Hide Inside The Moon is an album defined by control, patience, and a clear sense of purpose. John Beckmann once again handles the writing, music, and production for The Mortal Prophets, and I hear an artist working within carefully set boundaries rather than trying to overwhelm the listener. The arrangements pull from shoegaze, psychedelic rock and progressive rock without committing fully to either, keeping the focus on structure and mood instead of scale.

New vocal contributions from Tanner McGraw and Lawson Mars widen the emotional frame of the album, adding contrast and movement while staying fully integrated into Beckmann’s vision. Nothing here feels decorative or indulgent. The record moves according to its own internal rules, and it sticks to them.

Themes of memory, longing, and unstable timelines surface gradually through pacing and tone. I hear that immediately on the opener “Mad Girl’s Love Song (Sylvia Plath),” where the hazy guitar textures and slow burn vocal delivery place the album’s priorities front and center, drawing a clear line to artists like Beach House and My Bloody Valentine without sounding derivative. “Eyes in the Sky” picks up the tempo, and I was drawn to the drumming here, especially the way the delays and rhythmic choices give the song forward motion while keeping the vocals sharp and memorable.

“Blue Velvet” returns to denser guitar tones, but the vocal mix stays present, refusing the buried approach that often defines shoegaze. I was especially taken with the acoustic experimentation on “My Future Past,” which shares a loose, playful songwriting sensibility with Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, as does “Desert of No End (Cy Twombly).” The title track “Hide Inside the Moon” leans into an unmistakable 80s synth palette, while songs like “Through Colors” and “Fight Beneath the Stars” stand out for their melodic clarity.

​At sixteen tracks, the album moves quickly. Most songs land in the two to three minute range, and there is very little deviation from that format. I found myself wanting one or two longer pieces that might push deeper into the shoegaze and psychedelic ideas the album hints at, but Beckmann commits instead to a concise pop structure across the board. That choice limits exploration but strengthens cohesion. The songwriting holds up throughout, and while not every idea is fully expanded, the record contains enough strong moments to justify sustained and repeated listening. Another great album by Mortal Prophets!

Reverie ....From Then Till resists the urge to frame itself as a statement. I hear it behaving more like a working document, a place where thoughts are allowed to linger long enough to become songs. Michellar’s debut feels rooted in the act of translation, taking private impressions and patiently shaping them into something shareable. The writing suggests a songwriter learning how to listen back to herself, adjusting phrasing and melody until the emotional temperature feels right. Instead of presenting a locked in persona, the album traces movement, the slow sharpening of intent that comes when making music shifts from curiosity to commitment.

That sense of development is closely tied to Michellar’s collaboration with producer Tobias Wilson. His arrangements leave space for vulnerability, giving the songs structure without sanding down their natural unevenness. “It’s Another Year” sets the tone with warm picked guitar and restrained percussion, landing somewhere between reflective and quietly hopeful. It suits the season it gestures toward, carrying a soft melancholy that feels inviting rather than heavy.

“Running Wild” featuring Harrison Black pivots into pop country territory, with a brighter vocal presence and a more polished arc. “Intersection” featuring Tobias Wilson moves quickly, driven by banjo lines that push the song forward with nervous energy.

As the record unfolds, reflection becomes a recurring thread. “Promise” sits in a subdued emotional register, while “September” featuring Helen Walford leans even further into restraint, letting sadness surface without dramatics. “We Both Can Fall” featuring Gracie Lou brings an Americana tint, its harmonies adding warmth to the album’s prevailing introspection.

The mood remains largely contemplative, though “Get Me There to Church” featuring Harrison Black and Helen Walford stands out as the most outward facing moment. It carries a sense of lift and release that feels deliberately placed, offering relief without breaking the album’s internal logic. “The Star” closes the record on a thoughtful note, leaving questions open rather than tying them up.

