A Space Between marks the third full-length release from Numb Project in less than a year, and it feels like Chris Calarco is continuing to carve out his own lane. The Portland producer blurs the edges between abstract and lo-fi hip-hop, downtempo grooves, and dub-soaked trip-hop. This album feels like a meditation on existing in between—on the beauty of not needing to arrive anywhere. It moves through shifting spaces with patience, finding meaning in subtle transitions and the quiet moments between beats. With rich melodies and textured layers, A Space Between pulses with a boom bap heartbeat while exploring deeper emotional and musical terrain. It leans into the power of silence, letting pauses speak as loudly as the rhythms.

When I hit play, it immediately brought to mind artists like Prefuse 73, Four Tet, and The Avalanches. There’s a cerebral, atmospheric quality that reminded me of the kind of hip-hop that was emerging two decades ago. The type that favored mood, texture, and introspection over flashy hooks. It felt familiar but still fresh enough to pull me in.

“A Monkst” opens the album with jazzy undertones, wavy textures, and hip-hop-infused drums. The track feels smooth, and I loved the moments where the rhythm shifts slightly out of sync, giving it an unpredictable charm. “All Souls” stays rooted in jazz but picks up the tempo, layering in vocal samples that act more like instrumental flourishes than a focal point. It’s subtle and well-placed.

“Delia” stood out as one of my favorites. The offbeat percussion gives it a hypnotic, slightly disoriented groove that leans into psychedelic territory. It feels introspective, like wandering through your own thoughts. “Silverado in Dub” had me thinking of a version of Aphex Twin filtered through a hip-hop lens, blending glitchy textures with deep grooves.

The journey continues with “Bloom,” which shimmers with crystalline detail, and “Split Width,” where deep upright bass lines anchor the track while layers of sound orbit around it. Things get more abstract with “Bowling for Time,” a track that felt like being pulled through a warped, shifting timeline where beats dissolve and reassemble in unexpected ways.

Tracks like “Empty Impasse,” “Bail Me Out,” and “Leaves” kept revealing new textures with every listen. “Still She Dreams” was a clear highlight, and I highly recommend watching the video to fully appreciate its layered atmosphere. The album closes with “5 AM,” a lush, reflective track that feels like watching the first light of day after a long night of thinking too much.

This is a seriously good album. The production feels original and thoughtful, with beats and textures that weave together in a way that feels cohesive without being predictable. It is the kind of album that invites you to sit with it, whether you are zoning out or diving deep into every detail. Take a listen.

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​Mark Walsh’s latest single "Saturn" feels like a reflection of those moments when the universe suddenly becomes larger than life and painfully personal at the same time. Inspired by his first viewing of *Interstellar*, Walsh channels the film’s expansive themes of time, distance, and fragile connection into a track that feels both grounded and celestial. The story unfolds naturally. A full moon drive, lyrics arriving uninvited, and a guitar session later that night where vision turned into sound.

"Saturn" opens in a quiet, almost hesitant way. Soft guitar strums and intimate vocals set the scene, as if Walsh is carefully placing each thought into the void. It does not stay in that minimalist space for long. When the bass and drums enter, the track fills out with a pulse that leans into hip-hop and electronic territory. The beat adds weight without overwhelming the core sentiment, giving the song a contemporary edge that feels effortlessly modern.

Walsh’s vocal delivery walks a fine line between attitude and vulnerability. There is a subtle confidence in his tone, but it never sacrifices emotion. The slight touch of autotune is tastefully done, adding a glossy texture rather than masking anything. It complements the song’s atmosphere, reinforcing that sense of drifting somewhere between reality and something more cosmic.

What struck me most about "Saturn" is how balanced it feels. It is a pop song that does not chase trends, but it still sounds like it belongs firmly in the present. Walsh manages to weave together introspection and sleek production without tipping too far in either direction. I found myself appreciating how he translated a cinematic epiphany into something so concise and listenable. "Saturn" might have been sparked by thoughts of space and time, but at its core, it is a reminder that even the vastness of the universe can be distilled into a three-minute moment of connection.

