Beach Sloth

               A kind take on classic folk, Alias Wayne embraces intimacy with the dreamy-eyed “Castles in the Sky.” The poetry of the piece engrosses the listener whole. Small, little victories and simple pleasures adorn the journey. Little flourishes get amplified in the crystal clarity of the vision. Iron & Wine’s mystical, ancient musings serve as an essential reference point for the overall spirit. With an instrumental variation that goes for a select few, the song feels timeless, as if it could have come from any era.

               Near hushed whispers adorn the first few moments of the sound. I appreciate the ode to the spacey kid with the first line of “head in the clouds” for it conveys this optimism, a hope for something better, living in dreams. Given the state of the world, maybe it is a healthier way to be than all the endless doomscrolling. Acoustic guitar strings sing. The whole atmosphere is akin to a conversation around the campfire. Letting the sparse elements intersect creates these unexpected moments that feel stumbled upon, akin to making a new friend. Word choice offers insight into what being together can feel like, as there’s a kindness to be discovered in these missives. Vocals are kept relatively mellow, always soothing, calming, comforting, the way a good friend does. I appreciate the

               Patrick Adams embraces an imaginative, geography-bounding narrative with the playful “Story Time.” Taking nods from Carmen Sandiego’s similar approach to teaching kids about the ways of the world and the world itself, the gleeful storytelling here embraces the silly. Beyond the obvious globe-trotting, he spends time celebrating the beauty of the natural world. Musically, there’s an upbeat quality to each track, and the sequencing has so much genuine love for the surroundings. He’s creating folklore akin to the way Raffi did it, forging these instant classics. Genre-wise, it runs the gamut from EDM-inspired to folk rock to funk and more, giving it this all-encompassing experience.

               Beats bounce off the walls as the opener, “Story Time,” sets the tone and lays out the album’s journey. Rock-centric “Brazilian Macaw” celebrates a sense of wonder with nature. Folksy elements combine alongside a ramshackle rhythm on the sweetness of “Italian Surprise.” “Sands of Egypt” incorporates Arabic instruments into the track’s very DNA. Some praise for travel: “Air Lisa,” as travel is an underrated and oftentimes life-changing experience. Going hard into the funk, the taut “Sensational Asia” stuns with the nimble bassline anchoring everything. Aspects of classic rock steady the riff on the determined gait of “We Love Sports.” Celebration of South America’s heritage sprints through “South America.” Brisk tempos give “Goin’ to the Zoo” a nice driving pace. Nicely hinting at the future is the kind-hearted “Sneak Preview.”

               Will Breman delves into the bliss of living in the Carolinas with “Carolina In My Mind.” Since Taylor wrote it, the Carolinas might have changed but still retain that lovely, welcoming charm. Breman takes the original and gives it an update while respecting the sweetness of the original, allowing for a warm, reflective arrangement.

               “Happy Now – Cait’s Version” offers a distinctive connection between Taylor’s work and the contemporaries he’s inspired, as Céleigh Chapman connects the dots. The laid-back style shows how his music of decades ago has inspired musicians like Big Thief and Weyes Blood. It has heart, and the piano touches on the periphery feel doubly refreshing.

               Sparse with a religious undertone is the stripped-down, bare-bones quality of “Water to Wine.” Omar Velasco’s voice has a distinctive intimacy. The details here matter, from the lilting, Bossa Nova-inspired guitar work to the minimal rhythm section.

               Jess Bush does Taylor’s “Country Road” tremendous justice. Here she points to the inherent tastefulness of country when done perfectly. She feels every single word, and the dreamy hue of the rural life is reflected in every verse. The buildup is gorgeous allowing the song’s duration to become an important part of the emotional cadence.

               I have listened to James Taylor’s “Fire and Rain” more than any other one of his songs. Mendeleyev respects the original, and the kindness of the narrative, the yearning, becomes visceral. Everything here works. The bluesy quality is downright gorgeous. Right on the edges, the slide guitar gives it that extra strength.