Lyrically and structurally, the album draws heavily on memory, both in its language and in its rotating cast of vocal collaborators. That shifting presence gives the record a mixtape like quality, reinforcing the idea of songs as snapshots rather than declarations. I hear an artist focused on craft, variety, and emotional honesty, building a foundation rather than chasing a finish line. Reverie ....From Then Till works because it stays attentive to its own process, inviting listeners into that unfolding rather than presenting it as complete.

michellar.com

Ted Hajnasiewicz is a folky singer-songwriter-rocker from Minneapolis who's just released what he calls a "Double EP" titled Tadeusz, which also happens to be his birth name. Ted does it all, from solo performing to rocking with his band Hebba Jebba or with his partner Doyle Turner in the International Treasures. He also notes: "I like short walks on the beach - long walks are too long."

Hajnasiewicz describes this album as "me realizing who I am, (both) as a creative person and a human being, and 'trying' to focus less on 'performance' (streams, likes, sales, etc.). Art forward, heart forward. This album spans rock and roll, folk/singer-songwriter, maybe a little country when country wasn't cool? It's all the sounds I grew up on, rolled into one collection." I did intially peg Hajnasiewicz as a folkie from the John Prine school (with some of the humor of Loudon Wainwright) but you'll get whiplash if you try figuring out all his genres.

As stated, this album is made up of two distinct parts, with the first half recorded at Wildhurst Studio in Wavonia, MN, and the second at HebbaJebba in Watertown. The respective producers are Gary Spencer and Dave Mehling, with Spencer mastering the full collection.

Following Hajnasiewicz's lead, let's start with the first half of the album which he calls "Tadeusz." We begin with the quietly acoustic "Forgotten Melodies" which is shortly filled out with nicely recorded electric slide guitar, bass and piano (all Ted). Hajnasiewicz has a pleasant, earnest voice, where even his vocal tone disarms your defenses and opens your heart. The drums are digital, but as usual nowadays, you absolutely can't tell. “Love Song for Dusty” was co-written with Hajnasiewicz's partner Doyle Turner and immediately kicks into rock-Americana mode a la Tom Petty, and features Chris Rose on additional guitars and producer Gary Spencer on drums. It's a whooping good time in a neck-snapping two minutes and change!

"Easy to Love" continues the rock feel, keeping his pickup band and adding Steve Peffer on Hammond B3. The main riff owes a bit to Lennon's "I've Got A Feeling" (and why not?) but of course Ted makes this sweet, amiable love song all his own (he truly DOES got a feeling!). Nice twangy lead guitars here too. "There's a Price for Everything" starts as a rock dirge but quickly pretties up, with just Hajnasiewicz and Peffer covering all bases. Again, you'd never know it wasn't a full band in the studio. Hajnasiewicz delivers an impassioned story-song about "the man who lost the world... (he) realized there's a price for everything." 

"I Wanna Marry You" starts the "Teddy" portion of our show with a jangly upbeat rocker about wanting to marry someone! Hajnasiewicz does it all yet again, with classy assist from saxophone player Ronny Loew. We already know this song has a happy ending with the line: "Twenty years later you're still my dream / Even if my engine's running out of steam." Continuing in the pop vein, 

"Star Gazer" has a sound close to "So You Wanna Be A Rock and Roll Star" (go figure!) or The Monkees. This track really warms my retro heart! "Don't worry if it sounds like shit / it'll be a Hit once we learn to play." LOL! 

"The Last Time" is a notably acoustic track from the White Album school, with this stunning opening verse: "The last time that I cried was the day I was born." Hajnasiewicz shares the playing with producer Dave Mehling, and there's something spooky and magical about this track. "The Most Interesting Man in the World" harkens back to those beer commercials with that suave gray-haired guy, but the lyrics paint a picture of a more quirky, possibly dangerous fellow: "He'll turn night into day til you can't keep track of your mind." Hajnasiewicz again pairs with Mehling plus Peffer's keys for a rousing pop-rock sendoff. 

While not strictly retro, there's enough old sounds here to please the ancient among us, while being good enough to stand on its own in any era. Great songs!

