Sonomancer, the electronic music artist known for weaving ambient and downtempo elements with cinematic introspection, delves into liminal spaces with the evocative "Before Dawn." The track, a meditation on fragmented hope and the quiet tension of the hours just before sunrise, balances resilience and solitude in a richly textured sonic narrative.

“Before Dawn” opens with dissonant piano chords floating over low sub-bass pads, immediately establishing an eerie yet reflective tone. The delicate interplay of the piano’s haunting melody and subtly layered electronic percussion conjures comparisons to early Aphex Twin, blending mechanical precision with emotional weight. Vocal harmonies, ethereal and spectral, drift through the mix, adding another layer of unease and beauty.

The standout moment arrives in the breakdown, where the atmosphere intensifies, spiraling into a dense, almost claustrophobic swell that recalls the shadowy, introspective work of Burial. It’s a wormhole of sound that feels both disorienting and immersive, pulling the listener deeper into the track’s reflective core.

Around the two-minute mark, the composition unravels, leaving an organ to guide the song through a moment of stark minimalism before the piano re-emerges, weaving its way back into the arrangement. The subtle key change near the track's conclusion adds a quiet sense of resolution, leaving the listener suspended between light and shadow.

“Before Dawn” is a meticulously constructed piece that thrives on its interplay between haunting unease and delicate beauty. Fans of atmospheric electronic music will find much to appreciate in Sonomancer’s ability to evoke the intangible through sound.

Danish artist Nils Lassen, celebrated for his work as one half of the dreampop duo BlackieBlueBird, steps into new territory with "Close Those Ocean Eyes," a celestial preview of his forthcoming solo album. Lassen’s sonic exploration here feels both intimate and boundless, a reflection of his two-decade evolution as a musician.

The track opens with Lassen’s ethereal vocal mantra, “Close Those Ocean Eyes,” cloaked in cavernous reverb, setting the stage for an atmosphere steeped in cosmic melancholy. As the drums settle in and the verse unfolds, the song invokes a striking blend of Pink Floyd’s expansive psychedelia and Brian Eno’s meditative textures. The arrangement leans heavily into vast, reverb-soaked soundscapes, with the guitars shimmering like distant stars and Lassen’s voice hovering like a ghostly narrator in a dream.

The chorus, where the track ascends to a higher plane, is its gravitational center. It doesn’t simply evoke the awe of cosmic immensity—it embodies it. Lassen resists the urge to overreach, staying rooted in a contemplative, cerebral headspace that reverently nods to Pink Floyd’s ability to channel wonder without excess.

"Close Those Ocean Eyes" is a lush, introspective offering that understands its purpose and delivers on it. While it doesn’t chart new territory in its influences, it’s a meticulously crafted song that knows the weight of its sonic ambitions and achieves a singular moment of transcendence.

I was delighted to receive the new album from Hipster Pug titled Signal From The Universe. Though I’m unfamiliar with band leader Tom, I immediately recognized his releasing label as Monochrome Motif Records, an eclectic indie specializing in highly creative artists, stellar sound quality and distinctive graphic designs. So I knew I was in good hands!

Hipster Pug has been around since 2018 and began with Lo-Fi, downtempo tracks. However, after two years Tom wanted to make his own “more personal album, with a story in music form” and that became his 2020 ambient-neoclassical album “Neon Noir.” In 2022 he released his first EP with Monochrome, and has been working on this follow-up album since last year. “While that album was darker in tone,” Tom says, “this is a way more positive album and I hope a bit happier overall.” His unexpected inspiration came from director Wes Anderson: “His movies (have) a 3-part structure where separate stories turn into a complete story; I thought if it works for movies, it might work for this album as well.” In all honesty I would not be able to tell the different sections apart, but in that way this album is nicely consistent.


The opening “Prologue” is a mostly keyboard-based instrumental that reminded me of the expansive openings of the Yes albums “Close To The Edge” and “Relayer.” Already there’s layers of amazing sounds, some possibly reversed. I can definitely see where the term “neoclassical” comes from! Tom says he wanted every part to have a different, distinct sound and thus part one is “more experimental and a bit darker.” The prologue behind us, “Act 1 The Signal” is a track that represents change. It immediately becomes a bit more challenging, with distorted radio transmission sounds playing atop a pulsing synth pattern and wild drum kit beats. Definitely chaotic but totally intriguing! 

