Early Picks for Top Underrated Albums of 2019

A new kind of alternative.

We are over the halfway mark in 2019 and we’ve already seen a lot of solid albums. So far we got a predictably superb Baroness record, a very impressive new LP from Little Simz, and a rager of a new PUP record just to name a few; and with several notable new releases from artists like TOOL, Wilco, and Hiss Golden Messenger still to come, 2019 will end up another very respectable year for music.

But for every critical darling there are always several great albums that fly under the radar either for lack of name recognition, lack of marketing budget, or for not fitting the sonic mold that every critic, intentionally or not, imposes on their ratings. That’s why we put together this list of ten albums that aren’t getting much critical attention, but we think need to be heard.

Death of the Neon by String Machine

String Machine’s sophomore record is even more breathtaking than their equally underrated debut album Threads From the Youth Fossil. Death of the Neon mixes folk, indie, emo, and post-rock to create a unique atmosphere that defies traditional categories, spearheaded by some of David Beck’s most vulnerable lyrics to date.

The Language of Injury by Ithaca

UK Label Holy Roar continue a recent trend of putting out great metal albums with Ithaca’s bone-crushing debut. This is chaotic hardcore at its finest; a record that is complex and raw both musically and lyrically from a band that should be mentioned in the same breath as greats The Chariot, Every Time I Die, and Norma Jean.

This is Not the End by Spielbergs

After a couple brushes with cult success in prior bands, the members of Norwegian punk outfit Spielbergs have finally done it. This is Not the End is an expansive magnum opus for the scene veterans, filled with anthemic shout-alongs, big fuzz riffs, and successful forays into more cinematic material.

Cause & Affection by Oginalii

The debut from sludgy Nashville rock outfit Oginalii is a genre-bending odyssey taking cues from free-jazz, power pop, progressive rock, and hardcore just to name a few. Cause & Affection is one of the most refreshingly original rock records in recent memory: it’s heavy, it’s catchy, it’s smooth, it’s dark, and it does all of it without calling to mind any comparable band.

Safe and Also No Fear by Slaughter Beach, Dog

After a brief, but intensely popular career as one of the two lead writers and singers of Modern Baseball, Jake Ewald gave up emo for folk. His latest under solo moniker Slaughter Beach, Dog showcases the strength of his trademark storytelling over laid-back folk-rock arrangements more similar to Wilco than his punk roots.

2020 by Shin Guard

Last year Pittsburgh screamo new-comers Shin Guard released one of our underground albums of the year in Cerebral. Not even one year later they returned more experimental, technical, and heavy than ever before with 2020; an artsy post-hardcore masterpiece filled with unpredictable turns, probing lyrics, and uncontrollable frenetic energy.

Pale Cicada by Makeunder

If Oginalii released the most original rock record of the year, Makeunder released the most original record period, regardless of genre. Mixing influences from RnB, to funk, to folk, to art rock the California project put out the densest dance record the world has ever seen, somehow turning songs about wrestling with death and poverty into something you can move your feet to.

The Big Freeze by Laura Stevenson

Laura Stevenson is not getting nearly enough attention. Since leaving the Jeff Rosenstock-led band Bomb the Music Industry! she has consistently proven her chops as a folk writer over the course of several albums. Her newest, The Big Freeze, is arguably her best yet; a diverse and vulnerable offering that should put her in the conversation as one of the most talented lyricists of the decade.

You’re Gonna Miss Everything Cool and Die Angry by Catholic Werewolves

Catholic Werewolves easily have the best album name of 2019 so far, and their concise, 15 minute mini-LP is also one of the best punk records of the year. You’re Gonna Miss Everything Cool and Die Angry is a witty and fun record reminiscent of Jeff Rosenstock about the seemingly systemic angst in American 20-something life.

Princess Diana by The Manana People

2019 is the year of bands with “psyche” in their genre-tags and The Manana People are one of the best of the lot. Their brand of “psyche-country” combines Beach Boys level harmonies with old-timey Western guitars, and quirky theremin and synth parts, wrapped together with a dusty lo-fi production that makes this unique album feel straight out of a Sundance film.

We’ve put all ten of these albums into a playlist for your enjoyment below.

Review: Sparrowfeather by Jay Sunaway

FFO The Decemberists, Sufjan Stevens, Darlingside

“Reveal and conceal, appearance and disappearance, these words are key to the thinking behind this work and link to my fascination with Roland Barthes’ concept of the ‘seam’. Barthes describes the seam as being the site of both loss and of desire. I am interested in playing with the tension of the edge or seam by working with folding to collage” – Rebecca Loweth, collage artist

Outside of collage artists and seamstresses, not many people give much thought to the meaning of seams. But such a seemingly simple thing is pregnant with symbolic meaning. As Loweth points out, as a piece folds it enters a cycle of appearance and disappearance: part of the original disappears behind the crease and what remains visible now appears different. Likewise as two things are sowed together the seam marks both the edges of each original part and also, literally and symbolically, the melding of the two pieces into one new piece. Appearance and disappearance. Loss and desire. The old and the new.

It’s appropriate that Jay Sunaway would take inspiration from Loweth’s approach, in many ways it mirrors their own artistic journey. In 2018 the London space-folk outfit released their debut EP Earth Hum, a mesmerizing album centered on modern life and technology in a present world that seems to thrust itself constantly into the future. Now on their 2019 followup Sparrowfeather, they focus instead on the past, invoking natural images to explore the themes of place, history, and memories. Just like Loweth, Jay Sunaway choose to live their creative lives on the seam, using their music to explore the tensions between a modern, ever-evolving world, and the world of memories and places that gave birth to it.

