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dontlookdown · 1 year

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Nick’s Favourite Music of 2022

Those who have followed my work for a while know that I usually start the new year with a collection of reviews looking at my favourite songs of the year. This year, I’m only doing the one post. If my experience with burning out halfway through last years’ list taught me anything, it’s that I can’t commit to the traditional series of twenty-plus blog posts when I know full well that I don’t have the time or the energy to see it through. Maybe things will be different next year. For this year, I’m happy to compromise.

Below, you’ll find the list of my 20 favourite songs of 2022 (YouTube links in the headings, Spotify embed at the bottom), along with a few words about why I love each particular one. Let’s go!

Röyksopp – “Speed King”

I started putting this playlist together with the first and last tracks already in mind, due to their lengthy runtimes. Normally, I’d kick things off with a true opener, something loud and driving. Despite its name, “Speed King” is not that. It’s a slow, electronic burn that builds into something truly formidable. My immediate reaction upon first hearing it was “This is the Daft Punk track I’ve been waiting for since 2005,” but that backhanded compliment ignores how the way the bassline steadily bubbles away in the background is pure Röyksopp, a hallmark that you’ll find throughout their work. The duo released three albums over 2022 and, while there’s great songs on all three (especially the tracks featuring Alison Goldfrapp and Susanne Sundfør), they saved the best for last.

††† (Crosses) - “Procession”

We’re going to stay in a low-key mood for a bit with the next two songs. Considering how I fell in love with Deftones in 2020, it seemed right that I should check out Chino Moreno’s side project when they re-emerged with their first new material in nine years. The PERMANENT.RADIANT EP turned out to be the perfect taster for this group’s softer, more atmospheric sound. I particularly loved “Procession”, which is the perfect showcase for Chino’s distinct voice and a show-stopping bassline that kicks in at 2:40.

The 1975 – “About You”

I find it difficult to pin down my feelings about the 1975. They’re a band I always want to keep at arm’s length, and yet they’ve ended up my year-end lists three times now. That’s an achievement in itself, but doing it with three songs that sound nothing like each other is something else. “About You” is the most U2-ass sounding song of the year. And I like U2 a lot.

Asunojokei – “Diva Under the Blue Sky”

Here we fucking go. Asunojokei are a Japanese band that have picked up the “black metal but happy” torch from Deafheaven and ran a mile with it with their album Island. I keep getting Undertale vibes from “Diva Under the Blue Sky”. Something about the main melody feels very reminiscent of the excellent work Toby Fox did on that game's soundtrack.

The Beths – “Silence Is Golden”

A bit of blistering Kiwi indie rock to get the pulse up.

Phoenix – “After Midnight”

I was not expecting this. A beautiful reminder of what Phoenix are capable of, absolute masters of a slick, twisty pop-rock style that’s very much their own.

Fred again.. – “Jungle”

A true club banger. Turns out you can do an awful lot with a chopped vocal sample, a savage beat and a great sense of dynamics and timing.

Ibibio Sound Machine – “Protection From Evil”

I’ve got a lot of love for tracks that find ways to keep building and building upon themselves. Having a truly magnetic presence like Eno Williams front-and-centre on the microphone would’ve been enough, but having her vocals and the rhythm behind her slowly rising in intensity before colliding together with horns for the climax is downright magical.

Beyoncé – “Pure/Honey”

Never bet against Bey. There’s a reason RENAISSANCE was the near-unanimous critic’s pick for album of the year, that’s because it’s just so damn fun to listen to in full. “PURE/HONEY” splits the difference between the album’s two moods: hard-edged house to start, with shiny disco as a chaser. The way the songs shifts between those two gears makes it the perfect pick for this playlist.

The Weeknd – “Take My Breath”

I remember first hearing “Take Me Breath” and thinking “this needs something extra”. That something extra turned out to be the extended version on the Dawn FM album. Almost twice as long as the single version, it allows the backing beat room to stretch out, with the chugging muted guitar and arpeggiated vocoder properly setting the scene for song to make more of an impression. It doesn’t just benefit the song, but the album as a whole. The three-song-run of “How Do I Make You Love Me?”, “Take My Breath” and “Sacrifice” is a thrilling moment from an artist with a career full of them.

