Chad Miller: Lafawndah is in complete control of her presence. Just about as much control as she has over her situation. She sounds imbued with power as she sings “You don’t have a name / You don’t have a face” and “I’ll make you fall” over percussion that sounds like sparring weapons. It doesn’t sound angry just for the sake of being angry either as the opening line is “If you were willing to treat me right / I’d stand up by your side / Be down to burn me” which puts the rest of the song in interesting and ambiguous context, adding as much clarity as it removes. Musically the song is continuously exciting as well, particularly when she repeats her phrases in gorgeously jarring harmonies. Constantly interesting and musically engaging. An artist to watch for sure. [9/10]
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Chad Miller: Neat guitar driven background that repeats throughout the majority of the song. This brings a sort of anxious energy to the piece. Vocals and ornamentation from other instruments use it in different ways and accompany it with different notes so it doesn’t feel wholly monotonous. Vague lyrics like the repeated “Don’t tell” and the shape shifting repetitions make for a good introduction for Suun’s next album as it’ll leave you wanting more. [7/10]
Chris Pittaway: This track is surprisingly tense and driving, given its flat, sneering delivery and not-particularly-varied instrumentation. Its retro-futuristic atmosphere and snarky political commentary demand multiple listens to reach their full effect, but when they do, it’s pretty darn chilling. [7/10]
D.S. Bradford may have first made “waves” with a musical release two years back in the form of “Oceans”, his debut single, but in actuality, the eclectic rocker’s career has been culminating for the better part of 32 years. Inspired by a broad-based expanse of bands and styles, from neo-progressive (Coheed and Cambria), to emo (Bayside), alternative rock (Foo Fighters), and so on, his psychedelic, soaring brand of rock and roll is the product of his living life, as well as its catalysts.
Chris Pittaway: Not bound down to any explicit era or genre (besides “indie rock”), “Voices In My Head” sees Bob Mould diving into deep soul-searching territory. Soundtracking his paranoia are fuzzed-out guitars that occasionally erupt into understated solos. Mould can “play the victim, or get on with life instead”, but his weary vocals make the turmoil that much more poignant for the time being. [7/10]