If this all sounds a bit heady for you, don’t worry, despite it’s wide-reaching and meandering lyrical themes Sparrowfeather is a very accessible EP that any folk fan will love. It’s also simply gorgeous. Behind Joe Woods’ elegant finger picked guitar lines and reflective lyrics is a fully fleshed out world of reverby harmonies, lush string arrangements, and strikingly dynamic bass lines. Jay Sunaway shift effortlessly between hushed “one guitar, one voice” folk and groovy full band alt-folk crescendos, sometimes throwing in key and tempo changes along the way for good measure. In all it sounds vaguely like The Decemberists, but if Sufjan Stevens composed the EP for Colin Meloy and told him to tone down the medieval peasant ramblings. It has the same hyper-literate appeal, but with a more universal message and a much more ethereal soundscape.

Check out this stunning new EP when it releases officially this Fall through Upcycled Sounds, and stream the first two singles Rocks and Kittiwake Cry below.

7.5 (Stand-Out)

Review: Death of the Neon by String Machine

FFO Radiohead, Sufjan Stevens, TWIABP

The future is not what it seems. Just down the road from where I am writing this is the Pittsburgh Waterfront, a booming shopping district built over the bones of Andrew Carnegie’s steel dynasty. It’s a scene familiar to those of us who grew up in Pittsburgh, the city that bounced back, one of the few rust-belt towns to find new life once the nation’s mills closed down: what is old is bought out by developers and turned into housing plans and sprawling strip malls, often separate from and inaccessible for those who lived through the changes. In the rural counties just outside the city limits this process is even more exaggerated. Not an hour north from downtown Pittsburgh sits Butler, once a district filled with family farms and the farthest corner of the city’s industrial hub. These days the old manufacturing districts have folded into a post-industrial wasteland and the few farmers remaining are increasingly forced to sell off parcels of their land to the same kinds of developers who gentrified much of the city to their south. For many this is the face of the future; an inescapable wave that leaves the old ways propped up in ruins and the new just out of reach. But some, like Butler’s own progressive folk outfit String Machine, are rejecting the life they’ve inherited; taking the lessons they learned from “the frozen ruins of Western Pennsylvania” and using them to press forward into a future all their own.

String Machine’s music is an ethereal and vulnerable blend of folk, punk, and indie that invites the listener into it’s own sonic world; a nostalgia-laced place that “provides joy while wondering if joy is even possible.” On their sophomore record, The Death of the Neon, the seven piece band have reached a near spiritual point in their creation, blending everyday experiences and esoteric imagery into something that feels potent and transcendent. Nowhere is this better exemplified than on early standout Old Mack, a song that takes the story of being bit by an old dog and spins it into a contemplation on life and death with lines like “not all hounds go to heaven/ but I don’t know where the bad ones go”, “I’ve got it tied tight around my face/ blanket soul keeps the sap in my head”, and “let’s put make-up on my scares today/ and go see Manson at Star Lake/ and hope we wake up the same.” Throughout the record, lead songwriter David Beck uses images like the above to give a sort of surreal feeling to the scene he’s describing. Perhaps the best of these surreal images comes on the second track and lead single Eight Legged Dog where Beck sings an uneasy and slightly disturbing chorus: “the eight legged dog/ is coming along/ to ruin your grain.”

Several of the more vivid images also recur throughout, making Death of the Neon strikingly cohesive. The dog image occurs first in Eight Legged Dog and then again in Old Mack, the first as a personification of some dreadful thing and the second as a literal old hound. Similarly the phrase “soft margins” and the sap image pop up any time vulnerability comes into frame, while the phrase “excite again” first appears in No Holiday/Excite Again to signify doubting the possibility of joy and then appears as an inversion in Comforts From the Cobweb to signify a joy so powerful nothing could excite you beyond it. In the middle of the album the breeze plays a spiritual role in multiple songs, first drawing a comparison to a god and then a sense of calm and belonging with “in the breeze it’s alright to be.”

It’s the attention to such small details that sets The Death of the Neon apart from similar albums, or from most albums in general. This trait carries over into the whole arrangement as well. Every song is painstakingly layered with beautiful harmonies from their second vocalist Laurel Wain, sublime synth and piano lines, acoustic and electric guitars, strings, and even the occasional trumpet. It’s maximalism without the attention-seeking, complexity for the sake of sheer beauty and nothing else, and it’s the prime reason that Death of the Neon remains just as rewarding with each repeat listen as it is on the first play-through.

As with most albums in this vein, the main downside, if you can call it that, is in accessibility. Beck sings his lyrics in a loose, impassioned way that is heavily inspired by midwest “twinkly” emo and other 90s-inspired indie rock. The strength of this approach is that it conveys strong emotions well and has a sort of everyman charm, while the downside is that to the uninitiated it sounds pitchy and unrefined. When juxtaposed with Laurel Wain’s more ethereal voice, however, it reinforces and mirrors the band’s dual imagery: one part earthy, jagged past and one part dreamy, transcendental hope in a possible future.

Overall, Death of the Neon is easily one of the most complete and cohesive records of the year so far, and a shining example of our artistic mission statement at Not a Sound: build a world, not a sound. It’s an album you can dissolve into and explore over and over, unpacking new layers piece by piece with every fresh listen. Whether you’re a fan of psyche folk or if you didn’t know it was a genre until today, there’s a lot to experience, a lot to discover, and a lot to enjoy about String Machine‘s masterfully crafted new full-length, due out this Friday, August 2nd. The future is now, choose today what you will do with it.

