Last week I reviewed a single played in the retro style of the garage bands I've been hearing on the Tom Hanks station Boss Radio. Folly of Three's new EP titled Folly of Three makes me think I crossed timelines and literally woke up in 1966!

Folly of Three are based in Holyoke, Massachusetts, part of a growing movement that captures the rock and psychedelic sounds from the mid-60's. I've tried my hand at that sound and let me tell you, it is not easy! It's not just a matter of tracking normally and then using a cassette-distortion plugin. These guys record on actual cassettes (and there's a tape recorder on the cassette J-card) but there's also something about the mic placement and arrangements that make these feel 100% authentic. They also recorded at "Cosmo Factory" which is a massive warehouse in Holyoke and not the studio Creedence used!

The band says their "jangle rock with driving bass lines" has been compared to The Clean, Guided by Voices, The Brian Jonestown Massacre and The Animals. The members are Ben Strohler (guitar), Steve Kalicki (bass) and Luis Fieldman (drums). Clearly some members also sing. Despite the live, mic-hanging-from-the-ceiling quality of these recordings, there's at least a couple overdubs. They write their songs while warming up before practice, giving them a highly organic and spontaneous feel. When not recording they're an active local live band, touring Richmond Virginia and Baltimore Maryland. 


"Sherri's Gone" is a great example of the driving bass lines the band mentioned, providing the glue for the wild trebly guitar figures and ragged two-part harmony vocals. Though the main chords pretty much stay the same, the underlying bass melody makes subtle key shifts, providing a sneaky kind of progression. Where the chorus should hit, the whole band does a stop-time section on the four main notes of the melody. The conclusion settles on a chiming guitar motif that totally nails the landing. A lot going on here for a minute and forty!

"Sleepwalker" is an immediate surprise as the main guitar theme is close to George Harrison's "What Is Life." There's a note here that Alex Ramsdell wrote the lyrics to Sleepwalker "and played drums on all songs." The drums are great, and this song in particular has an awesome multi-tiered arrangement that totally fills out that main riff. There's even a hint of stereo in the vocals toward the end. "Folly Theme" is an instrumental that could easily be the backing track to an early Doors song like "The End."

"Lunar" continues the band's tendency for each track to sound like a different band. This one has the slightly out of tune jangle of the Velvet Underground's "Femme Fatale," with the addition of a sleepy yet seductive slide guitar. "Uncle Bobby" ends the collection by bringing in a Hammond organ. Hammonds or Farfisas were absolutely essential in the 60's, and being the guy who hauled one to shows was almost as prized as the guy with the full drum kit. This is the sound Elvis Costello chose to start his career with and it still works. Combine this with another twangy, tipsy guitar riff and fun doubled-lead vocals and you've got a killer conclusion. 

This album is "Name Your Price" on Bandcamp so I grabbed one right away. You literally can't go wrong!

Become A Fan

Thank You for Your Feedback (I) is an album by Cognitive Constellation Corps, the electronic music project of Belfast artist Brooke Tamsin Clevenger. Clevenger has worked with synthesizers and computer based recording systems since the mid 1990s, producing a large catalogue concerned with memory, identity, consciousness, and communication.

The album contains nine songs across a concise 31 minutes. Clevenger’s discography identifies it as Album 3 and describes it as an experiment with pop and the fourth wall. An alternate version appeared soon afterward, placing these songs within a much larger collection of recordings released throughout 2025.

“Opening Loop (i)” introduces the album with a patient arrangement, a processed vocal, and a steady 4/4 beat. The glossy production draws from pop, while the vocal treatment gives the song a more uncanny character. “Signal Received (i)” develops that approach further. Through headphones, the precise timing and carefully shaped delivery give the voice a stylized presence that suits the song’s technological imagery. A simple arpeggiated synthesizer repeats underneath, supporting its theme of transmission and response.

The title song changes the vocal character and introduces traces of soul and R&B. Its expressive phrasing gives emotional weight to language commonly associated with automated replies. The words could communicate gratitude, dismissal, resignation, or an attempt to bring a conversation to an end. “Echo Chamber (i)” moves with the measured pace of a ballad, while “The Curve of Clarity (i)” contains one of the album’s most immediate melodies. “Threadbare, Threadshare (i)” continues its interest in repetition and incomplete communication. At just over two minutes, “The Response Loop (You’re Still Talking)” presents that idea in its most concise form. “Harmonic Distortion (i)” follows before “Always (i) [Sevahem]” closes the record with a term connected to Clevenger’s wider philosophical vocabulary.

