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Dedicated students of the pop underground, Lightheaded inhibits a wide-eyed coexistence with formative heroes from the Glasgow indie school, sixties sunshine pop and plenty of like minded stalwarts from their Slumberland label. Following the New Jersey group's excellent debut Combustible Gems last year, Thinking, Dreaming, Scheming! is a self-described more collaborative effort, including enlisting a handful of those formative heroes. Don't call it naivety, but the band's shambolic guitar pop dreams up their own hypothetical, optimistic world: lyrical themes of umbrellas, gardens and sunsets take center stage.
Mario Cascardo's first few records, under the moniker Mario Maria, already captured a charming kind of Brazilian ingeniousness: João Gilberto-like vocals and airy guitars were filtered and fused through an old, broken laptop. It was lo-fi in the truest sense: not as an arbitrary aesthetic choice, but as the creative result of a technical obliqueness at the frontiers of capitalistic development. Cascardo's more recent releases as Atletas, like others from his label Municipal K7, provide even stronger evidence that lo-fi is now happening at the margins, where artists are using their own global displacement as blueprint for new musical imaginations.
The Campfire Headphase is a “trip” record rather than a “psychedelic folk” record. Not quite the ”Ultimate Trip” of Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey or the fuzzed out freakouts associated with the cemetery scene in Easy Rider, but the journey of a single person sitting by a fire and seeing where their thoughts lead them under some outside influence. The listener follows along, easing “Into the Rainbow Vein” and skimming along various observations, memories, and eventual realizations before coming out the other side with only a gradually-fading “Farewell Fire” left.
A new project from Adeline Hotel's prolific Dan Knishkowky is always a welcome surprise, and here the guitarist/composer teams up with harpist and fellow Brooklynite Rebecca El-Saleh (Kitba) for a thrilling, improvisational affair. Finding a shared common ground over themes of "warm yet visceral" textures, the bridge between Knishkowky's fingerpicking guitar and El-Saleh's harp makes I'll Send You A Sign register as a transcendent soundscape infused with a jolted yet serene Americana landscape.
It was just about two decades ago that Black Moth Super Rainbow pulsed and vibrated and vocodered into view, with the freak-electronic classic Dandelion Gum, a synth-blaring magical garden of day-glo delights. BMSR’s main proprietor has released music sporadically ever since, both under the Black Moth Super Rainbow name and as TOBACCO. So while it’s been seven years since the last BMSR album, Panic Blooms, there have been a slew of solo, beat-driven TOBACCO albums in the interim.
Jeremiah Chiu and Marta Sofia Honer follow their 2022 collaboration with Different Rooms, an ambient collage record that once again unites the worlds of cosmic jazz and modular synthesis. The result of their second encounter is another meditative electronic improvisation marked by a glossy timbre of bells throughout, as smooth and crystalline as a pool of soft pebbles.
Max Roach's deep vision of the drums as a communicator of limitless expression permeates every corner of his pathways. Starting in 1970, his M'Boom percussion ensemble was a collective that brought together an array of African, Latin and all sorts of global rhythms. On this 1979 record, the ensemble explores all sorts of polyrhythms with original compositions from all of the expanded octet, as well as abstractly paying tribute to the likes of Charles Mingus and Thelonious Monk.
Sandro Perri is a patient excavator of musical possibilities. For the last three decades, the Toronto based musician has put out meticulously crafted toy adventures marked by hypnotic loops and heartfelt deliveries, in songs that feel refreshingly un-derivative and that carve a distinctive space in the landscape of contemporary experimental pop. What unifies the cerebral techno of Polmo Polpo, the imaginative funk of Impossible Spaces, or the seemingly infinite mosaics of the more recent records, though, is the piecemeal lacing of cell fragments by the game of restraint and discovery of his artistic research.