Spoon – “Wild”

“Wild” is my favourite song of the year. I knew that the second I laid ears on it. Spoon have been one of my favourite bands for a long time, and the fact that they can still come up with songs this good after 25 years is awe-inspiring. “Wild” is such a perfect Spoon-esque song, it’s honestly incredible that they hadn’t written it already.

Alvvays – “Belinda Says”

A blast of aural sunshine, with a key-change befitting of its namesake.

Camp Cope – “Running with the Hurricane”

This was a late discovery for me in December. While making my way through all of the hyped releases I’d missed, it was refreshing to come across music that was so direct and earnest. A true breath of fresh air, which I assume a hurricane would also have plenty of.

Shamir – “Reproductive”

By contrast, this was an early favourite that I rediscovered while combing through my existing collection. It always takes me a few plays to properly acknowledge the lyrics of songs. Once I noticed the streak of self-loathing running through this one, it just made the deep sadness of the music hit harder.

The Smile – “Free In the Knowledge”

Choosing my album of the year was tricky. This and the next four acts on the list were all contenders for the crown, though none jumped out as instant picks like previous winners have. In the end, I gave it to A Light for Attracting Attention by The Smile (the new band featuring Thom and Jonny from Radiohead, and Tom Skinner from Sons of Kemet), simply because I had a nice little moment to myself while listening to it for the first time. Relaxing alone in the park, in the warm sunshine, feeling at peace with everything. By the time I’d gotten to “Free In the Knowledge”, I felt a calmness I hadn’t felt in months. Other albums just can’t compete with those personal moments.

Big Thief – “Change”

One last quiet moment before things pick up again. “Change” is a cool breeze of existentialism on a warm day, the kind of vibe Big Thief have been very good at for some time now.

Black Country, New Road – “The Place Where He Inserted the Blade”

I’d said in the introductory post for my 2021 blogs that, after being slightly disappointed by their debut, I was looking forward to Black Country, New Road delivering on their next album. And boy, did they. Ants From Up There is a record that was fascinating on first listen, and keeps revealing hidden layers on repeat plays, especially when digging into the lyrics. “The Place Where He Inserted the Blade” (it’s about cooking, not killing) is a rich portrait of domestic malaise, the kind Jarvis Cocker used to dabble in. It’s sad that vocalist Isaac Wood has decided to move on, but I’m glad he’s putting his mental health first. That can’t have been an easy decision. And, once again, I’m very interested to see where the band goes from here.

Black Midi – “Sugar/Tzu”

I’d lumped Black Midi together with BC,NR and Squid (or Black Midi, New Squidi, as I liked to call the grouping) in that 2021 post, but they really couldn’t sound more different from each other. While BC,NR spent the year chasing a deliberately pastoral sound with strings and all, Black Midi made a record that sounded like an arson attack at a Cole Porter recital. Hellfire is Black Midi’s most accessible record yet (not a high bar, admittedly), and it’s helped grow my appreciation of their previous work too. If you’re in the mood for hearing three musicians (plus a brass section) playing the ever-loving shit out of their instruments, “Sugar/Tzu” is the song for you. I’m a very big fan of the little guitar break at 3:20.

SpiritWorld – “Relic of Damnation”

My ferocious appetite for metal and hardcore did not diminish in 2022, and SpiritWorld’s DEATHWESTERN was the best the genre had to offer this year. It’s loud as hell, yes, but there’s a buoyancy to this band’s music that harkens back to the thrash metal of the late ‘80s. A song like “Relic of Damnation” isn’t just interested in pummelling your ears, it also wants to propel you forward, smashing through whatever boring chore you have to finish. This band is almost single-handedly responsible for me processing as many invoices as I did this winter. I’d listen to Randy Moore make that demonic horse neighing sound with his guitar all fucking day.

