Skylark recently released an album called shades of blue, featuring the world premiere recordings of Mark Van Overmeire’s choral suites Hereafter am I and Between the shadows. The 40-minute release explores themes of legacy, self-discovery, and resilience, shaped through a unique collaboration between the Belgian-American composer and the ensemble. Known for his post-minimalist style and background in percussion, Van Overmeire granted Skylark creative freedom to interpret his works, resulting in a richly textured recording that expands beyond traditional classical vocalization.

The opening track, “Hereafter am | 1. Torch of the Past,” sets the tone immediately. Male and female voices weave into one another in a way that recalls a church choir, but it doesn’t feel rigid or ceremonial. It feels expansive. There’s a reverent atmosphere here, and I got the sense that the room they recorded in is almost another member of the ensemble. “Hereafter am | 2. Beyond the Gaze” and “Hereafter am | 3. From This Day On” keep the arc intact. There’s no break in cohesion, and the suite flows with a kind of internal logic that’s hard to describe but easy to feel.

When the album shifts into the Between the shadows suite, it doesn’t so much pivot as deepen. “Between the shadows 1. When All Is Said and Done” features some of the most affecting vocal work on the record. The melodies feel like they are descending gently, landing with surprising weight. On “Between the shadows 2. I Come to You,” the pauses between phrases carry their own emotional charge.

​I loved how “Between the shadows 3. In Your Dreams” tapped into a stillness that didn’t feel static. It felt alive, like breath held in a quiet room. “Between the shadows 4. Where We Live Together” opens up into something more theatrical, while “Between the shadows 5. Hiding Between the Shadows” closes things with soft, shimmering vocal tones that felt like the record finally exhaling.

This is not a record that tries to meet you halfway. It asks for your attention and assumes you’ll give it. I did. While it can be hard to distinguish the songs individually because of the all-vocal nature, I found that limitation became a strength. There’s a through-line of emotional clarity that made me want to sit with it from start to finish. The recording feels natural and present, almost as if the space itself is singing back. If this style speaks to you, it will pull you in completely.

Nothing Concrete originated in Scotland but now reside in Foix, France, and their fourth studio album The Imperfectionist feels like a clear statement of identity. Built around a core duo—Fergus McKay and Gaia Miato—the group draws from a rotating cast of musicians from around the world. The result is a record that blends afrobeat, tango, blues, and indie rock into a style that feels considered and purposeful rather than eclectic for its own sake.

The album opens with “The Boats,” and I immediately noticed how the instrumentation builds. The marching snare and layered horns give it a steady pulse, but what stood out most were the modal scales that leaned into Eastern tonalities. It reminded me of music that prioritizes atmosphere without losing focus. There’s a balance between traditional forms and more contemporary structures, and I appreciated the attention to detail.

“Broken Bird” took the energy in another direction. The song feels light on its feet, but there’s control behind it. I liked the subtle shifts in melody and the way the vocal harmonies fold together near the end. It’s one of the more effective songs on the record because it doesn’t try to do too much.

“Cometh the Hour” brings in a deep groove, anchored by upright bass and horns that swell just enough without overpowering the rest of the arrangement. It gave me the feeling of an early 1970s recording, where the atmosphere is just as important as the composition. The playing is restrained but confident. “Empty Whisky Bottle Mariachi Blues” is less interested in minimalism. The groove is direct and the vocal exchanges are dynamic. I liked the clarity of the story being told, and how the interplay between instruments supported it rather than competing with it. The Latin influence is noticeable but not overstated.

“He Don’t Do Much of That Now” leans into a more classic jazz-funk structure. The rhythm section is tight, and the vocals are delivered with clarity and control. The song doesn’t try to shift gears too much, which makes its pacing feel steady and intentional.

The title track stood out as one of the more cinematic moments. It moves with precision and feels composed for visual accompaniment. “John Henry Lee” moves into a more Americana-leaning space and felt emotionally direct. It has a timeless quality that worked well within the flow of the record.

“No Force” plays with rhythmic variation, while “S.O.S. (Save Our Souls)” and “The Western” close the record with a return to higher energy. I liked the momentum here. It felt like the band had found a good sense of pacing.

