Paul Arambula Still’s Keep LP (Gilgongo)
In Gilgongo’s art-damaged universe, Paul Arambula is its lonely yet contented troubadour. He’s played in raucous post-punk bands like Vegetable and Soft Shoulder (and probably still does), but cutting out on his own, his songs are lightly baked and charming, propelled by lush chords, sputtering drum machines and classic melodic interplay. You could take the form all the way back to Randy Newman and Harry Nilsson, but I’m most significantly picking up the echoes of Blanche Blanche Blanche’s bedroom pop, the inscrutable contemporary art-rock of guys like David West and Thomas Bush, and the junk-store nostalgia of pre-MAGA Ariel Pink. Arambula doesn’t have a singer’s voice, but that hasn’t stopped lesser men; I’m reminded here of Doc Dart’s Patricia at times, in the way that Arambula strains through his nose over college-rock jangle and animated bass-lines. Still’s Keep could be reasonably filed within those (micro-)scenes, but it’s not a cookie-cutter affair – however you care to categorize the brooding, bass-driven bop of “Had They Heard”, it’s the only song I can think of that sounds like Death In June covering Red Hot Chili Peppers. If no one else is exploring these unlikely sonic corridors, you can rest assured that Paul Arambula is having a ball out there on his own.

Michael Beach The Sea / De Facto Blues (Demo) 7″ (25 Diamonds)
Who better to tell us about the sea than a man named Michael Beach? This single was released in support of his 2024 tour with Tropical Fuck Storm, and if he managed to bring along the lineup that performed “The Sea” – Mick Turner on guitar, Joe Talia on drums, Maddy Macfarlane on sax and Beach himself on piano and vocals – I’ll be extra steamed that I missed the Philly date. What a beautiful song “The Sea” is – its loose and lithe form intertwines the styles of Steve Reich, Kurt Vile, The Necks and Bob Dylan like braids on a hippie’s noggin. It’s engrossing and majestic in a manner befitting its titular subject, sounding gorgeous at low volume and downright transcendent blasted on ten. “De Facto Blues (Demo)” also lives us to its title, just Beach and his acoustic guitar in front of two microphones at best, working out a rocking strummer that could easily be transformed into a rock explosion that might finally grow some hair on The War On Drugs’ chests. Being familiar with Beach’s work, I could also see him slowing it down to half-time, a simmering torch song, or ripping it even faster ala The Sonics – Beach has performed at Gonerfest, after all. As for me, I’m going to slowly dip myself into “The Sea” one more time before bed…

Blacksea Não Maya Despertar LP (Principe)
If there’s a lousy record on Principe, I’ve yet to encounter it – it’s like Lisbon’s dance-oriented answer to Dischord, a locals-only labor-of-love imprint that acts as both a showcase and farm system for local talent worthy of worldwide exposure (though to be fair, we all have at least one or two Dischord records we absolutely hate, which is also part of the fun). Blacksea Não Maya was the trio of DJ Kolt, DJ Noronha and DJ Perigoso (DJ Kolt is now in full control), and Despertar arrives hot on the heels of his excellent Verdadeiro (also on Principe). Under the Blacksea Não Maya moniker, DJ Kolt blends strange samples and textures and smacks the resulting mixture into party-friendly forms. There’s a fearlessness at play here that comes with DJ Kolt’s relatively young age, working to impress both his peers as well as any Lisbon crowd that wants to grind up on each other in less-than-sober atmospheres. I saw Aaron Dilloway posting excitedly about picking up Despertar on social media, if that’s any indication as to the vibrant and bizarre sounds that Blacksea Não Maya are working with. Honestly, it’s not a total stretch to say that opener “Reborda” could’ve appeared on that great Aaron Dilloway / Lucrecia Dalt collab LP, but it could’ve just as easily emanated from the cracked window of a Bristol experimental dubstep party, too. The word “polyrhythms” can conjure images of bespectacled professors shuffling through sheet music, but Blacksea Não Maya’s Principe logic ensures that the paths of avant creativity and sweaty club beats can (and should) comfortably overlap.

Blawan BouQ 12″ (XL Recordings)
The master of madcap forward-minded techno is at it again with this new four-song EP, continuing the livestock design-theme of 2023’s Dismantled Into Juice. You’d think the ability to consistently push sound design forward without obliterating it into failed-experimental territory would be a fleeting one, and yet Blawan continues a years-long hot streak here. As XL singles sometimes cross over into the mainstream (his labelmates include Thom Yorke and the one and only Adele, after all), Blawan somehow manages to finagle his jarringly aggressive textures into the good graces of big-tent crowds. The pop vocals help, though I have no idea what is actually happening with the voice on the hair-raising “Fire” – could be (probably is?) some sort of AI-generated diva-bot, but whatever process he subjected it to here comes across like Rihanna if she was the animatronic Lou Reed in his “No Money Down” video. “Done Eclipse” twitches and shudders like my favorite Powell tracks, the spotlight snaked by yet another voice subjected to ghastly digital degradation, a trick that Blawan continues to sharpen. I know Blawan is out there influencing new (and old) generations of boundary-pushing techno producers, and yet his musical personality is so unique that no one has successfully cloned it yet. In that way, I’d place him in league with Burial, though in the case of Blawan, his best work is continually the most recent thing he’s done.