8.2 (Best New Music)

Released: August 2nd, 2019
Label: Earthwalk Collective

Review: Electric Lunch by Rick Moon

FFO T. Rex, Grizzly Bear, Electric Light Orchestra

Rick Moon is in a world all his own. The talented Miami power-popper has been quietly putting together his own unique brand of fantastical indie rock since 2012, blending and modernizing sounds inspired by the likes of Harry Nilsson, The Beatles, XTC, and Grizzly Bear to name a few. Over the course of three EPs he’s slowly and steadily made a name for himself in Miami as both a songwriter and a producer, living out a passion for music that led him mainland from his birth home in Ponce, Puerto Rico as a college student. His newest effort, Electric Lunch, is his strongest to date, a surreal seven track EP with a near cinematic scope.

Anyone can make a paltry attempt at atmosphere with a guitar and reverb pedal, but Rick Moon doesn’t take shortcuts. Instead he painstakingly crafts each song to fill space in various inventive ways, using layers of synth, piano, electric and acoustic guitar, understated samples, and most importantly: walls of harmonies. The result is a rich sonic palette that rushes out to immerse the listener like a wave to the shore. It’s almost the musical equivalent to Willie Wonka’s Chocolate Factory, the entire EP exists in it’s own lush, imaginative world of sound. This dreamlike quality is only reinforced by Rick Moon’s voice, which even without bolstering from multiple layers of harmonies has a sort of otherworldly quality to it.

Once you get beyond the atmosphere, a lot of the songs on Electric Lunch are also catchy and fun. Perhaps the best example is the mid-album standout Public Joke, a somewhat self-deprecating song about the spectacle of social media with garage rock riffs that call to mind Beck’s 90s material. Immediately following it is the whimsical Deadline with it’s flowing chorus and vibrant string arrangements; a song that somehow manages to remain a pop song even with loads of tempo, groove, and key changes. Even the much more low-key Goodbye has a recognizable Beatles pop charm to its almost barbershop hook.

The make or break part of the album for most listeners, however, will probably be the lyrics. Keeping true to the dream-world feel of the album, there is a certain whimsy to Moon’s vocal style that turns even his most direct lines into something that feels imaginary. He also has plenty of lines, especially in Magic Pity and Goodbye, that actually are just in the fantastical realm. While this definitely fits the vibe of his art, there is a certain hokeyness about it that makes it feel a little divorced from reality. For some this will be no issue at all. It certainly doesn’t take away from Moon’s greater artistic vision, but it does require some level of intentional suspension of belief, which unfortunately will make it less palatable to a large group of listeners.

If you are willing to suspend your belief, however, your reward is entry into Rick Moon’s world of imagination, and that is absolutely a reward worth seeking. Electric Lunch is a beautiful escape into something grander, something expansive, something undeniably other. Let your childhood curiosity free and experience it today, you won’t regret it.

7.0 (Stand-Out)

Released: July 23, 2019
Label: Public Works

Sampler: “The Drew Thompson Foundation” Kicks Off This Week in Alternative

The Drew Thomson Foundation, Picsel, Melted, Tummyache

This week we’re bringing you four new Indie Punk tracks straight from the basement show. Enjoy!

Phone Ring by The Drew Thomson Foundation

There seems to be a lack of catchy, hook driven punk music so far in 2019. Luckily Toronto’s The Drew Thomson Foundation has come to our collective rescue with their infectious new single Phone Ring. Phone Ring is power pop gold with itsbouncy verses, sing-along choruses, and immediately relatable lyrics maligning the nightmare that is modern dating. For fans of Jeff Rosenstock’s pre-Worry material and he and Chris Farren’s supergroup Antarctigo Vespucci, The Drew Thomson Foundation may well prove to be the new sensation. Their knack for writing humorous and kind of dorky songs about relationships without being overly self-deprecating (or just plain creepy) is certainly Rosenstock-esque and if Phone Ring is any indication they have a lot of the same unconventional charm that helped turn Rosenstock into the cult icon he is today. Be on the lookout for The Drew Thomson Foundation’s promising debut self-titled LP this September, and until then jam Phone Ring below.

Fucked Society by Picsel

Sometimes accidents end up turning into huge creative discoveries. For UK alt-pop band Broken Fires one such accident happened during the writing stage for their forthcoming sophomore album when they unintentionally wrote two, completely different albums. The first was the one they set out to write and the second was a collection of rowdier songs that they didn’t think fit the “Frightened Rabbit meets Tall Ships” vibe of the band. The result was Picsel, an indie punk side-project much more akin to Lower Than Atlantis, and their political new single Fucked Society. Despite being a scathing indictment of modern life in Britain, Picsel’s newest is delivered in a smooth and catchy fashion, crooning lines like “licking dirt from the soles of polished shoes/ As they continue to walk all over you,” and turning “There was a time when we were free to love our fucked society” into an almost uplifting sounding chorus. The four-piece’s pop roots seep into Picsel in the best way, allowing them to write big, catchy songs, but not impeding them with tropes like so many artists that make the transition from pop to rock. I personally am very excited to hear the rest of their debut LP Modern Life Discovery when it debuts this Fall.