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Aaron Wylder’s new single "To So Few" pulled me in from the first gentle strum. There is a quiet sincerity in the way it begins. Just soft guitar and vocals, stripped down and reflective, like a late-night conversation you didn’t know you needed. What really struck me was the warmth radiating from every note. The production feels organic and unforced. It is not trying to overwhelm or impress. Instead, it feels like an invitation to sit with your thoughts for a while and embrace a sense of calm.

As the song progresses, subtle layers start to emerge. The bass hums beneath the surface, adding a gentle pulse that gives the track movement without disrupting its delicate core. Atmospheric textures float in and out, creating a sense of space that wraps around you. Then come the orchestral strings, passing through like a fleeting memory. It is one of those moments that feels both surprising and perfectly placed. A quiet crescendo that never loses its intimacy.

By the time "To So Few" ended, I found myself wishing it would continue. There is a sense of unresolved beauty, like a thought left hanging in the air. That feeling pushed me to explore more of Wylder’s catalog. I quickly discovered that this wasn’t a fluke. His music consistently carries a thread of emotional honesty and understated craftsmanship. 

"To So Few" stands out as a reminder that songs don’t need grand gestures to leave a mark. Sometimes it is the subtlety, the restraint, and the spaces between the notes that resonate the most. This track stayed with me long after it finished, and thankfully, Wylder has plenty more to offer for when you are not quite ready to return to the noise of the world.

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As a fan of groups like Cracker, Camper Van Beethoven, Sebadoh, R.E.M. and Captain Beefheart, I never thought I’d stumble onto an album that somehow combines all these sounds and styles! Matt McClure is a folk and rock artist from Henderson, Nevada who’s just released his fifth album titled you are like the moon to me. Its beating heart is a dedication to jagged, broken guitar melodies and twisted storytelling lyrics, with a surprisingly lush and jangly coating.  

One of the first facts to jump out at me is that this album was recorded mostly on McClure’s phone! Though I know such things are possible, I can’t imagine how you’d go about getting such a diversity of arrangements that way (I can barely record a voice memo!). It appears to me that all guitars, drones and vocals are by McClure, with the drum tracks borrowed from some kind of Garage Band app. The sound is described as “a hybrid that moves between melancholic indie rock and experimental lo-fi.”

McClure walks us through his album’s themes: ”It’s largely about being lost later in one’s life, and searching for meaning in a world that doesn’t often make sense. It’s a reflection of what it feels like to suddenly realize you’re an adult, overwhelmed by the weight of your own sudden existence, trying to navigate it with no roadmap or life experiences to draw upon.” He explores ideas about death, heartbreak and the afterlife, and offers a raw and unflinching look at the complexities of the modern age.

The opening track “Coughers” seems to set McClure’s sound firmly in the folk-rock school, with deep drums, shimmering acoustic and satisfying slabs of electric guitar. As previously mentioned I’m a Camper fan and McClure’s vocals very much remind me of lead singer David Lowery; even the music has a sort of Camper swagger melded with R.E.M. guitars.

“That Coach is Lying” takes a big left turn into fragmentary Beefheart-like guitar riffing with lurching, tumbling beats to match. Both this song and the previous track also have a synth or keyboard undertone that adds a lot of weight (and maybe some distortion!). “Former Farmer” is what McClure might term an “energetic dance anthem” with jumpy beats and brash chords, with a bit of a string arrangement added in somehow. Also fun lyrics about how “I will haunt you when I can / And it may be sooner…”

“Solving for Siblings” has a lovely 60’s jangle paired with busy beats, more strings and witty lyrics: “This talk is going great / But we could do it for hours and still not know what to say / They make robots for this…” Musically the next track “Yarn Collective” feels like a continuation, except exclusively on close-mic’d acoustic guitars that sound like mandolins playing chamber music. I know this is wrong but I’m sensing parallels to the biblical story of Abraham and Issac within the lyrics (“Our father tried to offer him up to the sun / Take him from me before I rip out his tongue”). “Eastern Outs” is a slab of glorious, way over-modulated jangle pop. “Solid Stares” has one of the most stunning arrangements, moving from jangle acoustic to pounding hard rock in the blink of an eye. McClure’s tendency to “drone” definitely recalls John Cale and the early Velvets.

