I don’t run into many records that pull me back to how I first heard this kind of music, but Burning Days by dreamscent does it without trying to stage a revival. It lands somewhere between homage and instinct, drawing from a lineage that is easy to trace but still feels novel by the people making it. I hear a band that understands the architecture of shoegaze but is still figuring out which parts belong to them.

Back in the 90s, I was deep into bands like My Bloody Valentine and Slowdive. Discovery didn’t come through algorithms or playlists. It moved through word of mouth, through a friend handing you something and telling you to sit with it. That process made the connection feel more personal, almost accidental. I remember falling into that sound and staying there. Hearing dreamscent now, I can trace that same current running underneath Burning Days, which is probably why it clicks for me.

“Don't Mind” opens the record on a high point. I like how the vocals sit inside the mix without disappearing into it. The guitars are wide and dense, filling out the space in a way that feels intentional rather than overworked. The arrangement holds together, and the song feels complete in a way that some of the later tracks are still reaching toward. It might be the strongest track here.

“Burn Through Me” shifts the tone with male vocals that change the band’s dynamic. The heavier sections are where it locks in most convincingly, where the weight of the guitars and rhythm section feel aligned. “Pins and Needles” acts as a brief ambient interlude. At just over a minute, it feels a bit early in the sequence and doesn’t add much before giving way to “Red String,” which is another moment where the band sounds fully dialed in. They push harder here, and it works.

“Photograph” leans further into that dual vocal approach, and this time it lands better for me. There’s a restraint to it that brings to mind early Low records, especially in how space is used. “Wrinkle” moves back into more familiar shoegaze territory with layers of reverb and noise, while “Lost in a dream” rises on falsetto lines that stretch upward without losing control. “Moving Forward” closes things out with a post-rock tilt, giving the album a sense of lift at the end.

I’ve been listening to this kind of music for decades, and I don’t take it for granted when a younger band approaches it with care. Burning Days doesn’t reinvent the form but they make it their own. There’s enough here to suggest that dreamscent understands why this sound mattered in the first place and has a reason to keep working within it.

Double albums tend to show up once an artist has already made their case. They’re usually about scale, excess, or looking back. Soliloquy by Reetoxa lands in a different space. It draws from a catalog that goes back to Jason McKee’s teenage years, when he had enough material for a debut but decided to reframe his writing through the idea of a soliloquy, something shaped by an early exposure to Shakespeare in a classroom rather than a studio plan. That decision echoes across the record. What you hear now is less about a moment in lockdown and more about years of songs that have been reconsidered and finally committed to tape.

The cast around McKee is seasoned but stays in service of the songs. Simon Moro handles both production and mastering, while Kit Riley and Peter Marin lock into a straightforward rhythm section that rarely overcomplicates things. James Ryan, Jessica McPherson-Riley, and Terry Hart round out the lineup, but McKee remains the focal point as the writer, vocalist, and composer. The arrangements expand when they need to, then pull back just as quickly, keeping the emphasis on structure and melody.

I’m old enough to remember when double albums were almost a rite of passage, something bands earned after a few records. Seeing one attached to a project like this, with 26 songs, sets a certain expectation. Musically, the record sticks close to rock fundamentals. Most of the songs sit in 4/4, built around familiar chord progressions and verse-chorus structures that don’t try to disguise their influences. The title track “REETOXA” leans into distortion and classic rock dynamics, while “THRIFT SHOP PRESS” taps into an Americana streak that brings to mind Tom Petty. “GOWN” shifts into ballad territory, dialing things back without changing the overall palette.

There’s a consistency here that works in the album’s favor if you’re on its wavelength. “DEMAND PERFECTION,” “ERIC AND THE STARS,” and “PURPLE VEIN” land as some of the stronger cuts, tightening the songwriting without straying from the established formula. That said I encourage you to check out all the songs and see which ones resonate with you most.

The album leans heavily on rock conventions, and it doesn’t try to hide that. If you connect with the opening track, the rest of the record follows a similar path, offering variations on a sound that stays accessible and rooted in tradition. Check this out!

