“You make me want to dance to the music,” sings Robert Finley, and it’s pretty hard not to sympathize. “You Make Me Want to Dance” is a slab of dirty, sexy soul, gyrating around a firm funk backbeat in much the same way as most pairs of hips exposed to this song might. Finley’s Southern croon soars above sensual guitar and horns, reveling in the freedom the music provides and exploring the crannies of the instrumentation. If you need something to get you moving this Monday, this should be the ticket.
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It may still be August, but Darkher‘s “Moths” is ice-cold. It’s frigidly minimalist in an oppressive way, lilting acoustic guitar growing into a monstrosity of down-tuned guitars and crushing cymbals. It starts pitched downwards and slides even further, gothic folk that plunges headlong into doom territory. Darkher does a lot with a little—there’s not much more here than a couple guitars, some strings, and soft drums—and the result is magnificent in its bleakness.
Starover Blue‘s Spacegeist is a cold album. This is a sentiment the band seems to be going for, hence the black-and-blue cover art and the “space” in the album’s name. The chilliness holds over to the music as well, though — the guitars are crystalline and static and the synthesizers are robotic, swiveling between hypnotic organ and futuristic drones. Beat the summer heat by putting on this album — the temperature’s guaranteed to drop ten degrees while it’s pulsing from your speakers.
Josh Farrow‘s “Who’s Gonna Love You When I’m Gone” carries itself with an aura of impermeable coolness, suave organ and killer bassline as smooth as silk. Its looseness belies the expert skill of the musicians behind it, a relaxed piece which achieves that laxness through a tight arrangement and a band which gels incredibly well. Farrow’s cocksure drawl is accentuated by the world-class vocals of Ruby Amanfu—if there’s anything wrong with this song, it’s that she’s relegated to backup vocals, but even those she kills. This one’s a good’un.
Low Culture’s garage-punk is about as straight-ahead as you could hope for. Simple chord progression, quick, jangly guitars, a nasally sneer of a vocal performance—it’s all here. It jumps in, crushes for two and a half minutes, and jumps back out, as a shot of punk should be. As long as the world keeps spinning and guitars keep being manufactured, this form of music will keep moving forward, and it’s nice to see it still thriving.
// Moving Pixels
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