I went into The Rhymes of the Damned with no real expectations, but it became clear early on that Phantom Pat has a very defined sense of purpose. The Cincinnati born rapper has been uploading tracks to YouTube since his teens, and that long stretch of DIY work shows up in the grain of the music. Nothing feels coached. Nothing feels shaped for approval. His previous album, Unleash the Doombox, leaned into a 90s throwback identity, but this new project aims for something he frames as the version of hip hop that should have evolved and did not. I could hear that conviction in the way he delivers commentary with edge and intention.

The record has an unfiltered quality, almost like he is speaking directly into the mic without trying to smooth anything out. He points to Nas, KRS One, and Public Enemy as touchstones, and those influences echo in the attitude as much as the sonics.

“Mooncat OG” opens the album with an organ driven beat and a vocal inflection that immediately sets him apart. The delivery carries a rough bite and the wordplay lands cleanly. “U P R D” takes things into a more cerebral space with a slightly new age leaning beat, though the rapping keeps the same focused approach. “A Doozy” stands out with a fuzzy bass tone that reminded me a little of Run The Jewels. “Odyssey of a Ghost” has its moments, and “The Estate 1991” pairs a haunting piano line with some of his sharpest rhymes.

“Why I Oughta” is one of the more chaotic cuts, with a fluctuating bass line and production elements that swoop across the stereo field. “Gangland” feels rooted in a different lineage altogether. The upright bass groove hints at Snoop or Tribe. “Shadow Cats” brings in heavier guitars, and “The Gospel” moves in a more soulful direction. “Stefani” is one of the more upbeat tracks, built around horns, before the album closes on “Voices from Beyond,” another piece that leans into a moody, spectral atmosphere.

​The rapping has a very distinct style that Pat returns to across the record. Whether that consistency feels grounding or repetitive will depend on the listener, but there are memorable ideas and solid tracks throughout. It is worth spending time with.

Become A Fan

I came into XTC without any prior connection to Wagner the Band, and it did not take long for me to understand the loyalty they have built. The commitment to vintage gear and minimal overdubs is not just a production choice. It is the foundation of the album’s personality. Everything feels played, lived, and pushed through physical air rather than digital precision, and that immediacy drew me in from the opening moments.

“Don't Stop Movin'” sets the tone with a straight to the veins rock and roll build. The guitars buzz with warmth, the groove snaps into place, and the lyrics lean into a kind of upbeat encouragement that never tips into corny. When “Run Away with Me (feat. Helena May)” hits, the record shifts into a 90s rock pulse. Helena May’s presence lifts the song into a more soulful space, and it becomes one of the early standouts. The title track nods toward the 80s, and I found myself thinking about INXS in the way the rhythm locks in.

“Golden” feels looser and more sunlit, built with horns, acoustic guitar, and a bass line that carries everything with ease. “Good Enough” ended up being one of my favorites. The vocal approach has real character, and the 70s ballad spirit with a bluesy lead line cutting through fits the band perfectly. “Last of Your Kind” pulls back into a piano led reflection, reaching for sincerity without overplaying it. “Little Thief” leans into a kind of 70s lounge haze, with keys that settle into the pocket.

By the time “Moonshine Symphony” rolls in with falsetto lines, chorused guitars, and another strong bass performance, the album has already proven its range. “Reptilian Attack” snaps the energy back upward, and “Daisy” closes things with a smooth, slightly R and B leaning feel that adds a modern touch.

​A lot of records try to cover this much ground and end up feeling scattered. XTC works because the songwriting stays anchored even as the genres shift. The retro flavor is real, but the band’s voice is what makes the album stick. I walked in cold, and by the end I understood exactly what they are about.

Larry Karpenko’s new release arrives wrapped in tinsel and unexpected left turns. It is, on paper, a Christmas album, but what he delivers feels closer to a seasonal mixtape filtered through his own sensibilities. I went in expecting something safe and familiar. Instead, I landed in a set of songs that shift from orchestral grandeur to jazz club looseness to synth-driven spectacle, all while keeping the holiday spirit intact.

“Lullaby for a King” opens the record with a surprisingly solemn mood. Sweeping orchestral synths stretch across the track, and I felt the emotional pull almost immediately. It is pretty in a very deliberate way, setting the stage for something more expansive than a standard carol collection. “Away in a Manger” snaps the energy into a different lane. The beat is cool and slightly jazzy, the percussion pops in unexpected places, and the horns give it a lift. The bells and the vocal delivery land with confidence.

“One Small Child” rides a tight groove with melodies that stuck with me long after. Then Karpenko drops “Mary, Did You Know?” which erupts with massive synths. I wasn’t ready for how cinematic it sounded. The scale is bold and almost overwhelming in a way that works.