The title Live From The Attic made me picture a crowd and a one-take document of a show, but that isn’t what this EP is.  These songs were cut in a rehearsal space, which, to me, lands closer to the way bands used to actually make records. I grew up in an era where you put a few mics in a room, played the songs straight through, and let the performance do the work. There weren’t endless tools, sample libraries, etc, shaping the outcome. You had musicians, a room, and whatever you could capture. That back to basics formula is what The Wheel Workers embraced.

The recording itself sounds clean and professional, but the band still leans into that core idea of playing together. “Fine Time” opens with a fuzzy, straightforward rock groove in 4/4. It pulls from alternative and grunge with a bit of ’80s rock and post-punk in the mix. The structure is familiar, but the band keeps it tight and effective. Solid opener.

“Smokescreen” shifts into a more groove-focused approach. I liked the guitar work here, especially how it moves against the drums to create a sense of tension rather than just sitting on top of the rhythm. There’s a bit more depth in how the parts interact. “Rainbows” is the highlight. The melodies stick, and the arrangement opens up with a light psychedelic edge while still holding onto something grounded that leans toward Americana. It reminded me of early Fleet Foxes in how it balances atmosphere and structure. This was favorite vocal performance.

“Desire” brings in a colder, more controlled groove. I heard shades of Interpol in the rhythm section, along with textures that echo Radiohead. “Day After Day” stretches things out with time changes and some spacey elements that at points recall Pink Floyd.

I enjoyed this EP. It feels rooted in performance which is obvious from the title, and that approach still carries weight, especially now when so much music is built piece by piece instead of played.

There’s a certain instinct to shield kids from heavier realities, to introduce the world in smaller, easier pieces before the bigger subjects come into view. There’s A Song In Every Story by Kid Pan Alley leans into the opposite approach. The album is positioned as music for children, but it openly engages with themes like climate change, slavery, war, grief, identity, and love. I kept circling back to that idea while listening. I have a ten-year-old, and I could not quite figure out where the line is drawn here or what age this is actually meant to reach.

Once I got into the songs themselves, the bigger question became what actually separates these tracks from a typical set of folk or adult contemporary songs. A lot of this material plays straight, with lyrics that feel broad and accessible in a way that could fit just about any audience. The “kids” label does not always show up in the structure or delivery.

“I’m Hawaiian (feat. John Keawe)” touches on cultural identity, while “On Our Way To Liberty (feat. Lea Morris)” gestures toward freedom and historical struggle. The lyrics stay so open-ended that they never lock into anything specific. I kept listening for details that might frame these as educational or tied to a particular story, but the songs tend to stay in general territory.

That sense of ambiguity carries into how the album shifts in tone. “Me And My Dad (feat. Heath Francis)” feels simple enough to connect with very young listeners, while “One Big Hurricane” paints a picture of people stranded on rooftops during a natural disaster. The music underneath it leans playful, almost cartoonish at times, which creates a strange contrast. The juxtaposition of the situation and the lightness of the arrangement felt at odds.

Other songs push further away from the idea of a children’s record. “Today We Thank The Veterans (feat. Susan Cattaneo)” plays like a straightforward tribute that could sit comfortably on an adult playlist. “A Place We Go To Remember” carries a heavier emotional weight with orchestral elements that feel more reflective than instructive. 

The range of subject matter stretches from songs that could work for a five-year-old to topics that seem more appropriate for someone much older. All that said the performances are solid and the recordings are clean throughout. Even when the intent feels a bit unclear, the execution holds up. I respect the attempt to bring more meaningful subject matter into a space that usually avoids it. Whether it fully connects with its intended audience is another question, but the effort to aim higher than standard kids music is easy to recognize.

kidpanalley.org

Momentum in independent music doesn’t always arrive with a clear turning point. Sometimes it shows up in patterns, in how an artist returns to the same ideas until they solidify into something recognizable. Listening to ​Amara Fe’s A Queen’s Ambition, I kept circling back to how closely it mirrors Reborn. This doesn’t read like a clean break or a reinvention. It feels like a continuation that leans heavily on what came before.