I began recording bands in the 1990s, when obtaining clean audio could be a challenge in itself. Listening to this album, I was struck by how thoroughly that priority has changed. Clarity is now readily available, giving artists more freedom to shape voices, alter textures, and place familiar pop elements in unfamiliar settings. Clevenger uses that freedom as part of the album’s identity, allowing the processed vocals to reinforce its interest in technology and communication.

The album’s electronic aesthetic invites comparisons to Aphex Twin or Boards of Canada, though I would not place it at the same level of compositional complexity. Its approach is more closely aligned with pop which I think overall is more accessible for the masses. 

The record contains several interesting production choices within an aesthetic that has become increasingly common in recent years. Its ideas about processed voices and digital communication give those familiar techniques a clear purpose, and I am interested in hearing how Clevenger develops them on future releases.

Become A Fan

I remember listening to New Age spiritual albums back in the ’90s, when their marketing frequently revolved around the supposed properties of different frequencies. You would encounter claims about 432 Hz, 528 Hz, or 639 Hz, each credited with its own form of “healing.” I have to be honest: As an engineer, I don’t think there is any special magic in one frequency over another. I can say, however, that certain frequencies and combinations of sound can produce distinct emotional responses. That brings me to Cale Anderson’s Yemaya (We All Come From the Goddess). On Bandcamp, Anderson states that all the instruments on the project were tuned between 443.90 and 445 Hz, averaging roughly 444 Hz. The songs themselves appear to have been mixed conventionally, with the expected spectrum of frequencies present throughout.

For all its emphasis on tuning, Yemaya draws most of its power from more familiar sources: dense electronic textures, blunt rhythms, meditative drones, and voices treated until they sound detached from the bodies that produced them. Anderson moves among New Age mysticism, lo fi hip hop, IDM, and abrasive experimental music without fully settling into any of them. 

“We All Come From the Goddess” opens the album with dissonance and atmosphere that was well done. Electronic fragments, scattered vocals, and seemingly unrelated parts are held together by a steady 4/4 beat. Eventually, the song shifts into a lo fi hip hop rhythm that isn’t far removed from older Four Tet or Prefuse 73. “Mother of Souls” has excellent bass, along with poetic ramblings that seem intent on provoking the listener. At times, its theatrical discomfort reminded me a little of Xiu Xiu.

“The Pearl of the Woman God” was the standout track for me. It has a compelling groove, sharpened by just enough abrasion to keep it from becoming too comfortable. “444” returns to intensely serious spoken word poetry, delivered with ceremonial gravity. “Project Kali” features some cool beats, and I liked the meditative effect created by its sustained drone. The vocals are coated in Auto Tune, transforming them into something closer to a synthetic chant. “The Mindless Serenade” has its moments as well, and the album also includes instrumental versions that place greater emphasis on Anderson’s production.

The album has a predominantly electronic character that reminded me at various points of Aphex Twin, Boards of Canada, and Four Tet. Many of these songs are more invested in texture than melody. Bass collects beneath the arrangements, voices blur around the edges, and rough surfaces repeatedly disrupt the rhythm. That approach is perfectly valid, but don’t expect the singing to resolve into conventional hooks or memorable choruses.

I did appreciate Anderson's ambition to create something novel in this sort of New Age space that infuses other genres. There's a good amount to appreciate here so take a listen.

Qasim Naqvi approaches BirdWorld’s “Opposite Hinges” as material to be dismantled and rebuilt. Drawn from the group’s exceptional 2025 album Nurture, the track takes on a more elusive character in the longtime collaborator’s hands. 

Naqvi brings a wide musical history to the rework. Alongside his role as drummer for the minimalist trio Dawn of Midi, he has developed an extensive career as a composer, synthesist, and solo artist. His work across film, dance, installation art, orchestral music, and chamber performance provides useful context for a recording governed by space, texture, and dramatic tension.