Across the album, Nothing Concrete show a clear understanding of how to shape each track around its own internal logic. The songwriting is tight, the performances are thoughtful, and the production allows the variety of influences to coexist without feeling cluttered. They’ve built something that feels personal without being overly referential. It’s a strong, well-executed release.

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Kevin Honold is a solo artist from Seattle, Washington (as his cover photo makes clear!) who’s just released his debut album titled The Forge. Honold calls his personal style Rhythmic Rock, with “dynamic soul-infused grooves, emotionally-driven storytelling and cinematic presence. You’ll hear the conviction of Springsteen, the vulnerability of Adelle, the dynamic textures of Bowie, and the soul and fire of Nathaniel Rateliff.” To me it sounds like super-attenuated folk rock, with ringing acoustic guitars and vocals up front, backed by walls of keys, strings and horns. 

This album marks a sort of liberation for Honold, who admits he spent a good 30 years afraid to “fearlessly embrace the forge of life.” Nowadays he throws himself head-first into the fire, and this album is but one manifestation of that change. He explains: “The Forge is a culmination of years spent digging deep, getting honest, and learning to let my heart speak louder than fear. Every track was shaped with intention. Combining the drive of rock, the intimacy of folk, and polished with the soul of hard-earned truth. There’s a heartbeat underneath every track—whether it unfolds like a slow tide or drops you straight into the storm.”

Honold insists this is not “background music.” He says it’s a headphone album, music to sit with, volume up, heart open. That may be true, but the songs are so pop-friendly that I’m afraid they actually do work playing in the background! Recording and mixing were by Pat Noon at Eight Sixteen Recording with mastering by Alan Douches with West West Side Music. The album sounds amazingly clean and well-arranged.

“The Forge” sets us up to expect an acoustic-toting folk artist, with Honold’s voice comfortably in that mid-range, expressive and very real vocal range, never overpowering the lyrics or music (after a while I was reminded of a less-quirky Freedy Johnston). Then a string section slides in comfortably, followed by bass, drums and backing vocals (I’m definitely hearing a female voice). Because there’s no credits besides Honold, I honestly can’t say whether or not his strings (and later, brass section) is real or digital. However, his previously released singles on Bandcamp show a long list of live players, so that tells me something!

“Under the Stars” is played at an upbeat, piano-rock tempo and again features female backing vocals. I’m gonna take a giant leap of faith and say this is Moe McGowan, as she’s credited on a previously released track. There’s a brass section that, because Honold also plays sax (!), might all be him! Thematically the song feels like a celebration of a relationship that’s still fulfilling even with the occasional pitfalls: “You’ve gotta learn to live with the scars / That doesn’t mean it’s getting colder /You warm me up when you’re in my arms.”

“Rainy Day” starts out sounding like a rainy day played on acoustic guitar. Honold’s voice here is so low (right in the cello range, which faithfully follows along) that I had to check that my phone hadn’t jumped to another artist! We’re talking Leonard Cohen or Nick Cave, though Honold reverts to form soon enough. There’s some amazing piano runs here, nicely complimenting the cellos and backing vocals (hello again, Moe McGowan!). “Interlude in G Major” is a folky instrumental not far from Leo Kottke, with charming finger-picked melodies backed by kick drum, followed by melodic bass and strummed acoustics. Toward the middle, acoustic piano and a room full of strings and percussion fill out what is, at heart, a fairly basic blues construction. Toward the conclusion we’ve almost arrived at the Magical Mystery Tour depot! 

“Swept Away” was previously released on an EP, and actually has credits! Aside from Honold on vox, guitar and sax, we have Luke Fox (bass), Steve Shimchick (piano), Trevor Michalak (drums), Jenn Fantaccione (cello), Matt Honold (trumpet) and our old friend Moe McGowan on backing vocals (let’s assume these guys played on everything!). This track is a six-minute rumination on a past love our narrator is desperately trying to salvage, and as such Honold takes his time setting the scene and introducing his background players. The overall sound very much reminds me of the best Neil Diamond songs.

