Sixteen songs into Not Here Not There, one sound kept catching my attention. It wasn't a guitar riff, vocal hook, or lyric. It was that strange swirling percussion effect that repeatedly circles through the album like a mechanical gust of wind. At times it resembles helicopter blades cutting through the mix. Elsewhere it functions more like atmosphere than rhythm. Combined with layers of psychedelic production and strong melodic writing, it gives Mortal Prophets' latest release a distinct identity that separates it from many contemporary psych-rock records.

The album opens with "Was It Your Voice," immediately introducing a heavily processed sound palette. Compression and phasing seem to wash across nearly everything, creating a hazy, altered-state quality that took me a little time to adjust to. Once my ears settled into its frequency range, the approach started making more sense. "Where Love Goes to Die" pulls back from some of that processing while retaining the album's signature swirling motion, with that recurring wind-like texture becoming part of the song's character.

"Like No Other" slows the pace considerably. Its ambient framework carries a heavy emotional weight, built around melancholy and reflection rather than momentum. "The Fool" shifts the mood entirely. Backward-sounding effects drift through the arrangement while an unusual groove gives the track a playful energy. One of the highlights arrives with "Franz Xaver Messerschmidt." The distorted guitars add welcome grit, and I could hear echoes of The Stone Roses in its melodic sensibility and overall atmosphere.

That rotating percussion motif continues to appear throughout the record. Sometimes it sits front and center, while other times it barely registers consciously. On the title track, it remains understated beneath a song that brought to mind an obscure Beatles B-side. "Real Person Too" leans into darker psychedelic territory and became another standout for me.

I also spent a good amount of time with "Lucifer Effect" and "Small Victories," both of which reinforce the album's strengths. Across the record, Mortal Prophets balance experimentation with accessibility better than many artists working in this space. The songwriting remains consistently strong, and the vocal melodies frequently land with enough immediacy to stay lodged in memory long after the songs end.

​Mortal Prophets sound fully committed to their vision on Not Here Not There. For listeners unfamiliar with the project, this album serves as a solid introduction to what makes the band compelling. Recommended.

For Who I Was is a recent album by Rosie Haze. These tracks drift forward patiently, letting small details become important: a vocal phrase hanging in the background a little longer than expected, a synth tone quietly changing shape beneath the melody, a drum pattern arriving late enough to slightly alter the emotional temperature of a song. The record never sounds static because there is always something subtly shifting underneath it.

“Fresh Flowers” introduces that approach immediately. The beat moves at a relaxed pace while the guitar melodies soften the edges of the arrangement, giving the vocals room to carry the emotional center. Haze sings with restraint, but the delivery never sounds distant. On “Maybe,” the floating vocal fragments and synth patterns create a stranger and more unsettled atmosphere, almost like thoughts interrupting each other in real time. It’s one of the album’s most textured songs.

“Million Reasons” slows things down even further with a lullaby-like mood that nearly dissolves into the production itself. “Smile” brings sharper melodic definition and ends up being one of the easier songs to latch onto after a single listen. “Selfish” is one of the standouts. The groove is relaxed, slightly jazzy, and confident without drawing attention to itself. Every part of the song sounds locked into the same emotional wavelength. “Avalanche” follows with a drum sound that gives the album one of its strongest rhythmic moments.

Later tracks continue strengthening the album’s flow rather than disrupting it. “Nothing More Romantic” expands the emotional scale without becoming overly dramatic, while “So-Called Values” and “Open Windows” sharpen the melodic instincts that run throughout the record. “Open Windows” has an easy momentum and fluid feel.

Rosie Haze understands the pacing of the album as a whole. None of the songs sound misplaced. The quieter moments matter just as much as the catchier ones, and the sequencing allows the atmosphere to deepen gradually over time. I was also thinking about early Björk during some of the songs particularly when the production starts bending toward stranger textures and slightly unpredictable turns without losing the emotional thread holding everything together. I would love to hear her lean more into experimentation (slightly less pop instincts) in the future because she briefly flirts with it here. Food for thought - that's just me,

For Who I Was is a solid album I can recommend. There's a good amount to appreciate here and look forward to hearing more soon.