The opening is dominated by drums that carry the looseness of a free jazz improvisation. The playing supplies motion without settling into a clearly defined groove, leaving the percussion to circle around the track’s darker textures. Long synthesizer tones enter and recede while the bass remains largely fixed on a single note, producing an atonal web of sounds with an uneasy sense of anticipation. Rather than guiding the listener through distinct sections, the piece allows small changes in volume, density, and tone to become the main events.

As the drones accumulate, the boundaries between the individual instruments begin to blur. The percussion appears to recede into the background, while the sustained electronic tones gradually occupy more space. Around two minutes and thirty seconds, the central drone surges forward in a broad crescendo, swallowing much of the remaining detail and pushing the track toward its peak. The tension does not break afterward. It simply loses mass, with the music slowly dissipating until only the remnants of its atmosphere remain.

I was reminded of early Amon Tobin, with a smaller trace of DJ Shadow in the murky rhythms and electronic detail. The piece has few structural turns with very little happening around melodic development or phase transitions. Its strength lies in its moody sustained tension. Dark, mysterious, and subtly disorienting, “Opposite Hinges” carries the cinematic unease of a David Lynch scene whose danger remains just outside the frame.

SilverHorizon’s self-titled debut feels like a record pulled from the passenger seat of a well-used car: familiar, uncomplicated, and ready to play loudly with the windows down. The Massachusetts trio favors direct rhythms, clean guitar lines, and choruses designed to settle in quickly. Its 13 songs revisit the approachable side of 1990s alternative rock while tracing the uncertainty, ambition, and self-questioning that often accompany early adulthood.

Formed in Worcester County in 2024, SilverHorizon consists of guitarist and vocalist Bryce Broberg, bassist and vocalist Connor MacEachern, and drummer and vocalist Kenny Snider. The three musicians work from a modest but dependable vocabulary of bright guitar tones, firm backbeats, and pop-minded melodies while shifting between nervous momentum, summery ease, and more reflective moods.

Opener “Come Down” establishes the album’s ’90s character with a straightforward 4/4 groove and flashes of promise, though it never fully escapes the conventions it draws upon. “Where Do We Go?” poses one of rock music’s most frequently recycled questions, while “I Don’t Care” alternates between major and minor chord progressions over another steady 4/4 beat. These early songs are accessible, energetic and fun.

“Better Than This” is the best song on the album in my opinion. It's one of the album’s more contemporary-sounding tracks, it benefits from strong vocals, a crisp guitar groove, active bass work, and a chorus that earns its catchiness. I liked the balance of restraint and momentum here, and I hope to hear more songs like it from the group. “Goin’ Too Fast,” the album’s other standout, finds similar success through solid riffs and a groove that carries more personality than much of the surrounding material. I found a lot of the other songs to be accessible and easy to appreciate.

​I came of age in the 1990s, and I could hear that decade’s influence throughout this album. SilverHorizon favors simple arrangements and pop-forward melodies, avoiding complicated time signatures and abrupt key changes. That simplicity is not necessarily a weakness; this is music built for immediate familiarity rather than close technical study. The band is off to a solid start and look forward to hearing how they evolve over time. Check this out!

Become A Fan

I have a friend named Kelly who believes it's morally incumbent upon musicians, given our current regime, to make protest music. But let's be honest: some of us can pull it off, and some can't. David Scott Weaver is clearly the former, as he proves with his incisive yet humorous EP titled Songs of Hope and Resistance.

Weaver comes from Silver Spring, Maryland. He's an award-winning songwriter whose work spans several genres including Americana, Folk, Bluegrass, Gospel and Rock. We can add Protest to that list, and Weaver's country sound (bright, open arrangements with clearly-sung lyrics) lends itself to his insights and grievances. Some of his heroes include Tom Paxton, Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger and Bob Dylan, alongside contemporary voices like Crys Matthews and Steve Earle. Weaver has won several songwriting awards and has worked with John Jennings (producer for Mary Chapin Carpenter), Grammy winners Cathy Fink and Marcy Marxer, and songwriter Louisa Branscomb. 

Recording took place at The Bar in Gaithersburg, Maryland helmed by award-winning sound engineer Jim Robeson, with mastering at Nashville's Axis Studios.