Bigger Maggots by Melted

There’s thin sliver of sound between the skate-punk end of pop punk and hardcore punk. It’s the bands in this sliver that separate Free Throw from Title Fight or PUP from Drug Church. Melted is one of those rare bands. Hailing from Long Beach, CA, Melted have all the aggression of a band like Drug Church but with just a dash of pop punk sensibility. They’re the kind of band that doubles their guitars to make them punch harder and isn’t afraid to put the snare on the 1, but they’re also the kind of band to use non-shouted backing vocals and actually write choruses. Their most recent single, Bigger Maggots, their first since releasing their 2018 LP Thin Skin, is a fast-paced track about overcoming insecurities and anxiety. Reminiscent of early Posture and the Grizzly, it’s a perfect example of their aggressive brand of punk that defies expectations by also being unconventionally catchy.

Median by Tummyache

Nashville, aside from Country and CCM, is known for a very specific rock sound, usually involving sleek, polished instrumentals and Ryan Adam’s-style vocalists. Breaking this mold in spectacular fashion is Tummyache, a punky garage rock outfit that pulls more from Mitski and Cherry Glazerr than the refined sounds their home city is famous for. Tummyache is the brainchild of songwriter/producer Soren Bryce as an outlet to explore her own existentialist reflections on meaning and the human condition through the use of absurdism. Median in particular shows Bryce balancing delicately between two extremes: the total dissolution of meaning altogether and the hope she acknowledges to be self-created that she nonetheless needs to survive. It’s hammering guitar sounds add a visceral, anxious subtext to the probing lyrics, creating the sensation of an all-out war in Bryce’s head that she is holding back, if only barely, with remarkable poise. Making a song that is simultaneously aggressively honest and fairly heady that also feels this nuanced is no easy task, but Bryce rises to the challenge with the precision of a veteran. Tummyache’s debut EP, Humpday, is due out later this year.

Review: Pale Cicada by Makeunder

“I want to drift away from this brutal town/ let it sink into the ground with no story to tell/ a dying thunder in the darkness/ rattling in its mouth”

“I want to drift away from this brutal town/ let it sink into the ground with no story to tell/ a dying thunder in the darkness/ rattling in its mouth”

Hamilton Ulmer has felt like a stranger for almost as long as he can remember. The son of two “unorthodox” parents from rural northern California, Ulmer spent most of his childhood in San Antonio, Texas after his family relocated there for work when he was just two years old. Though he lived there for the majority of his formative years, he and his eccentric family struggled to find their place, leaving Ulmer with a nagging sense of alienation that followed him even after he moved back to California in his adulthood. When his father died of lung cancer in 2011, these complex emotions and unanswered questions compounded into something that needed an outlet. The result, for Ulmer, was the 2015 Makeunder EP Great Headless Blank which wrestled not only with the death of his father, but all of the things that went with him: memories, a cohesive narrative of Ulmer’s youth, and the homes their family had inhabited. Great Headless Blank was a series of grief vignettes; potent, melancholy songs that earned the critical praise of NPR’s Bob Boilen among others. Immediate and powerful, those songs were an exercise in grieving and left many questions to be answered later.

Four years after the fact, Ulmer and Makeunder have returned with a true master work, their first proper LP, the three act concept piece Pale Cicada. Thematically, Pale Cicada picks up where Great Headless Blank left off, piecing together what life is for a poor man who has always felt out of step even as he deals with the residual grief of his father’s passing. “I know that I can’t help myself/ how do I live with this sadness?/ Give me something real/ before I sink into the ground/ with no story to tell” goes the hook of the opener and title track Pale Cicada, the closest thing to a mission statement on the album. As he writes he delves succinctly and capably into just about every angle he can find of his situation, dealing with poverty on the psych-funk In Between My Dead End Jobs, taking an esoteric side glance at marriage on Ringing Chord, reclaiming childhood on Ain’t That a Trip, and exploring his father’s death with added perspective on Begin in the Middle. For most of the album Ulmer’s lyrics are sharp and frank in their heaviness, but if you were listening casually you would never know. Each line is delivered in Ulmer’s smooth Soul/RnB voice, through acrobatic runs, complex harmony chords, and often staggered staccato melodies.

Sonically, Pale Cicada also diverts some attention from the weight of the words: it is largely up-tempo from track one and at points even danceable. The second track and first single In Between My Dead End Jobs might even be considered poppy, leaving aside a sudden dark turn into Tom Waits territory for a portion of the bridge. Describing the complex, often dense arrangements as a whole however, feels impossible. One could call it RnB or Funk, but neither term does any justice to the highly creative, genre-bending sounds that Makeunder accomplish on this record. Opening track Pale Cicada veers into art-rock territory with heavy distorted guitars and blaring trumpet sounds before swinging into a soulful, almost anthemic chorus. Begin in the Middle sounds like Prince succumbing to the dark side with its haunting harmonies, vocal slap-back, and heavy drum groove. Ringing Chord seems to reference Justin Vernon with subtle vocoder layering on the lead vocal and an ambient arrangement, while I’m Still Living Wrongly goes from RnB, to folk, to a swelling string crescendo, to a sinister noise rock break, before landing a triumphant guitar solo and going back to folk. Pulling off genre fusion at this level is extremely difficult, but Makeunder make it look easy each and every song, creating one of the most instrumentally interesting albums of the year to date with little real competition in sight.

Inevitably though, not every experiment on such an experiment heavy album can land. Though second single Promothean Heat succeeds in its off-kilter verses and it’s unexpected, Kendrick Lamar-esque harmony walls, it’s ascending refrain feels done just to prove it can be done. It’s nonetheless still incredibly impressive, but doesn’t seem to line up with the line that sits on it, one of the less chaotic lines on the album. In that regard the album’s biggest strength is in one way also its biggest weakness, it’s experimentation at once makes it one of, if not THE most interesting album of the year, but for more casual listeners the sheer amount of things happening at any given time could be easily overwhelming, even despite the clear pop sensibility Ulmer shows throughout with his melodies.