From there, the album takes another sharp turn. “What Child Is This?” becomes a full-on jazz moment, and I loved the drum tone and the easy whistling floating through the arrangement. “You're Here” steps into a reflective new age groove, and “Jesus, You're Christmas” pulls things back into soft-focus jazz. The vocals on this track are some of the album’s strongest.

“Christmas Time Is Here” brings a calming haze with more jazzy inflections before “Carol of the Bells” leans into something slightly eerie, shaped by unusual effects and a darker undertone. “Hark! The Herald” breaks the spell with a bright, festive pulse. “Celebrate the King” goes full velocity. There is so much happening that I had to recalibrate while listening, and the maximalist rush reminded me a bit of Sufjan Stevens’ more chaotic holiday work. “Adore” closes the album on a gentler note with gorgeous vocal harmonies, especially from the higher-register voice that glides through the mix.

​What Karpenko pulls off here is a Christmas album that refuses to commit to one lane. A lot of it leans into jazz, but plenty of it doesn’t. What ties everything together are the themes and the sense of seasonal warmth beneath the stylistic detours. It is varied, imaginative, and surprisingly easy to sink into at this time of year.

PSYCHEDELIKA Pt. 1 is the new release from The New Citizen Kane and it arrives wrapped in one of the most absurd album covers I have seen in years. It is so over the top in a good way that I had to stare at it for a minute before pressing play. The title hints at something exploratory or mind altering, but the music does not wander into psychedelic territory. Instead, the record feels built for the kind of night where you lose track of time inside a club and everything blurs into kinetic lights, sweat, and repetition. That is the emotional throughline here, a celebration of forward motion over introspection.

“Welcome To Psychedelika” starts with a classic four on the floor beat and a set of ascending synth runs that embody the album’s intention. It is pure dance music, structured around familiarity rather than novelty. “I Don't Need To Say (Radio Edit)” introduces heavily processed vocals, multiple singers, and sharp melodic phrases that feel engineered for instant recognition. “Here, Now” doubles down on the club aesthetic, pulling from timeless techno tropes that prioritize energy above all else.

By the time “My Muse” arrives, I began noticing how many vocalists populate this project. I could not figure out who the singers were and the song titles do not offer much clarity. “Heads Are Round” returns charged synth patterns that overflow with energy, while “San Diego” takes a straightforward pop route with glossy hooks and little deviation from the formula.

As the album continues, there are moments where the writing and production come together really well. “Well, Damn! Here You Are” uses a set of programmed keys that feel slightly more idiosyncratic. “Bite The Bullet” has flashes of something more textured even though it stays tightly inside the pop framework. “It's Saturday and I'm High” leans into catchy simplicity and would probably thrive on a playlist built for pre gaming. “Afterglow,” sung entirely in another language, adds one last curveball and further reinforces the feeling that this project pulls from many different sessions.

This album had a mixtape type vibe due to the different vocalists. Every track seems designed for maximum accessibility, never straying from the comfort of familiar structures. If you want club centered pop songs that hit quickly, feel instantly recognizable, and maintain a steady pulse, PSYCHEDELIKA Pt. 1 delivers exactly that.

Sonnen Blume just released a debut album and I went in mostly blind. There is almost no information about who they are and I could not find a single name attached to the project. They mention Velvet Underground as a core influence, but I hardly hear any trace of that in these songs.

​Listening through, I kept feeling like I had encountered this music before. The vocalist in particular sent my brain searching for a reference point. Her tone strikes me as something I have heard in other dream pop projects, so familiar that it almost felt uncanny. The album sits firmly in dream pop territory. The songs are straightforward with mournful vocals drifting over reverb coated arrangements.

“Satellite” feels familiar to the point where I started wondering if I had heard it on a playlist years ago. The production is pristinely polished and I kept questioning what elements were tracked live and what might be sampled. The melody is pleasant, though the song follows a progression that I could see coming from early on. “Spaniels” leans into a deeper melancholy while “Making Coffee” arrives with lush textures that mirror the mood of the surrounding tracks. I started noticing how similar these songs are which isn't a bad thing because they do it well. 

“Tschüss” stood out only because I found myself wondering what was going on linguistically. The split between perfect German and English (sung perfectly) is intriguing even though the overall aesthetic remains unchanged. “Gongoozle” stays laid back and relaxed. “Vitosha” brings a small hint of soul. “10th December” lands in a reflective place. “Neon Hearts” speeds things up a bit with a sharper, melodic pulse. “The Clock” finally breaks the pattern by shifting into something more lo fi.

The vocals are almost too perfect. I kept asking myself why they sounded like an amalgamation of so many female vocalists I have heard over the past decade. The delivery has that trendy softness that shaped a lot of indie pop and dream pop in recent years. Every note is centered, every phrase lands precisely, and nothing ever drifts out of key.