Bruce The Price / Mimicry 7″ (Poorly Knit)
Bruce first entered the electronic underground as a Hessle Audio-approved post-dubstep bass linguist. He rode that all the way to a slightly underwhelming full-length (as much of the Hessle Audio crowd is wont to do), then switched gears in 2023 for the digital/cassette release of Not Ready For Love, his first production based around his own pop-minded vocals. As any new piece of music, particularly electronic music, struggles harder for the masses to notice, it doesn’t seem like much of anyone gave it a proper listen – I’ll cop to listening a couple times on my laptop before deciding it wasn’t for me – and now he’s making another turn with this stamped seven-inch single. I hate to break it to him that seven-inches aren’t exactly the path to success in 2025 (present company excluded – we still love these things), but if there’s any semblance of a meritocracy, these tunes should shoot him back into the underground spotlight. “The Price” is an oddly jovial bop, full of on-the-fly melodic leads, laser blasts, angry voices in the ether, just a raucous circus of a lopping techno track that doesn’t sound like anything else. The melody is nightmarish enough that I can picture Coil grinning along wherever their spirits currently reside. “Mimicry” is equally strange, full of AutoTuned yawns that eventually give way to a spacious, Hessle Audio-friendly soundscape, futuristic but for an unforeseen future. Recommended!

CPC Gangbangs Roadhouse 7″ (Slovenly)
I thought Montreal’s CPC Gangbangs had banged their last gang years ago, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the last few years, it’s that no band will ever actually stay dead. In this case, it’s fine by me, as Montreal’s scene seems so friendly and cooperative and thriving, what with all those friendly Celluloid Lunch folks, that they could use the bad stinking attitude of these old guys ruining what was an otherwise pleasant evening every once in a while. It’ll keep ’em humble! “Rock’n’Roll Enemy No.1” has a title befitting a classic Killed By Death cut and it sounds like one too, trashy punk rock in league with the modern sounds of Sick Thoughts and the classic sounds of Viletones. The title track goes further back in time, a Stones-y blues jamboree that refuses to honor your sober wishes, followed by another up-tempo garage-punk stomper, “Going Back To Philly”, their rendition of a Bobby James original. If any of you have personal insight and are thinking about sending me a message to confirm that CPC Gangbangs are actually nice folks and friendly with everyone else in Montreal, let me ask you – do you get off on ruining the rock n’ roll fantasies of a kindly old man? Is that how you get your jollies?

De Nooit Moede RIP 7″ (Kontakt Group)
I’ve said it before, but why is it so much better when techno peeps pick up guitars than when rockers start making electronic dance music? Maybe it’s because I listen to so much rock music made by rockers, but the bands formed by otherwise electronic artists often feel off in a delightful way… see: Moin, Persher, Milan W., Mount Kimbie, etc. I’m offering a lot of conjecture here, particularly under the guise of a review of De Nooit Moede, a Brussels-based sextet who managed to get out these last four tracks before calling it quits. They feature Victor De Roo in their ranks, an inspired (and Stroom-related) synth/ambient artist. The music of De Nooit Moede invents a history where the cold-hearted new-wave of Microdisney, Echo & The Bunnymen and The Teardrop Explodes collides head-on into the moodier end of the ’90s alt-rock explosion (somewhere in the midst of Belly, Sponge and Medicine). Bass-lines are prominently (Peter) Hook-y over artificial drums, with a host of hushed and/or spectral vocals and a guitarist that prefers picking single strings over strumming. One can’t deny the primacy of Sonic Youth on this sort of simmering, divergent, post-punk-revenant approach, but De Nooit Moede sound European even setting aside the Dutch vocals (which are front and center), as though they’re freezing through colder, damper winters in their threadbare cardigans and vintage army trenchcoats. They somehow fit like thirteen(!) minutes of music on this seven-inch record, yet the fidelity is as clear as one’s reflection in a puddle amidst the cobblestones of a lonely town square.

Doc Sleep & Delta Rain Dance Beats Unlimited 2 7″ (Hypno Discs)
As part of the more under-the-radar, trend-agnostic gathering of German techno heads that orbits the Tax Free and Hypno Discs labels and the like, Delta Rain Dance maintains a relatively low profile. This is funny, since Delta Rain Dance certainly has the highest profile among his many other aliases like Eye Soul8r and DJ 1999, info that I am able to gather solely through the generosity of intrepid Discogs contributors. He also tends to release seven-inch singles, one of the more cost-prohibitive ways of ensuring your music is ignored by the masses, but that just means a new single like Beats Unlimited 2 is a special treat for folks like you and me. Alongside Doc Sleep, this new seven-inch follows that same inconspicuous trajectory, though that’s not to say the tunes are difficult, demanding listens. Opener “Virta Chords” is smoothly sculpted dub-techno with lively drum programming and soothing chords, not unlike something off Hessle Audio’s shelf in the mid 2010s. “Speed Dub” lives up to its title, a 33-at-45 sprint that recalls Sasu Ripatti’s Ripatti EPs, glistening like two freshly-washed passenger trains whizzing past each other. Closing b-side cut “Transition Env” parks us in a lush and vibrant ecosystem, insects and birds calling to each other just past the waterfall of synths, only lacking Gas’s 4/4 heartbeat to pass as, uh, Gas. I can only hope the unlimited nature of their beats is more than just a snappy title.