In "Everything That Jesus Wouldn't Do" Weaver hits us with a languorous country arrangement right from the first slurred note, featuring most of his signature sounds: chiming acoustic guitar, pedal steel, fiddle and a small backing choir. There's no doubt who Weaver's talking about with "dropping bombs on kids" and "He lies, cheats and steals." But the line that really makes this song (except for the title) concludes each chorus: "(He) lives by the Golden Arch, not the Golden Rule." 

5-string Banjo takes center stage (with some cool mandolin later on) in "I Don't Want Your Billions, Mister" which is squarely aimed at the maker of Teslas, rocket ships and crypto coins. The structure here owes a bit to "May The Circle Be Unbroken" and the feel is definitely Woody Guthrie, who also apparently inspired the title of "Fight the Fascists" an all-out raucous rocker. According to the artist the structure is drawn from "Greenback Dollar."

"We Cannot Bend" is certainly not referencing guitar notes, as a weeping dobro guides us through the song. Here we have a rallying cry in the face of "the pain they inflict / Upon the poor, the meek, the sick / Don't recognize what we've become / So much cruelty just leaves you numb." It's sweet and sad like the best folk protest music, with harmony vocals worthy of Joan Baez sung by Beth Nielsen Chapman. "I Still Have Hope" is a surprising Reggae track by way of John and Sean Lennon, where the upbeat arrangement matches the optimistic lyrics. The chorus sounds a bit like "Living in Hope" by The Rutles. The concluding "Thoughts and Prayers" was produced by Cathy Fink, and is sung by Crys Matthews. The interplay of her powerful vocals with incisive lead electric guitar and fulsome chorus singers makes this a great swan song.

As I mentioned, some artists can "do" protest music way better than others, and Weaver has got to be at the top of the list.

Appropriately based in Washington D.C. we have Youth In Government, a space rock duo with a new collection called Silhouettes. This is the kind of album you both enjoy hearing, but also go a little nuts trying to figure out who they sound like. Before seeing their list of influences, I did guess Radiohead along with Bowie and Eno's "German era." The band also mentions the 4AD catalog, Slowdive, the Cure and a little combo called The Beatles. Within the indie community they also have tracks that reminded me of synth artist Kiffie.

Youth In Government consists of Chris Mathews-Larsen  (guitar/vocals) and Trae Tomko (drums/vocals/sampler) with assorted guests. They specifically describe their music as "expansive space rock that blends the psychedelic textures of the 1970's with the atmospheric haze of shoegaze and the emotional sweep of post-rock. Equal parts cosmic and cathartic, channeling shimmering guitars, immersive soundscapes and driving rhythms into songs that feel both nostalgic and forward-looking." Seven years in the making, this album began recording in earnest in the summer of 2023 mostly at Ramblewood Studios. Mixing was by Ben Green at Ivakota Studios, with mastering by Taylor Deupree at 12k Mastering.

"Ad Astra" (Latin for "to the stars") is a song title that seems to pop up a lot. YIG's version is based on a deep drone with echo'd guitar notes and expansive reverb, like Lou Reed and the early Velvets.

Two minutes in, the vocals appear with a matter-of-fact quality like another Lou named Barlow. Guesting on this track are Erin Erin Snedecor​ (cello) and Annemarie Guske (backing vox). "Lost" is an epic psychedelic track that evokes both ex-Husker Bob Mould and lots of 60's garage bands with its Jefferson Airplane vocals and retro fuzz lead. "Riversong" has descending, shimmering Leslie guitars like the Beatles, which then moves into a solid dreamrock framework. Sam Cooper reappears on lead and tremolo guitar.  

"Satellites" has a long, magical fade-in a la early Genesis that fully explodes in wonder once you've cranked up the volume. I'm reaching way back to Syd Barrett Pink Floyd, but the mixture the guys have created also feels quite original, as the drums create an intricate, pulsing lattice into which the guitars comfortably lay, topped by some of the most impassioned vocals thus far (aided by Rachel Kline​). "Splintered" is an ear-splitting psych rocker in which Mathews-Larsen does almost everything except drums (that's Tomko) and backing vocals (Rachel Kline). This is the kind of song where the guitars are so loud that the vocals are like messages received at the mouth of a tunnel. But... sounds great!