In June, the House of Representatives voted to eliminate all $1.1 billion in Federal Funding for the Corporation for Public Broadcasting for the next two years. Mike Horn, who records as the cosmic ambient Seawind of Battery, is fighting back, raising money to support public radio and TV through this 19-track compilation. It’s a worthy cause, and you could justify the purchase strictly on philanthropic grounds. However, Save the Waves is also an excellent compendium of the current state of ambient, (mostly) instrumental psychedelia, topped up with contributions by Takoma-style pickers, experimental droners, slowcore dreamers and improvising guitar heroes. Don’t buy it because you should. Buy it because you want to.
Cameron Knowler is one of the latest young guns to distinguish himself in the ever evolving world of guitar soli, most readily apparent via his 2025 long-player, CRK, released earlier this year by the eveready Worried Songs. As we noted in our review, Knowler is indebted to his instrument’s history; his playing steadfast, concise, and open to the possibility of the unexpected. For this installment of the Lagniappe Sessions Knowler pays tribute to genre godhead John Fahey, Norman Blake, David Nape and Elizabeth Cotton.
Waltz For Debby captures the symbiosis of the Bill Evans Trio beautifully — a live documentation of three musicians whose relationship with each other eclipses being bandmates for something far more powerful and cosmic. It's the kind of confluence that happens once in a lifetime for most musicians, and that's if they're lucky. It's the sound of stars aligning; it’s the sound of capturing lightning in a bottle.
Freeform transmissions from Radio Free Aquarium Drunkard on dublab. Airing every third Sunday of the month, RFAD on dublab features the pairing of Tyler Wilcox’s Doom and Gloom from the Tomb and Chad DePasquale’s New Happy Gathering. This month, Chad kicks it off with some languid summertime folk & woozy dream pop, and Tyler follows with some singer-songwriter-ish zones. Sunday, 4-6pm PT.
Welcome to Pastiche Beach. Chopped and spliced, 50 minutes of artists paying tribute to and/or lovingly ripping off Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys. Justin made this in 2018 as gratis promo for guests when the Gold Diggers boutique hotel opened in East Hollywood. We pressed 500 copies to vinyl, each side a full uninterrupted track. The bootleg wax is long out of print, so in honor of Wilson’s life and legacy we’re sharing the digital version here for first time here. Sail on, sailor.
In this desolate landscape of oppression and depression, the underground reigned supreme. And, for a second there, it actually seemed to be able to reinvent social commentary using a language and code coming from the margins—a glorification of the outcast that eventually gave birth to its own sub-movement: Marginália or Cultura Marginal. Representing it as a privileged emblem of weirdness and shocking value was a delirious fever dream. Recorded in June 1971 and released the following month, Sociedade da Grã-Ordem Kavernista can be seen as the Frank Zappa's Freak Out! to Tropicália ou Panis et Circencis's Sgt Pepper. More subversive and more experimental than the tropicalist manifesto that had served as one of its main inspirations, the collective album was cursed from the get-go, condemned to premature oblivion by a mix of promotional faux-pas and the tightening of the Brazilian dictatorship.
Silence is a primary component of Nathan Salsburg’s new album Ipsa Corpora. The first all-acoustic solo guitar record from Salsburg since 2018’s Third, Ipsa Corpora consists of one, nearly 40-minute long track. Within that single song, Salsburg moves through a series of sections made up of a multitude of musical motifs on the acoustic guitar. The binding agent throughout are moments of silence. These pauses not only occur between distinct pieces, but also between notes and figures played by Salsburg. It’s clear that he wants the listener to inhabit silence as part of the album experience.
Summertime, summer sounds. Since 2015 the Villard De Lans, France based label Heavenly Sweetness has been dropping semi-regular sonic island soaks into the digital sphere and beyond via their ongoing Antilles Series. Curating from a wide swath of French Caribbean gems, the series saw the release of its seventh installment this April via a reissue of Luc-Hubert Séjor's 1979 polyrhythmic LP, Mizik Filamonik - Spiritual Sound. The Séjor release also serves as a welcome return to the series, its first post-Covid, following 2019's Chinal Ka 1973 -1995. Dive in, the water's warm.