If you are willing to dive into Pale Cicada though, it is an incredibly rewarding listen; a truly master class album both lyrically and instrumentally. It is definitely dense, however. Even after several repeat listens you will still be picking out things you hadn’t heard before in the mix: overlapping guitar lines, backing vocals, metaphors, and lyrical tie-ins between tracks. For Ulmer it is the culmination of a life of personal struggle, and here he makes his statement emphatically and in the grandest possible fashion. His work of self-processing is complete, but for us listeners the processing has only just begun: it could take a lifetime to milk from this all that it has to offer.

8.5 (Best New Music)

Released: June 28, 2019
Label: Good Eye Records

Sampler: New Of Monsters and Men Leads the Way

New music from Of Monsters & Men kicks off this week’s indie and alternative packed single sampler.

New music from Of Monsters and Men kicks off this week’s indie and alternative packed single sampler.

Alligator by Of Monsters and Men

It’s hard to believe that Of Monsters and Men has already been around for a decade. The Icelandic indie folk/rock/pop act has been making steady waves since 2011, when their first single Little Talks got picked up by then prominent Philadelphia Radio 104.5, a lucky break that propelled the band to international name recognition. Both Little Talks and the album it came from, My Head is an Animal, went number one in Iceland and the latter debuted at number 6 in the U.S. The album has since been certified platinum. Since that fateful debut, they’ve shown no real signs of slowing down. Their sophomore effort Beneath the Skin debuted at number three and earned them their first Grammy nomination, as well as TV appearances, a spot at Coachella, and the honor of being the first Icelandic artist to cross 1 billion streams on Spotify. Now four years later, Of Monsters and Men are back for round three with Fever Dream and its dynamic first single Alligator. Alligator has everything we’ve come to expect from the band: a lush enveloping soundscape, an immediately catchy stadium chorus and a bonus equally catchy bridge all wrapped together with the crisp indie-pop production that has been a staple of their sound since the onset. But this single also veers into some new territory for the band, namely a rhythmic, electric guitar driven “breakdown” in each post-chorus. It’s a choice almost reminiscent of Scottish arena rock icons Biffy Clyro and certainly the most “rock” thing Of Monsters and Men has gone for during their recent slide into more alternative sounds. It will be interesting to see if this new theme carries through the rest of Fever Dream when it officially releases July 26.

Find Me Out by Ronjo V

Austin’s Ronjo V are putting their own spin on a long tradition of meat n’ potatoes alternative in the line of Beck and early Wilco. Their newest single, Find Me Out, is a clinic on dynamic movement and layering; shifting between acoustic led rhythms, creamy leads, punchy electric chords, and tactful blues riffs that are both impressive and purposely understated. In fact “understated” is probably the best descriptor for Ronjo V’s whole operation. Nothing draws undue attention to itself, which often masks the fact that there’s actually a decent bit going on at all times, whether it be overlapping guitar leads in the latter parts of the verses or a subtle tambourine in the chorus. This creates a sensation of movement that is felt without always being heard and it also opens up exactly the amount of space needed to let the listener focus on what lead songwriter Ryan Joseph wants them to hear. And once he has your undivided attention Joseph doesn’t disappoint. A falsetto harmony marks a succinct, ear catching pre-chorus, before hitting an absolutely killer chorus that would have been guaranteed radio fodder ten years ago when alternative radio still played alt-rock. This is broken up by not one, but two guitar instrumentals, the first a plodding riff with vaguely Spanish undertones in the bridge, and the second a bluesy accent solo in the outro that calls to mind The Eagles. All in all, Find Me Out is a must hear for alternative fans as well as indie-rock aficionados looking for a little more rock in their indie; a stand out new single from a promising young project.

Anthem For the Weak by The Harmaleighs

Haley Grant is battling depression her own way. She is the lead songwriter for the emotive Nashville folk duo The Harmaleighs, alongside her compatriot and bassist Kaylee Jasperson, and like many other artists who struggle with depression, she is using her creativity as both a platform of expression and a weapon in the chemical war inside her head. Though many other artists have used creation as an outlet for processing their mental health, the way Grant goes about it is uniquely her own. The Harmaleighs’ new album She Won’t Make Sense, due out on August 2nd, is a conversation between Grant and her personified depression, which she names Susan. As the album goes on, Grant and Susan engage in a struggle for control, culminating in the final song I Don’t Know Myself which begs the question: “do the darkest parts of ourselves make us who we are?” On the opposite end of the album sits the most recent single, opener Anthem For the Weak, a dusty, melancholy folk song with cutting lyricism reminiscent of rising indie star Phoebe Bridgers. The song is a sonic departure for the duo, delving further into full-band soundscapes than their prior brand of sparse pop folk, and it pays off dramatically. The airy synth sounds, subtle organ, delay-heavy drums, and selectively used slide guitar create an atmosphere that captures the emotional unease and distance of depression to a tee, without delving too far into the soul-crushing existentialism typical of the subject matter. Instead Grant’s lyrics dance through light, catchy pop melodies that stick on the first listen, and they do so without compromising any of the desired impact. For these reasons The Harmaleighs’ impending album is one of our most anticipated releases of August.

