Emitter were formed in Chicago in 2000, but you'd be forgiven thinking they'd stepped out of the late-70's stadium rock heyday. They've just released a full-length album titled Extra Pale, but therein lies a tale: they actually recorded this album for Atlantic Records in 2005, but these songs are only just seeing the light (and ears) of day!
In 2003 Emitter had a coast-to-coast hit single with "White Trash Town" and also had a song featured in the movie "Dog Gone Love" and their forward momentum caught Atlantic's attention. The band recorded this album with producers Eric Klee and Marc Johnson at the renowned Pop Machine Studio in Indianapolis, featuring legendary drummer Kenny Aronoff. But in a sad downturn of fate, the 2006 release of Emitter's album never happened due to management shakeups, depleted funding and changes within the industry. The story might have ended there, but in a surprising twist founding members David Schoon and Steven Dale were able to buy back the unfinished masters, filling in the blanks and totally remixing. The music here is described as "heavy guitar grooves and driving rhythms which provide a launching pad for Jason Chappell's powerhouse vocals. Deeply soulful, somber at times, but most of all resilient, this is true to life rock n' roll that sounds both classic and immediate." For myself I get bits of 70's classic rockers like Boston and Styx, and even Led Zeppelin. "Carried Away" bursts through the stage doors with guitars blazing. Chappell's vocals immediately stake their territory with power and confidence, but are also sweetly melodic. This track's a masterclass in rock, with subtle tone changes, a bit of tremolo and even references to a lover "gone down to L.A." (Maybe I'll see her?) I love the double meaning of the term "Extra Pale" which of course I first took to be about beer. The song ends with a fragment of lone electric guitar, perhaps a leftover piece from the original sessions. "The Way It Is" combines Styx-Supertramp vocals with the rock majesty of The Who, including ARP-like filtered guitar chords. "Take A Drive" is a solid, crisp rocker with driving chords, claps, wah wah guitar and an irresistible pop chorus. The lyrics are a fun evocation of fun times: "You can go if you wanna, stay if you like / I'm warning you now, you'll be up all night / Throw your purse in the car and hold on tight." Track four (as it should) slows down for an expansive, chiming guitar ballad, and the absence of blasting amps allows us to revel in the vocal tones, especially in the simple croon of the name "Adelaide." Next up is a similarly gentle track called "Through." It features acoustic guitars, Rhodes piano and strings, sung from the viewpoint of a person "as frustrated as a first grader who can't find his way home / Feeling used up like a jukebox in an antique store." Whoever arranged the string section did an excellent job, and of course the vocal harmonies absolutely shine. A touch of analog synth really nails the tune. "Maria" is the third gentle ballad and again benefits from subtle synths and gorgeous strings, with secondary piano and acoustic guitar melodies played in unison. "Every Now And Then" closes the album with another wistful acoustic-based tune with orchestral rock choruses. I can now see the album starts with hard rock, then slows down and widens its sonic pallet in the second half. This was an interesting project to discover, and the songs totally deliver despite having aged over 20 years!
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Nate Sparks is a country artist from Virginia who aims to carry on the country-comedy tradition he and I grew up with, encompassing artists like Ray Stevens, Jerry Reed and even Johnny Cash ("A Boy Named Sue"). His amazing ability to write hilarious and relatable lyrics immediately sets the listener at ease, knowing each song will be just as satisfying as the last. His newest album is titled I'm Still Here and runs about 35 minutes, enough to hit the mark and leave you wanting more.