King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard – “The Dripping Tap”

This isn’t the longest song I’ve featured on these year-end lists, and it sure-as-shit won’t feel like it either. Of the five (yes, five) albums worth of music Oceanic overachievers King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard released this year, “The Dripping Tap” is the crown jewel. While I’ve found some of the band’s other work to be somewhat meandering, this song is 18 minutes of pure, focused, fast-paced psychedelic rock. It’ll take you on a wild ride without even leaving your living room, and the time flies by whenever I put it on. The way the opening verse returns with a vengeance (and the full band behind it) for the final minute feels like a real gift, and the perfect way close out both this playlist and 2022 in general.

Thanks for reading! I enjoyed writing this! If you fancy reading more from me, I’ve done similar series for every year going back to 2011 (and basic lists for 2008-2010). Just copy and paste this link (https://dontlookdown.tumblr.com/tagged/best-of-20xx) and edit the year to see them!

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sad-sappy-sucker · 2 years

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But five minutes looking in his eyes

And we all knew he was broken pretty bad

So we gave him what we had

We cleared a space for him to sleep in

And we let the silence that's our trademark make it's presense felt

Ibibio Sound Machine // Color in Your Cheeks

#ibibio sound machine #the mountain goats #color in your cheeks #Spotify

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o-the-mts · 1 year

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2022 Year in Review: Favorite Albums

Beyoncé, Taylor Swift, Harry Styles, and Lizzo all released acclaimed albums in 2022. But you don’t come to this Very Small Blog to hear about that ! I posted 44 Album of the Week reviews this year (which includes 3 albums from last year and 1 reissue from 1966). Here are 10 of my favorites I’ve culled from the list. Check out my lists of favorite albums from 2014, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020…

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#2022 Favorites #Album Reviews #Congotronics International #Editrix #Favorite Albums #Ibibio Sound Machine #Medicine Singers #Music #Oumou Sangaré #Petrol Girls #Soul Glo #Special Interest #Stromae #The Linda Lindas #Youtube

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imathers · 1 year

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2022 Loosies: Ibibio Sound Machine — “Protection From Evil”

Okay, I will admit that what attracted me to this song after having a vague but positive sense of who these folks were for a bit was 1. a song title that sounds like a D&D spell 2. finding out this record is produced by Hot Chip. I sense that the rest of the record is good, possibly great, but I got “SPIRITUAL! INVISIBLE! PROTECTION! FROM EVIL!” stuck in my head on a loop whenever I tried to really listen to the rest of it, sorry.

#2022 review #music #ibibio sound machine #hot chip

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rubyvroom · 2 years

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“Protection From Evil” grants a +5 to all stats. Infused with the power of beats, roller skates, and laser beam eyes.

#my day is 100% better for discovering this song #music posts #ibibio sound machine #protection from evil #spiritual! invisible! protection! from evil!

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lovejustforaday · 1 year

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2022 Year End List - #10

Electricity - Ibibio Sound Machine

Main Genres: Electro, Afro-Funk

A decent sampling of: New Wave, Synth Funk, Electro-Disco, Dance Punk, Electroclash, Indietronica

And this year’s obligatory entry for the “artist I knew about for several years, liked one or two of their songs but only just checked out a full-length project” award goes to Ibibio Sound Machine.

Ibibio Sound Machine are an electronic funk and dance music (EFDM?) septet from London, fronted by their boldly charismatic contralto vocalist Eno Williams. Williams herself is of Ibibio descent, and often sings in her peoples’ native tongue with a warm and commanding presence.

The band’s music takes influence from a myriad of West African sounds and rhythms, and combines them with electro, new wave, and a variety of other upbeat dancey/funky/electronic genres that are often at least partially indebted to the music of the 80s. In this way, the band’s sound and image can be described as both Afrofuturist and retrofuturist, which just so happen to be two styles of art that I absolutely adore.

On their latest LP Electricity, Ibibio Sound Machine takes us through a neon technicolour playground of electro meets afro-funk, with utopian ideals of what a dancefloor might sound like on another planet or a hundred years from now. Indeed, it feels like Ibibio Sound Machine are either space travelers, time travelers, or both, who brought their sounds from another place or time to grace us with this new record.