“Me” is another folk-pop wonder, with a rush of lyrics that all fit the jaunty musical backing nicely (“I spent so many nights getting drunk and high / I know exactly why / I was hiding from the memories / But born with a mind that don’t forget / you gotta learn to forgive to settle your debts”). “Forgivable” closes the album with some beautifully recorded acoustic guitar with brass strings ringing proudly. Honold could be singing to someone close, or to any of his listeners who need his advice. Whichever way, it’s sincere and beautiful, especially in the final full-vocal choruses bathed in strings and sax.

Again, Honold warned listeners that this is an “active album” that can’t be played in the background, but something this beautiful can be enjoyed in many ways. See if you agree!

Custard Flux is a psychedelic prog-rock band that comes as close to the legendary French collective Gong than I’ve ever heard within the indie world. And not just with the lysergic, otherworldly music: like Gong, Custard Flux seems to inhabit its own special universe, with futuristic (and weirdly sexy) artwork to illustrate their singles and albums.

The artistic leader of the band is a gentleman with the unlikely moniker of Curvey (vox/guitar/ARP Odyssey synth) joined by Vito Greco (guitar), Timothy Prettyman (bass), Nick Pruett (drums) and Andy Thompson (Mellotron). Though recording in Pro Tools, all the band’s instrumentation is proudly analog. Recording took place at Rabbithole Studio in Detroit, with mastering by Mike Hagler at King Size Sound Labs, Chicago. I wish I had more biographical info, but the band mostly sent me quotes from other reviewers, so let’s get into the music!

An eerie disembodied radio voice plus Gong-like synth waves lead into the album opener “The Escape” which is an extremely cool collage of samples, recordings and Pink Floydian pulses. “Winter” has all the prog tropes firmly in place: jagged rhythms, complex melodies and fast, precise playing. Though Curvy’s voice is nowhere near stadium level (more like David Lowery of Cracker), his sincerity draws the listener in to catch his fleeting nuances, enhancing the experience. This track has a slow B-section that recalls prog pioneers The Moody Blues, partly thanks to an authentic Mellotron (where did they find one?). “Opportunity Knocks” feels like The Byrds with a few extra beats thrown in, as this track is one of the more traditional rockers. The creaky analog signals are pushed to the breaking point with the music straining against the compression every step of the way.

“The Oblivion Capsule” is another instrumental, leading us into a sort of Alice’s Analog Wonderland. The mellotron, tape loops and feedback trails are as absorbing and meditative as the Eno guest shots on “The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway.” Vito Greco shortly takes ownership with a wailing, otherworldly guitar solo. “Icy Tranquility” is a Rush-like journey alternating locked-in melodies, warbling chords and “Voyager Looking Ahead” vocals. Also one of the best final notes ever. “Tomorrowland” features the mathematical approach of King Crimson. “Enter Xenon” is another Eno-like musical rumination crossing weird space-time dimensions with The Land of Oz, making me feel the band could have a separate career just doing these kinds of tracks! “The Floating Chamber” is the closing 12-minute epic that pulls all the disparate pieces together, playing almost like its own separate album. Jangly and complex, and it rocks!

If you’re a prog fan you’re already going to love this, but I daresay hard rockers and fans of retro psychedelia will find much to like here. Excellent!

Right away, there’s two interesting facts about the “genre-fluid” experimental artist who calls himself plastov. First, he’s been recording exclusively on video game consoles since 2001 (such as MTV’s Music Generator 2). plastov says Mario Paint and the Windows ’97 Sound Recorder “planted the seeds that led me to using gaming consoles to fulfill my musical vision.” Second, he REALLY enjoys puns in his song titles, starting with the album name Mercury Riesling which will resonate with wine connoisseurs. As Frank Zappa said: “You have to name the albums something, so it may as well be something amusing.”

plastov is no spring chicken, having been featured on 103 Records, Fantasy Audio Magazine, No Thank You Record and the Moolakii Club Audio Interface. This new release functions as a 90-minute double album with two halves: the first section is straight electronica jams with elements of House, Glitch, and Jazz; the second half explores a calmer atmospheric sound palette (for this reviewer, the two parts were not radically different). plastov’s influences include Orbital, Underworld, Juno Reactor and FSOL. These tracks are intended to showcase a broad range of sounds made possible by “pushing the limits of a single piece of retro software.” 