Sparks has not always been in the business for the laughs. He began writing songs at six, and his debut CD was released in 2005 with three songs charting in Toronto, Australia and throughout the world (including the U.S. of course!). He's previously released ten alt country/rockabilly albums, and among his honors are finishing top ten in the Nashville Music City Songwriter's Competition, and a Fan Favorites award for his single "My Greatest Success" (nice how that worked out!). The songs in this collection were recorded in various locations with guest like Jeff Bowen in Memphis and Ilzida Kashfullina in the Ukraine, with a video shot in Australia by Brandon Littler. Sparks mixed and mastered at his Chesapeake home studio using Reaper and Grand Finale software. My files for this album came through Dropbox, and since they downloaded alphabetically, the first song I heard was called "Gravity." I thought maybe it was chosen by Sparks as a "spotlight" track as it exemplifies everything that's great about this album, but with a lyrical conceit that's a cut above the rest. In this song, Sparks addresses "Gravity" as you would a problematic lover or spouse, with lines like "I hate it that I fell for her / Makes life an uphill climb" and "Gravity... no matter where I go, you're there / To make my smile a frown." The music is laid-back bluegrass with acoustic guitar, slide and banjo. No surprise that Sparks has a low, gravelly but authentic country singing style, but with nice chorus harmonies. Back to the correct running order, the album begins with the title track "I'm Still Here." Of course I immediately thought of the classic belter by Stephen Sondheim (originally inspired by Joan Crawford) and Sparks' version is roughly the same idea, but with a hard rockin' country band sound. Sparks lays out a truncated story of his life starting at childhood, but always ending with the triumphant chorus "I'm still here / Better than ever." I love the early life references including "Coat hangers for antennae wire... Pop Rocks made us feel so wired... Linda Blair had me sleeping in fear." But Sparks also brings the song around to modern days, with global warming and Covid. After "Gravity" we have "One More Shot of Jose" which is a classic rocker about dealing with divorce by downing shots of tequila with salt and lime. "I'm Not A Morning Person (The Ballad of Neal Steele)" is a peppy tune about NOT being peppy when you first awake. Great line: "I'd like to say that I admire these Morning People Folk / but I just think they're stupid for choosing to be woke." Some nice female harmonies on the choruses here, with a steady twanging electric guitar that recalls the Beatles or Byrds. "Slip On Shoes" is a fun romp about the seriously unfunny business of getting old, and again I'm embarrassed that I relate to every single line. "Time Moves On" ends the album on a serious note, with a majestic "Knocking On Heaven's Door" arrangement and love-soaked sentiments that would melt the hardest of hearts. When someone tells you they intend to be funny, that's often your cue to run screaming the other way. But Sparks delivers the comedy, the music and the general uplift of a satisfying album. Check it out!
I was in high school in the 90s, and back then music scenes would just pop up out of nowhere. I always thought it was because no one was on the internet yet. It felt organic. When the Seattle scene took over, my young mind was blown away. It didn’t feel calculated. It felt like something real was happening and you either caught it or you didn’t. Decades later, that same sound is still shaping people in different ways. Damian Wolf is one of those artists who clearly absorbed it and is now filtering it through his own perspective.
His single “Raptor” is a hardcore rock track that leans heavily into that grunge influence. The song rocks, and I like how the reverb-infused vocals interact with the metallic pressure of the instrumentation. There’s a slight haze to it at times that borders on shoegaze, but it never loses its edge. The guitars have that raw, immediate quality, and the tone feels intentionally rough around the edges in a way that works. Lyrically, the song sticks closely to its title. When he sings, “In my mind/You have tiny arms/And you run/Quickly when you hunt for meat,” he’s literally describing a raptor, and that directness fits the music. There’s no need to dress it up. The delivery and the sound carry the intensity. The riffs have a bit of that early Nirvana feel, but there’s also a heavier, more dragging quality that made me think of the Melvins. It sits somewhere between those two energies without leaning too hard in either direction. The track is less than two minutes long, and it doesn’t waste any time trying to be something it’s not. There isn’t really a traditional hook, but it doesn’t need one. The song is built on pressure and dynamics, and it gets in, delivers its impact, and gets out. It feels intentional, like stretching it any longer would take away from what it does best. “Raptor” is a track from his upcoming album Mortars, and if this is any indication, Wolf is more interested in capturing that raw, immediate feeling I remember from back then than polishing it into something safer.
Nearly three decades into their run, Siggy arrive with Wirehead. The Pasadena band, formed in a psychology graduate program and named with a wink toward Freud, has always had an intellectual thread running beneath the distortion. Here, that thread becomes literal. Their lead singer, Galen Buckwalter, a quadriplegic for over fifty years, recently participated in a Caltech research project that connects his brain directly to a computer. That experience doesn’t sit in the background of Wirehead. It’s embedded into it.