               Guitar work has a Nick Drake aspect on Will Breman’s expressive “Memphis.” A cyclical approach to the riff works wonders in creating a meditative aspect. His vocalizations have a rawness to them, touching on the way Taylor poured his heart out over these pieces.

               “Something in the Way She Moves” has a breezy, folksy disposition, as Omar Velasco embraces it. The song works like a whisper, forcing the listener to fully pay attention. A quiet place is recommended to fully appreciate every flourish.

               Céleigh Chapman offers a Vashti Bunyan aspect on “You Can Close Your Eyes.” Her voice is deeply reassuring. Guitar work serves as the second singer, helping to highlight how lovely it is that her melodic voice possesses a sense of purpose.

               A recovery arc rests at the center of Kenny Foster’s softly sung “Fixing Up Everything.” The jazzy kick comes through on the glowing Rhodes piano alongside an easy-going groove. Melodies feature a distinctive, blurred beauty. Layer upon layer intersect in a gorgeous, blooming fashion. So much color pours into the proceedings that the sound feels alive. Beyond the clear nods to jazz-rock fusion, light funk, and soul, the music is framed within a kind of pop setting. With all these different elements woven together, the piece has a glorious, beautiful, rather calming quality. Little details are amplified in the slow pace, such as the emotive bassline that anchors the journey.

               Chords decay into the air. Anticipatory strings are queued up to circle around in the periphery of the work. His voice is the very heart of the matter with his thoughtful, contemplative approach. The tempos have a considered gait, working on a timekeeping and emotional level simultaneously. Word choice adds to the inherent charm, for every verse has a careful quality. Many different aspects coincide, resulting in this kaleidoscopic array of different shades. Lyrics highlight a droll humor, trying to recover, with the sly “you don’t have to like me/but it would be much easier if you did” as it highlights the absurdity of why we are hated, typically for ridiculous reasons that are never made clear.

               A rousing anthem for those left behind, myqo delves into a fiery, defiant stance on “RESIST! (feat. Joshua Chiang).” Lyrics are the heart and soul of the track. He delivers each line with pure poignancy. The word choice is deliberate, trying to show how long the struggle has been, the exhaustion, and how there is no end in sight. Yet, in an absurdist way, he (and we) continue the fight forever. Fortunately, he leaves this exact oppression vague, refusing to name it and give it that power. Sometimes the best thing we can do is to avoid mentioning the things that cause us pain, to, in short, resist, hoping one day it gets easier. Alongside his vocals is the arrangement, with a jagged-edged guitar that helps him cut to the absolute heart of the matter.

               There is a strong early aughts-era quality to the work. For whatever reason, the presidency of George W. Bush and that period in general allowed for a more articulated vision of pushing back. With this approach, they tap into Green Day’s “American Idiot” phase, for it has a similar, snarled punk quality. Some of the other, more sorrowful elements, particularly of the anti-hero variety, touch upon Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, as there is a spirit of hopelessness yet a willingness to continue. Resistance is not futile; it is essential, but often it can certainly feel that way. Wilco highlighted the struggle and the lack of progress in trying to break the cycle we are still in. In the spirit of protest songs, the piece also has an indie rock meets Rage Against the Machine flavor to it, taking that message and lowering the volume for a quieter sort of power. With all these reference points, they manage to create a highly unique approach to the music.

               His vocals introduce the work. Accompanied only by the bass at first, the rest of the group gradually enters the fray. The track's fine buildup feels majestic, almost post-rock-like in its aim for that incredible crescendo of madness in the latter half. Crystal clarity is key, and every word is precise and deliberate, and it hits harder because of it. Infectious, catchy, and strangely sympathetic, the work grows in power, much like resistance against ill-advised authority starts so small before it boils over.