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Rich Allen understands that albums like The Ghost We Keep live or die on atmosphere. The songs are not trying to overwhelm the listener through experimentation or dramatic reinvention. Instead, the record succeeds through consistency in tone, strong melodic writing, and arrangements that know exactly when to expand and when to stay restrained. Across the album, Allen pulls together elements of folk, country, bluegrass, and soft rock into something that sounds cohesive without becoming overly rigid or stylistically boxed in.

“Shadows and Stones” opens the album with an easygoing groove that immediately establishes that balance. Acoustic guitars carry most of the momentum while touches of country and bluegrass texture fill out the edges. Allen’s vocals are warm and inviting, and while the structure stays fairly traditional, the transitions and pacing keep the song moving naturally.

“The History Of Yesterday” leans further into reflection and melancholy. The lap steel work adds a beautiful sense of emotional depth to the arrangement without dominating it. “Foolish Pride” hits harder rhythmically, particularly through the drums, while “Facing The Ghost” introduces a darker atmosphere that gives the album some welcome contrast.

One of the album’s strengths is how comfortably it shifts dynamics without breaking its overall mood. “The Last Keepsake” carries a relaxed, almost meditative quality through its soft percussion and warm tonal palette. I liked the subtle yearning in the vocals there. “A Little Bruised” uses distant-sounding drums and reverb to create a dreamlike haze that works especially well within the emotional themes running throughout the record.

The title track moves at an unhurried pace and allows the emotion to build gradually rather than forcing it forward. By the time “A Proper Goodbye” closes the album, Allen leans fully into sentimentality, but the songwriting earns it.
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The production is excellent across the board. The instrumentation remains clear and balanced, the mastering preserves warmth and detail, and the performances consistently sound natural. More importantly, the album maintains a strong sense of identity from beginning to end. The Ghost We Keep is a well-crafted and thoughtfully assembled record with strong songwriting, memorable arrangements, and musicianship that never feels overstated.

There is something almost old-fashioned about the way Nevler approaches emotional songwriting on A Handful of Moons. Not old-fashioned in a nostalgic sense, but in the belief that a well-placed melody, a carefully delivered vocal, and a swelling string arrangement can still carry the emotional center of a song without needing layers of irony or abstraction around them. The EP stays rooted in directness. Nevler writes songs that prioritize mood, sentiment, and melodic clarity above surprise, leaning into orchestral pop and folk traditions with complete sincerity.

“Sequoia” opens the release with softly strummed acoustic guitar and a vocal performance that immediately establishes the reflective tone running throughout the EP. The orchestral strings add a cinematic weight to the arrangement, but Nevler keeps the song grounded through restraint rather than dramatics. The structure remains fairly simple, drawing from familiar ballad conventions while allowing the melancholy in the performance to carry most of the emotional impact.

“Unfair” continues along a similar path, this time framed through a waltz rhythm that gives the song a gentle theatrical pull. Again, the acoustic guitar provides the backbone while the vocals remain the clear centerpiece. What worked best for me was hearing the arrangement gradually widen into something much larger by the end. The song builds toward an expansive orchestral finale that clearly aims for emotional release, embracing lush pop ballad aesthetics without hesitation.

The EP’s most layered vocal work appears on “Sunshine,” where stacked harmonies and sweeping strings create some of the project’s biggest moments. “Velvet” shifts slightly stylistically through its half-spoken vocal phrasing and dramatic presentation. The theatrical qualities become much more pronounced there, especially once the arrangement fully opens into dense orchestration near the ending.

Across the EP, Nevler consistently moves between quieter acoustic passages and fuller orchestral peaks. The songwriting stays accessible and structurally traditional, drawing heavily from pop ballads, folk songwriting, and theatrical presentation. While the material rarely pushes itself into unfamiliar territory, the performances remain committed enough to keep the songs emotionally grounded.

The production is polished throughout. The vocals sit clearly in the mix, the acoustic instrumentation sounds warm, and the orchestral layers retain detail even during the larger crescendos. A Handful of Moons understands exactly what kind of emotional space it wants to occupy and stays committed to that vision from beginning to end.

