Author: Ethan J. Barrons

Off the heels of Honey Bucket’s critically snubbed Furniture Days and Shop Regulars’ charming first release, the punctual Spirited Regulars (released last October), comes Matt Radosevich’s Fortified Regulars, a hyper focused, six-song cassette.

Steal the World’s lived in sound can’t be overstated. It overshadows the pithy, indie wannabes and rock’s legacy acts (who haven’t released anything noteworthy in decades). It’s an endearing rock ‘n’ roll record, which avoids rock’s indulgent pitfalls despite riding so close to rock’s established sounds.

As the ending saw-like whirling races to the forefront, accelerating each to his end, From the Land of the Wicked King reveals a new kind of free jazz and experimentation. De Dionyso, Meek, and Rico frustrate, defy, pursue, and expel their divination secrets everywhere. Where they go from here, well…that’s for us to decode.

“LSG (Movements 1-6)” whines scenic guitar notes amid propulsive drumming in a river without an overriding current. Theodore’s melodic complexities scrap and meander, offering a generous give and take. Instrumentation spins webs as taped looped expressions and experimental aural reveal solar flares.

The ordinary still receives the extraordinary and Bazan’s autobiographical leanings on Phoenix are magnetically cathartic. His knack for surprising listeners with realistic grief and dry humor as he works the kinks out towards an existential resolve show him unafraid and invigorated, even if he gets it all wrong.

Juxtaposed between voice/harp and electronic glitch/processing, reveals a previously unseen path. Animate and inanimate passageways converge as Fisher stumbles upon new hues and feminine spark. She eschews previous movements and stages her prowess not solely with trained instruments, but with interpretation and integration.

Like the cover photo, Sutton offers stillness, amongst water’s long game of cutting into fragile, earthen tones. The Deep End’s profoundly canorous sounds trim in similar ways. The crux of The Deep End is not so much a sauna soundtrack inviting one to take a soak; rather the altering experience water plays in our lives.

Mongé’s strongest attraction is found in the fluidity of feeling. These six songs sprinkled by mostly acoustic guitar, bow toward an intimacy achieved by letting Mongé shine in an uncomplicated way.

Shadowgraphs exit before tripping into circling narratives and lost trajectories. Another Time is a welcomed surprise; filled with AM radio discoveries, odes to rock’s over-stretching reach, and earnest songwriting capable of stockpiling numerous time capsules of eras past and present.

Craig goes inward time and time again to reach outward. Frequently void of definable rhythms and inevitable structures, Thresholder is a gift of stirring sounds coming full circle without resembling anything in our astral plane.

Written after a crushing breakup, the aptly titled “OUCH” is a wheelbarrow of heartache that soothes more than it scrapes. Light like fractionated coconut oil, Krgovich reaches the dry corners with a viscosity of surprises and intimacy worth scooting in on.

Taylor’s Future Fog is tethered by symmetry of well-established sound architecture, where listening close bares nuance to his shaped periphery. Clamorous and lurid tones, looped caterwauls, and heavyset layering blast the comforting noise, while the ‘pretty’ hums mimic the autumnal swirls, giving Future Fog a masterfully balanced and lived in space joining an already rich discography.

The instantaneous effect of Garbage People is like a 100% organic grape juice box – conveniently packaged, easy to drink, and sweetened without fillers. Like the best social commentaries of our time, The Wimps understand the chord between humor and substance. And they even provide the straw.

On I Need to Start a Garden, Heynderickx landscapes a well-intended collection of songs with an impeccable ear for nuance and discovery. Her intuitive prose blooms around a gorgeous partner in sound. Whether heard as spring’s buds peek or near autumn’s gasp for chlorophyll, Heynderickx has summoned it all with a cyclical lure.

Garnished around their punkish menu of basement eats, Woolen Men have been doggedly independent, avoiding whiffs of ritzy trends or hipster irony. The trio’s culinary melodies are often easy to consume, possessing a scrappy lineage with something fresh and nutritious to say.