               Tripped-out mysterious psychedelic folk “Before a Fall” presents a unique take, as Bellstar transcends trends for a classic, timeless sound. Vocals feel transmitted via telepathy, for there’s a hypnotic rush to the cryptic lyrics. Most of the lyrics have a poetry to them, as if they are fractured fairytales and lullabies for the modern age. Instrumentally, this spirit is further highlighted by clever turns and intricate hooks. For all the experimentation they take within the album, it remains unbelievably catchy. Songs flow seamlessly into one another, making the album best when taken as a whole. Every song is a suite in this greater symphony. Nods to early Fleet Foxes emerge as there’s that similar hope and optimism that drives the rhythms along.

               A sense of tension mixed with discovery, “The River Flows” sets the tone for what follows. Delicate gestures swirl together on the airy and spaced-out stream-of-consciousness that is “Mercury’s Possession.” “Against The Wall” has a massive, sprawling situation to it, featuring guitars that glimmer in the distance. Like a long-lost Sebadoh track, "You Get To Stay " is brilliant, as the vocals and guitars combine into a singular, entrancing message. “Waiting To Breathe” has the sound virtually melting away in this surrealistic blur. Highly intimate, the raw grit and soul of “Animals In The City” capture the grime of urban living. Stripped-down “Nothing Disappears” has a half-remembered dream aspect. On “Blindsided,” they bring things to a close, neatly tying together all the themes that came before in this requiem-like procession.

               An absolute beast of a track, Bullets and Butterflies goes for a hard-hitting southern rock blues with “Not Yours to Lose.” Volume is mandatory. Her vocals stun, resting right at the center of the sound. From this point, the rest of the band is there to buttress her force of nature, and they make it feel effortless. Everything here embraces a pure, uncut physicality. Best of all, the whole thing radiates a togetherness, this communal energy that never ceases. Catchy to its core, they go right for the jugular, every word picked out deliberately for maximum impact.

               The song starts immediately. No buildup, nothing; they throw you right into the thick of things. From this vantage point, they show a strong defiance. Independence reigns supreme, with her delivery further sending the point home. Completely her own person, she is something to be reckoned with, not something to be controlled. Guitar work has this jagged edge, with the rest of the rhythm section kicking it up into high gear. Energy is sustained throughout the piece, making it nearly orchestral in the way it comes together in this swirling, kaleidoscopic fashion. Right halfway through the track, the band lets up, revealing only her voice, which still manages to keep the intensity on high, showing what an absolute powerhouse she is.

               Infectious, good for the heart and soul, “Mother Africa” has Darrell Kelley convey the utmost gratitude. Patience is a virtue, and he utilizes the impulses quite well. Wah-wah guitars gather to present this peaceful, otherworldly journey. He looks back towards the beginning, where it all began. A communal quality emerges out of the choir, highlighting exactly how important it can be to come together. We have more strength that way, and there’s something inspiring about the evolution of the groove.

               Right from the beginning, his voice takes the lead. Guitar riffs linger in the space for a moment before the rest of the band quickly comes into the fray. From there, he sets his sights on a stunningly taut groove. The rhythm has a restrained, refined presence because it embraces physicality. Speed here is not of the utmost importance; instead, atmosphere and thought are. Everything swirls about in this majestic way. His lyricism lies at the very core of the experience, allowing a transformational presence to unfold as the piece progresses. Words are chosen carefully to convey this strong sense of purpose that drives the track along. Melodies waft through, and the interplay amongst the group feels downright inspired. By the time it reaches the very last few moments, everything has come together, and a small victory is within reach.

               The Wayfarer Incident veers into a cosmic variant of spaced-out psychedelic rock on the riotous, ramshackle wanderings of “Calloused Germs.” A journey emerges out of the din, smashed cymbals and broken-down beats. Guitars plead for any semblance of getting clean, but this is, fortunately, denied to them. For all the feral energy, these tracks have a mystical allure. Part of that can be attributed to the extended durations of the tracks, but their ability to craft these strange sonic universes is downright charming.

