Orchin wades through a sonic bog well-traveled, a soupy mixture of dream pop, shoegaze, and straightahead indie rock inhabited by the likes of Porcelain Raft, Holydrug Couple, and The Radio Dept. Despite the Los Angeles four piece's cheeky categorization of their output as "Unpopular Music", Orchin has purveyed an accessible and familiar sound throughout their relatively small catalog. But on "I Think I," Jeremy McLennan and company muscle their way out of overplayed territory—the track stages the progress of a group charting new acoustic directions and resisting submission to hackneyed dream pop tropes. Simply put, "I Think I" illustrates a band finding its footing on an assured and confidently original sonic grounding.
Eventful and complex, "I Think I" refuses to plod. Much as McLennan "think[s he] would like to try one more time," the song itself surges with a commanding and uplifting drum burst. With the driving drum line and invigorated riff, Orchin motors its way out of milquetoast sluggishness of typical dream pop dolor. Urgency, immediacy, and vitality shove to the front as McLennan repeats the lyric without the previous torpor—as the track comes into its own, so does Orchin, taut with purpose and firing on all cylinders.
Orchin take their determined new sound to Alphaville June 17th, alongside Hellrazor, Model/Actriz, and Maneka. Stream "I Think I" below and check out out Orchin's tour dates under the embed.
Orchin tour dates:
6/2 Los Angeles, CA - Basic Flowers
6/7 Oklahoma City, OK - DIY Venue (Address available week-of)
6/8 Lawrence, KS - Replay Lounge
6/10 St Louis, MO - Foam
6/11 Columbia, MO - PDM
6/12 Chicago, IL - Subterranean
6/13 Lakewood, OH - Mahall's
6/16 Montclair, NJ - Meat Locker
6/17 Brooklyn, NY - Alphaville (Presented by AdHoc)
6/19 Boston, MA - Middle East
6/21 Providence, RI - Psychic Reading
6/22 Milton, DE - Milton Theatre
6/27 Austin, TX - Beerland
6/30 Phoenix, AZ - Trunk Space
On Wild Palms, Iguana Moonlight transports the listener out of Ilya Ryazantcev's cold and bustling home of Moscow and into a playground of cosmic isolation. The record, part of a cluster of full-lengths soon to be released on Not Not Fun, proffers a delightful relief from spatial and sonic claustrophobia: in its hazy meanderings, Wild Palms nurtures an unhurried space that sounds truly otherworldly.
The record's final track—"VI"—represents perhaps the most alien transmission from the Russian "bedroom voyager." As found sound of ocean waves plod about the track's woozy atmosphere, a form trickles out of an arpeggiating pattern that gently swells into shape. The result sounds like an excavation, a deep probing of the fissures between each bleep and a spectral analysis of each bloop. But Iguana Moonlight's ethereally "equatorial" conjurings don't fall prey to a reactionary escapism; rather, the extraterrestrial landscapes he hallucinates project an uncanny gut-punch of the sublime, as visceral as it is beautiful. Like the white sand of Ryazantcev's imagined beach, "VI" worms its way into the cracks between toes and lingers there, tickling the skin.
Wild Palms lands June 30, courtesy of Not Not Fun. Step into the cosmic beach of Iguana Moonlight's "VI" below.
As a sound engineer by trade, Gold Dime's Andrya Ambro knows what sounds good. And on "All We Have To Be Thankful For," Ambro merges this technical know-how with a drummer's intuition, delivering a salvo showcasing both mechanical mastery as well as an ear for melody. The track, immersed in its propulsive clamor, chugs forward over the course of its nearly 6-minute runtime, marching with the thrust of Ambro's drum line atop a bouncing a capella beat. Interspersed with stabs of guitar feedback, this motion takes on a distinctly heavy feel, a thickness of distortion and clanking momentum.
As Gold Dime's twitter announces, thinking of the band as "The Residents, only more intimate and on fire" reiterates the heaviness tinged with playfulness, the jesterly seriousness that plays out throughout the bends and twists of "All We Have To Be Thankful For." Undergoing instrumental changes, fadeouts, and tone shifts, the track is an exercise in process and progress. As Ambro chants, "we can find the mystery:" "All We Have To Be Thankful For" dramatizes a self-directed probing into what makes the band tick. And with Ambro's measured hand on the pulse, it's easy to "pull up a seat" and watch as she confidently strides into exciting new musical terrain.
Join Gold Dime in celebrating Fire Talk's release of Nerves June 3 at Alphaville. Stream "All We Have To Be Thankful For" below to prepare for the show!