When I compared the two, the overlap stood out right away. The melodies land in similar places, the emotional tone stays within the same range, and the overall construction rarely strays. It plays like a follow-up that extends an existing blueprint rather than rewriting it. There’s also the release schedule to consider. Dropping projects this frequently reflects where music is right now. I remember working with analog tape in the 90's, where recording could take months and editing meant physically cutting tape. That process demanded time in a way that feels foreign now.

The structure across the album stays remarkably consistent from song to song. Tracks tend to open with a soft atmospheric layer before the vocals come in, leading toward a big, polished hook. You can hear this with the first few seconds of each song. That formula repeats enough that individual songs start to blend together. I had a hard time separating one from another after a while. At the same time, that consistency can work if you connect with the approach. Liking one track usually means the rest will land in a similar way.

The vocal production leans heavily into processing. At times it borders on something synthetic, though that aesthetic fits comfortably within modern pop. The lyrics stay broad and generalized, touching on familiar themes without getting specific. Nothing really pushes outside that lane.

I started engineering music back in the 80s, and the shift since then is impossible to ignore. The sense of musicians playing together in a room has largely been replaced by precision inside a digital workspace. There’s something missing in that transition, but there’s also a new kind of freedom. Artists can now create and release music at a pace that would have been unthinkable before. Amara Fe fits squarely into that reality.

Nowadays the legacy of rock concept albums like Tommy or Jesus Christ Superstar is so ingrained that kids perform them in school. But I come from a time when J.C. Superstar or Tommy were double-vinyl LP's and not stage shows or movies. Superstar plus Evita, Quadrophenia and many others had a profound impact on my songwriting and bands. To create an album of that size and scope in the age of Spotify singles is brave and perhaps foolhardy, but that's what we've got here with Scenes from a Revolution (Original Soundtrack). 

As befits a project of this scale, "Scenes From A Revolution" is a highly collaborative work. Gene Bohensky conceived the concept and wrote most of the lyrics. Nick Bohensky composed the music around recurring thematic motifs and performed many of the parts, with Dave Wilson drumming and serving as co-producer with Nick. To this basic structure was added vocal lines and melodies and a cast of additional players and instruments: "The result is a work forged through genuine collaboration, with each contributor leaving an essential imprint on its sound and spirit." Though highly musical, the diverse vocals drive many of these tracks.

The concept revolves around the Russian Revolution and World War Two, using true experiences of a family that survived this time: "The songs echo lives torn apart by war, faith crushed under totalitarian rule, and generations impacted by exile, loss and silence. From the mysterious death of Rasputin to the silencing of conscience in Soviet homes, to forced work declarations under Nazi captivity and the harrowing disappearances of loved ones who went to war, each scene captures the devastating impact of ideology on individual lives." The music uses Mellotron, Hammond organ and synths, creating a shifting world of ambient electronica and guitar-driven force, shaped by classic and modern progressive rock. Guitar solos, strings, horns and military-inspired rhythms propel the story through 16 tracks and 70 minutes. Obviously a short review won't capture the full breadth of this project but I'll discuss some highlights.

"Revolution!" is a short synth and mellotron overture, much shorter than the openings of similar concept albums; the purpose of its low-frequency textures is to "evoke something old and irreplaceable being dismantled." Following is the first song proper: "Inner Voice" with lead and harmony vocals by a female duo called Kingston & Graystarr, and their singing will anchor most of the album. This is a lively pop-rock track with hints of the "Superstar" majesty yet to come. The fuzz lead guitar in the middle evokes the cool parts Robert Fripp created for Bowie or Gabriel.

"The Letters" introduces a cool horn section with notably sexy vocals from the women. The letters in question represent the spiritual writings of Saint Seraphim, one of the most beloved saints of the Russian Orthodox Church: "You tried to warn us" goes the refrain. This is a good time to note the stellar and beautifully recorded drumming by Dave Wilson. "The Death of Rasputin" centers on a figure many of us know, a Siberian mystic tied to the Royal Family who was murdered in 1916 by nobles. The album frames this incident with guitars so thick with fuzz and flanging that they almost seem human, biting and swallowing the chords instead of just playing them. The project notes: "The electronica and nu-metal fusion is deliberately disorienting: this was a disorienting moment, a threshold that looked like a rescue and turned out to be a collapse."