“Bill Country” is an alternative rock classic with very loud echoes of the sainted Campers. “Mayo” is like an afterlife DEVO before defaulting to LoFi grunge rock. “Distant Dogs” alternates having the lyrics following the guitar’s lyrical lines with presenting them in waves of droning octaves. “In Minor Rooms” closes out the album with intense, beautiful acoustic picking and low drones, atop which McClure adds a final David Lowery-style vocal (Lowery himself even liked my mention of this track on Bluesky!). The track adds layers of strings as it reaches its emotional conclusion: “I only now see that I tried to hard to believe / In the emptiness that you passed on to me.”

After I got this album for review I wrote to my editor: “Thanks for this. You really know me!” But I also know I’ll have lots of company getting excited over this unique and quirky artist and his excellent new album! Recommended!

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Consolation Prize is the debut album by Nashville duo Lips Speak Louder, which aims to create “hooky pop melodies with blistering guitar and bombastic drums” and thus to create a living, breathing tribute to 90’s-2000’s grunge. 

Music industry veterans Rachel Brandsness and Angela Lese had been working on various projects for about a year, before deciding to join forces in a rock duo they’d both long imagined. They gave themselves a creative challenge: how big a sonic profile could they create with just two people? The results have been compared to bands like Garbage, The Killers, Bully and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. They’ve also had two highly successful showcases at South By Southwest, and their fifth single landed on Spotify’s coveted Discover Weekly playlist. 


All songs were written by Rachel Brandsness and Angie Lese, with producer Emily Wolfe pitching in on some arrangements and even featured on the track "Lose My Head." Recording took place at Sweetwater Studios in Fort Wayne, Indiana with production by guitarist Emily Wolfe. Release will be in both digital and vinyl.

“Hype” wastes no time in cranking the guitars to 11, while still making use of the classic Nirvana “Loud-quiet-loud” dynamic. As mentioned, the vocals owe a debt to Garbage vocalist Shirley Manson. The guitars have a definite edge, as if being played with a razor! “Loser” expands the sound a bit with Breeders-like riffing and a trebly Rickenbacker bass sound. The group mixes the guitars just a bit lower and we’re treated to some lovely double-tracked vocals. On “Lose My Head” the women are joined by producer Emily Wolfe on guitar. However, this track does have a pop-rock sheen that blasts out from the pack, like a super-grunge Bangles. 

“Crush” adds some terrific harmonic guitar lines to the band’s sound; the slightly muted quality of the power chords appeals to me more than the full-on onslaught, with a bit more vulnerability to the lead vocals as well. It bears repeating that this track, along with the others, is an effortless pop miracle in structure and arrangement. “Dog Days of Summer” proceeds in almost folky fashion (see Dar Williams “The End of the Summer”) and explores a quieter aspect of the duo’s sound, until erupting in blasting, celebratory rock halfway through. The lead vocals recall the power of Ann Wilson. “Spooky Girl” is a fuzz-and-feedback fest that sounds like your favorite stomp pedal writ large, with rapid, clever guitar riffs propelling the track. I’ve already mentioned Heart, but this could be the greatest Heart track ever recorded!

“Staring At The Sun” is a super-fast workout with a microscopic trace of rockabilly at its core. The combination of all-out guitars and somewhat “intimate” (right on the mic) vocals works great here. There’s an almost orchestral structure to the C-section. “Never Felt So Fine” has riffs that are so molten, I’m amazed they didn’t melt the recorder! The closing “Handle With Care” is not a Traveling Wilburys cover (too bad!) but closes out the collection with ringing riffs from the Sebadoh school, thus becoming one of my favorites.