“Signal From The Universe” slows way down, though as befits the title there’s all sorts of garbled radio hash. Like the previous track these sounds are scattered atop drums and synths, though the main sounds are like a symphony of old telephones ringing in space. “The Maze” has string-like patches that suggest Brian Eno’s classical experiments. As it progresses, the music could almost be from a movie soundtrack. “Yugen” was like a Sunday service on Mars, with churchly organ interwoven with space-like samples. Extremely cool! “Follow Your Own Path” concludes Act 1 with an uptempo excursion featuring a lead instrument that resembles Zamfir’s pan flute music.

Tom says part two is more ambient. “Act 2 Cave Of Memories” is about “letting go of the past and looking forward to what you would like.” The opening section is a swirling miasma of flute-like textures that sounds awesome in headphones!  “Des Vu” has sounds that could be harps along with the lowest keys on the piano.

“The Cave Of Memories” has been created and mastered to sound like it’s coming from a cave, albeit one with strange wind chimes or tinkling glass. “Lights Part II” is a sequel to the “Neon Noir” album track, but has a much different, more expansive arrangement. The overlapping melodies are the audio equivalent of those time lapse movies of flowers opening in the sun. Trigger alert: it gets very loud before gently fading down and away. 

The final section “Act 3 New Beginnings” is described as “a mix of Neoclassical, Ambient and a bit of Experimental.” After an Eno-like intro, “The Path Of New Beginnings” takes us on a spooky 7-minute sojourn with a bed of lush synths accompanied by what sounds like clinking soda bottles. Later the samples very much approximate an orchestral string section with sweeping, sawing melodies. At four minutes we switch to a lovely chiming keyboard theme with ghostly voices swirling behind it, with the final section revealing a Phantom Of The Opera grandeur. “Inner Beauty (awake)” is a total surprise in that a virtual Boy’s Choir introduces a blast of minimalist classical music with galloping horse percussion. I found this track to be the most magical of all. The final two tracks are heavily classical and quite epic.

There’s much more than I could fully describe here, but I highly recommend this amazing work and the eclectic label it comes from!

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I guess it’s been long enough that there can be two bands with “Fifth Dimension” in their names. Waiting In The Fifth Dimension is the solo project of Salt Lake City experimental musician Zac Wilkinson. His debut album is the self-titled Waiting In The Fifth Dimension. Though just 21 minutes long, this is a conceptual story like Harold Pinter’s “Betrayal” in which a broken love affair is described backwards, starting at the end and ending at the beginning.

Wilkinson describes this narrative as being “deeply rooted in a past relationship that left the artist shattered, highlighting themes of love, loss and introspection.” Wilkinson sings and plays all parts, as well as mixing and mastering. He counts as influences Matt Martians and Tyler the Creator. His album cover (and apparent band icon) is a disturbingly altered picture of an eager or crazed young man.

“meeting you was a mistake” is the opening track and a great title, and appears to be something of an indie hit with 11,000 plays on Spotify. It really does feel like the final track on an album, and not the first! A lonely drum machine lopes along, joined by an electric guitar strumming single, opaque chords. Wilkinson’s vocals are double-tracked and just above a whisper, even when singing soprano. A minimalist, striking start! “why” again features bare-bones drum machine, this time backing up low-pitched synth tones. My note on this song was “sounds like Brian Wilson singing on the floor” and it really could be a lost linking track from an alternate-universe “SMiLE.”

“i see you in my dreams” reuses the drum beats from the first track, with a two-chord motif on the synth. Wilkinson seems to prefer using his higher voice, which in another context could be taking the lead on soul music records. Not much development here, but there is an interesting minimal guitar solo. “i don’t know why” is a bit of a departure as Wilkinson steps a little back from the mic and sings in a more naturalistic voice. We (or at least I) can certainly relate to the line “I don’t know why you won’t be mine.” The next track “are you scared” kicks in without a pause (I love that!) and if a previous track reminded me of Brian Wilson, this one could be his brother Dennis.

“her (interlude)” is a kind of spooky, short linking track that feels a bit like John Lennon’s guitar picking along with narrative voices that can’t be understood; but it makes for a great opener to “do you want to fall in love” which pointedly comes after (or before) the narrator “spends the night” with his new love. The drums have a paramilitary feel, with a return to those warbling electric guitar chords. 

“spend the night” has over two thousand plays (making Wilkinson eligible for a few pennies at the end of the year) and interestingly it’s one of the more sophisticated tracks, with two distinct sections, jazz electric piano tones and very human-sounding vocals. The concluding (beginning) track “when will we be friends” has the cleanest guitar recording yet, with jazzy 7ths that play backup to haunted percussion and young-and-hopeful-sounding vocals. The abrupt ending feels perfect.