Evicshen Cistern Screw / 2Raw 10″ (Ballast)
Evicshen is one of the pivotal fixtures of contemporary American noise, though that doesn’t seem to be reflected by her fairly sparse discography. I suppose that when so much of one’s art is based in the physical space of live performance, recorded documentation can fall back as a secondary concern. I’m such a fan of her inventive and confrontational style, where unexpected aspects of her body are weaponized, from acrylic fingernail styluses to contact-mic’d combs in her tangled hair to, well, a big-ole’ bullwhip that could probably decapitate your typically emaciated noise fan. I’m so much a fan (and for the record, I’m working on putting on a little muscle) that I shelled out for this new and limited lathe-cut ten-inch record, knowing full well the pleasure it would bring me is as much as an objet d’art than something to gather around with friends and listen to. It’s a cool entry in the traditional sense of handcrafted, low-edition noise releases, as the b-side features a literally chopped-up n’ re-glued flexi disc affixed to it, a form of cruel and unusual punishment for any innocent stylus. The Haters would be proud. The a-side features some traditionally playable recordings, opening with a surprisingly sparse series of horns(?) before entering a hissing tornado of greyscale noise and ending on a segment of serrated, glitching loops. On a purely sonic level, no new noise revelation is revealed through this recording, but Evicshen’s deal is far more than pure sound alone – the Evicshen experience is more about the body’s control (or lack thereof) over it. It’s nice to commemorate that with a cool record once in a while.

Fish Narc Frog Song LP (K)
The Pac Northwest-based Fish Narc blew up as a Soundcloud beatmaker (gaining fame for his work with Lil Peep), but he’s a punk rocker at heart who likes Germs and reps Vomir while also playing unabashedly emo sing-along pop-punk. And while the instrumentation can vary greatly, from Ableton presets to beat-up guitar amps in a garage, the signature of Fish Narc’s songwriting – uber-catchy melodies with soft, wounded vocals, the perpetual tenets of emo – remains indelible. For my money, it’s hard to top 2021’s Wildfire, modern poppy punk that should’ve made Fall Out Boy immediately seppuku themselves, but Frog Song is full of pillowy, heart-on-sleeve pop on par with the best that Jade Tree and Doghouse had to offer in the late ’90s. “My Ceiling” comes first and it’s the album’s catchiest cut, a major-key sing-along powerhouse that should be blasting on repeat on MTV2 in every dorm if MTV2 (or TVs in dorm rooms) still existed. Most of Frog Song centers acoustic guitars in all their layered, melancholic beauty, giving things a Pedro The Lion or, stick with me, Dashboard Confessional feel that scratches those itches of which I feel no guilt in admitting. A little alt-shoegaze in there too, as is the way of the times – “Old Band” could be a Narrow Head tune, though the focus is on the melodic invention and songwriting, not the flawless chain of arena-ready effects pedals. It’s on K Records after all, where imaginative pop music reflexively dismissed by the punk rock cognoscenti has flourished for decades.

France Destino Scifosi LP (Standard In-Fi / L’Amour Aux 1000 Parfums)
Wimps and poseurs, leave the hall – France is back! The secretly-legendary trio (from the French city of Valence) is celebrating their twentieth year of existence of doing basically the same thing they’ve always done, which is hypnotic, minimalist drone-rock care of bass, drums and hurdy-gurdy, directly descended from the Tony Conrad with Faust school. France go deep, then deeper, then beyond whatever you thought was deepest, one-note bass-guitar and kick / floor tom / snare drum firmly locked in place as the hurdy-gurdy blasts straight through the clouds and into the heavens, the opposite of doom-spiraling. Like most (all?) of their releases, Destino Scifosi is recorded live, these two side-long pieces coming from an outdoor amphitheater performance in France back in 2022. It might as well be from 1822, or 2022 BC, so eternal and Lindy is their primordial sound. For a live recording, the mix is loud and robust, and seeing as the essence of their communal presentation wouldn’t make sense as a multi-take studio project, their commitment to live recordings ensures we are as close to their divine source as a vinyl record makes possible. There’s some sort of explosion that pops off halfway through the a-side, which I can only assume is the sound of an audience member’s head spontaneously exploding. As it comes to a close, the remaining members of the crowd hoot and holler as things wind down, because how can you not? Music this spiritually enriching demands all the “woo!”s you can muster in return.