"500" is notable for some especially rich vocals and harmonies from the women, along with some prominent, treble-heavy bass. "Dedushka" is the first track to start with male vocals, with the singer acting as both vocalist and speech-song narrator; he's got a slightly sinister, crusty tone that contrasts beautifully with the women. I've now heard this eight-minute track three times and can confirm it's my favorite: starting with mostly voice and acoustic guitar, it slowly adds strings and drums before branching out into multiple melodic levels and chord schemes; the sheer beauty of the musical progression gives me chills. Add a "Comfortably Numb" style solo, and you've sold me completely. "Declaration" features the reading of an actual document by a man who cooperated in exchange for his life, and is suitably chilling (but has another great guitar solo).

"From Petrokov to Pressburg" is a beautiful two-minute acoustic instrumental along the lines of "Classical Gas" (though slower). The title track "Forgotten Roads" weaves together the two threads of displacement running through the album: the soldier in hiding for two decades, and the woman taken prisoner with her infant. This track features some of the most distinctive lead vocals, similar to the power of Superstar's "I Don't Know How To Love Him."

Obviously I've just scratched the surface of this towering work, but it's there for you to discover. And yes, recommended!

scenesfromarevolution.com

Some albums feel like they start in the middle, from the very first song. Perpetual Motion Vol. 2 is such an album because it's literally part two of a trilogy by Kevin "KP" Hahn, recording under the band name The Quivering Palm. The songs are an eclectic mix of alternative rock, electronic pop and ambient music mixed with vocal hooks and lush harmonies. Lyrically they explore unrealistic expectations, the guilt of past choices, the fear of failure and the strength of a loving relationship. After all three parts are complete, the idea is that they'll play straight through as an interconnected 17-track album. 

Hahn has been recording since the days of 4-track cassettes (I'll have to look that up!) but has also played in bands like Tasha's Laughter, The Cans, Fastest Turbo Fire Engine and Stellar Vector. Even more noteworthy, Hahn was part of a choir that performed Mozart’s Requiem at Carnegie Hall in New York, and came in second in two international songwriting contests.

Hahn describes The Quivering Palm as "having a distinct sound and a unique aesthetic, a fusion of indie rock and electronic pop with a hint of madness. Not to be pigeonholed into any genre, TQP stretches alternative music in new directions while keeping solid power-pop sensibilities." Volume 1 was previously reviewed on this site by Jamie Funk, who summed up the EP as "thriving on contrast: textural shifts, dynamic pivots, moments of restraint and release. It’s an eclectic yet cohesive listen... that never settles into one shape for too long." The overall concept of perpetual motion fascinated Hahn in his youth: "I used to draw imaginary machines that could almost work in the real world if it weren't for those pesky laws of physics."

"Baggage" starts us off with a peppy synth-pop ditty about the heavy baggage of a new relationship, and is accompanied by a Bandcamp video of Hahn both acting out the lyrics and performing onstage with a band (though he's actually playing everything on the track). The chord schemes and melodies are delightfully creative and the lyrics (and video) betray a sly sense of humor. "None Been" gets heavier with a sense of foreboding in both the vocals and music. The wild, Ghost And Mr. Chicken-style keyboards flirt with prog and the crunch guitars act as heavy ballast. Not sure what the song's about, but I did like the passionate cries of "What about ME?" at the end. 

"Someone Dropped a Quarter In My Viola!" does not actually feature a viola, but is instead a one-minute instrumental interlude played entirely on digital keys. Nice to have a bit of classical influence in the mix. "Penniless" takes me back to 60's pop of groups like The Four Seasons with overlapping harmony vocals sounding like Neil Sedaka. As before, Hahn leans on retro-style synths with lots of rising and falling notes. "Pulse" is literally a two-minute track built from synth pulses and circular melodies, with cool drum samples and backward cymbals following beat-for-beat. "Holding On" ends this installment with an early Bowie-like acoustic arrangement and Beatles-like claves. The mood is hushed and reserved, regarding both the past and future with hope and gratitude: "Holding on without the fears of yesteryear / Holding on to what we’ve never had / Holding on, a trace of perfume in the air / Holding on forever more."