I am always up for musical experimentation, and Wilkinson took an interesting idea and made something compelling with it. I won’t say he’s exactly where he should be, but this short collection shows he’s well on his way!

Sami Fitz’s debut album, Some Hills Were Once Islands, is a sprawling, introspective mosaic that threads ambient drones, folk sensibilities, and experimental textures into a meditation on grief, hope, and resilience. The London-based British-American artist carves out an evocative space where loss isn’t a static state but a fluid force, shifting between love, renewal, and a tender acknowledgment of life’s quiet beauty.

The opener, “Changes,” sets the tone with a dynamic mix of country-tinged vocals, exploratory percussion, and an emotive, cinematic build that swells into a lush, expansive outro. It’s a bold introduction, immediately drawing attention to Fitz’s ability to balance intimacy with grandeur. On “Home,” arpeggiated synths and airy pads imbue the track with an introspective yet hopeful energy, reinforcing the album’s penchant for transitions into climactic, almost orchestral sequences.

“Time” unfolds with a dynamic arrangement that feels carefully sculpted yet effortlessly organic. The track opens with gentle, introspective piano chords paired with Sami Fitz’s tender, emotive vocals, which find an ideal balance between fragility and power. The instrumentation builds gradually, as subtle orchestral swells emerge in the background, creating a sense of expansive depth. There’s a natural grace to the progression, like watching a rose slowly bloom in real time, each petal revealing itself with deliberate beauty. The swelling strings and layered textures elevate the track’s emotional resonance, making it feel both intimate and grand, a hallmark of Fitz’s approach throughout the album.

“Öskjuhlíð” offers a Sigur Rós-esque interlude, a moment of stillness amid the album’s sweeping emotional arcs. The meditative “Blue” lingers in a tranquil space that I found quite beautiful and serene, while “Think of You” shifts the tone with a melodic, infectious warmth that stands as one of the record’s most accessible moments. “Wait” pairs cinematic guitar work with a whimsical undercurrent, while “Hope” mirrors its title with another dramatic, hopeful crescendo.

“Leverton Street” injects a sense of buoyancy, a rare straight-ahead moment of joy on the album, before the closer, “So Sweetly,” ushers listeners out on a haunting, dreamlike note. It’s a grand finale, steeped in lush production and a melancholic air that lingers long after the final note.

​What’s striking across Some Hills Were Once Islands is the breadth of its sonic palette. Each track is its own ecosystem, brimming with intricate production and diverse instrumentation, yet the album maintains a striking coherence. Fitz’s emotive vocals anchor the collection, weaving through its layered arrangements with both fragility and strength. The album feels like both a deeply personal statement and an invitation to explore the nuances of its lush soundscapes, rewarding listeners with new revelations each time. It’s an exceptional debut, one that establishes Fitz as a daring and deeply emotive voice in modern experimental folk.

Emerging from Southampton’s music scene, Stone Branches have quietly refined a sound that feels both intimate and expansive, carving out a space that’s entirely their own. The band’s origins lie in the camaraderie of close friends—Matt Bialas (vocals), Nick Burton (guitar), and Ollie Hickson (guitar)—bonded by a shared reverence for acts like Palace, Coldplay, Foals, and Radiohead. With the later additions of Holly Barnett (drums) and Ashley French (bass), Stone Branches coalesced into a lineup that delivered their debut EP, Mantra, in December 2022, earning them airplay on BBC and positioning them as a promising act to watch.

Their latest single, “With or Without,” continues that upward trajectory. The track unfurls with a steady pulse of reverb-soaked guitars, dynamic drumwork, and a grounded bassline, all underscoring the lush interplay of vocal harmonies. Bialas’ lead vocals are the emotional anchor, showcasing impressive range and moments of striking intensity, particularly during elongated notes that feel like a blend of technique and catharsis.

The song’s standout moment comes in the breakdown—a dramatic shift that feels like a band-wide exhale before surging back with renewed vigor. As Bialas sings, “I’ll be saved / With or Without,” the track ascends into an ethereal arrangement of layered vocals, crafting a resolution that is both triumphant and bittersweet.

“With or Without” is not just a song about letting go of perfection in favor of reality; it’s also an assertion of the band’s own ethos: grounded yet unafraid to reach for something transcendent. If this track is any indication, Stone Branches are on the cusp of delivering something even more ambitious in the near future.