Orchestral music built around emotion can easily collapse into excess, especially when every arrangement is pushing toward some massive cathartic payoff. The Garden of Make Believe avoids that trap by remaining patient. Magdi Aboul-Kheir writes with a steady hand, allowing melody, pacing, and tonal color to guide the listener through these compositions without burying everything beneath dramatic flourishes. The album focuses on romance, memory, yearning, and reflection, but it approaches those ideas with calmness instead of exaggeration. The mood throughout is intimate and reflective, almost like stepping into a series of imagined places shaped more by emotion than narrative.

Aboul-Kheir’s experience as a pianist gives the album much of its emotional grounding. Even when the orchestra expands outward, the compositions remain centered on memorable melodic phrasing rather than technical complexity. His appreciation for everything from baroque music to trance and metal shapes the album more through emotional structure than overt stylistic borrowing. The orchestration often stretches outward in slow waves before settling back into quieter moments built from piano, strings, harp, and subtle synth textures.

“On The Meadow” opens with sweeping orchestration that immediately brought images of open fields and fantasy landscapes to mind. The piece carries strong cinematic qualities, but it never becomes overblown. “If I Could Freeze Time” narrows the focus toward piano while maintaining the same emotional weight. There is sadness in the composition, although it never fully sinks into despair. “Love in an Alternative Universe” leans heavily on strings that hover somewhere between romance and melancholy, while “The World In His Arms” combines swirling synths, harp, and orchestral movement into one of the album’s richer arrangements.

“Gentle Ties,” “Tears and Smiles,” and “My Yearning and Longing” continue exploring tenderness and introspection through restrained pacing and soft tonal shifts. There is very little urgency anywhere on the album. The music spends more time sitting with emotion than trying to transform it into something triumphant. At points, the slower pacing may test listeners searching for sharper movement or dramatic transitions, but I suspect that stillness is central to the album’s identity.

​The strongest aspect of The Garden of Make Believe is how vividly it suggests imagery without depending on narrative. I constantly pictured scenes unfolding while listening, even though the music rarely points toward anything concrete. Aboul-Kheir understands how orchestral music can create emotional environments that listeners project themselves into. The album succeeds because it trusts subtlety and atmosphere instead of constantly insisting upon importance.

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A lot of artists treat genre like a boundary line, but The Death of Cool treats it more like open terrain. Daphne Parker Powell moves through piano ballads, ragtime detours, soul grooves, rock structures, and slow-burning torch songs without sanding those influences into a single uniform sound. The album constantly shifts shape, yet the emotional core remains steady throughout. Even when the arrangements become dense with horns, layered percussion, pianos, and heavy guitars, the performances keep the songs anchored in something human and immediate.

I wasn’t familiar with Powell before hearing this album, but I found plenty to admire once I spent time with it. “Perpetual Light of the Void” opens the record with a dramatic piano ballad that immediately establishes the emotional weight Powell brings to these songs. The horns were one of the first things that grabbed me. They add warmth and tension without overwhelming the arrangement. Powell’s vocals carry a theatrical quality, and the vibrato in her voice gives the performance an almost ghostly ache. It works well as an opener because it introduces the album’s emotional directness right away.

“Scorched Earth & the Flood” changes the atmosphere completely. The song carries an old-world cabaret energy mixed with ragtime jazz and weathered Americana. At times I thought of Tom Waits because of the loose, unpredictable character and the way the arrangement balances grime with melody. There is a lot happening inside the track, but the movement never sounds chaotic for the sake of chaos.

“Speak No Evil” leans into a more direct rock structure with thick guitars and a straightforward pulse, while the title track circles back toward piano-driven melancholy where the horns once again become one of the strongest elements in the mix. “The Stranger” lands at exactly the right point because the lighter instrumentation creates breathing room after several densely layered songs.

“In the Soup Until the Pot Rots” became one of the highlights for me. There is a dusty Americana quality running through the song, and one particular riff strongly recalled a massively recognizable Southern rock melody by Lynyrd Skynyrd. “Zeal of the Converted” dives into ’70s soul and funk with sharp grooves and some genuinely memorable lyrics. “No Taste for Nostalgia” delivers another emotionally exposed vocal performance, while “Object Impermanence” locks into an especially satisfying rhythmic flow.

