton - Iridescence 7/10

Bruce - Sonder Somatic 7/10

Caroline Says - No Fool Like an Old Fool 6/10

Eric Church - Desperate Man 5.5/10

Cloud Nothings - Last Building Burning 6.5/10

Cruel Diagonals - Disambiguation ~*~meh~*~

Cupcakke - Eden 7/10

Daughters - You Won't Get What You Want 7/10

Sarah Davachi - Let Night Come On Bells End the Day ~*~meh~*~

Marie Davidson - Working Class Woman 7/10

Debit - Animus 5/10

Dorian Concept - The Nature of Imitation 7/10

Drake - Scorpion 5.5/10

Drudkh - They Often See Dreams About the Spring 6/10

Drumloop - Revenge Body [EP] 5/10

Earl Sweatshirt - Some Rap Songs ~*~meh~*~

Eartheater - IRISIRI 6.5/10

Elephant Micah - Genericana 6/10

Essaie Pas - New Path 6/10

Future - Beast Mode 2 6/10

Kevin Gates - Luca Brasi 3 5.5/10

Ben LaMar Gay - Downtown Castles Can Never Block the Sun 7/10

Ghost - Prequelle 7/10

Haken - Vector 5.5/10

Julia Holter - Aviary 6/10

Hop Along - Bark Your Head Off, Dog 5/10

Horrendous - Idol 7/10

Ben Howard - Noonday Dream 6.5/10

Illuminati Hotties - Kiss Yr Frenemies 7/10

Ilsa - Corpse Fortress 6/10

Jay Rock - Redemption 6/10

JK Flesh - New Horizon 6/10

Damien Jurado - The Horizon Just Laughed 7/10

Kemialliset Ystavat - Siipi Empii 6/10

Kero Kero Bonito - Time 'n' Place 6/10

Let's Eat Grandma - I'm All Ears 8/10

Lil Wayne - Tha Carter V 6.5/10

Liziuz - Geschichten des Lebens 5.5/10

Lolina - The Smoke 6/10

Lotic - Power ~*~meh~*~

Luxury Elite - Prism 7/10

Machine Girl - The Ugly Art 6.5/10

MIEN - MIEN 5.5/10

MIKE - Black Soap 5.5/10

Brett Naucke - The Mansion 7/10

Noname - Room 25 7/10

Now, Now - Saved 6.5/10

Obscura - Diluvium 6.5/10

Objekt - Cocoon Crush 6.5/10
Outer Heaven - Realms of Eternal Decay 8/10

Playboi Carti - Die Lit 8/10
Portrayal of Guilt - Let Pain Be Your Guide 7.5/10

Puce Mary - The Drought 6/10

Rabit - Life After Death 7/10

Raime - Am I Using Content or is Content Using Me? [EP] ~*~meh~*~

RP Boo - I'll Tell You What! 7/10

Travis Scott - Astroworld 6.5/10

serpentwithfeet - soil 7/10

Skee Mask - Compro 5/10

Soulwax - Essential 6.5/10

Stern - Missive: Sister Ships 6.5/10

Sun Kil Moon - This is My Dinner ~*~meh~*~

Toxe - Blinks [EP] 6/10

Vince Staples - FM! [EP] 5.5/10

Leon Vynehall - Nothing is Still 5/10

Kamasi Washington - Heaven and Earth 6.5/10

Windhand - Eternal Return 7/10

Wussy - What Heaven is Like 7/10

YFN Lucci - Ray Ray From Summerhill ~*~meh~*~

YG - Stay Dangerous 5.5/10

Yves Tumor - Safe in the Hands of Love 6.5/10