Mixtape 166 • Alpine
There are several sounds that are most definitely British, and with their clear soaring female vocals and intimate indie pop sensibility, The Catenary Wires are a textbook example of one of them.
There are several sounds that are most definitely British, and with their clear soaring female vocals and intimate indie pop sensibility, The Catenary Wires are a textbook example of one of them.
This aggregation of aggressive sounds does not differentiate between rock and electro, juicing thick synth leads with military drumming and a lyrical delivery that wavers delicately between completely disaffected and about to punch your lights out.
Ty’s arsenal of instrumentation continues to grow, as he fills out his domain of prog-rock, stoner drones, glam trash, and other Seventies detritus with keyboards, more keyboards, and an evolving sense of studio wizardry.
She once wrote a song over text message with Rachel Maddow, a micro-story that actually provides deep insight into this adventurous Canadian with an effortlessly capable voice and a finely honed instinct for finding the beating heart of a song.
Afrobeat continues to be a family business for the Kutis, and business is booming. Now representing the middle generation in this dynasty, Femi expertly delivers the expected stuttering beats and political dissent we have come to expect from the brand.
The surprising part is not that this Quebec outfit mixing country music, folk, surf, and a dash of Elvis exists, but that they have been doing this for three decades plus and yours truly is just finding out.
At a time when we need the positive carefree sound of French yeh-yeh the most, April March comes through with a spicy new number.
Tonight started out with an hour of the sickest music around, which is to say songs about illness, medication, and other health-related issues. The following two hours were the usual incomprehensible mixture of genres and bad attitudes.
Exquisite rock and roll, filled with bombastic drenches of reverb and enough monster riffs to fill a stadium, powering through sounds psychedelic, surf-like, and power-chording, but with enough dynamics to keep it from becoming exhausting.
A near-dozen electrolatinized hits, not all of them latinamerican in origin but all of them served as tremendously smart interpretation, from a mostly-marimba “Maniac” (from Flashdance) to the sparse cumbia of Prince’s “Beso”.