Of course, the proper thing to do with this project would be to start at the beginning, but like arriving late to a great movie, there's lots to enjoy even if you catch up later!

Blending classic rock and alternative country, Saint Suburbia is a Minnesota band with a new album titled Way Far Gone. Formed as Best Intentions in 1994, they played together until 1997 before splitting to work on other projects. 16 years passed until 2013, when three of the members got together again, finally joined by a fourth member in 2023. The full lineup is Turner Berg (guitar/vocals), Kris Olk (guitar/vocals/bass), Neil Adams (drums/harmonica/mandolin) and Wade Anderson (vocals/bass/guitar).

The band says this new album is a version of American rock inspired by The Replacements, Uncle Tupelo, The Gear Daddies and The Gin Blossoms. "Each band member wrote songs for the album," they note. "We have been playing together for a long time, so we are pretty good at pushing each other." Recording and mixing on 24-track digital was by Mike Schmidt at Legion Park Studio in Shakopee, Minnesota, with mastering by Craig Holets. There's 50 minutes of music so let's find note standout tracks.

The opening of "It's You" is almost a remake of the Eagles track "Already Gone" but it quickly takes off into many different avenues. The sound is basically rock but at a slight distance, perhaps to make room for the acoustic instruments still to come (like the wailing harmonica at the end!). "Land of Milk and Honey" begins with warbling guitar feedback, then surprisingly segues into an acoustic Neil Young or America-like reverie about taking a train trip to Colorado "at the mouth of the Chippewa River." The music takes on an early Dylan cast with the Al Kooper-ish organ.

"Putting On Airs" might be a mini-screed pitting Wilco against Matchbox 20 or back coffee against lattes. I find myself on the other side of this argument, but the song's pretty good and has a structural similarity to Mary Lou Lord's "Western Union Desperate." We also have the first real fuzz guitar solo that definitely nails the landing. "Brother John" is our first step deep into Americana territory with its mandolin, twangy electrics and clap-along beat. The twangy guitar solo evokes fond memories of Mike Bloomfield. "Hold On Part 2" is a pleasing blend of Crazy Horse fuzz box and harmony-vocal pop rock. 

"Way Far Gone" has a kind of CSNY title and arrangement, heavy on vocal harmonies, acoustic guitar and quieter leads but minimal drums. "Been Thinking" makes explicit the connection with The Byrds I've been feeling, with surprising twists and turns throughout the verses and chorus. Cool tribal drums too! "Stolen" is an interesting track that's sung as if the narrator can't quite commit to telling his story, singing some of it into the opening of his jacket (or sounds like it!). Musically it's compelling and bittersweet, a sound I can't quite pinpoint but which grew in stature with each listen. "No, I Know" is really up my alley with equal parts acoustic rock and hard fuzz guitars in a tale of romantic regret.

Lots to like here, with a very consistent sound. Investigate and enjoy!

saintsuburbiaband.com

I don't think I've ever compared an indie band to the B-52's, but that day has finally come! Rexedog call themselves "a bonafide boy band from New Jersey", with two members (Dan Cole and Colin MacFarlane) starting their group in a 1991 preschool, then being joined by Dan Bogan in 2004. As influences they list The Pixies, Gang of Four, Beastie Boys and Gorrilaz, but to my ears they bring back that wild combination of jagged surf rock and absurdist vocals the B-52's perfected, and some of the garage bands the B's were channeling. 

Dan Cole (vocals/guitar), Colin MacFarlane (vocals/guitar/bass/keys) and Dan Bogan (percussion) have released three albums and an EP over 20 years. They describe the nature of their music as "the brotherly psychic chemistry that can only form between lifelong friends, echoing their camaraderie and devotion to their craft." Right away I'm on their side, as I met my lifelong musical partner in grade school and also built a huge catalogue of crazy music. Rexedog is additionally a killer live act, playing hundreds of shows and co-headlining with artists like Tea Club and Reptar. 