A new compilation excavates the curious history and powerful sound of Repetition Repetition, a 1980s L.A. guitar/keys duo that merged the transcendental dissonance of the avant-garde with the serene pulse of new age and the limber nerves of rock ‘n’ roll. Surviving member Steve Caton recalls the scene, hanging out with a Toto guitarist, meeting with Harold Budd and a wedding-reception run-in with Jon Hassell.
The moniker of Berlin-based musician and visual artist Miro Denck, TWÏNS weaves a comforting medley of warmly obtuse, jazz-rooted artifacts. The stitched, fragmentary palette of sophomore effort Healing Dreams feels equal parts Soft Machine jazz-psych and Brazilian MPB (with echoes of golden seventies AM pop). The subtleties of the record's sequencing function as a revolving framework that allows for each exploration to pivot and manifest rather than crafting a feeling of jumbled excess.
The universe isn't hurting for more albums filled with gorgeous waves of melody and pillowy drones produced by synthesizers. But when the person behind said music is Peter Baumann, you'd be right to sit up and pay attention to it. He joined us to discuss Nightfall, his recently-released studio album that sets an appropriately dusky tone over nine tracks of smoldering ambient and gently experimental pop.
From the moment Lonnie Liston Smith's tantalizing piano chords are joined by the unmistakable vocals of Leon Thomas on "Prince Of Peace" it's clear that Izipho Zam is going to be a very special recording. Liston Smith is on fire and the yodelling strains of Leon Thomas backed by a host of percussionists elevate the material to the spiritual jazz equivalent of an apex predator. It nearly swallows you whole. While Karma and Thembi get a disproportionate amount of attention in the Pharoah Sanders canon, the alchemical Izipho Zam is right up there with the very best of his work.
In summer 1977 the Charles Mingus Quintet rolled into South America on tour. It was the second time he’d been there and these shows would be among his last. As such Mingus in Argentina: The Buenos Aires Concerts would be essential listening for anyone interested in his music. But thankfully it’s more than just that.
I’ll Be Waving As You Drive Away is the culmination of Hayden Pedigo’s Motor Trilogy, an album cycle documenting an unintended journey of becoming that has seen the guitarist step firmly into his own as a both player and composer, evolving from fingerpicking wunderkind to one of the foremost ambassadors of modern guitar soli. Pedigo sounds assured and perfectly at home here, his lithe picking at once deliberate and full of surprises, augmented with delicately arranged electric guitar, pedal steel, synth, and strings that imbue each micro-narrative with a pastoral psychedelicism.
Maturity is a tricky thing for pop stars. There’s nothing more ridiculous than a middle-aged, culturally relevant millionaire spouting verses about teenage romance and frustrated lust. But on the other hand, you don’t really want to hear the idols of your youth opining on tax strategies and expensive schooling options for their offspring. Jarvis Cocker, here in his first album as Pulp in a quarter century, navigates this difficulty with skill. He still oozes rock star charisma (“I was born to perform/It's a calling/I exist to do this/Shouting and pointing” from “Spike Island”) while also acknowledging a different phase of life.
Power pop is a genre built for mainstream appeal—big hooks, catchy riffs, ear-worm melodies—yet dominated by bands that never broke through, making it the most radio-friendly music that rarely made it to the radio. Here are just a few unsung bands from the second-wave era of 1970s power pop. While these artists may be lesser-known, they’re just as bittersweet as Big Star, as rollicking as The Romantics, and as melodic as Eric Carmen.
Fit for Consequences: Original Recordings, 1984–1987 is the first ever archival release from Repetition Repetition, the “two-man electric minimalist band” consisting of Ruben Garcia and Steve Caton and is high point in the Freedom To Spend label's catalog. Originating from Los Angeles in the mid 80s the duo self released tapes in tiny editions with nary a live performance. Drawing on a wide breadth of influences the music presented on this set exists at a liminal space where a number of impulses intersect. Hints of This Heat and Popol Vuh's reveries appear as well chant-like vocals which at times lend the music an almost devotional feel ...