The songwriting is sturdy and the production is undeniably impressive, but there is very little experimentation of any kind. Most tracks follow a similar pop shaped structure with slight adjustments in mood. It is very well executed, yet the anonymity surrounding the project and the strange familiarity of the voice left me with more questions than answers. There is a sense of mystery built into the presentation, one that feels both intentional and a little disorienting.

Become A Fan

Norine Braun’s A Hero In The Wind feels rooted in a process that most artists would never risk. The Vancouver singer-songwriter recorded the first five tracks live-off-the-floor in one-hour sessions during Steve Dawson’s Henhouse pop-up series, which means there was no space for revisions or careful polishing. I can hear that immediacy in the performances. Braun’s blend of roots rock, blues, folk, and soul benefits from the pressure of the clock, and the spontaneity gives the songs a wide-open feel that suits her writing.

The players around her make the material feel grounded and warm. Dawson brings both guitar and pedal steel, Darryl Havers adds expressive keys, Geoff Hicks and Liam MacDonald split drum duties, Jeremy Holmes handles bass, and Alice Fraser adds light harmony support. As a group, they capture the energy of musicians reacting in real time rather than constructing something piece by piece.

“A Hero In The Wind” opens with slide guitar, drums, and a sound that leans lush and almost dreamlike. As the song builds, the dynamic shifts hit with real force, and I found myself pulled in by the vocal melodies and the clarity of the recording. “Just One Night” carries a strong 70s streak in its groove and tone, while “Bolts From The Blue” is the liveliest moment so far. The rhythm section locks in tight, and I really enjoyed the bass work, there’s a natural bounce to it that keeps the track moving.

“East Van Crossing” works well too, especially in the way the keys and guitars weave around each other. “Cannonball” turns inward with a more reflective, ballad-like feel. “Bird With a Song to Sing (Special Version Remix)” shifts into something almost French café–influenced, full of accordion, horns, and a playful percussive backdrop. “Eye of the Hurricane” moves toward a more cinematic atmosphere, full of long reverbs and a dreamy haze. “2020 Reprise” stands apart with a slightly edgier, more rock-driven tone that hints at experimentation. It was an interesting way to end the album.

By the end, I felt like I’d moved through a wide emotional and stylistic range without the album losing its center. The songwriting is strong, the performances feel alive, and the recording quality elevates the entire set. I genuinely enjoyed this one.

This is my first encounter with The Kiss That Took A Trip, the long running solo project of Madrid based artist M. D. Trello. He writes, records, and assembles everything himself, and Horror Vacui captures that singular vision in one twenty minute sweep.

The track opens with a sparse piano melody hovering over an ominous pad, and I immediately felt the tension of a slow building scene in a psychological horror film. As strings, drums, and other textures slide in, the music starts leaning toward post rock in a way that reminded me of Godspeed You! Black Emperor, while the piano phrasing hints at the NIN influence Trello openly cites.

When the vocals appear, they are drenched in delay and land in a gloomy, distant register that made me think of Thom Yorke’s more spectral deliveries. The guitars break through later with a brightness that shifts the tone toward something more hopeful. True to the genre’s instincts, the piece gradually thickens as layers pile up, reverb washes blur the edges, and the arrangement grows dense enough that the separation between instruments becomes more about mood than clarity.

The first major breakdown hits around the seven minute mark, and I liked the way multiple melodies thread in and out of each other before the track pushes into its more epic climb. Another breakdown follows, this one drifting into a dream sequence zone that feels like a cutaway moment in a film where everything becomes slightly unreal. I could not always make out the exact spoken word lyrics through the heavy delay, but the emotional intent carried through. By the end, the track tilts into a warm, almost uplifting groove, with synth tones that would not feel out of place in alternative pop.

​As a whole, I thought the structure worked. The production is solid, and I appreciated how clearly Trello defined each section even as he let the sound blur and smear at the edges. The first half held my favorite moments, but the full arc has a satisfying sense of movement. If you are into post rock or long form atmospheric pieces that also rock, this is definitely worth a listen.

Suris make the kind of music that first strikes me as elegant but grows stranger and more alluring the longer I sit with it. Pertinax is built around Lindsey Mackie’s textured, expressive vocals and the duo’s atmospheric production, drifting through art rock, dream pop, and alt-folk with a calm assurance. 

Lindsey handles the writing and keys, Dave shapes the guitars, bass, and production, and together they bend structure to mood rather than the other way around. The title, meaning “to persist stoically,” makes sense once you realize how much of this record is built by the two of them alone. Pertinax feels like a fully realized statement from artists who trust their instincts and push at the edges of their own sound.