               Everything about this offers the highest form of praise for the handful of practitioners who do this sound justice. With the sheer amount of buzzed-out riffs that sprawl endlessly, nods to Japan’s Mainliner certainly sit as a reference point. Much like that outfit, the Wayfarer Incident has no problem incorporating aspects of the blues, even funk, into the fray to give it that playful, chaotic demeanor. Some of the tracks feel as if they take a singular flourish and bore headfirst into it, variations on a theme reminiscent of the criminally neglected Philadelphia-based Pissed Jeans, as the lo-fi aesthetic also plays nicely into the overall temperament. Harsher edges of garage rock give way to Riot Season Record’s dirty, filthy aesthetic choices, as this goes deep into the red, deep into the murk. So while the Wayfarer Incident tap into the ancient quality of completely gone garage rock, they are by no means alone in fighting the good fight.

               Vocals swim through the blissful, dream-like world of “Elephants In Rooms,” where they incorporate a shoegaze realm into the proceedings. Wah-wah guitar and funky breaks frame the confident stride of “Delicious Joy.” “Serendiptity’s Final Disruption” messes with listener expectations, going into a flayed, acidic tone reminiscent of Liquorball’s utter madness. Droning spacious gestures echo into the distance on “Osmosis.” Letting loose guitar shreds rest at the heart of “Appertaining To Liberty.” Great drums and amplifier worship walk hand in hand with “Dynamics Of Outer Space Travel,” becoming almost mantra-like with the drone. Gigantic title track “Calloused Germs” feels akin to gradually losing any connection to reality, in the best possible way. Neatly tying it together is the triumphant “Let’s Go Cowboys (Bonus Track).”

               Frayed, flailing drums and loopy grooves give “Calloused Germs” this simultaneous old-school and contemporary flair, with the Wayfarer Incident tying both extremes together effortlessly.

               Dusty Edinger has a wild, classic-rock sense of wonder and humor in “Jack of All Trades.” The communal quality of the track brings it into conversation with old-school groups like Kansas, America, and their ilk. Even though the sound is updated, tweaked for this era, there’s a throwback element that draws the listener in. Best of all, the lyricism has a carefree attitude, making sure not to take itself too seriously. Volume is a given because this is a physical, fully felt sensation. Allowing the many layers to intersect creates an immersive experience. The vocalist fits the sound perfectly, giving it that extra driving force.

               The guitar's jagged edges start the piece off right. A mere voice and a guitar, with a bongo for a sense of playfulness, before the rest of the song gradually comes into the fray. Everything is kept taut, to the utmost essentials. Some of the flourishes go a long way, in particular those hand claps that lend it the perfect degree of togetherness. Much of the experience is communal because music is communal. Lyrics reflect everything we need to do to make it, to try and simply stay in place. Rather than go for the sadness of that statement, the vocals treat the world as a challenge ready to be met.

               Dusky Waters taps into a tried-and-true Americana spirit with the rustic “Mother Magnolia.” Lyrics center on the bliss of contemplation that rural life brings. The arrangement adds to the warmth of the work. Instrumentally vibrant, the choices feel gorgeous, from the delicacy of the fiddle work to the steady persistence of the banjo. By far, the very beating heart comes through with the expressive vocals that embrace a sense of discovery. Multiple layers intersect, resulting in this vast kaleidoscopic bloom of colors.

               Right from the beginning, the percussion takes the lead. Half-fun and half-thoughtful, the tactile mixture helps to solidify the rhythm. Melodies emerge out of the arrangement, feeling downright beautiful. The song captures both the past and the present while looking towards the future. With a neat, timeless stance, the piece has a warm, welcoming presence. Her ability to draw the listener into the adventure, to explore a whole lifetime. We go incredible distances with the right mentality, attitude, and positivity. Neat little flourishes filter into the forefront like a stream. The use of pastoral imagery gives the song an easy, breezy attitude that feels doubly refreshing. She lets a poetry of sorts inform the narrative, giving thanks to those who made this moment possible. With this sense of gratitude, the piece grows into a series of branches on a greater family tree.