About this newest album, the boys say it best: GENDER REVEAL PARTY has channeled lyrics influenced by the Marseille Tarot and a free associated writing process. This is a progressive post punk album. The unique sound of the band can be attributed to the dueling vocals, melodic drumming and two bass VI guitars strung with three bass strings and three guitar strings." That's another B-52's connection, as original guitarist Ricky Wilson often just used four or five strings in weird tunings. This album goes fast, with 12 songs that are mostly under two minutes with a total run time of 23.

"Hidden Cactus" is mostly vocals and drums, with a tropical, calypso vibe like "The Banana Boat Song." One singer has the "grounded" part, while the other gets to go wild in the upper register like an annoying friend trying to get you to do bad stuff. Nicely performed and recorded drum kit too! "Just Me In Here" could be part two of the first song, with fragments of lyrics ("Just... me... in... here...") sung between drum beats and bass notes. "Immaculate Conception" is the first track to feature all the band's sounds in one song, and is the most B-52's-like while having a beat reminiscent of the Knack's "My Sharona." 

"Grumpy Scowl" takes a sudden turn into 60's pop rock with surprisingly clean harmonies, but ditches that idea for a short, absurdist dialogue section. I dig the Art Statement but would have loved to hear this song tricked out and finished! The next song is standard song length (3:27) and has a rollicking, irresistible guitar lick alongside the vocals before leading into another comedic routine a la Cheech and Chong or The Firesign Theater. "Short Leashes" again feels like part two of the previous song (similar beat and same key) and it would be interesting if these guys ever tried stringing two of these songs together. 

"Guy Upstairs" is another left turn into bouncy rock with what becomes an Elvis-like vocal with smart, rockabilly licks. "Stuck in the Dirt" is another tricked-out absurdist construction from the Mothers of Invention school that you wish was longer. "Whos Butt Own This" has a Twilight Zone riff with a vocal that now reminds me of Sparks. The concluding "Ask Me to Dance" is the longest track at four minutes and begins with a bizarre series of jungle drums before kicking into that thick, absurdist stew of vocals and jagged chords the boys are known for. If anything, Rexedog excel at cool arrangements. The proggy double guitar leads here interact in unexpected ways and you never know what's coming. They also make creative use of the full stereo spectrum. 

I had a great time with this album, despite my wish that some songs were longer. Rexedog left me wanting more!

Become A Fan

I still remember how open everything felt in my late teens and early twenties, like every decision carried a kind of weight but also possibility. That stretch of life has been written about endlessly, but it keeps resurfacing because it never quite loses its charge. Cam Narimanian’s From Out Below sits right in that space, not as a grand statement about growing up, but as a series of snapshots from someone still in the middle of it.

“Harmony Hill” opens the album with a stripped-down feel. The guitar has that home-recorded texture that doesn’t try to hide its edges, and when the piano and vocals come in, the tone shifts toward something more hopeful. “Who Was Wrong” moves into a steady 4/4 groove and feels more direct, with drums that keep things grounded without pulling focus. “Movin’ On” leans into a catchier side, with phrasing that feels designed to land quickly.

“Happy For Today (feat. Sam On Sax)” pulls things back toward piano, and the saxophone adds a layer that gives the song more dimension without overcrowding it. I thought “After All These Years” carried one of the stronger vocal performances, where the delivery feels more committed and less tentative. Later tracks like “1000 Days” and “From Out Below” benefit from a bit more space in the arrangements and are also just really well written.

The record stays rooted in a lo-fi approach, with songs that prioritize melody and familiarity over technical showmanship. The mixes leave room around the instruments, which helps the acoustic foundation come through clearly. Nothing here is trying to reinvent the form, but the hooks land and tend to stick around. The lyrics feel grounded in Narimanian’s own experiences, especially for anyone moving through a similar stage of life, and they avoid overcomplication in favor of directness. There’s a consistency to it that works in its favor.

​At times, a few songs blur together due to similar tempos and tonal choices, but the stronger moments stand out enough to keep the album engaging. It does enough to make me curious about where he takes this next.