Flagrant Orange is a cool indie duo from Portland, Oregon. They began as a live performing band (and would regroup for shows again later) but took a three-year break in 2022. Guitarist Jeremy Fanders started creating heavy backing tracks on Studio One by himself, which he later sent to Misty Nikula, who added vocals via Garage Band. They've finally released their second album titled Erosion. Flagrant Orange’s songs try to capture the love, loss, loneliness and need to connect that define the human condition.

Playing this album through, my main impression is that this is what Chrissie Hynde would have sounded like with a darker, heavier backing band. The songs and arrangements are so consistent, it's going to be hard for me to focus on the individual parts. In fact, Fanders was inspired by Chris Cornell to design an album that played continuously, with all the songs linked musically. It reminds me of what Rolling Stone said about Led Zeppelin II: "Like one exceptionally heavy song spread out over two sides." Be sure to buy and download this album to get the "gapless" playback effect!

Some of the band's influences include The Afghan Whigs, Big Wreck, Alice in Chains and Kings of Leon, though Fanders admits: "Because I pull from so many places, I don't know who to compare this to!" Recording by Fanders took place in Sherwood, Oregon, with final mixing by Enrique Escalona.

"Transparent" opens the album with a fuzzy two-note riff, as Nikula sings clearly and beautifully over the top, with stunning overdubs in the choruses. Given that Nikula writes all the lyrics, you can feel the emotional ownership, especially with a song dealing with a damaged but "transparent" soul. Low digital strings underscore the deep emotions. For the final two minutes we finally hear the sound of a full band. The conclusion is like a swarm of locusts that finally explodes into "Philautia" which is a churning rock arrangement bathed in dissonant strings; think Chrissie Hynde meets The Velvet Underground. Your new word for today is the song title Philautia, which means "an egotistical, self-obsessed focus that believes itself superior, disconnecting from others."

"Enough" keeps the deliberate pacing but doubles down on the grungy power chords, and Fanders is certainly a master at these, even adding a short, exciting solo toward the end. This is the kind of song I was always expecting from Blue Öyster Cult, instead of the goodtime rock and roll they often played. The same goes for "Green Dragon" which doubles the riff speed while retaining the same tempo, sweetened with what sounds like jet planes passing by. This track truly brings the heaviosity for its full seven minutes! The conclusion is a huge surprise, as a clarion call of feedback welcomes Pete Townshend-style synth patterns in a major key, acting as a gateway to the equally upbeat "I Wonder Why" where Fanders delivers some sweet guitar harmonies throughout. I can't tell if the narrator loves her relationship or is wondering why she can't escape, but by the anger-infected "Leave" she's clearly made up her mind: I just want you to leave / Get up and leave / Oh, fuckin’ leave!" 

Much slower and circumspect, "Rice Paper Thin" feels like the conclusion of a song suite, with Nikula finally pronouncing "This is the last song I'll sing for you." Very cool production choices here, including what sounded like the Salvation Army Band. The concluding and title track "Erosion" seems to refer to the erosion of a relationship (I guess we weren't done after all!). It's amazing how much poetic and artistic mileage Nikula gets from this topic! As before, the guitars, strings and production do not disappoint.

As I stated up top, this is an album to be heard as a whole, and I can almost guarantee it's worth the effort. Great, great stuff!

flagrantorange.com

Mic Mountain and Tronbeatz approach MicTronics with discipline and clarity. From the opening bars, I hear a record that commits fully to its foundations. The drums hit with steady force, the samples feel worn and tactile, and Mic Mountain’s delivery moves with the confidence of someone who knows exactly how much space a bar needs. His Afro Latino and Native American background is folded into the music through tone and perspective, shaping how the verses move between humor, pressure, and regional pride. 

The collaboration works because both sides stay locked into the same priorities. Recorded at Mountain High Studios and mixed and mastered by Mr. Scratch Hook, the album pays close attention to balance and placement. Cuts snap cleanly, beats leave room for breath, and nothing crowds the vocal. 
​
“Chill You Got It” leans into a familiar 90s atmosphere, carried by a lo fi beat that lets the rhyme patterns stretch comfortably. “Back in the Day Pt. 2” brings a harder edge, packed with vinyl scratches and a confrontational energy that brought Run the Jewels to mind. “DMV MC” pushes that turntable presence even further, making the scratches part of the song’s momentum. “Conan Swords” sits in a thick pocket of reverb, and Mic Mountain sounds especially forceful here, pressing each bar with intention. “Got That Motion” featuring CrDnlSn moves at a slower pace, while “Mystery Weed” lands as a standout, playful without slipping into novelty.