Great Area Light Decline 12″ (Relaxin)
Lolina generally uses her Relaxin imprint to release her own projects, so when she brings someone else into that inner circle, I take notice. She released the aggressively weird / gloriously performative Rap Star album by New York last year, and has released a number of things from London’s Great Area, including this new one-sided twelve-inch. I’m always ready to be pranked by her – this is what it must feel like to get lunch with Nathan Fielder – but Great Area are, at least from what I can surmise, a pretty normal-ish electronic indie group. Featuring pre-set drum programming, live guitar/bass/keys and doleful British vocals, Great Area offer a laptop-driven corollary to Alison Statton’s time spent with both Young Marble Giants and Weekend, Virginia Astley, Broadcast’s gloomier moments and the modern monarch of sedated post-punk that de-centers the guitar, Carla dal Forno. At thrice the speed, “100% Enthusiastic” might sound like Madness, but its lite-reggae bounce is brought to a crawl with plenty of space between notes and hits. In vibe and presentation, Light Decline is not unlike another London-based group who favor all-lowercase fonts and an art-wavey social distance, Bar Italia (often stylized as bar italia), and I have to wonder what happens when they encounter each other at a pub. Let’s hope they’re chums, as a battle of aloofness between the two could be powerful enough to crack drywall.

Guiding Light Guiding Light 12″ (Tall Texan)
Couldn’t be happier that Guiding Light’s fantastic debut cassette from Down South Tapes last year is now preserved on solid black vinyl for generations to come care of Tall Texan. These five songs were, and remain, a frenzied jangle-punk revelation. Sometimes guys even older than me (if you can believe it) wax poetic about the glory days of Meat Puppets and Minutemen, and then you pull out the records to verify and they don’t fit your modern-grown tastes – Guiding Light’s five songs here are the perfect solution to those moments of generational disconnect. The no-fuzz-pedals guitar jangles with the freedom of those aforementioned bands (quite nearly entering early Red Hot Chili Peppers territory on “Lost In Voices”, if we want to be real), played unreasonably fast ala CCTV and dripping with those staunch post-punk qualities shared by the Sara Goes Pop double EP and The Embarrassment’s first couple of records. Or how about a desert-fried combination of Saccharine Trust and Nixe? I’m throwing out all sorts of names, which often happens when I get this excited about a new band who pulls so many great and varied sounds together for something so unexpected and exciting. Recommended!

Hardware Untitled LP, 1979 LP (Dirty Knobby)
If you’re running out of ways to shame that one guy at the record shop who’s obsessed with The Fall, I have an easy suggestion – casually mock him for not knowing that Mark E. Smith once played bass in a band called Hardware! Seattle’s Dirty Knobby crossed all of North America as well as the Atlantic for this group’s well-designed LP collection, clearly a sign that the compulsive desire to reissue unheralded/unknown UK DIY is a globe-spanning sickness. Untitled LP, 1979 collects the Cheltenham group’s two 1979 EPs alongside two previously-unreleased tracks, and what stands out to me most is how decidedly American this British group sounds. Rather than strum n’ pout like Joy Division or Wire or even Desperate Bicycles, Hardware found a way to finagle a proper pop-rock musicianship into the nascent post-punk forum. I’m hearing a lot of Talking Heads and Television, thanks in large part to vocalist John Danylyszyn’s unwieldy squawk, a voice I assume sounded like at least half of the dudes in The Mudd Club on any given evening in the year of this recording. Interesting! And yes, that’s the legendary MES on bass on a few of these songs, who amazingly must’ve been told what to do by the other band members at some point. Can we follow this with a reissue of some old practice tapes? If footage of Mark E. Smith following someone else’s instructions exists, we deserve to experience it.

Impotentie Zonder Titel Deze Keer LP (Roachleg)
A pal of mine recently said “I never need to hear another band ‘for fans of Camera Silens’ for the rest of my life”, and if you’re as cantankerous of an old punk as he, perhaps this new LP from Montréal’s Impotentie might not be for you. I’ll cop to this increasingly ubiquitous sound not being my top-favorite either, one where plodding mid-tempo rhythms and brittle guitar melodies meet gruff vocals, a dour and European-sounding strain of Oi-inspired anti-fascist punk rock that toes the line between Blitz’s Voice Of A Generation and, uhh, Blitz’s Second Empire Justice. To Impotentie’s credit, they manage to inject some energy into their street-punk cadence, always sure to wedge a fist-pumping, upbeat sing-along chorus where they can, even if my non-existent Dutch keeps me from properly mouthing the words to “Wijken” and “Sloop De Grens”. I can raise my pint glass in solidarity, at least! It surely helps my experience to know that the members of Impotentie play(ed) in hardcore bands as diverse as Justice, Secretors and S.H.I.T., so even if the premise of a lot of street-punk is more or less “hardcore-punk but make it long and boring”, the members of Impotentie are too amped up and knowledgeable to succumb to any such temptation completely. Still not my favorite sound from these guys or otherwise (gimme a new Secretors record ASAP, please!), but the legions of Rixe and Home Front fans will surely disagree.