“Mended” opens the album with a brooding swell that eventually cracks into a full rock track, complete with these gothic, bell-like textures that grabbed me right away. “Last Train Home” brings a bit of ’70s swing; I loved the rhythm section here and how the atmosphere deepens around it. “Now” moves like a ballad, its keys and orchestration merging into something soft but purposeful.

“Eruption” gives me flashes of The Beatles, especially in its buoyant melodies. It’s one of the catchiest songs here and one of the most immediate. “Whole” leans into a lush, almost orchestral elegance, while “Take All She Brings” hits with a sharper edge, carrying a Radiohead-like tension. “Huma” brings one of the record’s best sax moments, and “Still Life” taps into another distinctly ’70s palette.

“Wayman” rides on a killer groove, and “Armour of Love” carries a Bowie-style cool that never feels forced. The band doesn’t lose momentum either “Listen” hits hard, and “Born To Be With You” brings things into a more reflective place. They close with “Fugue,” a proper finale built on swirling textures and a slow-burn intensity.

​There’s a lot to latch onto in Pertinax. The mood stays shadowed, but there’s plenty of brightness threaded through it. There was a lot of attention to detail and also thought the vocals sounded unique. I came away with a sense that this is a duo fully inhabiting their sound, and the more time I spent with the album, the more there was to uncover.

​Rotterdam drummer and composer Ruud Voesten recently released the album Ambrosia. Drawing on the opening section of The Divine Comedy, he uses the capital sins as loose architecture, letting the band move through tension, restraint, and sudden volatility. It is both literary and physical, an album that treats jazz as a space where ideas can flicker into flame.

One of the first things that grabbed my attention is the way Ambrosia II turns improvisation into an emotional landscape. Each piece settles into a different emotional zone but nothing feels locked down. The group constantly shifts shape, opening space for eruptions, fractures, and unexpected recombinations. The result is a record that balances discipline with risk, built on sharp instincts rather than rigid direction.

“Strand” opens the album and immediately pulled me in with its organic production and the way every instrument breathes. The horns, drums, and upright bass interact with a looseness that never loses precision. “Good things come to those who ...” stretches toward the ten minute mark  as a slow burn that demands full attention. The jump in momentum halfway through hit me like a scene change, almost as if two pieces were stitched together in real time.

“Icarus” is a standout, thanks to horn work that feels full and commanding in the mix. “But what if I'm Watson?” pushes further into experimental territory with long cello passages that give it a cinematic pull. “Luchtig” is another highlight, and the timing twists and rhythmic playfulness made it one of the most exciting moments for me.

The upright bass on “The best at marshmallow test” is fantastic, anchoring the track with a deep and nimble pulse. “Klatergoud” surprises with synth pads tucked into its groove, while “Raw beans” drifts into a more contemplative sadness. “Lure” carries a regal tone, and “Tuin” closes things out with an off kilter and exploratory energy.

I really appreciated the  balance between traditional jazz language and the less predictable and more exploratory passages. It feels wired for listeners who appreciate jazz in any form, classic, modern, or free leaning. Ambrosia II is a great jazz album that is well worth your time.

Belgian indie artist Nikki Roger writes with a kind of unguarded openness that I rarely encounter in albums chasing sharp edges or studio polish. His debut Dream On feels anchored in the quiet rooms of everyday life, where family routines, brief flashes of hope, and the heavier parts of memory sit side by side. Across its eight songs, the record moves with the ease of someone jotting down thoughts in real time. I kept hearing the sense of a person documenting their inner landscape without cleaning up the smudges.

Dream On carries a full DIY spirit, and the limitations are part of its identity rather than obstacles. Acoustic sketches broaden into full band arrangements, and the charm comes from the unfiltered textures. The guitars glow with a handmade warmth, the vocals waver in a way that feels human, and none of it reaches for gloss. It hints at the spirit of 90s indie, yet the writing itself feels entirely present tense.

“Dream On” opens the album, and I immediately locked into the bass line and the relaxed vocal phrasing. The song gradually tightens, and the shift in the midpoint adds energy without breaking the flow. “Lose It All” stands out right away. The harmonies and bass give it a steady lift, and I kept thinking of Local Natives in the way everything interlocks as well as the vocals. “See You Again” slides into a pulse that reminded me a bit of Tame Impala, while “Look At Your Mother” brings one of the most striking hooks here.

“Little Bird” is a fascinating turn. There is a thread of 70s folk woven through it, although the production choices keep it grounded in a contemporary space. “Sweet Little Child” leans into an Americana warmth, and the sincerity in the delivery landed for me. “The Lonesome Road” is strong even with its lo fi roughness, and the imperfections almost add character. “Ride Along” closes the album with a wide and surprisingly rock leaning finale that feels like the project opening its lungs for a final breath.

Dream On is a great album that I throughly enjoyed. There is more than enough here to settle into and appreciate. Take a listen.