"Returning" starts out practically acoustic, with Mellotron-like synth and shimmering guitars, but soon kicks into laid-back rock with clomping beats and bracing chorus assertions. This track goes so many directions at once that all I can do is marvel. Like, was it country for a second? Dreampop? Clearly the guest spots by Sam Cooper (slide guitar) and Erin Snedecor (cello) along with all those keys by Mathews-Larsen helps. "If You Need Someone" is a cover of a song by The Field Mice (active in the late 80's) and is the most straight-ahead rocker, though the heavy reverb returns as always. 

"Disseminate" is the sound of the band without vocals, sticking to a pretty simple, driving structure and using different instruments as the mood dictates. Jamie Darken guests on bass. "Heart" is the big 6.5-minute conclusion and the chords and beats are just as heavy and relentless as ever (not fast, just pounding!). The vocals are nearly lost in the heaviness, but at this point I've accepted that as part of their sound. The shimmering conclusion has a bit of Brian Wilson solo magic. 

This is the kind of album where every track currently playing becomes my favorite. See if you agree!

I stumbled upon this new single "Hell If I Know" by the Creatures of the Sun at a fortuitous time, not long after discovering the retro sounds of the Tom Hanks station "Boss Radio." The Hanks playlists not only cover my exact timeline, but reminds us of an infinite number of "garage band" tracks never included on the Nuggets sets or the endlessly recycled nostalgia streams (and shockingly, those Oldies Hits are highly monetized!). So I was more than ready for these guys!

Creatures of the Sun is a raucous trio that combines surf, garage and psychedelia in three-minute bites. As a huge fan of homegrown artists, I was excited to discover that creatures began as a bedroom project of guitarist, vocalist and songwriter Garrett Ballard, later adding Ben Fortenberry (bass/vocals) and James Mozina (drums). Among several honors, they were voted Best New Band of 2025 by the readers of Queen City Nerve. They're currently recording a full-length LP to be released in the Winter of 2026, of which this single is just a taste. Leader Garrett Ballard is also a graphic artist, handling the designs of the band's flyers, album art and merch.

The band's press release says that this single "...was written during a period of personal and creative frustration. Ballard sings of trying to get a clear look at something elusive, only to have it evade him every time. His lyrics touch on the universal search for meaning in a world that has stopped making sense. This is a song for questioning the gap between the life one is living and the life one wants to live." Recording and mixing took place at Fallen Trees Recording Studio in Mount Airy, NC and was mastered by Brad Sarno at Blue Jade Mastering.

The track begins with a blast of clean, bent-note surf licks on a twangy electric guitar, underlined by single bass notes and drum kicks. As the song proper begins, the guitar part drives forward playing the same licks while the bass provides a powerful counterpoint, almost a surf music and early Who hybrid. Ballard's lead vocals have the kind of laid-back, slightly conceited tone of Steve Miller, perfect for lyrics about looking askance at a current love affair: "If I had a crystal ball / And the devil's words ring true / It would come as no surprise / How you slipped right out of view." The band seems to generate its own unique reverb as the energy increases, a sort of "natural" LoFi sound.

The middle section is slightly muted as the vocals add a bit more sneer and attitude. I love the simple and catchy chorus of "How'd we end up here? Hell if I know, hell if I know!" The "middle eight" (as the Beatles would have called it) is almost the same as the verses, but with hooting instead of singing. By the end of the track my brain has failed to differentiate this track from the songs and styles I grew up on.

This is a foretaste that really has me excited for what's next! If you love retro, check them out!

Become A Fan

Freeze carries serious subject matter inside songs designed for immediate access. Adrielle Bow Belle draws from jazz, R&B, hip-hop, balladry, and contemporary pop, pairing memories of fear and violence with polished production and concise hooks. That contrast defines the album’s character. While the lyrics consider how anxiety travels between generations, the arrangements remain bright, direct, and grounded in recognizable musical forms. The nonchronological sequence reinforces the idea: past and present repeatedly cross paths, suggesting that public crisis and private fear are rarely confined to a single moment.