I Don’t Wanna Take Too Much by The Brazen Youth

I’ve often heard it said, especially of music, that there is nothing new under the sun. The Brazen Youth are simultaneously the biggest proof and the biggest challenge to this notion. Formed in a 300-year-old farmhouse in rural Connecticut by middle school friends Nicholas Lussier and Charlie Dahlke, The Brazen Youth’s earthy, folksy, roots rock is filled with familiar tones, feels, and motifs. There’s the old raggedy piano, the sharp honk of the blues guitar, the shriek of the organ, and the storytelling lyricism, one part personal narrative and one part esoteric wanderings like many of the great songwriters that came before them. But somehow the music that they create is wholly their own, defying any apt comparison and masking any direct influences the songwriting duo may have had. The result is something incredibly rare: a sound that pulls you in with familiarity, but keeps you interested with unpredictable mystique. It’s as if The Brazen Youth have tapped into something beyond themselves, a living history much like their beloved farmhouse, something timeless and packed with nondescript emotional power. This distinct feeling is only hammered home by mystical lyrics like “I’d like to harness the most divine state” and “one collective human body/ 15 billion eyes just belonging to somebody.” It’s the kind of song that puts you in its own state of being, and when it’s over you can’t help but want to experience more. Unfortunately, you’ll have to wait until September 19 to hear the rest of their new EP 15 Billion Eyes, but in the meantime you can continue to cultivate your longing by playing I Don’t Wanna Take Too Much on repeat.

Just You by Steven Bowers feat. Meaghan Smith

Steven Bowers’ brand of folk music combines the storytelling tradition of writers like Jason Isbell, Ryan Adams, and John K. Samson with a larger than life, cinematic kind of spirit. His latest, Just You, takes on a almost post-apocalyptic type of character, not the violent and future-western apocalypse of Mad Max, but a reflective and emotionally present take on what is lost and the almost spiritual journey to reclaim it. “I wanted you when we were strangers/ then one you were coming over/ suddenly twenty, thirty years are going by.” But as time dissolves and takes with it its victims, Bowers pushes back in a triumphant flourish: “so build a fire from whatever kindling you can find/ when all the world is ending/ and it’s beginning all the time/ no goodbyes, no goodbyes/ polar bear looking for the ice/ Frankenstein waiting for the lightning/ one day your heart will reanimate/ just you wait.” Supporting his vivid images are swelling guitar, lush piano, stadium toms, and layers of harmonies whisping ethereally in the background. The result is a song bursting at the seems with emotion, dramatized enough to draw out a powerful reaction but realistic enough to still be real-world relatable, equally perfect for the climactic ending to an indie film or for listening while staring at the rain out your bedroom window.

Sampler: Skate. Better.

This sampler is for anyone who grew up playing Tony Hawk Pro-Skater games and promptly popped an ankle on their first drop into the half-pipe in real life. Enjoy four EPs that will take you back to that fateful moment in one listen:

EP by Why Not

Hailing from the twin cities of Minnesota, Why Not combine the mathy twinkle of Midwest emo with Philly style indie punk and a smattering of prog. EP is a whirlwind of groove shifts, gang shouted hooks, noodly guitar lines, and massive expansions into reverby space. Perhaps the best example of this comes in the penultimate track Thud. Dead., which substitutes a traditional chorus for a hard-hitting octave riff before turning on a dime into an off-kilter clean section layered with pitch shifting guitars. This then promptly changes time signatures before literally exploding into a heavy, groovy Chon riff that transitions seamlessly back into the faux-chorus. For an album so focussed on musicianship, EP is surprisingly fun and lighthearted. Of the four tracks, the only one that veers into really melancholic territory is the closing 10 minute odyssey Eighth Year, an impressive prog song complete with 5/4 time, noise and glitch sections, a minute long guitar solo, and a heavy-hitting slow-burn chorus where vocalist Henry Breen sings his most iconic line: “Now I’m standing tall/ I’m a tree/ Now I’m standing here/ Just to be me.” It’s altogether one of the most impressive emo/ indie punk EPs to come out in 2019, and a great surrogate for anyone looking to fill the void left in the wake of JANK’s demise.

Divide and Conga by King Punch

Ska-Punk is one of the most quintessential offshoots of 90s and 2000s punk music, but in 2019 it is unfortunately in short supply. Thankfully, London’s King Punch has come to the rescue with their newest EP, cheekily titled Divide and Conga. Divide and Conga is 14 minutes of infectious, skank-inducing, existential ska-punk reminiscent of 3rd wave legends Streetlight Manifesto, albeit a little more streamlined. Lyrically this fast paced EP comes out swinging. Opening track Sit Still ends with a double bridge with the ringers: “there always seems to be someone speaking for me” and “it was an itch to scratch/ then a bone to pick/ now a hill to die on/ boy that happened quick.” Second track Whole Lotta Love keeps up the punches with the kicker: “it’s hard to find time when you’re never free.” To round out the middle-aged angst, King Punch throw a curve ball for the fourth track on the album and cover the System of a Down hit Chop Suey!, turning a once visceral alt-metal track on its head with blaring horns and a halftime reggae chorus. Like most ska covers before it, it really shouldn’t work, but they manage to defy all odds and turn it into a humorous and thoroughly enjoyable closer to a very solid offering.