“Floop” wastes no time in establishing a pinched, herky-jerky beat with random blasts of synth melodies. It definitely sounds retro and is supported by a cool, trebly bass track. “Sacrificial Lambo” has a similar arrangement but packs in four times as many melodies and beat variations, as well it should for a seven minute track! This is definitely one for the Rave dance floor. “Aplomb Bomb” departs a bit from the previous formula for a more bass-heavy synth pattern, suddenly shocked out of complacency by sax-sounding Moog-like blasts. There’s definite melodies here but they follow an internal logic I haven’t quite cracked! I did note that “Aplomb” has a satisfying three-act structure with a majestic finale.

“Copper Paste” takes a surprising left turn into Funk. The middle section has a beat similar to Devo’s “Are We Not Men?” second half. At a certain point the beat drops out and things get very spacey and almost ambient, with quiet swells and reverses. “Pork Barrel” feels like an auto-beat providing background to a Fun House journey with all sorts of weird creatures lunging out of the dark. “Mustard Siege” has a similar “dark ride” middle section and almost feels like bluegrass from another planet. The synth melodies are especially strong toward the end.

I believe “Pewter” is the dividing line for the “second” album, but aside from more of a live feel in the beats, the style doesn’t change too much. “Pop Art” is more of a departure, with a mellow ambient atmosphere with a few of those fast patterns thrown in. The melodies almost feel like they’re being played on water droplets! “Wading Room” (and this is just my take) reminds me of those movies where people try to pick up alien communications on staticky walkie talkies. Later on, plastov has an almost “jamming” section among the various drum-like sounds. 

“Corrugated Pepper” begins like a funky jazz quartet getting down and dirty, with sounds approximating drums, bass, keys and horns. Getting even closer to traditional jazz, “Plucky Duck” is a pleasing mixture of combo sounds, space keys and diverse beats. Finally we have the title track “Mercury Riesling” to close out the piece. Showing my age and nerdism, the opening recalls the warning sounds on Captain Kirk’s bridge. There’s no tempo per se but the individual clusters of notes and pads are quite aesthetically pleasing.

There’s sixteen tracks total and I couldn’t hit them all, but this album as a whole feels very cohesive: I’d often find myself floating away and forget which track I was on! A very interesting take on electronic music and definitely worth investigating!

Helsinki, Finland is the place where the 1975 Helsinki Accords were reached and Frank Zappa recorded a famous live album; but it’s also where Finnish indie band Solisee calls home. They’ve just released a new single titled Itkee havupuu sung with traditional Finnish lyrics. 

Solisee has built their unique sound on Finnish folk combined with world music, featuring “bittersweet sounds and raw rhythms of Slavic and South-American music.” Their previous release was a 2022 EP titled “Roso.” Additionally the band plays live at various Helsinki venues and Finnish musical festivals, including Northern Europe’s big Kaustinen Folk Music Festival.

Itkee havupuu is described as “an ode to Mother Earth (and) a plea to stop, listen and embrace nature’s powers and sounds.” Singer-songwriter Erla Pulli wrote the song in spring of 2025 while expecting her first child. ”I thought about what kind of world my child will be born into. Nature deserves our deep respect… I believe that by deepening our connection to nature, we can also find a deeper and more genuine connection with ourselves and each other.” This single was recorded in two days at Taajusvarjostin Studio by Mikko Räihälä, with mixing and mastering by Matias Kiiveri at Hollywood House Studio. 

The band sent very little information, so I’m looking at pictures to suss out the lineup. I can see six members holding acoustic guitar, standup bass (or cello), violin and a trumpet. The track begins with a slow “shuffle” tempo with strings, walking bass, shakers and acoustic guitar. Though I can’t understand Pulli’s lyrics, I love her very young-sounding voice and gentle sincerity, and the first violin break feels present and authentic. 