Opener “Protection From Evil” is a buzzing, funky, bass-y cyberpunk sci-fi wet dream, with an ominous and menacing tension that climaxes in a wondrously cacophonous breakdown of saxophones and keyboards, lighting up the night sky with sonic laser beams destroying all nearby passing spacecraft. Williams delivers an almost occult spoken word performance before it gets to the chorus, as if instructing the listener to dance with oppressive force.

“Afo Ken Doko Mien” is a bit of an anomaly on the record; a post-minimalist take on West African folk music, with whirring background synths and a repetitious refrain that translates to “you promised me that you'd be by my side”. The song plays as a soothing lullaby, transcending spirit as well as the measurement of past, present, and future.

It is hard to overstate the relentless banger that is “Wanna See Your Face Again”. Hands down the best dance track of the year. Passionate, romantic, rhythmic, futuristic, sonically colourful, and avant-chic. The kind of music that aliens from the planet Funk 3000 would use to sell you high-end makeup made from rare intergalactic space dust. Kicks all kinds of ass with its afro-funk meets house beats, and I especially love the steel drums (or agogos?) at the end.

“Something We’ll Remember” is playful, audacious and delightfully nerdy new wave funk that makes you want to shake your ass for hours on end. The “Na Na Na Na Na”s of the chorus are infectious as all hell.

Admittedly, one or two of the songs feel a little redundant of some of the better tracks on the record. But then I also feel that, by their very nature, dance records often struggle to maintain a varied listening experience, and for the most part this record delivers on that front with a few exceptions.

And with what little it may lack in variety on one or two of the tracks, it more than makes up for by having a very unmistakably singular sound throughout. SImply put, no one is making music that sounds like Ibibio Sound Machine, and Electricity is a wholly unique experience unto itself, made with evident passion and boasting a lot of eccentric style and attitude. Definitely give this one a listen if you’re in the market for something different and eclectic.

8/10

Highlights: “Wanna See Your Face Again”, “Protection From Evil”, “Afo Ken Doko Mien”, “Something We’ll Remember”, “All That You Want”

#ibibio sound machine #electricity #afro-funk #electro #edm #2022 #aoty #album review #music review #best music #list #year end list #electronic

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twitchytyrant · 2 years

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#ibibio sound machine #electricity #merge records #2020s #m

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dustedmagazine · 2 years

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Dust, Volume 8, Number 5

Circuit Des Yeux

Sanskit-versed death metal and minimalist saxophone reveries, beefy, muscular alt.Americana and African electro disco — we run the gamut in this late spring edition of Dust. Contributors this time around include Jonathan Shaw, Andrew Forell, Jennifer Kelly, Bill Meyer, Justin Cober-Lake, Bryon Hayes and Tim Clarke.

Aparthiva Raktadhara—Adyapeeth Maranasamhita (Iron Bonehead)

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It’s hard not to love a record that includes songs titled “Obsidian Noose of Naag-Paash: Ominous Ophidian” and “Nada of Creation Collapses onto Primal Bindu.” But Aparthiva Raktadhara come by death metal’s earnest (if sometimes also goofy) romance with obscure, multisyllabic locutions pretty honestly. The band comes from Kolkata, which they prefer to call Kalikshetra, the city’s much older Sanskrit name. That may be a nationalist gesture, or one inspired by more cultic intent. For certain, the death metal band is invested enough in the Hindu concepts at stake in Adyapeeth Maranasamhita to include a glossary of terms among the record’s promotional materials. The music? It’s dissonant and dizzying, highly technical death metal that knots and gnarls with vertiginous violence. The attendant complexity seems to complement the arcane weave and multivalent religious energies of Hindu myth. How that works in relation to the current, sustained wave of sectarian, political violence in India is likely an even more tangled, thorny issue. Simple stuff, this ain’t.