“Icey Roads” opens the record with a classic jazz groove before its larger production pushes the song toward pop. The arrangement grows flashier without losing its tight structure or steady rhythmic center. It introduces Bow Belle as a songwriter interested in accessibility, using a clean framework to carry material that could have become heavy-handed. The song’s immediate appeal also establishes the balance that guides much of Freeze, where difficult subjects are often delivered through approachable melodies.

“Come Home Tonight” follows with a bittersweet ballad shaped by R&B. Contemporary production gives the track a clean finish while keeping the emotional focus on the vocal. “Small Talk” introduces a slight hip-hop pulse, accompanied by solid singing and a hook that provides its main attraction. Neither song attempts to reinvent its genre, but both show how comfortably Bow Belle moves among familiar styles while maintaining the album’s pop center.

“Breaking News,” one of my personal favorites, brings piano into an upbeat arrangement that embraces pure pop without hesitation. Its lightness provides useful contrast to the record’s heavier concerns. “Bunker” then narrows the focus with a more intimate performance, punctuated by dramatic passages that give the song a sharper emotional edge. The transition between them captures the record’s larger method, placing brightness beside unease rather than separating them into distinct sections.

“Rockets” lullaby adjacent to me. Its soothing quality and relaxed pace make it one of the album’s gentlest moments, even as the title points toward violence beyond the song’s calm surface. That tension gives the track added force without requiring Bow Belle to overstate its meaning.

​I found the songwriting clear and direct, with each track following an easily recognizable form. Each works within an established genre rather than trying to dismantle it, though I would place Freeze beneath the broad umbrella of pop. The lyrics are equally direct, communicating their ideas in language that listeners of many ages can understand. With recognizable styles, polished arrangements, and memorable hooks, Bow Belle makes an album about fear and collective memory easy to enter without reducing the seriousness of its subject.

Become A Fan

Trilogy finds Soul Rash following every promising idea, even when it leads somewhere unexpected. Across the album, the Laramie, Wyoming group moves from desert rock swagger to cosmic prog, then veers into country without pausing to explain the route. That restlessness gives the record its charm, though it also makes the band’s identity difficult to pin down. 

Formed during the pandemic, Soul Rash brings together Christopher Smith, Billy McKee, Jim Roberts, Chris Rybitski, and Brett Roberts. The five musicians work primarily as a studio project, drawing openly from Black Sabbath, Kansas, Pink Floyd, and Gov’t Mule. Since commercial touring is not part of the equation, recording has become the center of the band’s creative life.

Their third album, Trilogy, took three years to complete. Production paused for nearly two years while Roberts built Timber Canyon Studios in Wyoming, where most of the record was eventually made. Additional sessions took place at Carriage House Studios in Connecticut and other locations. The finished album sounds appropriately large, with towering drums, dense guitars, and little interest in restraint.

Opener “Divided We Stand” arrives with the thick guitars and crooked confidence of Queens of the Stone Age. Its construction is straightforward, but the band attacks it with enough volume and urgency to keep the familiar moves effective. A blaring solo provides the expected release. Anyone won over by this track will probably find plenty to enjoy across the album, even if the songs that follow refuse to remain in the same lane.

“Perfect Time” could almost be the work of another band. Its spacious reverb and patient atmosphere lean heavily toward Pink Floyd, replacing the opener’s blunt force with something more distant and dreamlike. The title track favors polished grandeur, while “Drink With the Devil” returns to the album’s cosmic tendencies. “Whiskey Town,” meanwhile, introduces a clear country influence.
As the album progresses "Breeze", "Hold Out Your Hand" and "Have a Cigar" were highlights. 

Soul Rash changes styles often enough that its reference points sometimes come into sharper focus than its own personality. That variety keeps Trilogy moving, but it also leaves the group’s signature somewhat elusive.

​That said I found plenty to appreciate here and thought the songs were well written, the production was great and liked the performances. Soul Rash direct riffs, prominent solos, and choruses designed to register quickly. That familiarity makes the album immediately accessible, while the band’s enthusiasm prevents it from feeling purely academic. I suspect many listeners will respond to that  combination of craftsmanship, volume, and unabashed affection for great and timeless genres. Check this out!

Become A Fan