               Meltdog shares a whole life, the motivations, ups and downs, on the fiery flow of “Beware of Dog 2.” Lyricism threads together the many different references. Over the course of the album, Meltdog incorporates jazzy hip-hop, boom-bap, trap, chiptune, soul, and more in this way that feels highly distinctive. His delivery is damned good too, as he goes for the cold truth. With lightness and darkness in equal amounts, there is something quite revelatory about the way he executes his vision.

               Pointillistic synthesizer cuts scatter through the opener “KELEV,” capturing a spirit of defiance and self-confidence. “Bad Man” strides through in this wild, unhinged manner, stretching the fanfare sample, as his verses dart across at a breakneck pace. Good gospel hooks anchor the faith-based contemplation of “Cry No More.” Sounding like a long-lost Daedelus-produced track are the romantic sweeps of “He Ain’t Me,” which has an orchestral, haunted quality. Growling, heavyset synthesizers dive deep into the languid churn of “Big Dog.” Classic boom-bap beats anchor “Beware Of Dog 2,” letting the lyricism reflect on the self, before he completely switches it up about halfway through the track. Peak ‘70s soul filters into the optimism of “The Distance,” which focuses on life as a journey. Gradual buildup of “Applause” focuses on the idea of trying to make it and what that does to a person. “Need Ya Friend” features an extreme desire that passionately burns everything else away. Chiptune effects give “Outside” a videogame-like spirit, like trying to power through the pain. Bass becomes purely physical on the intense “Dialed In.” There is a cinematic flair to the woozy melody of “Untouchable/War,” with a nimble snap. “Meltdog” features the complicated navigation of relationships, of how difficult they are, how they evolve, and how impossible they can be to establish, then grow. Speeding through in a wild blur, “Meltdog” has a swinging sincerity that rushes through. A victory lap rests at the core of “Who’s Laughing Now?” Layers swirl about in a reflection haze for the flow feels visceral on the confessional “Word Is Bond.” “11:11 In Los Angeles” explores the concept of religion, of how to save. Perfectly tying the whole experience is the finale of “Piece Of Me.”

               Kenny Foster envelopes social critique in sunny yet thought-provoking pop with “Poor Little Trillionaire.” Going for a Frank Zappa-inspired strain of psychedelic rock, with an indie-rock flair in the vocal treatment, the piece stuns in an effortlessly chill way. Their ear for melody is profound, resting right at the core of everything. An original approach to the arrangement, aspects of electronica, jazz-rock, dance rock, fusion, and world music. It is a highly original approach. They focus heavily on lyricism, allowing the verses to cascade in this warped form of storytelling.

               Such a small, understated opening to the rest of the song. A broken-down drum machine keeps pace as little synthesizers flutter their way through. Upon the inclusion of the vocals, things really come into bloom. The exploration of social pressures, the way we tell ourselves that we will one day be rich, gives rise to the idea that the American poor are just temporarily embarrassed millionaires. Due to that one single form of thought, there’s a lot less flux within the United States versus other countries where populations realize the chasm between the rich and poor is vast. In some ways, that limits dissent, but in others, it makes it far more tempting for those in power to take advantage of those who have less. Unlike most places, the United States can point to those ‘lesser thans,' so things can remain comfortable, as there is always someone to punch down.

               A throwback to a simpler time, Ja Fearce combines humor and a hint of nostalgia with the early-aughts references of “00’ Shawty.” R&B, hip-hop, and pop bubble up into a perfect, mellow blend. The rapper messes with tempo, going fast and going slow. Nothing is predictable. Fortunately, for those familiar with 2000s-era radio, there’s a lot of love to be found within the sound, as the whole thing shines with optimism. Hooks aplenty lead the way, too, proving to be straight-up addictive. Reference points would be Outkast at the peak of their powers and their uncanny ability to delve into a gorgeous hybrid. Verses maintain a carefree attitude that serves right at the very center of the experience.