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G. Michael Peters has a knack for turning life’s trials and tribulations into stirring narratives, a skill that’s made his introspective songwriting resonate with a broad audience. His soulful delivery and contemplative lyricism—steeped in experience—lend his music an authenticity that feels both personal and universal. Following the success of Have I Lived a Good Life, Peters returns with “Long Way Home,” a single that sharpens his already formidable storytelling edge.

The track opens with atmospheric swells, anchored by Peters’ plaintive delivery of the title line, “It’s a long way home.” From there, it shifts into a country-inflected groove, driven by acoustic instrumentation and a distinct spaghetti western flair. The tremolo-drenched guitar and cinematic arrangement wouldn’t feel out of place in a Quentin Tarantino film, adding a brooding yet timeless quality to the song.

Peters’ vocals are perfectly calibrated for this kind of track, imbuing each word with a lived-in wisdom that feels unshakably true. His voice, paired with a searing guitar solo midway through, heightens the emotional depth of the song. The storytelling here is equally compelling—a reflection on a broken relationship and the elusive hope for reconciliation. Peters wisely keeps the narrative open-ended, making it relatable without veering into cliché.

​“Long Way Home” checks every box: evocative lyrics, pristine production, and performances that feel as natural as they are precise. It’s a song that invites listeners to linger, to sit with its melancholy beauty, and to feel the weight of the long road ahead.

gmichaelpeters.com

Singer-songwriter Jared McCloud comes from Minneapolis, Minnesota and a storied roots-rock background. His newest album is called Vacancy, recorded by Kevin Bowe (who’s previously worked with Etta James and The Replacements). McCloud describes his music “…as if Bruce Springsteen fronted Janes Addiction and played Steve Earle and Tom Waits songs.” Because of various personal upheavals, this is his first new album in 10 years.

McCloud began his career in hard rock and metal bands, but eventually decided to focus more on substance and went solo. Releasing his self-produced first record, he grew from small venues to large music halls. In 2009 he released his indie label debut “Romance Of The Atlantic” and reaped tons of radio play, press notices and musical instrument endorsements. He toured extensively, sharing stages with the likes of Candlebox, Soul Asylum, Vertical Horizon, Griffin House and the Meat Puppets. Fast forwarding through more albums and bigger successes, we have McCloud’s newest release dealing with a decade of turmoil, featuring songs about personal hardships and being a new father. He cites as influences Tom Waits, Chris Whitley, Motown and Bruce Springsteen. 

“A Kind Of Love That Will Tear You Apart” begins with aggressive thumping drums, Bruce-like keys and prominent crunch guitar. Though McCloud didn’t mention the band Squeeze, I definitely hear a lot of Glenn Tillbrook or even Liam Gallagher in his voice. This track rocks hard with perfect backing harmonies and a pop rock sheen that reflects well on McCloud’s celebrity production crew. “The Score” feels very much like the opening track at first, but already I can feel McCloud’s roots-rock bona fides coming through with some terrific fiddle accompaniment. The track is packed full but it all works together, with even a blast of backward lead guitar. There’s a cool ending where the master track goes into fast rewind.

“Tramp Like Me” starts firmly rooted in acoustic guitar with a gentle synth backing and earnest lead vocals. There’s a touch of jangle to the electric guitars while those eerie synth pads continue in the background. “Mama” takes an Americana tack, delving deeper into folky acoustic guitar with a simple kick beat and fiddle drone. McCloud sings like he’s delivering an Irish Reel, and when the hard guitars kick in they stick to that machine gun triplet beat. A great mix of styles here!

“Hello, My Name Is Standing Joke” clearly has the best title of the bunch. It’s got a hard rock attack worthy of Badfinger’s “Baby Blue” crossed with the the prairie smarts of John Mellencamp. The title track “Vacancy Blues” is the most earnestly acoustic of the bunch, with ringing electric guitar and grand piano as backing. I can really hear the Minnesota in McCloud’s vocals here, and the icing on the cake is a Clarence Clemmons-like sax solo. “Landscape” features Abbey Road-like tremolo guitars (and a bit of Paulie in the vocals, too!). This track goes from quiet to blasting in the most amazing way! “Stars & Hearts” is the second song I’ve reviewed this week that features actual children’s voices at the conclusion (“I love you, Daddy. That was a great song!”) but before that heart-tugging moment there’s lots of killer, propulsive rock to take us to the finish. The stacked electric guitar tracks are truly a thing of beauty, the kind of sound Billy Corgan would appreciate. 