Closing track “Do I Want a Warm Body?” slows everything down and ends the album on one of its strongest moments. The atmosphere reminded me a little of Portishead because of the restrained pacing and emotional heaviness underneath the arrangement. The song moves patiently and creates a sense of intimacy that stays with you after the album ends.

​The strongest aspect of The Death of Cool is how Powell lets all of these different influences coexist without making the album sound fragmented or uncertain. The songwriting remains consistently strong, the performances feel deeply committed, and the stylistic variation keeps the record engaging all the way through. This is an album I can absolutely recommend.

Alternative artist Kenton Hall of Lincoln, UK apparently doesn't do anything using half-measures. The first album by his band The Necessary Measures was a self-described "beast" with 36 songs along with a companion album of Necessary covers by other bands. His new album Songs for the Swung, though designed to be "more contained and less scattered," wound up with a cast of thousands. As Hall states: "We've got it all!"

To my ears, The Necessary Measures have a retro-psychedelic sound, with lots of sneaky references which hint at Hall's lifetime of musical fandom. The core band includes Hall (vocals/bass/guitars/organ/piano/percussion), Brett Richardson (backing vocals/bass/guitars/theremin/weissenborn), Mark Haynes (drums/timpani/percussion) and Paul Swannell (piano/organ). To this grouping, Hall adds scores of guests which I'll note along the way. Some of the session players were known to Hall, and others he found online, including Ukrainian musicians.

The album opens with one of the biggest productions titled "The Sun Shone Down" which has an arrangement Hall describes as "Brian Wilson if he'd had a budget of three buttons and a piece of string." He does much better than that, as he has a lovely string section (Marion Fleetwood), stately grand piano (Salpier) and lots of backing vocalists (Chris Conway, Amy Dx, JJ Lovegrove, Scarlet Hall, Marion Fleetwood and Danny Wilson). It's a gentle, acoustic-based reverie about a past love with an unexpected encore and an even more unexpected F-bomb: "Yes, the world can be cold when it gets its own way / But, fuck me, we were on fire today!" (You won't hear that in the video, though!) I got a George Harrison ATMP vibe along with the late, great Sharp Things.

"Holly Says" jumps into rock with Hall's old partner Chris Ilett on guitars. Way under three minutes, it packs a pop-alternative punch with cool harmonies and a quick but memorable guitar solo. "Have You Heard This One?" has a great lyrical hook where the narrator keeps asking "Have you heard this one? / It's the way that I tell 'em / And I always tell 'em wrong." The production by Steve Horry gets heavy with psychedelia, with Horry himself on guitars, bass, keyboards and drums.

"I'd Know You Anywhere" feels like gospel crossed with early Bee Gees, thanks to Paul Swannell's organ, Salpier's grand piano and the horn section arranged by Hall (Lev Borovskyi on Trumpet, Trombone and French Horn plus Dima Faustov on Tuba). Hall's lead vocals remind me of Elton John and has sweet harmonies by Scarlet Hall. "Heart Enough" is a moving acoustic lament about losing a father or mentor ("I would follow him to Hell / If it made him well"). Thomas Tarr plays theorbo, which I had to look up: it's like a giant lute and sounds amazing. 

"Lick of Paint" is like an early Stones rocker with a driving string section (I like to call it "Welcome to the New World Order"). Among the cool elements are a barroom piano section, Balalaika by Maxim Turev, Harpsichord by Eli Mine and strings by Marion Fleetwood. (I wonder if the spoken word "leather" is a reference to Zappa?). "A Story That You Tell" is another acoustic rocker with a funny premise about being the ex-lover your girlfriend tells the new guy about ("Am I the tremor in your voice when called upon to share your pain?"). Stellar guests are Phillip Eldridge-Smith (bass) and Wal Walton (guitars/piano/organ). 

As I mentioned, this is a big album and I've barely skimmed the outskirts. Hall's care and artistry is evident in every song, and you won't go wrong checking The Necessary Measures out!

When listeners bemoan the glut of soulless AI music and hope for a return to heartfelt, homegrown music, this is the kind of stuff they're talking about whether they know it or not. Art Schop is the artist name for Martin Walker, who has a breathtaking discography and an expansive vision that totally caught me off guard. His newest work is a concept album titled Wittgenstein & the Transcendental, which concerns the life and work of British philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein (1889-1951).