Kop-Z A Non-Equilibrium Thermodynamic System 12″ (Second Born)
Industrial-techno is given a futuristic mechanical upgrade here on Kop-Z’s debut vinyl EP. He’s been a lively party-starter in his local Salford-Manchester stomping grounds for a few years now, but A Non-Equilibrium Thermodynamic System takes his state-of-the-art ballistics worldwide. He tends to favor a combination of high-speed processes alongside eerie tone-float, simultaneously pummeling and soothing the listener in a manner I find deeply enriching; the resulting sensation is like sparring in a Muay Thai gym while slathered in Icy Hot. Both “Ape-Essence” and “Revision” are shining examples, the propulsive machinery I’d associate with Carrier, T++ or Nkisi delivered with a post-jungle, post-industrial mindset. It’s like twice the speed of hardcore gabber, yet you can somehow groove to it (or, if conditions are right, mosh to it). “Remote Actions On A Non-Linear Path” shifts the atmosphere to a ghostly tube station, invoking the grit of classic Huren, whereas closer “Eat Go Shop” refracts a jungle break through enough hacker VPNs to fully obscure its origins. Kop-Z’s music feels very much in the spirit of Sandwell District, though not as beholden to its rhythmic framework. The aggressive, sinister nature of this music is designed to hurt you, and that’s a large part of the appeal.

Suzanne Kraft What You Do To Me 7″ (Soft Rock For Hard Times)
The Universal Cave DJ crew / record-label is always buzzing with something new, often from extensive crate-digs or the furthest reaches of a file-sharing K-hole. Their Soft Rock For Hard Times compilations are already legendary – the bar by which all other private-press soft-rock excavations should be measured – and now they’re cutting wax of their own with a new series of seven-inch singles highlighting some of those signature cuts. This is the first of the series, a faithful adaptation of Sugarcane’s dark-soul rarity, “What You Do To Me”, as performed by digi-ambient new-age stepper Suzanne Kraft. Rather than reinterpret the buttery keys and single-teardrop vocals of the original, Kraft shines up a strikingly true-to-form rendition, no detail left behind. It’s like the original’s dirty antique mirror is given a fresh, professional buffing, right down to the dead-on synth solo, performed here by producer Jordan Czamanski on appropriately vintage gear. Incredible earworm of a song… there’s no getting that melody out of your head once it’s in there! Secret Circuit dubs it out on the flip with supple bass, ample space and, hmm, rhythmic grace? I had to finish the rhyme. Most intriguingly, the record comes with a postcard listing all eight prior Soft Rock For Hard Times mixes and a (what appears to be very real) submission request for cover versions of these songs for possible future release. Who wants to work on a rendition of Uncle Rainbow’s “Kingdom Come” with me? We could hit it big!

Willie Lane Bobcat Turnaround LP (Cord-Art)
Exclusively fond memories of seeing Willie Lane around town back when Philly’s underground guitar/folk/freak scene was peaking in the late ’00s: Meg Baird and Mary Lattimore still lived here, Jack Rose wandered among us mortals, Kurt Vile was dubbing CD-rs in between forklift shifts, Watery Love were dominating every fifty-cap room in the city, and Willie was hanging around, the first dude in that crew that I can recall as having a serious girlfriend, at least from my particular vantage point. It’s been a while since he trucked up north, but his infrequent solo albums continue to receive a warm welcome in Philadelphia and worldwide, Bobcat Turnaround being no exception. What’s new this time around is that Lane has decided to unzip his lips and sing over his relaxed-fit folk-rock, backed by Rob Thomas (no not that Rob Thomas – this one’s from Sunburned Hand Of The Man) on bass and Ryan Jewell on drums. Neither player invades Lane’s space, the perfect approach to supplement his inspired country-blues licks. Steve Gunn is an obvious comparison, another skilled underground guitar slinger whose Grateful Dead obsession results in tunes both traditional and fresh, but Lane’s music consistently takes the long way home, a touch of Agitation Free’s precise mellowness and Frigate’s blissful narcolepsy alongside his rootsy fingerpicking and unobtrusive singing voice. A wise ketchup once said that good things come to those who wait, which continues to be the case for the music of Willie Lane, shared at the artist’s leisure not the music industry’s demanding impatience. Priced at barely over twenty bucks, it seems Cord-Art is still operating on 2008’s pricing models, so don’t delay!

The Lights Beautiful Bird LP (Wäntage USA / The Swingline)
As I sit here trying to understand Wäntage’s rationale for pressing up an old unheralded album such as this, the answer becomes quite clear: it’s just really good music! I can’t imagine there’s any more intricate reasoning – it certainly can’t be about turning a profit – but as I sit here spinning The Lights’ 2003 full-length debut (originally issued on compact disc by Bop Tart Records), I’m so glad they got it out there for another go-around. This Seattle trio played stripped-down yet quirky rock, kind of right there in the immediate post-White Stripes explosion, but I’m also reminded of MOTO’s goofy garage genius and The Starlite Desperation’s sassy infiltration of underground punk. It’s anything but straight-ahead Ramones-derived pounders – The Lights allow each other plenty of space, with the guitar, drums or bass equally at risk of simply cutting out to let the others have at it. A song like “Victims Of The Pleasures Of The Sense Of Hearing” would’ve been an indie hit had Spoon or Pavement written it, a cool (but not too cool) pop jangle broken down into pieces small enough to fit in the backseat of a sedan, but instead it’s a secret nugget awaiting the few who come to learn what The Lights were all about. (Final note: I’ve long since ceased to be any sort of colored vinyl lover but I have to say, the “bird-shit splatter” that they put together here couldn’t be better.)