Overall the sound is quite intimate, as you’d expect an all-acoustic band in a good studio to sound. In the chorus, the violin goes into longer, whining chords while Pulli gets backup vocal help from one of the boys. The trumpet takes a solo on the left channel, conjuring pleasant memories of Cash’s “Ring of Fire”. The energy builds to a lively conclusion with several different vocal harmonies, with all players joining in.

Overall a nice track and performance, though I’d love to see some lyrics next time!

Anna Rowley is a singer-songwriter from Otago, New Zealand with a lovely voice and songs to match! Her previous album “Radiate” was rapturously reviewed on Pitch Perfect in 2021, which she now follows up with The Landing.

As a writer, Rowley explains that she “strives to write songs that connect to listeners through the use of interesting melodies and dynamics, while matching the sound with lyrics that evoke (an) emotional response.” Though not necessarily a Covid album, Rowley hopes to provide observations of human behavior on both an intimate scale as well as within large populations (like during the global pandemic!). She asks: “How was it that we were all looking at the same picture but seeing such vastly different things?” 

Living and creating in the beautiful southern alps of New Zealand for 20 years, Rowley has recently formed a backing band that’s been performing for appreciative locals.  However, all playing on this album was by Rowley and her producer Danny Fairley, which is quite a feat! The music ranges from acoustic folk to stomping blues, mainly featuring guitar and piano with an occasional banjo. All recording was completed under the guidance of Danny Fairly at Mirrors Audio in Wawea Flat, New Zealand.

“Bojangles” provides an interesting start to the album: it’s not a cover of “Mr. Bojangles” (made famous by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band) but more a rumination on the real-life story written by Jerry Jeff Walker. The chiming picked acoustic, accordion-like backings and roomy drums would fit nicely on a Nitty Gritty album. Rowley’s voice is crystalline, sincere and seemingly flawless. Speaking of old-timey folk, “Will to Trust” is a snappy banjo tune with a lively one-two beat and a full page of socially conscious lyrics that sadly ring true: “What a tragedy if we saw our nation broke beyond repair / When we had it all and let it fall…”

“Rise” is one of the “stomping blues” tracks Rowley promised, and it sounds amazingly full for just two players (probably helped by the overdriven organ that jumps back and forth across the speakers). Producer Fairly pushes the mix almost to over-saturation; it makes for an interesting contrast to the folky “Right on Time” which has a Stevie Nicks Fleetwood Mac feel in the vocals, lyrics and backing tracks (especially the dramatic middle section). “Water Tonight” features doo-wop acoustic piano with descending chords that suggest water cascading down! I love these two lines: “Tell me why don’t we go to the water tonight… Let me stand in the pouring rain, it’s washing my tears away.”

“Shaky Isles” takes us back to jug band territory with acoustic guitar, banjo and accordion acting as a comforting blanket for Rowley’s eerily perfect vocals. “In a place” has a similar arrangement but in a darker key, with some of the wailing, eerie power of Sophie and Alex Dorsten. “The Landing” ends the album on a nicely stripped down note, starting with just strummed electric guitar and Rowley’s vocals. I was quite intrigued by Rowley’s lyrical conception of what “landing” can mean. In this final iteration, Rowley’s voice recalls the great Dar Williams. 

Nine songs and not a bad one in the bunch. That’s a recommendation!

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“I Could Have Run” is a song about death, but not in the abstract. It feels close, personal, and sharply defined. Tom Hancock writes from the imagined perspective of Russian dissident Alexei Navalny in the final moments before his murder. The track rests on a single decision. The return to a homeland that had already decided his fate. What struck me most wasn’t the political backdrop, though it is undeniably present, but the quiet sorrow of knowing you are leaving your family behind.

Hancock wrote the song in Paris on February 16, 2024, the day Navalny’s death was confirmed. That proximity gives the piece a kind of rawness that feels unfiltered. It doesn't seem carefully sculpted in a studio setting. It feels like it was captured while the emotion was still taking shape. A year later, he recorded the final version at home, but that urgency is still there. The recording carries the sense that the song arrived almost fully formed, as if it came through him more than from him.