Up first is “Wirehead,” and the song has a clear 70s punk vibe but does enough to avoid sounding like a straight homage. It’s fun, loose, and playful. The hook expands in a way that reminded me of Talking Heads. “Couple of Minutes” leans more into a 90s alternative and shoegaze-adjacent feel. The Jesus and Mary Chain come to mind. The production sounds great here. It’s raw and organic but very well mixed. “Rimbaud” continues in that alternative space, with a more melancholy and thought-provoking verse while the hook hits harder with layers of distortion. On “Badman,” the band leans into that classic punk spirit in the vein of the Sex Pistols or Buzzcocks. “Long Depression” is a complete shift in pacing. It’s a slow burn with a more pensive, Pink Floyd-like atmosphere. “Heavy In The Light” brings in a classic Americana feel with a groove that would sit comfortably on a Tom Petty record. One of my favorites was “M80,” which had a more unique feel to me, with strong use of distortion and white noise and just great dynamics. “Sunk Cost” delivers some solid rock energy, while “Badman (EDM Version)” flips things into something more danceable without losing its edge. “John Lewis” is a fun, straightforward closer with bluesy sway but tons of attitude. This album moves across a wide range of styles and genres. There’s no denying that. That said, the songwriting holds up throughout, the lyrics are strong, and the production is top notch. There’s a lot here to appreciate, and it’s worth spending time with.
I was very happy to find the new Fendahlene single "Looking For A Break (Electric Version)" in my mailbox. Fendahlene was one of the first bands I reviewed in Pitch Perfect, but I was quickly made aware of their popularity within my indie music circle and beyond.
First, some background. Fendahlene is Paul Whiteley (guitar/lead vocal) and Ashley Hurst (bass/backing vocal). Among their many musical influences are 60's rock and soul, punk, garage, modern indie and alternative. After ten years within the Sydney Australia music scene, they moved to the UK and dropped their first vinyl release: "High And Low And Back Again" was recorded during the 2020 lockdown and sits proudly in my collection, a diverse and hard-rocking masterwork. Two of their later singles were mixed by Kevin Shirley, known for his work with Iron Maiden, The Black Crowes and Aerosmith. Their track "Glebe Point Road" had strong airplay on Australian commercial radio, with another two songs featured in a Sharp Stereo advertising campaign. This newest track was meant be "...a steaming, ‘in your face’ rocker, without the sonic guardrails and moderation of the acoustic-forward original. It has elements of garage rock, protopunk, alternative and a healthy dash of Australian rock." Lyrically, the song can be seen as "a cry for help from someone feeling entrapped in a bad relationship, but is that with a lover or partner, or perhaps a band manager full of false hope and unrealistic promises?" Recording and mixing was performed at Damien Gerard Studios in Australia by Russell Pilling, whose credits include the Hoodoo Gurus, The Lemonheads, The Church and Frenzel Rhomb. Mastering was by Fabian Tormin at Plaetin Mastering in Hamburg. When the boys say they intend to rock, they don't mess around! The guitar sound is immediately crisp and expansive, with a sound that competes with Bob Mould's classic tones. The bass kicks in as a full partner (not just bottom) and the mix exemplifies the best of alternative rock. The vocals have enough grit for rock but also feature the smooth melodic range of Sugar or Sebadoh. At first this sounded to me like a classic rock trio but now it's clear there's at least two guitars framing the bass and drums, and it's exactly enough. What I love most is that I can clearly hear the lyrics without any loss of guitar power or obvious mixing moves, and that's a tough trick to pull off! This is a quick song at just three minutes but not a second is wasted. Go visit this track or any of the Fendahlene releases and you'll see why they're a favorite band among so many of us!
There’s a certain kind of record that doesn’t separate music from the moment it’s made in. A Call to Federation, the recent album by Our Geology Club, leans directly into that idea, treating songwriting as a way to respond to social tension rather than avoid it. Political records aren’t rare, but I tend to respect the ones that actually try to engage instead of just gesture, and this one makes a clear attempt to grapple with something larger than itself.
“Staircase Requiem” opens with a groove that caught me off guard. It has a playful swing at first, almost loose in how it moves, before shifting away from that pocket entirely. I liked that unpredictability. The vocals carry a tone that reminded me a bit of the Stone Roses, giving the track a familiar anchor even as the arrangement shifts around it. “Blowing Ochre” moves in a different direction, landing somewhere more hopeful and grounded. There’s a warmth to it that feels intentional, almost like a reset after the opener. “Aberavon Dreaming” pushes things further, stacking ideas and textures to the point where it occasionally borders on overwhelming. “Old Mole” reins that in with piano-led passages and a dense but more organized arrangement. “My Body As It Walks” brings in an 80s-leaning aesthetic, while “Better Can Come” pairs organ tones with a vocal delivery that feels direct and unguarded. “Canary’s Hope” stood out for its cascading piano lines, and “Empty Bottles” shifts into a more electronic framework. Tracks like “Forged in Steel” and “Reflections on a Brief Illness” add to the sense that the band is working through multiple angles rather than settling into one approach. There’s a lot packed into this album. The arrangements are dense, often layering instruments in ways that compete for attention, and the vocals lean heavily into emotional delivery. The production holds it together, keeping the songs from collapsing under their own weight. It’s clear a significant amount of effort went into shaping this, there are enough ideas here to make it worth spending time with.