Ten tracks total, all with varying degrees of killer rock. Witness the magnificence for yourself!

The Brighton Project channels a version of rock that feels increasingly rare: bold, unapologetic, and unafraid to have fun. Rooted in classic rock tradition but delivered with a playful edge, their music embraces the idea that not everything needs to be serious to leave an impact. They have built a solid catalog, but a few tracks immediately showed me what makes this band stand out.

“God Bless Jason Aldean” opens with gritty distorted guitars and a steady 4/4 beat, setting the stage for something unpredictable. The vocals took me by surprise, landing somewhere between spoken word and the raw energy of early Beastie Boys. It is not quite rapping, but it carries a sharp, indignant tone that keeps you on edge. Just as things start to spiral toward chaos, a catchy hook reins it back in. Some vocal moments drift into the absurd, but that only adds to the song's character. It is brash, humorous, and entirely its own thing.

“New Orleans is Sinking” leans into a more traditional groove-driven rock sound. The organ swells, guitar fills, and tight rhythm section give the track a bluesy swagger. The vocal harmonies bring depth, and when the breakdown arrives with the line “bring it down deep,” I could not help but think of The Doors at their most hypnotic. The horns burst through with a celebratory flair, making it easy to imagine this song transforming a live crowd into a full-blown party.

“When It Rains” embraces the towering sound of 80s arena rock with guitars that seem destined to fill stadiums. Just when I thought I had it figured out, the track veered into a funky groove that gave a nod to the Spin Doctors. The guitar work here is standout, shifting effortlessly between sharp riffs and soaring leads. The vocalist matches that energy, delivering a performance that feels both raw and triumphant. The ending lands with the kind of victorious flair that demands fists in the air.

The Brighton Project captures the spirit of a time when rock music was both larger than life and genuinely fun. There is no overthinking and no need for irony. This is a band reveling in the joy of making music that feels alive. It is the kind of sound that belongs in crowded venues, blasting through speakers, and pulling people into the moment. Definitely worth a listen.

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Michael Vettraino’s latest single "A Lie Not Alive" commands attention from the first note. Influenced by boundary-pushers like Mk.gee, Jean Dawson, and Saya Gray, Vettraino doesn’t simply merge genres but creates a sound that feels entirely his own. The track explores themes of humanity, societal decay, and the long shadows cast by greed, all framed within reflections on geological timescales. It is a rare piece that balances introspection with a broader commentary on the state of the world.

The song opens with weighty synths that feel expansive without overwhelming. Vettraino’s baritone vocals bring a presence that immediately reminded me of Nick Cave, carrying a sense of quiet authority and reflection. Layers of vocal harmonies add warmth beneath the dense electronic foundation. As the track progresses, an acoustic guitar slips into the mix, offering a subtle organic contrast. When the drums arrive and the vocals climb into a higher register, the song shifts into something more dynamic and unpredictable, holding my attention throughout.

There is a quiet confidence in the way "A Lie Not Alive" develops, avoiding obvious hooks or predictable moves. It rewards careful listening, revealing subtle details that deepen its impact over time. I kept coming back to it, not because it demands attention, but because it offers something more reflective and enduring.

​Vettraino isn’t interested in quick impressions or following trends. He creates a space where ideas and emotions have room to resonate. It is a track that lingers long after it ends, inviting you to sit with it a little longer each time.

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Saturday Sessions, the latest release from The All’s Eye, captures the kind of spontaneous magic that can only happen when three musicians lock into a groove and let instinct take over. Recorded live at Barbershop Studios for Emmy-winning producer Matt Rifino’s Saturday Sessions series, the two-track release leans into raw analog warmth, blending soulful rhythms, psychedelic flourishes, and unrestrained improvisation. The trio of Ari Joshua (guitar), Ben Atkind (drums) , and Kris Yunker (organ) have an innate chemistry that is hard to deny.