We caught up with Haley Fohr in a late spring break between tours to talk about her album, Halo On The Inside, her collaboration with the producer Andrew Broder (aka Fog), her journey in developing her voice and her collaborations with artists including Bitchin Bajas and Bill Nace. Fohr sees her work on Halo as among her most accessible, but it remains an extraordinary document of artistic fearlessness. And that courage and willingness to experiment is at the heart of what she looks for and strives for in music.
When it comes to Stereolab, the fact that nobody else can make music quite like them should be justification enough for their return. Instant Holograms on Metal Film is a record for the faithful: stately, relaxed, flush with rhythmic and instrumental detail. To slip inside is to rejoin our previously scheduled program with minimum interruption.
OK, so not every northern California band that played the Fillmore West or the Family Dog back in the late 1960s needs to be rediscovered and given a deluxe reissue treatment. But Weird Herald deserves your attention — and anyway, barely anyone heard them during their brief lifespan. On the scene from 1967 to 1969, the group released just one promo-only 45 and didn’t even see too much success on the Bay Area club circuit. But Just Yesterday, a new compilation drawn primarily from ancient, nicely toasted reel-to-reel tapes, proves beyond reasonable doubt that Weird Herald had more than enough talent to go along with their relatively bad luck (not to mention pure tragedy).
Though he’s released music in a variety of configurations and collaborations over the past few years (not to mention invaluable work behind the scenes with his ever-reliable Scissor Tail Editions label), Dylan Golden Aycock hasn’t released an album solely under his own name for quite some time. But the Tulsa-based guitarist comes back swinging with No New Summers, a seven-song effort that ably shows off his many talents — and even adds some welcome new vistas.
The Bug Club’s fourth full-length (and second on Sub Pop) swerves giddily pop-ward. The two principals, Sam Willmett and Tilly Harris, toss out the previous album’s hard-charging rock sound like last week’s recycling and settle, instead, on a cuddly twee vibe that matches very well with their fanciful lyrics.
Lifeguard emerged out of the doldrums of the pandemic period, when Chicago’s artistically-inclined young people found themselves forced to fall back on their own resources. Instead of sitting around, bored out of their minds, kids were forming bands, making zines, booking underground shows and connecting with each other outside the regular commercial channels. The scene became known as Hallogallo, a nod to Neu! but also a reference to the original German meaning of the term, “dance party.” It spawned a raft of scrappy young bands, Lifeguard, Horsegirl, Frito and Post Office Lockdown to name a few.
Another place, another time. Raised in Puerto Rico and based in Los Angeles, dub master Pachy "Pachyman" Garcia evokes both across the expanse of his latest platter of tricked out riddims, Another Place. His sound is undeniably rooted in the classic dub techniques of King Tubby, Scientist, and Lee "Scratch" Perry, but with the new album Garcia pushes things into new territory. He joins us to discus paying dues and pushing the genre forward.
New Zealand's cosmic jazz ensemble The Circling Sun comes forth with Orbits, the sequel to 2023's Spirits and, like it, deftly serves up Yusef Lateef vibes on a platter. The group has all the irreverence and joy that makes spiritual jazz so compelling versus its more competitive, virtuosity-obsessed co-genres—especially when delivered by a group this numerous (an undectet!), you can almost hear the musicians having fun.
Car Seat Headrest’s 13th album is ambitious in every possible way, from the overarching conceptual framework to the exulting, triumphant sound to the sheer length of the tracks. The new record is that deeply unfashionable thing: a rock opera. Yet the theatricality, the sonic overload, the proggy construction do not, in any way, overburden the tunes, among the strongest and most anthemic of Will Toledo’s hook-laden career.