“Scooba Scrap Raps” featuring Thirstin Howl the 3rd rides a heavy bass line and sharp back and forth exchanges. “Broken Glass” with The Bad Seed digs into darker terrain, and “Nautical Flow” lifts into something more open and atmospheric. The album closes with “It’s a Wave,” a confident finish that keeps the energy intact through the final moments.

Every track stays under three minutes, a choice that keeps the album moving quickly and encourages repeat spins. The lo fi production adds texture and character, and the writing stays sharp throughout. Longtime hip hop listeners will recognize familiar delivery styles and approaches, but the execution remains focused and deliberate. MicTronics runs lean, hits consistently, and leaves plenty of reason to come back.

Indie art-rock artist June LaLonde is a trans-femme singer-songwriter from Minneapolis with a new album called Framemaker. The music is guitar-based pop rock inspired by the bands LaLonde grew up with: Blur, The Notwist, Bombay Bicycle Club, Modest Mouse, Eels and others. As a child of psychedelia I can tell you her sounds stretch even further back than that!

The songs explore grief, identity and hope in the face of the artist losing her mother and two other close friends. LaLonde explains that since her mother's prognosis, "I've found myself turning to traditions and wisdom I'd violently sworn off. As a trans woman it places me in a small niche within a niche where the answers to questions that I have lay on paths not so well-tread. If life can be thought of as a painting, then I think music is its frame: complimenting, sympathizing and generally helping to resolve, adorn or make sense of it for us. Musicians, then, are frame makers."

LaLonde writes, performs and produces her music with a couple guests. She notes that no AI was used (sad that you gotta say that!). Mixing and mastering was by Sorrel Grice. Available by download or vinyl, but the cassettes have sold out! Based on her Bandcamp followers and reviews, LaLonde appears to have a large and devoted fan base.

The title track "Framemaker" begins with percolating, percussive synth patterns atop that comforting record surface noise. Soon we've got a solid drum backing behind crisp alternative guitars. LaLonde has a pleasing tenor singing voice and writes herself lots of lyrics. This track obviously "frames" the concept of the album: "I gotta do this just to keep myself sane / Craft a thousand empty frames just for the sake of my pain." Musically the song sticks to the same riffs but slowly multiplies the guitars to a crescendo. "Something Grand" starts with a distant printer sound that leads into a retro-synth track, with the analog bleeps and bloops sharing space with clean guitars. The tempo suddenly kicks into double time, reminding me of Radiohead at their most accessible. The song itself is a touching ode to a passed love one: "I saw they opened up the sky for you... I saw the rainbow shine in every hue."

"Halo" is the third track in a row to begin with a sound effect (birds chirping). It's a notably upbeat, pop-infected tune with jangly guitars and a glorious chorus. Don Houver guests on bass. "For A Girl" starts out a little like Tears For Fears, but settles into an intimate ballad with gorgeous phasing guitars on the extreme left and right. I can't help but think of my own lady when LaLonde sings: "You don't know how good you look in that dress / Cigarettes and Eyeshadow." The next track "Land of Kings" starts out with sawing orchestral strings, weird horns and pinched fuzz riffs (an amazing sound right up there with Brian May!). This track is quite psychedelic (think Magical Mystery Tour) and features Lattice, Sorrel, Suede and Tubes on "Gang Vox." Easily my favorite so far!

LaLonde doesn't list Supertramp among her influences but I defy you to hear "Everyday" and not think of the vocals and keys of "Dreamer!" (I'm a fan so I dig it!). There's more incredible production here, even without Ken Scott at the board! Continuing the pattern of mixing the weird with the sublime, "Howling Bodies" opens with a guitar freakout that could have continued much longer, but settles into another Oasis or Radiohead-tempo pop rocker. "Sun Eater" is an intriguing title for an Eastern-sounding track with echo'd guitars chiming like a mantra that envelop the listener. LaLonde's vocals here have the throw-away quality of The Weakerthans. 