I was immediately drawn to Schop's handmade, guitar-centered sound. Instagram photos confirm that he makes full use of his own bedroom (and bed!) as an indie studio. Vocally and musically, he combines the sincerity of Harry Chapin, the otherworldliness of David Bowie and the starkness of Lou Reed. In fact, this album compares favorably to the Reed mini-operas "Songs for Drella" and "Berlin". Walker himself aligns the Schop oeuvre to Bill Callahan, Nick Cave, Father John Misty and (yes) Lou Reed. Walker has also written poetry and fiction along with a book of philosophy connecting the nature of existence to the meaning of life. Walker's friend Chris Heinz plays drums, with mixing by Mark Nevers.

"Go Away" has a fragment of what might be a bedroom guitar demo, then quickly cross-fades into the song itself. Though the drum kit provides solid grounding, the overall feel is very handmade and psychedelic, and feels like a combination of Lou Reed and early Bowie (which actually used to happen!). I'm new to Wittgenstein so I'm not sure about the lyrics (except for the line "My right arm gone, still more real to me than you"), but the music totally grabbed me. "Apology" is a sort-of waltz with tipsy, circular patterns that occasionally veer into lovely dissonance.  Even a simple lyric like "I came here to say yah yah, yah yah..." is compelling. "The Only Answer" becomes even more intimate, drawing the listener in with Bowie-like speech-song, gently strummed acoustics and carefully placed effects that have a Zamfir pan-flute quality.

"Wittgenstein Wandering" is visually striking in that Walker places himself in a post-apocalyptic nightmare in the song's video loop. This is both a dramatic story-tune and a haven for Walker's lead guitar experimentation. Lyrically Walker uses a repeated "W" device as in: "Wittgenstein wandering, wistfully whistling in worstening winds." The next track "Oslo to Copenhagen" is notable for some somber and quite real cello chords. "Full Stop" has a compelling arrangement for lead guitars, drums and church-like organ. It's clear now that Walker's songs always teeter on the edge of dissonance, just enough to keep listeners on their toes. Overall the song reminded me of an early Alice Cooper favorite "The Ballad of Dwight Frye." The middle section feels roomy and meditative. This track feels like a full album by itself!

"Verlassen" is an expansive journey that teeters into Jim Morrison and Doors territory (perhaps like "The End"). I'm trying to figure out how Walker is able to create these complex guitar overtones in every track, since they are clearly not by chance! I also love the generous use of backward and weird tones, both here and elsewhere. "Too Cold to Swim" has the lovely acoustic confidence of a "Hunky Dory" track, with an interesting Tejano middle section. "Wonderful Life" cleanly concludes both the album and the story, as Wittgenstein looks back and declares "I've had a wonderful life" though the dissonant overtones make you wonder. 

With just a few days to write, I sometimes stumble upon an artist who actually deserves weeks to explore. With Art Schop I've just scratched the surface of all there is to discover. Go forth!

There are albums built for resolution and albums built for exposure. PEACH belongs firmly in the second category. Mary Knoblock spends much of the record sitting inside emotional uncertainty without trying to tidy it into inspirational conclusions or dramatic revelations. Love lingers in fragmented forms here: half-finished memories, emotional dependence, nostalgia that resurfaces at inconvenient moments, and the quiet exhaustion that follows disappointment. What gives the album its weight is Knoblock’s willingness to stay inside those unstable emotional spaces long enough for them to become uncomfortable. She does not romanticize heartbreak, but she also refuses to flatten it into clean lessons about growth or recovery.

Knoblock’s history as a composer and producer becomes essential to how PEACH operates. Having worked across experimental music, electronic composition, jazz, and neo-classical arrangements, she approaches atmosphere with remarkable control. Piano melodies move slowly through ambient textures while small production details create tension around the edges of the songs. The arrangements remain sparse throughout most of the album, allowing her vocals to carry the emotional center of the material. At times her voice barely rises above a whisper, but there is precision in that restraint. Silence becomes structural. Repetition becomes emotional pressure. Even the pacing of the album contributes to the sense that these songs were written during long private nights where thoughts kept circling without resolution.