Some records feel like they’re chasing a single aesthetic. In Spirit, the recent album from Lana Crow, moves in the opposite direction, drifting between styles while holding onto a clear center of gravity. What ties it together is not a fixed sound but a commitment to melody, especially the kind that stretches toward a chorus meant to stick with you long after the song ends.
“I Do” opens the album with a wash of 80s-era synth tones that immediately set a tone without locking the record into it. I noticed that shimmer right away. There’s a soft-focus haze that brushes up against shoegaze, but the structure leans firmly toward pop, built around a hook that lands quickly. That balance between atmosphere and immediacy becomes a recurring thread, even as the album shifts its footing. “Orwellian Times” pulls away from that initial palette and settles into something more direct. The arrangement is cleaner, the rhythm sits firmly in 4/4, and the vocal line carries the song with a kind of easy clarity. Crow keeps returning to that instinct, letting the melody do most of the work. “No Secret (Remix)” speeds things up, leaning into reverb and movement, while “So Done” reaches for something larger. I found myself more drawn to the verses there, where the details feel tighter and more considered before the song opens up. “Unknow the ‘Known’” brings in palm-muted guitar and a more grounded rock approach, while “What Brings You Back” circles back toward earlier textures. The title track, “In Spirit,” pivots again, landing closer to a club-ready pulse without losing the album’s melodic focus. There’s a willingness here to try on different shapes without overcomplicating them. The production stays polished, with reverb used as a connective thread rather than a crutch. Most of these songs follow a familiar path, building toward larger moments, but Crow keeps the emphasis on the vocal line, making sure each track has something to hold onto. It makes for an album that doesn’t settle in one place, but still feels cohesive in its intent.
Some releases feel defined by how much they include. LoveShark, the new EP from LoveShark, works in the opposite direction, narrowing its focus until every sound feels like it belongs to the same small ecosystem. The idea of an autobiographical story told from the perspective of a digital shark could have been a gimmick, but here it acts more like a loose thread tying everything together, giving the music a sense of intent without spelling anything out.
“Marmaid” opens with a steady 4/4 rhythm and a bed of soft synths that carry a gentle, welcoming tone. The textures are smooth and close-up, as if they were shaped in a quiet room with careful attention to tone rather than density. That approach continues on “Savannah Sunshine,” where the programmed sounds take on a more playful quality. The tones drift and shimmer, and the inclusion of ocean wave effects adds a subtle environmental detail that connects back to the EP’s theme. “No Me Importa” keeps the same rhythmic backbone but plays more with space. The kick drum provides a center while scattered tones move across the stereo field, giving the track a sense of motion without adding clutter. “I Don’t Know, Ya Know?” introduces samples that interrupt and reshape the groove, creating moments where the structure feels slightly unstable before settling back in. “Todavía Mi Luz” leans into layered synth lines that build gradually, stacking textures until they begin to blur into each other. It becomes one of the more absorbing points on the EP. “Florida,” on the other hand, is brief, closer to a passing idea than a fully expanded track. What makes LoveShark work is its discipline. The EP sticks to a limited set of sounds and uses small shifts to keep things engaging. That bedroom-produced quality gives the music a consistent warmth, turning simplicity into a strength. I liked that there was a clear concept behind the songs, even if it stays understated. There are some intriguing ideas here, and the EP rewards giving it your full attention.
As a reviewer, I sometimes feel like a hack by comparing artists to David Bowie, but it's a tribute to that man's genius and that so many groups carry his sound forward. Such is the case with NUDNIK, the musical project of one Robert Marc Lieblein of Las Vegas. His new album is called Under The Underground, and he proudly lists Bowie as an influence along with Duran Duran, Love & Rockets, Jane’s Addiction, Nine Inch Nails, The National, Wilco and Radiohead, "blending these influences into a sound that is both nostalgic and forward-looking."