There's 12 songs total, and each one exhibits the same level of audio care and deep creativity, with the kind of emotional intimacy that's sometimes forbidding, but ultimately cleansing. I'm sure I'll continue hearing new things every time I play it!​

Lucy Birthday Black Hole by Xay Cole stretches out across fourteen tracks, and I hear it as a record that thrives on looseness, humor, and risk. The production leans lo fi and unpolished, but the messiness feels intentional, a space where ideas are allowed to collide instead of lining up neatly. There is a playful unpredictability running through the album, one that values motion and surprise over cohesion for its own sake.

“Fight Night” opens the record in a flurry, with layers of instrumentation all moving at once. The song piles sound on sound until it borders on chaos, circling a strange, carnival tinted energy that sets the tone for what follows. “Ribbon Start is Pyramid Bracket” locks into an inventive beat built around thrashy drums and abrupt shifts, and I found the experimentation here especially engaging. The transitions are sharp and unexpected, giving the track a sense of momentum without settling into comfort. “Brooklyn Hype (Not Me)” pushes things forward with more drive than I anticipated, landing with a directness that cuts through the abstraction and sounds confident in its forward motion.

At over eight minutes, “Violent Agreement” acts as a centerpiece, constantly rerouting itself through new ideas and textures. The song moves freely, jumping between moods and structures in a way that stays engaging instead of indulgent. That attention to sound design carries into “Worth Seeing,” where the album leans further into abstraction. “System” continues the thread with another strong showing, full of unusual turns that open up rabbit holes and reward patience. Tracks like “Worth Less,” “Spotlight (Open the Door),” and “Afghan Hound (I’m in the Mall)” keep the energy shifting, each one adding another angle to the album’s restless personality.

The closer, “Designer Drugs,” is the album’s most expansive statement. It moves from a subtle chiptune shimmer into distorted bass, catchy melodic fragments, and moments of full blown disorder. I was pulled in by how much ground it covers without losing its grip. Lucy Birthday Black Hole signals clear growth for Xay Cole, driven by ambition and a willingness to let experimentation lead. It is an album that asks for attention and curiosity, and it offers plenty in return for listeners willing to stay with it.

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Jim D’Angelo, working once again as Don't Blink, returns with One Voice, an album shaped by tension and conviction. It's a response to the political temperature of the moment, specifically the opening stretch of Donald Trump’s second administration, but the record avoids slogans and easy outrage. D’Angelo stays rooted in what his project does best.

The sound is immediately familiar, built on sturdy rhythm sections, melodic bass lines, and guitar tones that drift into psychedelia without losing their footing. If you have followed Don’t Blink before, this album feels like a refinement of an established voice, not a pivot away from it.

“One Voice Flying In A Bird Cage” sets the tone early, locking into a deep groove driven by drums and bass while the guitars ripple and bend around the edges. The chorus carries a steady sense of resolve as D’Angelo asks whether we are willing to stand up for what we believe in, whether in daylight or darkness. The question is left unanswered, giving the song its gravity. “In Your Hands” pushes that energy forward, and I was especially drawn to the bass work, which adds both momentum and weight to the song’s message about shared responsibility and collective power.

The title track “One Voice” turns inward, reflecting on the path that led to the present moment. Its slower, more searching tone provides a necessary pause in the album’s flow. “Burning Through A Screen” follows with a more relaxed feel, anchored by a walking bass line that gives the track its sense of movement.

“Boxing Day” leans into synth textures and a nostalgic undercurrent, while “Step By Step” and “Line Of Fire” keep the pacing steady and focused. “A Tender Heart” offers a quieter emotional turn, and the closing track “Moment We’re In” ends the album with a note of cautious hope.

​Taken together, One Voice holds tension and optimism in the same frame, acknowledging division without letting it dominate the narrative. The album rewards close listening, built on strong musicianship and a clear point of view that trusts the songs to carry their own weight.