Gumiho by Gumiho

Seoul, South Korea’s Gumiho are bringing back classic, 90s hardcore punk. Their new self-titled EP is a flurry of aggression and angst delivered with the same fast and loose charm that once drew tons of disaffected youth to packed basement shows decades ago. Opening the album is the immediately catchy Destroyed Warranty, a NoFx style onslaught with a snare-kick K-punk chorus. This spills into the darkest and angriest track, Glittering Dreams with the haunting chorus: “it doesn’t have arms but knows how to use them/ it doesn’t have a face but knows where to find one.” Here Gumiho take a quick break from the blistering punk brand they’ve established and delve into more melodic territory with the serpentine -ing and the bouncy pop punk of Help Request. The reprieve is short-lived however, and soon they return to their prior form on the skate punk Twisted Mind, which transforms part way into a downtempo groove before handing the reigns to the last and perhaps the best track on the EP. We Create the Stars is old-school hardcore at its finest with plodding verses led by bass and toms and an explosive gang-shout chorus: “I’ll swing six feet/ You’ll swing in eight/ Watch the water flicker/ As our bodies hit the lake.” Throughout their eponymous record Gumiho prove that angsty music doesn’t have to brooding or gut-wrenching, in fact, in this case it can be a lot of good old fashioned fun.

Down the Path by For the Legion

What would a skate sampler be without EZ-core? For the Legion has been carving out a name for themselves in the European pop punk scene for the better part of a decade and their latest EP Down the Path shows the Swedish quartet at their melodic finest. It’s also their most mature record to date, taking a page from their peers Set Your Goals’ book on We Want You to Panic, a sing along anthem about the impending climate catastrophe complete with samples of panicked news anchors, and also touching on such adult themes as parenting and racial prejudice. It’s an album full of welcome growth in a genre with a major Peter Pan complex and a far cry from their earlier, more lighthearted and comic book inspired music. With experience comes perspective, and as long-time veterans For the Legion take this release as an opportunity to stand for what they believe in. Don’t worry that they’ve lost their edge though, because Down the Path is loaded with bangers, from the anthemic opener May, to the gutsy Thrown, the shreddy Always Out of Time, Never Out of Breath, and the subdued closing ballad Thin Air. They might be, as the name suggests, a bit more down the path, but For the Legion prove emphatically here that they still have a lot to give and they aren’t going anywhere just yet.

Sampler: Earthy Tones in Folk, Blues, and Jazz

Four earthy tracks from multiple genres that are perfect for your Sunday afternoon.

This week we’re breaking from our genre oriented samplers to give you something new: four earthy tracks from multiple genres that are perfect for your Sunday afternoon.

Nothing Turns My Lock by Kate Vargas

Kate Vargas’ brand of earthy, muted jazz is beautifully classic, but her perspective is anything but old-fashioned. Nothing Turns My Lock is a manifesto on sexual liberation, pulling out every stop and holding back zero punches. As each verse unfolds, Vargas confidently pushes the envelope farther with lines like, “I like good loving, that don’t make me bad”, “I’m not a big believer in monogamy”, and the god of all stanzas: “I don’t discriminate between Johnny and Sue/ He, she, they, and you can come (wink, wink) too/ Yes it may take many, many, many men and women to satisfy my needs/ But nothing turns my lock like your key.” It’s an expansion on the jazz standard form, which to use Vargas’ words is “usually pretty hetero and monogamous”, but it never loses the timeless feel of it’s source material. Her energy is defiantly infectious. As soon as her smoky jazz voice hits your ears in all its raspy, irreverent glory you can’t help but get hooked. Nothing Turns My Lock is a must-listen even if you aren’t usually a jazz fan, it’s a witty pop statement from a supremely talented rising star. We can’t wait to see where Kate Vargas goes from here.

Eyes to the Sky by David Ellis

Folk as a genre has exploded in the past decade, but even in such a crowded and diverse genre David Ellis has found a niche that makes him stand out from the crowd. Where the scene is largely dominated by pop folk acts cashing in on the Mumford & Sons/The Lumineers explosion at the start of the decade, one guitar male/female duos with tight harmonies, and emotive Justin Vernon-inspired experimental projects, Ellis has turned instead to the 70s to capture and modernize an up-beat, rhythmic kind of hippie folk that is both catchy and creative. A self-described “Pagan Rock” artist from London, his aim is to make earthy and spiritual music for an increasingly spiritually deprived Western culture, encouraging the listener to connect with the beauty of the world and find happiness within themselves. On his latest single, Eyes to the Sky, he does exactly that, creating an optimistic and nuanced song about love in the grander sense that is imbued with an undeniable vitality. The album it was taken from, Misty Heights, recorded and produced by Ellis while living next to the Byrdcliffe Colony in Woodstock, is slated for release August 15.

Caught Between Our Troubles by The American Buffalo

The 1970s were the heyday of rock music, marked by watershed releases from bands as varied as Led Zepplin, Pink Floyd, Aerosmith, The Eagles, The Ramones, and Rush. One particular subculture of 70s rock, however, largely faded into obscurity in the following decades except for two of its figureheads, Neil Young and Lynyrd Skynyrd. Southern Rock was a thriving sub-community in the rock landscape of the 1970s, focussed on virtuosic, earthy guitar playing and storytelling lyricism more often than not about the everyday experience of the common man. On Caught Between Our Troubles, Dayton-by-way-of-Nashville artist The American Buffalo channel the 70s Southern Rock movement in sound and in spirit, resulting in a powerful mix of folk, country, and blues that paints a simple, but resonant scene: two brothers sitting in a park, deep in reflection over a pack of smokes. It’s part of singer-songwriter Josh Edwards’ modus operandi: dissecting the oft-ambiguous role of the white American male in a culture of white patriarchy. He does this with probing, storytelling songwriting in the tradition of American Popular Music (not to be confused with American Pop Music), a very historically aware movement including a wide variety of genres that is meant to be in direct conversation with the cultural meta-narrative. As a result, Caught Between Our Troubles feels timeless, a thoughtful track that is relevant today and would have been relevant even in the era it emulates.