Jonathan Shaw

Andrew Bernstein — a presentation (Hausu Mountain)

a presentation by Andrew Bernstein

Taking inspiration from minimalist composers La Monte Young and Terry Riley, composer/multi-instrumentalist Andrew Bernstein produces three highly technical yet compelling drone pieces on his latest album a presentation. Using circular breathing, electronics and unconventional intervals to explore the limits of his alto saxophone, Bernstein conjures clusters of notes that interact and mutate like the aural equivalent of wax in a lava lamp. They pursue an internal logic in which shapes shift in surprising, sometimes disquieting ways. Bernstein focuses on microtones and overtones, concentrating on the physicality and interaction of notes in time and space. Deliberate, almost glacial, in pace, his notes hang and sustain, with miniscule changes in tone to form tectonic sheets of sound that the warp saxophone’s dynamics. His ability to imbue emotional depth into these pieces makes a presentation a fascinating exploration of sound and a riveting musical experience.

Andrew Forell

The Builders and the Butchers—Hell and High Water (Badman)

Hell & High Water by The Builders and the Butchers

The Builders and Butchers, as you might expect from their name, make rough working man’s country rock, full of muscle and sinew. Their seventh full-length wreathes simple melodies in epic accoutrements, the songs rising in mutinous triumph about halfway through, kicking away the jangle and murmur for full-throated, power-chorded expressions of rage and hurt and sorrow. Ryan Sollee, who sings and plays guitar, sings with a grand busted tremolo, hoarse with sincerity (and also with volume), but though he often starts a song by himself, he is always joined by a brotherhood of hard strummers and bangers—Willy Kunkly on bass and guitar, Harvey Tumbleson on mandolin, banjo and guitar) and Justin Baier on drums. They’re especially good singing morosely beautiful campfire chants—like Will Oldham, they see a darkness—and desperate, rampaging road songs. “West Virginia” is maybe the best of these, a song that hurtles through the middle distance, banjo twanging, kick drum thumping in the most desolate sort of barn dance. (The band recorded Hell and High Water on a houseboat, and you can watch them lay down “West Virginia” there in this video.) Other states fly by in a blur, a melancholy, prayerful “Nebraska,” an amp-frying, frenzied “Montana,” and the sound is thick and visceral, full of drama, but grounded in the real.

Jennifer Kelly

Circuit Des Yeux — Live from Chicago (Matador)

Live from Chicago by Circuit des Yeux

Haley Fohr of Circuit Des Yeux is by no means alone in the experience of getting sick on tour. But you can’t just cough through the bus rides when you catch COVID-19; CDY had to cancel the middle half of a European tour, which stacked financial disaster on top of physical distress. Low-overhead releases like Live from Chicago, a digital-only EP that was originally tracked for the podcast, Music Is Everything!, are a chance to make back a little bit of that lost change. It is a live studio performance of four songs from last year’s album, —io. These performances confirm that their grandeur isn’t dependent upon the LP’s orchestral arrangements. The tunes translate rather handily to a four-piece rock band, probably because everyone in said band can double on strings and each other’s instruments, which balance complementarily with the wide-screen sweep of Fohr’s vocal delivery.

Bill Meyer

Thomas Dollbaum — Wellswood (Big Legal Mess)

Wellswood by Thomas Dollbaum

Tampa-born, New Orleans-based artist Thomas Dollbaum has just released his debut record, Wellswood. Most of the eight songs come under the banner of unapologetically ragged country-rock, such as the defiant, clanging jangle of “Gold Teeth,” or the tumbleweed roil of single “God’s Country.” Dollbaum deploys well-worn chord progressions, digging into the performances so familiar changes are invested with fresh new life. The songs are populated by hookers and motels, whisky and cigarettes, signifiers of escapism that have proven to be sprung traps, Dollbaum singing with a forlorn twang that’s reminiscent of Modest Mouse’s Isaac Brock on the morning after a bender. Though he often sounds as though he’s on the verge of giving up, there’s enough grit here to suggest drawing on precious reserves of hope. This is especially apparent on “All is Well,” which rides electric piano with a soulful slink, Dollbaum’s voice elegantly gliding up into an unexpected, elegant falsetto. At the end of closing song “Break Your Bones,” we overhear him ask co-producer and engineer Matt Seferian, “What did you think of that take?” Pretty good, Thomas; pretty good.

