Album Reviews

The double EP is called Godspeed/Brain Dead. Godspeed/Brain Dead is Andrew Milicia. Andrew Milicia is all raspy and Philly and delicious. Milicia's east-coast gravel is music to my smooth, freshly-shaved West Coast ear holes. On GodSpeed/Brain Dead, Andrew Milicia seems whole-heartedly unconcerned about whether or not you like him. And that makes me love him, because he's sounds untethered, so raw, and alive. The project is split into two halves: Godspeed, and Brain Dead respectively. Brain Dead leans heavily on that shit-talk braggo steez that makes the East Coast the sneering face sucking on its teeth of rap music. Tracks like "Cheesesteaks" and "God Damn" are both witty and snarling. Brain Dead makes me want to kick it with Andrew Milicia. I'm not 100% sure...

Currents is Tame Impala's third full album and if you aren't ready for change Mike Huckabee, you best look away. But perhaps 'change' is too drastic of a description. Currents is more of an evolution. As we all should know, Tame Impala came into the the game as some sandlewood-infused-progressive-psych-rockers from Australia with Inner Speaker, an album that is as mind altering as it's kaleidoscoped cover art. and then they released Lonerism....which I'd still consider a rock album, but more electronic elements were introduced. AND THEN last year Tame Impala's bassist Nick 'Paisley Adams' Allbrook left the group and Cam Avery from Pond replaced him. Normally, I wouldn't mention this change because who cares about bassists? amiright? BUT I really loved Nick Allbrook...

If you are a musician and you've been "on that grind" as the kids say, or "about that hustle" as no one says, for any significant amount of time, this kid is going to piss you off. Seventeen years old and this dude's bedroom pop is already girthier than your entire discography on CD Baby bro. It's deliciously infuriating that someone so young has a grasp on creating music that's so fucking pleasantly distracting, distractingly comfortable, and comfortably pleasant. The entirety of Groovy is equal parts lubed and inflated beach balls, but there are these noticeable injections of top 40 pop stabbed throughout that make Lo Noom impressive as shit as soon as the first song even ends. If you're keeping score this asshole can't vote yet, and he's already 77% more interesting than half...

Certain albums require the right atmosphere to be properly ingested. Not all music adapt to all moods and vice versa. Some artists NEED to be heard, some demand it. Elsphinx's is a man, that has a delivery and voice, that makes your ears and brain survive anger and depression at night time. Brain Cave Deluxe is best suited for nocturnal consumption. The sheer density of the beats, the visceral growl in his voice, feel best laying in your room, in the dark, staring at the ceiling, alone or on your porch at 2 A.M., drinking screwdrivers, after you've committed murder. The whole album starts off as if you were fighting your way thru a thick, thorn covered forest, only to reach a clearing filled with zombie-ninjas who are ready to eat and kill you with "Meet Me At The Swap". Producer...

Never heard of this band. Never want to stop listening to this fucking band. Never want bands to not sound like this fucking band. Light Music sound exactly like Perry Farrell fronting Arcade Fire. But there isn't that slightly unstable vibe going on, or that feeling like the person you're watching perform is about to snap and fly into some tirade where you're altogether socially uncomfortable, sexually aroused and completely in the moment. But there is that sense that the music is about to turn on you. Heading into something as a stationary, yet soaring majestic flying creature of some sort, battle drums soundtracking your fucking majesty, the floor soon drops away from you, leaving you to catch a breeze and flex them wangs; seriously, listen to the song "Inside" while in the...

I fucking love this band. I love how raw and unfiltered everything sounds. I love how angry and virile and immature and fucking hopeful these fucking kids sound.  While five songs isn't a terribly lengthy barometer with which to judge a band's possible spot on my mantle of favorite bands, the songs on The Seaside EP meld into each other so perfectly there's no way you can't grasp the specific sound of Whale Bones, unless you're a complete dick. And while that's a definite possibility, I'd be lying if I said I didn't fucking love the girthy power chord driven rock pop introspection of these junior high school tennis stars.  Whale Bones have the double bass drum backed, acoustic guitar with a distortion pedal fronted post rock balls of a band twice their age, and I guaranfuckingtee...

Golden Rules is a stop sign. Look, I have two modes. The active, social, happy Brandon. And the anxious, tired, awkward Brandon. One wants it all. One can't muster the strength to leave the house. One wants to see my friends shine onstage. Run up a bar tab. Laugh and slap backs and make highly questionable choices. One is wondering why when I fell asleep to the evening news and woke up to America's Got Talent on the TV, I still haven't changed the channel. Golden Rules just happened to be the last thing I added to my library and what came on when I finally got up. And only then because my phone was going to die. While texting a few people that I didn't think I was going to make it out, some soulful combination of R&B and Outkast made me stop. Literally stopped a text message mid-bail...

Sometimes, I have days where my anxiety gets so bad, it literally feels like I'm going to throw up lava if I don't punch someone or something. Ninety-nine percent of the time I can eventually contain the volcano. The other one percent, the times I've erupted, well, things have died at my hands. A synth I had perished, a steering wheel, much drywall, cell phones, etc. These innocent objects have suffered until I've blacked out, and then I'm waking up the next day, naked in a field, with deer blood all over my face. One evening, while stuck in traffic with the relentless hand of life around my throat, I came across hardcore, thrash metal outfit, Get the Shot. This band feels like the inside of my chest everyday. Anger - pure and raw, putrid blackness. What they have that I do not, is the...

Surprises are some of the best feelings. Christmas presents. Surprise birthday parties. Pulling off a passing grade in a class where all you did was daydream and draw on your arm. The big scare during a horror movie, haunted houses, or pregnancy news! Surprises are gernerally something that I fucking love. Combing through our music submissions is like searching down at the city dump for an engagement ring you accidentally put in the trash, knee deep in half-eaten rotisserie chickens and Hot Cheetos wrappers. And then, in a glint of sun, like a gift from the universe, there it is. Not the engagement ring, but something shiny and worth pocketing to check out once your efforts come up fruitless and after the weeklong shower to get out the smell of rancid salsa and used q-tips. Slopes' little...

I was sent two soundcloud links over the course of about three months that introduced me to Maribou State. I remember that feeling, instantly, like I had finally heard what I'd needed without knowing I needed it. This shit sounds like the kind of dance music you'd save for that specifically dope part of your drive home, where you've routinely seen the sunset or early morning fog making every fucking thing look super duper HD computer background image beautiful. It's that magical 'anytime is that one time'. It's the "I need to remember the exact second I felt this first", "holy shit all of my friends need to hear this as soon as possible"-type music. I'm almost insulted by how much I've relied on this album. The one part of Maribou State's Portraits where I was unsure if I was...