NUDNIK began in 2015 as experimental synth project, which evolved into guitar-heavy songwriting with his debut album "iNODE" from last year, described as "dark, atmospheric and confrontational." This new collection aims to push even deeper into emotional territory, as it was written in a time of personal loss, grief and transition for the artist. Musically the NUDNIK sound blends indie rock, art rock and cinematic songwriting using hypnotic guitar textures and atmospheric arrangements. The album is almost a full hour of music over 13 tracks so I'll touch on most of them. "Zen Silence" alternates spacey keys with hard rock guitars, overseen by Lieblien's prominent, vulnerable vocals. The rock sections do harken back the Simple Minds track "Don't You Forget About Me." Leiblien creates an interesting lyrical device where he lists certain actions or situations, followed by the admonishment: "Pause!" The animated Buddhist statue is also quite striking. "Pillow" is a favorite of the artist and reminds him of Jane's Addiction, though being older I got more early Alice Cooper energy. The snarly Alice or Iggy Pop-style vocal is in service to a "surprisingly vulnerable message, with an undercurrent of empathy and emotional support." "Blue Day" purposely evokes Bowie's "Space Oddity" with the music, the vocals and the opening line "Major Tom is doing fine." It's as if Lieblien was asked to do a Space Oddity remix and he decided to stick to the first two chords, but he squeezes a lot of juice out of that onion! The next song "Love Is Eternal" is apparently (based on his Instagram page) inspired by the loss of Lieblien's father, though the song itself could be about any departed partner or loved one. I'm feeling sad Bob Dylan or vulnerable Lou Reed. "Every Second Counts" is the album's focus track, featuring the pulsing rhythms of 80's synth pop. Lieblien notes that the song "reflects on the fragile relationship we have with time, capturing the feeling that life is always moving faster than we expect." I like the forward drive of this track and the evocation of the word "time" (hey wait, Bowie did that too!). "A Fool" changes things up by sounding more like T. Rex and Marc Bolan. In "Zen As The Middle Ground" the vocals drop to Leonard Cohen level, with emotions to match. The strings are obviously patches but are nonetheless beautiful, as is the sampled female harmony singer. "the Modern Shock" is a hard-to-resist phasey rocker whose title can't help but recall Pere Ubu's "The Modern Dance." Next we have "Dissemination" which feels like an audio collage of Blade Runner world. "Transcendental" is a closing seven-minute epic that flirts with progressive rock, and certainly evokes a transcendental feeling with the echo'd guitars, heavenly keys and the concluding chorale. I forgot to mention that there's a strong visual aspect to NUDNIK'S music, and you'll get several striking examples of this while the Spotify album plays. Totally worth checking out in every way!
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Jessye DeSilva’s Glitter in The Dark runs on scale and instinct. The songs don’t twist themselves into knots trying to surprise you. Instead, they aim straight for impact, piling on guitars, synths, and hooks with a kind of unfiltered confidence. What I kept noticing was how direct everything felt. Each track commits fully to its idea, then steps aside for the next one without overcomplicating the path between them.
“The Real” opens the album in full throttle. There’s no easing in here. Layers stack quickly, guitar solos cut through the mix, and the whole thing surges toward a massive hook. The chorus is built to stick, and the lead guitar tone has that unmistakable Brian May brightness, sharp but melodic, slicing cleanly through the density. “Comrades in Arms” pulls things into a more grounded rock space with a noticeable Americana thread. The verses are stripped back just enough to give the chorus room to expand. When it arrives, it’s immediate. I could lock into it after one pass. “Punk Rock Joy” introduces synths and a more electronic backbone, bringing in a danceable edge that hints at LCD Soundsystem without copying it outright. Then “Glitter Up the Dark” pivots into polished pop territory, which caught me off guard in a good way. “Forever in Drag” softens the tone with a more weightless atmosphere, while “Fringe” adds a rhythmic pulse that feels lively and loose. There’s a strong retro current running through parts of the record. “Jar of Fireflies” leans into a clear ’70s character, and “Love on the Road” follows that same thread. “Life on Earth” stood out to me, especially for its guitar work, which feels both grounded and expressive. By the time “Eldritch” closes things out, the album lands on one of its most memorable vocal moments, a hook that holds its shape long after it ends. The influences aren’t hidden, and the range is wide. DeSilva moves between styles without hesitation, focusing on clarity and construction over curveballs. The songs are straightforward, but they’re put together with care. It adds up to a record that connects easily and delivers on what it sets out to do.
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