The Lacking Permanence

Creating minimalist compositions out of broken loops, glitched samples, and clearly electronic sounds is a dangerous path to tread, balanced between chaos and monotony, and one Atom™ walks quite easily.

They couldn’t figure out why they kept returning. At first, the hookah lounge was a noxious hangout, bearable only for the crushed-on bartender. Then, suspicion of nicotine addiction. Finally, the realization that it was the music on the jukebox.

Here is something different — a brief collection of music I consider "dub", though some may want to argue that point. Nonetheless, the intent is clear: tune in and zone out.

Atlanta’s long-reigning kings of greasy garage fuzz get yet another tribute, and given the source material and the participants, it’s easy to see why this hits all the green lights for a multicolored psychedelic ramble.

Hatfield’s relentless output is given some inventive production, and I have to pause to carefully listen. There’s a lot to unpack, sonically and lyrically, and it refuses to fade into the background.

Sweeney’s carefully considered guitar lines are entwined with Will Oldham’s intimate quaver and lyrical prowess, and it’s uncanny how this occasional intersection of two very prolific artists sounds like it’s decades into its trajectory.

If you are of a certain age and exposure to the MTV, you would think that people in Tijuana eat barbecued iguana, but that was just Stan Ridgway and Wall of Voodoo reaching for a cheap rhyme. Polvo takes the song's nervous energy and turns it up a few notches.

This is an ominous title for a posthumous release, but Allen’s stuttering drum work will no doubt stand the test of time, and this melding of his work with more modern non-Afrobeat collaborators is a glimpse of a fascinating future.

Lush synthetic bitscapes, layered with drones, sweeps, short loops, and the ecstasy of robots make for a propulsive immersion into a world of flow.

You will hear their thunderous approach before you see them, and you will be surprised, for despite their name and the glorious stadium-sized riffing, Naked Giants are the size of mere mortals and usually appear dressed in public.