The arrangement is sparse. Gentle fingerpicked guitar and banjo give the track a delicate texture that reminded me of Sufjan Stevens, especially in the way the softness is used to convey something deeply painful. The song has dynamics but never forces them. Its restraint is part of what makes it effective.

What I admired most is how Hancock lets the song breathe. He doesn’t overstate the loss. He simply allows the grief to speak through tone, through pacing, through what isn’t said. “I Could Have Run” doesn’t attempt to sum up Navalny’s story. It sits with one impossible moment and allows it to unfold on its own terms.

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Lost Lot are not afraid of weighty themes. The North East alt-country band’s new single “Waiting” threads together grief, longing, and spectral devotion into something unexpectedly propulsive. It tells the story of a spirit reflecting on their own death while promising to guide a loved one through life. Rather than leaning into despair, the band channels that liminal space into forward momentum. What could have been a mournful ballad instead feels like a love letter passed between worlds.

From the first few bars, I noticed something unexpected. There is a syncopated rhythm that immediately caught my attention, and the atmosphere reminded me of Sting’s late 80s solo work. The instrumentation builds patiently, with a bassline that knows when to retreat and when to push forward. The piano enters with sharp timing, adding just enough punctuation to elevate the emotion without oversaturating the track.

​As the song continues, it transitions into a kind of Americana revival, recalling the sweeping ballads of Bruce Springsteen or Jason Isbell. There is a rugged tenderness that anchors the performance. The vocals carry an emotional weight that feels earned, never performative. I found the slow build especially effective, as the arrangement expands gradually into a full-band release that hits with cathartic clarity.

The production is spacious but grounded. Each musical layer feels considered, from the echoing guitar textures to the subtle harmonies in the final section. It becomes a song about connection as much as loss. The structure mirrors its message by growing in emotional range, echoing the journey from solitude to shared understanding.

“Waiting” feels like the kind of song you want playing while driving under open skies, thinking about someone you once loved or still love. It holds both melancholy and comfort in equal measure. I walked away from it reminded of how music can serve as a conduit between what we remember and what we are still reaching for.

​Lost Lot have created something honest and deeply moving. I think this song deserves more than one listen. It rewards attention and stays with you long after the final chord fades.

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Foam’s new EP Trouble doesn’t pretend to be anything other than what it is, and that’s part of what makes it so effective. With just four tracks, the EP doesn’t overreach. Instead, it stays rooted in a distinctly alternative lineage that pulls from the early emotional excavation of artists like Elliott Smith and the fuzzed-out pulse of bands like the Pixies, Weezer, and even Nirvana.

The title track “Trouble” kicks things off with a melodic hook that lodged itself in my head almost immediately. There’s a casual confidence to the delivery that reminds me of Mitski in the way vulnerability gets wrapped in tension and pop instinct. The structure isn’t anything unexpected, but that’s not a complaint. I found the familiarity of the progression satisfying, especially when paired with vocals that feel lived-in.

“Her” is more stripped down and leans into lo-fi textures that call to mind Neutral Milk Hotel. It’s mostly just acoustic guitar and voice, with a few atmospheric touches that never try too hard. The strength here is all in the performance. It felt intimate without being precious, and there’s something unpolished in a good way about how it holds together.

Then there’s “Elysium,” which I’d argue is the emotional centerpiece of the EP. The dissonance woven through the melodies caught me off guard in the best way. The Eastern percussion adds an unexpected layer of warmth, and the vocals stretch just enough to feel raw without losing control. It reminded me of the darker corners of Elliott Smith’s catalog, where beauty and tension quietly coexist.

“Breathing Instructions” closes the EP and immediately shifts the energy. It rips forward with a grungey stomp, full of buzzing guitars and Cobain-esque chord changes. The moment the rhythm section locks in, the track lifts. I loved the grit here and found myself thinking of Ty Segall, especially in the way the song bursts at its edges without losing the thread. There are some sharp transitions too that keep it dynamic rather than just loud.

This is a lean but memorable release. Foam clearly has a deep reverence for 90s and early 2000s alt rock, but they don’t get lost in imitation. What stood out to me was how each song felt fully formed without any excess. It’s an EP that does exactly what it needs to do and then steps back. I’ll be returning to this one.

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