“Mustang Clover” opens the album with delicate piano work and soft vocal phrasing that immediately establishes the intimacy Knoblock pursues across the record. The song is understated but confident, allowing space to become part of the arrangement itself. It's a great song.

“Metal Neon Sky” reaches toward something more ambitious sonically. I liked the fractured textures and layered production choices, even if parts of the mix sounded thin and lacked the depth I wanted in the low-end. Some of the production choices reminded me of Björk in the way atmosphere and texture become inseparable from the songwriting. The title track “Peach” contains some of the album’s strongest emotional writing, although I personally wanted less hall reverb on the vocals because I was struggling to make out what was being said. “Mother’s Eyes” continues the album’s reflective tone beautifully, while “I Knew You” introduces Celtic-inspired instrumentation that expands the palette without breaking the cohesion of the record. “Of The Alpine,” “Maybe Tomorrow,” and “Peach (Blue Grass)” continue exploring longing, memory, and emotional vulnerability through restrained arrangements that trust mood and detail over dramatic crescendos.

The piano performances and vocal work remain the album’s strongest elements from beginning to end. The emotional core of PEACH remains intact despite some minor issues with the mix. Knoblock understands how to communicate vulnerability without turning it into performance art, and that balance gives the album its identity. This is a really good album and a very talented artist. Take a listen.

A Richmond, Virginia band called Knifing Around sounds totally scary, like someone could easily get slashed and bleed. But they also describe their sound and persona as "Dance, fun, and more dance!" so even with an album titled Vivisect we're probably safe from cuts! Knifing Around are David Long (guitar), Gabe de los Santos (drums), Jack Wolfe (bass guitar/synthesizers) and Owen Martin (vocals, synthesizers).

Knifing Around describe this collection as "our most mature, dense, and darkly sinuous work to date; an album that cuts deep while still hitting with undeniable dance floor momentum." They are known for their "explosive blend of industrial textures, new wave precision and sharp-edged emotional honesty." They've been influenced by artists like Nine Inch Nails, DEVO and LCD Soundsystem, melding a unique blend of hook-driven rhythms, serrated synths and wry social commentary. Production and mixing was by vocalist-synthesist Owen Martin, with mastering by Mitch Clem at Go West.

"Believe" is a great first track to set the "Vivisect" template: bouncy 80's synths and insinuating, vaguely English 80's-style vocals. I'm half tempted to see if I have this on 12" vinyl! The chorus has rapidly picked, reverb-heavy guitars like "OK Computer" Radiohead. Definitely feels like a synth pop hit! "Go Alone" changes up the pattern quite suddenly, with Zappa-like wah wah guitar, nasty Jagger-like vocals, funky beats and big orchestral banks of synths. There's even a constant elbow-in-the-ribs effect like the song "Beverly Hills" (sorry guys!).

"Does It Linger" starts as a cool studio construction with eerie noises and echoes, then settles on a DEVO-like arrangement behind gut-busting vocals (literally! Is this guy ALWAYS clenching?). The title track "Vivisect" breaks from the pack with a propulsive arrangement with moments of prog-metal majesty. There's less here musically than meets the ear, but played all together, the guys totally sell it!

"The Colossal" lets us take a breather with a "Riders On The Storm" style instrumental (including synthetic ocean waves). After all the rowdy bombast, this one's almost hypnotic. "Bodysnatchers" presents its creepy lyrics with an arrangement that seems inspired by cicadas. Less dancing here and more hiding in the closet! "Mind Bent" has a steady, sensuous and irresistible beat with robotic crunchy riffage, while Martin signs conspiratorially over the top.

"Broken Glass" feels like it's constructed with funky broken riffs and has the added benefit of Beach Boys-like Moog swoops along with the "big band" trumpet overdubs of Sebastian Ford. Ford is also on the next track, doing more of a solo film noir vamp. "Paralyzed" is a very short capper with very cool sounds, like feedback bubbles sped up 100x.

As a fan of DEVO and other 80's synth pop, there was a lot here that rang my tuning fork. Bet you'll like it too!

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