Rachael Wilson’s Mad Dream is an inviting release that contains warm instrumentation and a fairly timeless vibe. The songs are fairly straightforward in terms of structure but also well performed and full of emotion.

The title track, “Mad Dream,” eases in with a familiar Americana and folk sensibility. I can hear a slight Big Thief vibe in the atmosphere, but Wilson leans more toward gospel, country, and the kind of deep-rooted melodic phrasing that feels traditional in some ways. The arrangement shifts directions more than once, touching other genres without losing its footing, and the vocals sound rich against the slide guitar that threads through the mix.

“Solid Ground” carries a spiritual tint that’s tough to pinpoint. It builds slowly, saving its bass and percussion for later, and the payoff is gentle and satisfying. “Consort” taps into a classic rock current with a light psychedelic haze, never pushing the trippier tendencies too far but using chorus/tremolo to give the vocals a shimmering halo.

“No Glory” stands out for me. The spiritual mood returns here, not just in the tone but in the way Wilson sings about glory with conviction that feels both personal and pointed. The track also nods toward Jefferson Airplane in its energy and urgency. “Beloved You” steps fully into country, wearing its Loretta Lynn influence openly. It’s inviting, warm, and comfortable in tradition.

“Jewelry Box” keeps one foot in Americana but reaches toward something more dreamlike. The instrumentation including what sounds like a wooden flute gives it a slightly surreal tint, making it the most overtly psychedelic piece on the EP but again avoiding going too far down road..

The EP shifts through several sub-genres, but never in a way that feels scattered. The production ties everything together with an organic touch, and the performances have a clarity that highlights Wilson’s intention as a writer and vocalist. The compositions are thoughtful, confident, and worth spending time with.

Unfiltered is the kind of album that could only exist right now. I hear a record shaped by tools that didn’t fully exist even five years ago, and that alone gives it a strange appeal. E.L.W.12 presents the project as something built from a single creative center, but as I move through these songs I keep sensing a second presence leaning over the work. The precision is uncanny. The transitions snap into place with spotless symmetry. Even when the songwriting leans human, there’s an imprint around the borders that feels like something quietly steering the process toward clarity, order, and a kind of engineered emotional logic.

I’m told the album began in isolation. Early sketches, lyrics, and production choices all came from one mind, and I can hear that tight focus in the way the tracks lock into their own internal patterns. Still, Unfiltered doesn’t feel like the product of solitude. It feels like the sum of countless mini-influences, absorbed and reorganized by an unseen system. E.L.W.12 mentions a network of “silent contributors” who offered feedback along the way, and I find myself wondering who or what that actually includes.

Songs like “Wires Between Us”, “Push Me And I Rise” and “Texting Chemistry” highlight this duality. The vocals slip into an auto-tuned gleam that sits right between pop radio and something slightly synthetic. At times I could swear I’m hearing a carbon-copy echo of Rihanna phrasing, almost as if the track is referencing a composite memory of pop rather than a single identifiable voice. The structures are familiar. The chord changes resolve exactly where years of listening have trained me to expect them. It isn’t imitation in a cheap way so much as pop distilled into its most statistically efficient form.

Listening to Unfiltered feels like dropping every major pop trend of the last decade into a blender and watching the mixture settle into something smooth but unmistakably pre-patterned. Even the splicing between sections has that automated neatness I associate with machine workflows. Every song sounds like it could be a hit, or at least the shadow of one I heard sometime between 2014 and now. I don’t mean that as a criticism. It’s more like recognizing how far technology has come in shaping not just how music is made, but how it thinks.

By the time the album closes, I’m left with a sense of an artist searching for a voice while an invisible system quietly filters out the noise. The interplay is what makes the record interesting. There’s intention in the foreground, but something patient and methodical humming beneath it that shapes the final form.

​If E.L.W.12 set out to define a sonic identity, I think he gets close. I also think he didn’t do it alone, and that tension between authorship and assistance is what gives Unfiltered its strange, undeniable character.

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