The Massacred Nightmare Agitators LP (Active-8)
There’s meat-and-potatoes hardcore, and then there’s Nightmare Agitators by The Massacred, which is akin to a container truck unloading pallets of frozen beef and industrial-canned mashed potatoes directly onto your skull. This Boston group is comprised of lifer punks (with a resume to include stints in Bloodkrow Butcher, Scapegoat, Koward, 2×4, etc.) and rather than settle into routine or the mundane pleasure of going through the hardcore motions, Nightmare Agitators levels all buildings within a healthy radius. Produced by Chris Corry, the overall sound here is burly and explosive, from the extra-thick guitars to the front-and-center drums, replete with a deeper snare sound than most other punk bands’ floor toms. These songs aren’t overtly American-sounding, perhaps looking more towards The Varukers, early GBH and Discharge (especially in the vocals), the Ultra Violent seven-inch and Anti-Cimex’s first two EPs for inspiration, but they never fall into tribute territory. The power behind these songs (as opposed to the actual songs themselves) reminds me of first hearing Talk Is Poison in the late ’90s, back when I still had a wig that could get blown back by the sheer ferocity of modern, expertly-produced violent hardcore music. My only question (it’s really more of a comment) is that it would’ve made more sense to switch the band name and album titles – this record sounds like music made by fearsome subversives, not the already-slain.

Dan Melchior Hill Country Piano LP (Penultimate Press)
To my knowledge, Dan Melchior has never made a piano record before, not even once in his impressively vast discography across decades and various solo and group endeavors. Establishing Hill Country Piano as his first then, what I find most striking is how, even through this unfamiliar configuration, it still sounds like Dan Melchior. That’s kind of what all artists want to achieve, right? To appear as themselves and only themselves regardless of the medium, so kudos to Melchior for casually achieving it. It’s in the weird melodic twists, the way the last note rolls down a cliff or turns sour, that vague inebriation pretending to be sober, that I believe defines his melody sensibility here and elsewhere. I happen to like it a lot in this formulation, too – he loops simplistic melodies on the piano with banjo, domestic percussion and various other digital frequencies, almost like Blues Control sans tape noise (and I miss Blues Control now more than ever). These four, leisurely tracks are ruminative in their own way, and certainly in line with the adventurous avant sounds I’d associate with the Penultimate Press label. Can we get a Dan Melchior acid-house record next? Is that too much to ask?

Mob 47 Tills Du Dör LP (D-Takt & Råpunk / Beach Impediment)
Now that Gauze have called it quits (a reality I’m still coming to terms with), are Mob 47 the eldest truest hardcore band on the planet? They got started in the earliest of the ’80s, and while they spent a couple decades more or less inactive (I believe all Swedes are provided with generous paid vacation time), they’ve been an active force for most of this century. After all these years, one could expect Mob 47’s sound to evolve, or even (gulp) mature, and if it did, we as a sympathetic audience would surely understand. Amazingly, Mob 47 have shown zero interest in softening their edges or reducing their speeds by even the slightest of increments, instead playing the same ripping, quick-riff Swedish “mangel” hardcore style they more or less helped create. The clarity of a digital recording is the only clue that these songs were recorded after cell phones were invented – they don’t even look that old in the (admittedly high-contrast) live shots on the back! Still, if you told me Tills Du Dör was written in 1984 in a squat after gigging with Indigesti and Headcleaners, I wouldn’t doubt you – even the large spike-haired skull on the insert could’ve been drawn in the Reagan era and preserved until now. It’s sad that so many of hardcore’s great characters have died at this point, and while their legacies have the luxury of being frozen in time, I’m interested in seeing what becomes of those who continue to live, and live in communion with an actual hardcore ethos, not just some embarrassing nostalgic retail version. Why is it apparently so hard to stay true, when Mob 47 makes it look so easy?

Pissgrave Malignant Worthlessness LP (Profound Lore)
Philly’s exquisite death-metal merchants return with their third (and possibly final?) full-length, Malignant Worthlessness. Props to them for continuing to release albums with cover images too disturbingly grisly to be shared on social media – kvlt metalheads take note, you don’t have to flirt with bigoted views and imagery to maintain an unmarketable existence on the explicit fringe of society! Pissgrave are highly regarded in snobbish death-metal circles, and rightfully so, as they continue to demonstrate a slavish attention to detail as well as a commitment to total and utter filth. One might think those two strategies would clash, but death-metal is one of those rare forms of art where precision and savagery go hand in hand, alongside competitive eating and knife throwing. These songs are relentless, full-throttle blasts, double bass-drum rolling on a constant boil (even through the occasional breakdowns), guitars speed-picked to the point of inevitable Carpal Tunnel Syndrome and Tim Mellon’s incomprehensibly guttural vocals scaring children and the elderly. I’m old enough to remember when accusations of studio-altered vocals haunted extreme metal’s headlining acts, but here in 2025 digitally-altered vocals are par for the course of anything from dance-pop to porno-grind. Unlike the comical pig-squeals of Gutalax, Mellon’s vocals aren’t amusing, nor are they distanced from the brutal immediacy of the music. Rather, they conjure the cover image’s wretched, maggot-riddled pustulence come to life, the anguish of a corpse caught in a storm drain conjured in voice and song. There’s a lot of Liquid Death-caliber death-metal out there these days; Pissgrave are a bottle of virulent pus by comparison. Consume at your own risk!