The first track, a reimagined version of Joshua’s original “Gramama,” immediately transported me back to the nights I spent at The Canopy Club in Champaign, IL, where jam bands ruled and every song felt like an open-ended invitation. There’s an undeniable Grateful Dead spirit here. It's loose but intentional, with a deep respect for the groove. The interplay between the rolling drums, a slick walking bass line, crisp guitar licks, and that earthy, swirling organ had me hooked. It is the kind of track that makes sitting still impossible, built for dancing without thinking.

“Say What You Wanna Say” shifts slightly toward a more structured, song-forward approach but loses none of its freewheeling charm. The funk is dialed up, channeling flashes of Phish with a touch of James Brown swagger. The wah-soaked guitar riffs, tight drum fills, and a bassline that refuses to sit quietly form the backbone, but it’s the organ solo that truly steals the spotlight before passing the baton back to Joshua’s guitar. When the vocals arrive, they feel like a communal call. It's something you instinctively want to sing along with. The extended jams never overstay their welcome, thanks to the band’s sharp dynamics and the distinct personality each player brings to the table.

What floored me most was how polished yet alive these recordings felt. The All’s Eye operates with the kind of tightness that only comes from deep musical chemistry, but they never sacrifice the playful energy that makes jam-based music resonate. It’s rare to hear live recordings this polished, where every note feels both deliberate and daring.

If you have a soft spot for the improvisational spirit of Phish, the cosmic explorations of the Grateful Dead, or the groove-laden escapades of The String Cheese Incident, Saturday Sessions will feel like a familiar but thrilling ride. This is a release that reminds you why live music will always hit different.

​Brudini’s latest track, "Rogue Oligarch," thrives on tension, groove, and controlled chaos. Anchored by a pulsing bassline, the song feels like a collision between LCD Soundsystem’s dance-punk swagger and the dystopian grit of Radiohead’s "The National Anthem." It rides a steady 4/4 beat, weaving in sharp synth lines, bursts of horns, and layers that shift and mutate as the track progresses.

There’s a deliberate sparseness to the lyrics, but that minimalism feels like a strength rather than a void. Brudini knows when to let the instrumentation do the talking, allowing each element to drift in and out with a sense of spontaneity. The result is a track that constantly evolves without losing its footing.

Just past the two-minute mark, "Rogue Oligarch" detonates into a wall of guitars, transforming from a groove-heavy pulse to something far more volatile. It is a jolt of energy that feels both unexpected and inevitable. The momentum never lets up, carrying the track to a raucous conclusion that begs to be experienced in a live setting, where its raw intensity could fully ignite.

There’s a playful defiance running through the core of this song, a refusal to stay confined within genre expectations. "Rogue Oligarch" is equal parts dancefloor filler and rock eruption, and Brudini balances that duality with ease. If you are looking for a track that keeps you on your toes while demanding you move, this is worth your time.

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​Kingly T, the moniker of Titus N Whittle, leans into optimism with his latest single "We Can Do It." Framed by the artist as an anthem of self-belief and resilience, the track sets a hopeful tone ahead of his upcoming album, expected this spring. From the moment the upward-strummed guitar and steady 4/4 rhythm settle in, I felt a wave of calm wash over me. The production is polished but never overbearing, allowing the organic warmth of the instruments to shine through.

What stood out most were the vocals, rich and inviting, delivered with a sincerity that feels genuine rather than performative. The hook is undeniably catchy, radiating a sense of joy without slipping into cliché. When the guitar solo arrives, it does not demand attention but instead flows seamlessly with the song’s relaxed groove, adding another layer of serenity.

There is an undeniable charm in how "We Can Do It" balances positivity with a mellow, grounded energy. It is not just a call to persevere; it is a reminder to find peace in the process. The track does not rush, and that patience feels like part of its message. For fans of reggae, this is a song that taps into the genre’s core strength: music as a vehicle for uplift, reflection, and calm resolve. Kingly T is not shouting his rallying cry; he is inviting you to sway with it.

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