Tim Clarke

Haunter — Disincarnate Ails (Profound Lore)

Discarnate Ails by HAUNTER

Haunter’s third LP Disincarnate Ails pushes the band’s black/death sound toward the blackened end of the subgenre’s sonic continuum, to some good effect. They have ditched the whacky wordplay of Sacramental Death Qualia (“Spoils Vultured upon Sole Deletion” is one of this reviewer’s favorite song titles, ever) and some of that previous record’s more pronouncedly death-driven aural qualities. Many of the guitar noises made by Enrique Bonilla and Bradley Tiffin on Disincarnate Ails may remind you of Hasjarl’s playing, c. Paracletus (without the national socialist baggage, thanks very much). The sounds are cold and spiky; the opening minutes of “Spiritual Illness” fairly bristle with it. Striking a different tone, “Chained at the Helm of Eschaton” suggests some serious time logged listening to Josh Raiken’s recent stuff with Suffering Hour, but Haunter doesn’t have that other band’s uncanny sense of tunefulness. That bites back a bit: two of the songs on Disincarnate Ails cross the ten-minute mark, and the band sometimes seems to be stitching ideas together, rather than following a trajectory through a sequence of necessary forms. But taken independently, they’re good ideas. The second half of “Chained at the Helm of Eschaton” is particularly hair-raising, passionate and intricate in nearly equal measure. When the band locates that combination of elements, the music is compelling.

Jonathan Shaw

Ibibio Sound Machine — Electricity (Merge)

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Ibibio Sound Machine has always integrated African pop funk influences with electro, finding a very particular sound in melding various traditions. For Electricity, the group brought in Hot Chip for production work. The partnership works wonderfully. Ibibio Sound Machine brings the electronic sounds to the front, but always in service of a song's given energy. Whether leaning toward Afrobeat or disco or (more typically) both, the group performs with drive. Frontwoman Eno Williams moves between English and Ibibio in her lyrics, often so quickly as to be disorienting. That approach keeps the dizzying dance drive central, ideas floating in and out of focus even if steadily expressed in tone. “All That You Want” expressed connection as much in its horns and synths as in its verbal denotation. The group derives its power from maintaining a conversation between England and Nigeria, and it shares that power as a transnational dance party. The sound might feel a little updated on this one, but the central approach remains strong.

Justin Cober-Lake

Catalina Matorral — Catalina Matorral (Via Parigi)

Catalina Matorral by Catalina Matorral

A woman’s voice, filtered by a vocoder, rhythmically intones deadpan cadences in French over a keyboard bass. A few string instruments occupy space in an otherwise empty mix. If X=X, Catalina Matorral=the francophone Laurie Anderson.

At least, that’s true of a few songs. Elsewhere, Catalina Matorral, whose name refers to a male-female duo rather than a person, dips into overt chanson, with the guy’s voice showing up on occasion, and the keyboard behavior eases into the 21st century. If you aren’t skilled in the language at hand, or just engage at a surface level governed by records that have been cool to American record collectors, the LP begins to sound like a Laurie Anderson/Brigitte Fontaine & Areski mash-up. And you can justifiably call this writer a shallow sort for staying at that level, but hey, it’s not a bad place to spend 32 minutes.

Bill Meyer

McPhee Marker — DNA Parliament (Corbett Vs. Dempsey)

The folks at Corbett Vs. Dempsey remember when things were right, so, vinyl production realities be damned, they’ve gone ahead and made a 12”, 45 rpm single. In 2022, that’s either an act of madness or love, and this record’s touched by a little of both. The core partnership here, between saxophonists Ken Vandermark and Joe McPhee, is a mutual appreciation society that’s been nurtured by a quarter century of periodic collaboration, and both songs covered here are by performers that the former musician clearly loves. Vandermark’s most recent band, Marker, is a drums-keyboards-two guitars combo whose potential for clatter nicely matches the inherent staccato brittleness of DNA’s “Egomaniac’s Kiss.” However, it’s McPhee’s gleeful overblowing that loosens the hinges. It’s a nervy endeavor to perform Parliament’s “Night of the Thumpasaurus Peoples” without a proper bass, but Macie Stewart’s neon-accordion synth voices and Phil Sudderberg’s juggler-like aplomb do the groove credit.