Seudo Youth Nobody Gets Down Like… LP (Going Underground)
As hardcore-punk runs out of classic elements that haven’t already been stolen a thousand times over, LA’s Seudo Youth crept up and lifted the guitar sound from Zero Boys’ classic Vicious Circle album when no one was looking. Someone had to eventually, and I’m glad it was this new group, featuring members of G.U.N.N. and People’s Temple (the latter of which being responsible for one of the rippingest modern hardcore seven-inches of the last decade). I hope People’s Temple are still an active concern (though I fear they aren’t), but thankfully Seudo Youth gives me plenty to chew on with Nobody Gets Down Like…. That guitar sound deserves a proper rhythm section, and thankfully the bassist and drummer (especially the drummer) are up to the task, absolutely shredding through these frantic and tumultuous hardcore-punk tunes with exquisite detail, a performance on par with the generally peerless Vicious Circle. Seudo Youth exist in a hardcore landscape dominated by the metallic beatdown variety, and while the band might appear in tagger-font show flyers (and the singer wore a track jacket over a Youth Of Today shirt in some live pics), this record rips with unabashed first-wave velocity (ie. the first Jerry’s Kids and Suicidal Tendencies albums), only teasing a mosh-em-up moment on the tenth track, “Punishers”, which takes ignorant dudes to task. I might not be able to get down like Seudo Youth, but I can certainly get down with them.

Top Sinnaz Sink Water & Wonder Bread 12″ (Almost Ready)
How about some Jadakiss-cosigned New York metro-area rap from… Almost Ready Records?? Throw whatever rulebook you thought existed out the window – anything goes in 2025, all formal avenues of music distribution are broken and annoying, and garage-punk labels are out here releasing top-shelf hip-hop in plain black DJ sleeves. Sink Water & Wonder Bread looks like a record that would be sold from behind the counter at a center-city stereo shop, and while hip-hop dreams are as easily faded as any other artistic aspirations, Top Sinnaz are a wonderful new mystery to me. With Jadakiss offering his seal of approval between songs (complete with his signature chirpy “ha-haa!”), the East Orange, NJ duo flip funk/soul loops into smooth yet street-conditioned beats, very much in line with the classic late ’90s New York school. The title track pairs a powerful Clipse-like flow with a silky chorus I’d expect to hear on a Do Or Die album. The wordplay is colorful and passionate, weaving tails of slum-life and the hopes of leaving it behind without pulling any punches, right down to the titles: “Peasants”, “Poverty” and the memorable title-track. It appears these songs hit Spotify back in 2023 (with nothing since…?), so while this may be the first and final testament of Top Sinnaz, Almost Ready did us all a solid by preserving these cuts in a non-cloud-based format.

Torn Hawk Flip To Raw 12″ (Fixed Rhythms)
If you aren’t following Torn Hawk online, you’re doing your feed a disservice! I can think of few modern electronic artists (or artists in general, really) with such distinctive personalities, that inherent star power that can never be taught, only unleashed. Or at least, if there are other conventionally-handsome electronic producers/DJs with Joe Pesci accents and a penchant for dress suits and comedic chopped-up spoken-word, please tell me who they are so I can follow them too. Torn Hawk’s style has progressed and shifted through the years, first entering my consciousness via his L.I.E.S. EPs over a decade ago, which melded lo-fi house rhythms to nostalgic new-wave guitars. His most recent work has leaned into his edge-of-coherence ramblings (it’s a crime how overlooked (and unfortunately digital-only) his Power Without Guilt, Love Without Doubt album from last December is), but Flip To Raw goes back to his dance roots, an unfussy six-track session of vaporwave- and trip-hop-induced techno, and in the case of “Oh Yeah (Cop Collab)”, gratuitous electric guitar soloing. I get the impression Torn Hawk didn’t overthink these cuts – the Flip To Raw title rings true, yanking some immediate and inspired tracks direct from his hard-drive and sharing them with us, because why not. Please, I implore you to check out any of his recent vocal-based offerings (2023’s Ramada Thoughts is unheralded genius on par with The Gerogerigegege), and once your head stops spinning, you can cool off with Flip To Raw.