FOMO by Great Aunt

Americana usually calls to mind the bayous of Louisiana, the pocket communities of the Appalachian mountains, or the great plains of the American heartland, but Melbourne, Australia’s Great Aunt prove that, despite its name, not all great Americana comes from the United States. Comprised of songwriters Megan Byrd and Chelsea Allen, Great Aunt have been steadily making a name for themselves in the Australian Country Music community since 2016 with their tight harmonies and instrumentals that are elegant in their simplicity. Lyrically they pull influence from old time, bluegrass, and gospel traditions, writing downtrodden music that masks its latent sorrowfulness in the joy of its expression. On their newest single, FOMO, Great Aunt drop back off their usually vocal-driven sound and instead highlight their guitar playing prowess, arranging the song around a set of slide guitar riffs that sound straight off a Georgia front porch. The sparse lyrics accent these riffs beautifully, creating an almost haunting vibe with their hushed, close harmonies. The sound feels like a captured live performance, creating a sensation of immediacy that draws the listener in to the deep valleys and dangerous peaks of the song as it undulates between dynamic extremes.

Sampler: 4 Must-Hear Underground Hip-Hop Tracks

Lofi beats and strong lyrical delivery.

This week we’re keeping with our theme of low-key music, but breaking our tradition of guitar-based samplers to highlight another of our favorite genres: underground hip-hop. For this particular sampler we want to highlight lo-fi beats and strong lyrical delivery, so without further ado, here are four underground hip-hop tracks you must hear.

Blow Up by Richard Carter

Blow Up is perseverant and confident beneath its somber exterior. A newcomer from Croydon in the UK music scene, Richard Carter raps about tapping into the immortality in music, finding success with patience, determination, and love for his craft: “Once I fly away, I’ve got no doubt about it/ I know I’ll find a way, I’ve got no doubts about it, I’ll blow up.” In the first two verses Carter slips into sparse and deliberate storytelling bars, matching the jazz-inspired vibe of the beat and pulling the listener into his everyday life. Such a choice might seem mundane, but Carter has an almost transcendent sense of his own narrative, a conviction that what he’s doing is “more important than life” and that the characters surrounding him are on similar arcs. It’s this quality that truly sets Carter apart from his peers, he re-purposes the triumphant spirit of American radio hip-hop and finds a way to contextualize it in the harsh realism of conscious hip-hop. The result is not really either, but a rewarding new middle ground that is lyrical enough to win critics while still being catchy and relatable to the average listener.

Don’t Box Me In by KHAJE ft. Font Leroy & Sekani

The latest from Jamaican-American, New York producer KHAJE is a jazz-hip-hop banger calling to mind Saba and Kendrick Lamar. As the compound piano chords fade in to the opening hook “don’t box me in”, one would imagine that this song would be a laid-back storytelling piece, but as soon as the rapping starts its immediately clear that this song is going in a very different direction. Font Leroy makes his presence known, immediately diving into tight, quick bars filled with confident internal rhyme and staggered triplets. It’s a great first impression from the New York rapper, who proves with one minute long verse that he deserves more attention than a lot of the rising stars in the genre. After another repetition of the hook, Sekani provides the perfect counterpoint to Font Leroy’s approach with his booming voice and deliberate, aggressive delivery. Both rappers cut their teeth here on the roughly two minute track and show that New York is still a thriving hip-hop underground.

MY LIFE by Emma Lee

Emma Lee might not be a household name yet, but she’s an accomplished veteran on the rise in the independent arts community. She’s been involved in everything from film, to media, to writing, to performing with the Oscar and Grammy nominated Impact Repertory Theatre. Her brand of conscious, boom-bap, hip-hop is hyper-lyrical; filled with cutting, insightful lines on what it means to be a black woman in hip-hop and America at large that refuses to be defined by other’s expectations. MY LIFE is a clinic on using self-expression to address societal problems where Emma Lee walks boldly onto “roads that ain’t paved for me”, breaking barriers one lyrical incision at a time. Already, without a major release to here name, her command of her own narrative, unique perspective, and lyrical prowess call to mind established artists such as Noname, Dawn Richard, and Kendrick Lamar. When her forthcoming debut album finally drops she has the very real potential to climb into that same echelon in the public eye, because as far as talent is concerned she already deserves to be there.

World Series by Mic Miles

Mic Miles is trying to bring bars back to Hip-Hop. The Cleveland native practically oozes with confidence as he delivers lines like: “life is a gamble, just hope your parents nice/ got me searching for paradise with a pair of dice”, “this game is a bitch I ain’t prepared to wife”, and “my moment’s everlasting/ my clock is broken.” His delivery and the beat that backs it up both call to mind early Kanye West, bringing us back to a time when he owned the radio with cheeky lines and character, long before he became the poster-boy for experimental production. Mic Miles continues his revival of the best parts of late 2000s hip-hop throughout his debut EP, 27, leaving behind the abrasive tendencies of 2006 club beats and the dance-floor cliches, but reveling in the tongue-in-cheek one-liners that typified the era. It’s this almost playful nature that makes World Series stand out from the contemporary hip-hop landscape in 2019, where sad-boi emo rap, banal cloud rap, and politically charged conscious hip-hop dominate the airwaves. Mic Miles set out to bring bars back to hip-hop, but in doing so he brought back something that’s been missing for almost a decade: fun.