Bill Meyer

The Mutual Torture — Don’t (Non Standard Productions)

Don't - NSP 19 by The Mutual Torture

Veteran Berlin producer Tobias Freund taps bassist André Schöne and Chilean singer Javiera González to explore his interest in early electronic post punk on The Mutual Torture’s debut Don’t. Across 12 tracks of racketing drum machines, thrumming bass and declamatory lyrics, the trio channel the alienated paranoia of the Neue Deutsche Welle and the performative excess of some of the Wax Trax! roster. Don’t benefits from the temper of times, unfortunately as riven as that of early 1980s, and the presence of González whose vocals lend a credible edge to Freund’s songs about gender roles and nationalist violence. The Mutual Torture hit all the right notes but there is a gnawing sense that their seriousness is undercut by excessive respect for their musical forebears.

Andrew Forell

Bill Nace / Paul Flaherty — Touchless (Open Mouth)

Touchless by Paul Flaherty/Bill Nace

Title be damned, there can be no doubt that things were roughly touched in the making of this record. Bill Nace could not have obtained the peels of feedback that rip through the massive “Based On Letters Written To Their Children” without some hefting and shifting of his electric guitar. And Paul Flaherty could not have summoned the extinction event-level grief that he expels from his alto saxophone on the sparser “End Or No End” without pressing some keys. But what’s truly touching is the concentration of texture-sourced emotion on these two tracks. The seven-inch format forces you to get to the point, and Flaherty and Nace waste not a second of anyone’s time.

Bill Meyer

Tim Olive / Matt Atkins — Dissipatio (Steep Gloss)

Dissipatio by Tim Olive & Matt Atkins

Tim Olive, Canada’s master of the magnetic pickup, has broadened his palette. On this collaborative release with the London-based Matt Atkins, he wields shortwave radio, electronics, and tuning forks. Atkins deploys percussive implements and electronics. Since Olive calls Japan home, the pair likely interacted through telecommunications. Given the intricate nature of these soundscapes, you’d be forgiven if you believed that Olive and Atkins created their music in close proximity. Atkins’ clamor melts nicely into the prickly textures that Olive weaves, the percussive and electronic sonorities conjoining into a single uncanny entity. At times, one catches a whiff of Eli Keszler’s Catching Net, and at others it sounds like the pair are disassembling a radio with fireworks. Throughout, there’s a frenetic energy that never dissipates. Considering both artists tend to favor reductionism, Dissipatio surprises by brimming with sonic detail.

Bryon Hayes

Seedsmen to the World—S-T (Blue Arrow)

Seedsmen to the World · Seedsmen to the World

Seedsmen to the World aren’t in any hurry. This four-cut EP bends long, vibrating tones into shimmering edifices, letting the harmonium throb on, measure to measure, while guitar notes zoom in and out of focus. All five players are vets and, maybe, this has played into their willingness to let things play out on their own terms. Specifically, his Name Is Alive’s Warren Defever plays harmonium and tanpura. out-folk billionaire Ethan Daniel Davidson sings and plays cello while his wife Gretchen Gonzales Davidson (once of Slumber Party) plays guitar. Sponge founder Joey Mazzola plays another guitar, and Steve Nistor, who has worked with almost everyone, plays drums.

The first track, “Blood,” trudges on for nearly 13 minutes, a hazy chant about birth and death and suffering marking time as the instrumental bits shift in tectonic ways—that is to say, barely moving but massive. The second side, too, starts in an extended manner, with “Brown” surging lysergically, out of lingering guitar bends and elongated patterns of banjo. There’s a cosmos in it, wide-frame and ever expanding, but essentially unknowable. In between, some shorter cuts intervene, a raga-shot campfire song called “Home” and a droning cover of Creedence’s “Who’ll Stop the Rain.” Everything glimmers through a cough-syrupy haze, but there’s a kind of beauty in the indefinite hum.