Tunnel Dancers Energy Is Residual LP (Mad Habitat Recordings)
The collective retreat into cozy womb-like hibernation continues! The stock in instrumental electronic contemporary-new-age ambient rises by the day, and if you are one of the few remaining hip adults who hasn’t ordered a personal relaxation chamber off Temu (or simply want something new to add to your meditation pod’s built-in playlist), Sydney’s Tunnel Dancers submit their debut full-length Energy Is Residual for your approval. The duo wields a modular synth and a Jazzmaster guitar in their fight for total relaxation, zero friction for our frictionless times. Vaporous atmospheres preside over the synth’s round-edged burbles, and the guitar chimes cautiously, never to wake the baby. On one hand, Energy Is Residual is a beautifully-formed piece of ambient driftwood, and on the other, I’m kinda getting sick of this prevailing trend. I realized I just typed that last line moments before heading out the door to go watch ambient artists perform alongside a trippy light-show inside an old church later this evening, so maybe it’s actually just myself that I’m getting sick of.

U.e. Hometown Girl LP (28912)
Ulla Straus has put together a body of work as beautiful as it is obfuscated, and this newest album continues that intentionally-mysterious trajectory. She’s going by “U.e.” here, as if the mononymous “Ulla” wasn’t already the bare minimum – how long until any of her monikers fade away entirely, just an empty puff of air where the artist’s name usually goes? Still, I love her music, and the way that she consistently refuses to provide any sort of context or information for it, nary a song title or musical credit to be found on the physical product. Hometown Girl ventures into her various comfort zones, from jazzy, piano-led slow-core to up-close tape-warble ASMR to Perfect Fit Content-adjacent chill-zones to experimental musique-concréte. Some of these tracks definitely feature multiple players, the ones that resemble a somber ensemble patiently grooving together in a dusty attic in particular, or is my mind playing tricks on me? The sounds throughout this album are more organic in nature than her earliest works, in the way that ink smudges and steamy saunas are organic, though Straus’s production always retains a light (or heavy) electronic touch, offering a slightly less depressing version of the feeling you get when you realize it was an AI chat-bot and not a live person who helped resolve your online banking issue. Fennesz’s Endless Summer has always loomed large over Straus’s work, and while it remains a reasonable touchpoint for many of the tracks on Hometown Girl, her own sonic lexicon has never been clearer (and by “clearer”, I also mean “foggier”).

USA/Mexico Live In Paris LP (12XU)
Esteemed Texan sludge trio USA/Mexico deliver us their own personal Earth 2 care of this Parisian live set. Glacial, crushing drone-rock such as this is a test of both body and mind, and the fact that Nate Cross (of Water Damage), King Coffey (of Butthole Surfers) and Craig Clouse (of Shit & Shine) decided to unleash this on a live audience is proof of their commitment to the form. Previous USA/Mexico records contained songs, albeit uneasily digestible ones, but Live In Paris is one big cavernous slog through detuned chords, the meter carried through Coffey’s drums, of which only the kick and crash cymbals really cut through the mix. (Maybe that’d all he played?) I think I hear some occasional vocals as well, delivered with the unnaturally-deepened pitch of gore-grind, though the ringing-out power-sludge riffs leave little room for anything else. I’m reminded of Black Mayonnaise’s filth-encrusted doom, but again, USA/Mexico were out there vibrating plates of Brie and baguette off this audience’s tables, not safely recording their music in a cozy studio setting. I’d suggest that USA/Mexico ignore traditional safety codes and padlock their crowds in the venues, unable to flee the brutality of their unrelenting sound, but even with viable escape routes Live In Paris is exquisitely stifling. As an oxygen-breather, I found it an anti-oxygen record…

Voice Actor & Squu Lust (1) LP (Stroom)
Much like Cindy Lee and their Diamond Jubilee, Voice Actor got a recent underground buzz going from their exorbitantly-long Sent From My Telephone release back in 2022: a hundred and twelve digital tracks in alphabetical order! Now down to solely vocalist/lyricist/producer Noa Kurzweil using the Voice Actor moniker, she’s enlisted her Soundcloud buddy Squu to share his fractured chill-wave beats for Lust (1), her (and his) first intended-for-LP release. Voice Actor did an interview with the great First Floor newsletter recently, wherein Kurzweil seemed disinterested in providing any real insight (or even talking about the project at all), but managed to explain that she would pick from Squu’s various tracks, send him vocals, sing over parts and cut-and-paste others. It’s interesting listening to Lust (1) with that understanding, then, as Kurzweil’s vocals are only occasionally prominent; perhaps they’re smeared to a fine translucent layer, or on some tracks, they’re probably absent entirely. Instead, Squu’s reduced-fat elements of techno are granted their own private space to roam – a fluttering rave loop here, kicks with sweltering reverb there – with Voice Actor’s vocals playing a game of left-field ambient-techno Where’s Waldo?. It’s cool enough, but the whole thing depends on being a vibe, the way in which we are all slowly being trained to engage with music (read Liz Pelly’s excellent new sci-fi horror book Mood Machine for a better explanation). Saturn is a gorgeous planet from afar, but it’s all gas, and that’s kind of how I feel about Lust (1): pretty and moody atmospherics, but no solid footing to be found.