               No buildup, they start straight in the middle of things. The bass work focuses on a well-sculpted low end that adds to the celebratory spirit. Melodies perfectly fuse with the overall approach. Keeping things simple means the song remains approachable, as if having a conversation with a friend. So much light bathes the work, making it feel downright gorgeous. Plenty of colors enter the fray, giving the whole thing this summer jam spirit. Volume is a must because this sound deserves to be felt and heard. Evolution of the groove happens in subtle shifts that feel doubly refreshing.

               An exclamation of connection, JEEPER$ looks at the sunny side of things with “City Plugg (feat. Ace Pronto & GPE LEE).” The lyrics and arrangement are perfectly synced. Word choice has this celebratory swing, punctuated by the little spry snare hits that run through. Rhythmically, it takes things easy, going for a more gliding approach than anything intense. Layers are applied in this light-drenched way, kept airy, spacious, and hopeful. Vocalists switch it up in this conversational way. Flows have a wide variety of approaches, going from the confrontational to the absolutely liberated. What ties these themes together is a fierce form of individuality, of picking one’s own community. You do not need to interact with everybody; not everyone is worth it. Lyrics and life itself prove that.

               Some of the ways they switch things up so naturally, with humor and defiance at the same time, feel akin to the confident stride of the Beastie Boys in how easy the switch-offs happen. Aspects glisten through the mix, and the ear for melody alongside the crystal clear production goes for a Tyler, the Creator sense of overload madness. The sex, drugs, and thrown-off pop culture references make it seem like the casual cousin of Das Racist’s equally stoned-out, drug-loving ethos. By combining all of these with a bright, vivid palette, JEEPER$ brings the old-school and modern eras of hip-hop together in a soothing, unique style.

               From the first moment, the mood is set. The arrangement quickly comes into focus. Chords hit in the right places, doubling the beats and allowing this expansive stance to emerge. Percussive elements skitter by, feeling absolutely liberated. Bass bounces, adding to the sense of hope, even as insults are thrown down. When they touch upon the family of things, from neglected kids, it hits particularly close to home. Delivery-wise, they sell it, and the chords lighten some of the harsher truths. Nice little dig at POTUS’s declining popularity in a wonderfully evergreen verse, one that literally could apply to almost any one of the losers. When it concludes, with every perspective fully explored, it has a mellow, freewheeling wonder.

               A delirious psychedelic take on dream pop, Kilbey Kennedy embraces the hypnotic on the cyclical “Things We Did On Earth.” Songs draw from the smeared romanticism of Beach House’s shoegaze, the simple, direct emotional impact of Mac DeMarco, and the way that the album evolves gives it a narrative, theatrical conceit reminiscent of the Decemberists at their most lovely. Guitar work is played with confidence. Keyboards usher in and highlight the messaging. By far, the beating heart of the matter lies with the singer, who has an expressive, warm, and welcoming presence.

               Galloping drums and confident, post-rock guitar ring open the album on the aptly named “Reverie.” Spaced-out, slow-moving gestures give “Jezebel” a long-lost quality, sidestepping current trends in favor of something ageless. “Dysphoria” has an expansive, expressive quality. Interplay among the group gives “The Dryad” a communal aspect, all the way down to the pining chorus. A dark gothic beauty unspools on the mystical journey of “Turkey.” Stripped-down acoustic guitar strums along like a valentine on the tender “You Are The One,” complete with a lustful stance. Hovering through in a defiant stance, “Disobey” asserts its independence. “Serafina” has a giddiness underneath the gleam, featuring vocals reminiscent of Bowie. Patient and persistence are the gradual building of “My Today.” Delicacy defines the sweetness of “The Formless.” Symphonic sweeps and slide guitar become one for “Things We Did On Earth,” which features a weightlessness. Completely letting loose is the fiery finale of “A Question In The Dark.”