Jennifer Kelly

Sister Ray — Communion (Royal Mountain)

Communion by Sister Ray

The Velvet Underground song may be the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the name Sister Ray, but this is far from noise-rock. Yes, there are guitars, plus drums and bass, but they’re deployed in the service of slow-burn rather than all-out assault. The artist behind Sister Ray, Ella Coyes, takes a sober approach, crafting slow, serious songs that explore the nuances of interpersonal dynamics. Coyes is a skilled lyricist and vocalist, akin to Sharon Van Etten or Adrianne Lenker, unflinchingly poking around in the most sensitive areas of the human experience. On album highlight “Visions,” the circling chord progression at the song’s climax is a real kick in the guts, more than matching the intensity of the words. Elsewhere there’s a definite sense of withholding, as if waiting for a pay-off that never comes, only serving to up the dramatic tension. In this regard, Communion is definitely a grower; at first it appears monochrome, but each listen reveals subtle gradations in color and unexpected depths.

Tim Clarke

Ches Smith — Interpret It Well (Pyroclastic)

Interpret It Well by Ches Smith

When Ches Smith, Craig Taborn and Mat Maneri recorded The Bell for ECM, the label’s typically reverberant production played up the potential cloudiness of their interactions. For Interpret It Well, the trio added guitarist Bill Frisell, a man who is acquainted with the ways of ECM in particular, and diffusion more generally. But the resulting music is more sharply focused, perhaps because their new label seems to have less of a brand consciousness when it comes to matters of sound, but also because the combo had plenty of time to rehearse, since COVID had taken everyone off the road. Even so, Smith’s compositions seem to be in the process of becoming as they are played. No one player overwhelms the others, and they know how to pull back and let a paradoxical moment of big delicacy materialize.

Bill Meyer

Veneno — Camino des Espinas (Sentient Ruin Laboratories)

Camino de Espinas by Veneno

Everything old is new again. Cold War-style thermonuclear-apocalyptic anxieties? Check. McCarthyite Red Scare bullying of academics? Check. Satanic Panic narratives of rampant ritual child sexual abuse? You bet — that’s essentially an American political party now. Hard to know exactly what the guys in Veneno are hollering about in “Pánico Satánico” without a lyric sheet, but the song’s basic tonality may have you flashing on CoC’s Eye for an Eye and those halcyon days of 1984. The QAnon folks and their political-managerial partners in DC and rightwing media are a lot less subtle than their 1980s counterparts, who claimed professional training in stuff like psychotherapy and religious studies. Likewise, Buenos Aires-based Veneno makes hardcore that’s more bludgeoning, ugly and rancorous than just about anything pressed to vinyl in the 1980s (Stickmen with Rayguns got kind of close…). The weirdos at Sentient Ruin Laboratories have rereleased Veneno’s demo tape, so now we can groove with (or more likely: roll around in the broken glass and scummy ditch water with) this initial release from the Argentine band. It’s pretty good.

Jonathan Shaw

XV—Basement Tapes (Self-Released)

Basement Tapes by XV

The rawest sort of home-made punk comes direct from someone’s basement in Michigan at the height of the pandemic. Consider, “Light in the Woods,” where a dank, echoing bass line saws forward, as someone drums scattershot in the background. A young woman, well away from the mic, is shouting about something being purple, in perky way. Song is so loose that it feels like it’s falling apart in your ear, but also slyly, addictively hooky. It speeds up towards the end like a skittle in its final desperate whorls, spinning faster and faster until it crashes in a heap. From there, you can hear the soft, untutored sound of women singing a few lines from Madonna’s “Into the Groove.” It couldn’t be sillier, or more enjoyable. All three artists involved are loosely associated with Fred Thomas, the godfather of Michigan independent rock and the man behind Saturday Looks Good to Me and Tyvek. Claire Cirocco and Emily Roll also play in Cultural Fog, while Shelley Salant has recorded with Saturday Looks Good to Me. “I Used to Have a Perfect Mouth,” wanders tipsily, low-end crunch of bass flaring and fading, as cymbals clash and the singer muses, on beauty and falseness (“I used to have a perfect mouth…until I lied.” Fourteen tracks, most under two minutes, not a second of self-doubt in the lot.

Jennifer Kelly

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