There’s a total of 11 songs and they all demanded my attention and delivered joy in equal measure. You’ll see!

Laura Mock, a New York City-based alternative singer-songwriter, channels the vast contrasts of her roots in Bangor, Maine—serenity and storm, nature and city—into her music. For Mock, songwriting is an intuitive fusion of lyric and melody, arriving fully formed as one inseparable entity. Her studies with composers Beata Hlavenkova and Joseph Church have sharpened this instinct, lending her work a striking coherence and depth.

Her latest release, home//body, a five-song EP, unfolds as a vivid showcase of her artistic sensibilities. It opens with “Acadia,” a delicate ballad that begins with a soft piano and shimmering ride cymbal, enveloping the listener in an intimate calm. Mock’s vocal range is stunning here, her performance weaving seamlessly into the song’s lush orchestration, accented by subtle, evocative horn arrangements.

“Landlocked” pivots toward a guitar-centered arrangement, its melancholy tinged with a quiet resilience. The track walks a fine line between introspection and hope, offering a layered, motivational undercurrent. The ethereal “Ribs” then floats in, capturing the fragility of inner turmoil with a dreamlike quality that lingers.

“CTC” shifts the momentum, driven by standout percussion and Mock’s striking vocal performance, which commands attention without overwhelming the intricate instrumental details. Closing the EP is “Rocky Shore,” an unexpected turn toward country-inspired textures and organic instrumentation. Its playful energy and vibrant hook are a departure from the EP’s reflective tone, offering a buoyant conclusion that feels both surprising and satisfying.

​With home//body, Mock delivers a work that’s as cohesive as it is exploratory, highlighting her knack for pairing thoughtful songwriting with polished production. It’s an EP worth savoring, each track unveiling new depths with every listen.

Paul Bibbins, a guitarist and songwriter from Dallas, Texas, channels the restless energy of Jimi Hendrix in his latest release, Disenchantment at a Distance (REDUX). Paul wrote all nine tracks on the album, with four originally appearing on his Disenchantment at a Distance EP, released in September 2023. The full-length album, Disenchantment at a Distance – REDUX, expands on the foundation laid by the EP, serving as the culmination of that initial vision. With its high-octane guitar rock and unapologetically vintage vibe, the album nods heavily to its influences while carving out moments of individuality and spontaneity. 

The opener, “Bold, Beautiful…and Long Gone,” sets the tone with unmistakable Hendrix-inspired guitar phrasing. Bibbins doesn’t just mimic the sound; he leans into it, mirroring the iconic vocalist’s delivery with uncanny precision. The track feels like a love letter to the legend, brimming with soulful swagger. That being said Bibbins can let loose in a way that feels unpredictable which made me e 
“Up 25 High” takes a freer approach, blending Bibbins' intricate, fiery fretwork with a rhythmic foundation that flirts with the spontaneity of free jazz. The tight interplay between the guitar and drums anchors the song, balancing precision with fluidity. Similarly, the title track, “Disenchantment at a Distance (in need of a good song),” is another standout moment, where the guitar’s searing leads burn through the mix without losing the solid pulse provided by the drums. There’s a sense of improvisation where the notes flow like a stream of consciousness.

The blues-tinged “Wayward Son on the Blues” delivers a satisfying dose of grit, but it’s the frenetic energy of “Thrill Walk” that leaves a lasting impression making for one of the highest points on the album. Tracks like “Napoleons Wear the Big Hats!”, “Woman Across the Garden Wall,” and “Vista Valley Drift” keep the momentum going, offering variations on Bibbins’ formula without losing consistency in terms of songwriting or technique. Each song feels meticulously crafted, yet loose enough to let the spirit of rock ‘n’ roll breathe.

Closing the album is the evocative “As Love Rears Its Pretty Little Head,” a track that encapsulates Bibbins’ ability to fuse technical brilliance with raw emotion. It’s a fitting finale, cementing the album’s position as both homage and statement. 

While Bibbins' reverence for Hendrix is undeniable, his distinct personality shines through, proving he’s not merely a student of the style but an active contributor to its legacy. Disenchantment at a Distance (REDUX) is a celebration of the electric guitar’s boundless possibilities, drenched in nostalgia yet firmly rooted in Bibbins’ vision. There’s a lot to appreciate here and suggest listening from beginning to end. Fans of Hendrix—and of electrifying, unrestrained guitar rock—will find plenty to dig into here.