There's a vastness that Cody Fitzgerald and company shoulder in "Gold Age," the new song off Stolen Jars' glint EP
. From the very first organ chime to Fitzgerald's ecstatically hushed vocals, "Gold Age" communicates a subdued grandiosity in its artful sparseness. The streaky skyspaces of two landscapes—the pastel pink atop rocky soil and the chilly blue above an urban street at dusk—further convey this immensity in Jenelle Pearing's spectalur video for "Gold Age."
But this enormity neither weighs the song down nor crushes the glimmering moments that make Stolen Jars' catalog so precious. The skittering drum blasts, the impassioned yelps, and the syncopated guitar strumming all hint at microscopic imabalances that "Gold Age" elegantly glides across in its delicate agility. "Gold Age" retains a certain nimbleness, a nimbleness incarnated by Nora Alami's graceful spins and leaps in Pearing's video. Like the song itself, whose teetering instrumental elements seem to threaten a collapse as Fitzgerald's voice slides from a whisper to a yell, Alami's choreography nearly topples over itself: at one point, she appears to lose her balance before vainly attempting to prop herself up again.
Pearing's video, a companion to the visual album's track, dramatizes Stolen Jars' coming to terms with the sheer emotional force of its music. Quivering yet radiant, "Gold Age" swells into something more substantive than just visual and sonic surfaces, a synthesis of palettes more grandiose than the sum of its parts.
Lilting without lull, Multa Nox's latest track from her upcoming full-length Living Pearl, lusters. Propelled by a gentle momentum of clicks and sputters, the dreamy "i have not whispered everything i can bear" inhabits a milky sonic space lacquered with a textural richness of drone tones and vocal ornamentation. In this space, Brooklyn-based sound artist Sally Decker bathes her composition in a softness inflected with an incantatory grandiosity that swells along with the inertia of the gingerly shifting drone. The exact words that she utters remain blanketed in a gentle ambiguity: what flickers in and out could be some permutation of the words "just" and "end"—only the phonemic traces stand out amid the wash of sound.
Language, enunciated in Decker's whispers, becomes disentangled from signification, becomes vibration, becomes physical. And with that, her whispers bear an enormous weight: the ability to transform words into something sumptuous, something delectable.
Multa Nox's LP Living Pearl is out June 2 on NNA Tapes. Stream "i have not whispered everything i can bear" below.
Via App, the Brooklyn-based DJ and electronic producer, is up for a challenge. That is, Dylan Scheer doesn't just make challenging music—but actively challenges the dilution of techno: Scheer leads a cadre of DJs renovating the underground electronic scene from a boys' club into something more welcoming. Her innovative vigor—as seen on 2016's Sixth Stitch on Break World— and legendarily experimental performances have opened up a playfully dissonant new sonic space whose warped energy is both infectious and invigorating. Ahead of Via App's performance at Brooklyn Bazaar on Saturday May 20, Scheer caught up with AdHoc to talk DIY geography, DJ technique, and future plans.
As an electronic musician, you’ve performed as both a DJ and a live musician. What’s the difference for you?
In doing both, I think about collaging different styles and attitudes into something narrative. I think these references are more traceable when I DJ. I have control over more variables when playing live, but I have a broader range to pull from when I'm DJing. My approach and experience are definitely more rooted in playing live, but also in constantly collecting and learning about electronic and experimental music.
You started the Via App project while in Boston, working in the DIY electronic scene there. How has living in New York changed your approach to creation, either in terms of material conditions or more stylistically?
There's more pressure for output. So that does change my relationship to the work—for better or for worse. There's a cool community of makers here. There are a lot of people who are really devoted to what they do, and who make work with unique voices. That is exciting to me and has probably influenced my sound quite a bit in writing to play as part of a night of varied sounds, and writing for New York venues. This isn't to say that those people weren't in Boston, but there were a lot of external factors like cop presence at DIY shows, conservative laws around clubs which made it hard to foster a growing dance music community. so I think my work moved at a different pace and mostly developed in my room.
Portland-based four piece Cool American plies a unique trade, somewhere between sneakily virtuosic slacker rock and overdriven power pop-punk in the vein of Tony Molina—an intersection embraced by the group in their cheeky self-identification as "dorito rock." On "Maui's," the latest transmission from Cool American's upcoming full-length Infinite Hiatus, both tendencies shine through, goading each other in a playful back-and-forth.
"Maui's" is a gentle recollection of a Saturday long past, strummed and lovingly recounted until it suddenly veers off course. A "twitch" Nathan Tucker describes becomes a genuine "warning" that the song might swerve out of control. And it does: as the subject tries to "have another drink and ignore" this premonition, this sense of pent-up tension, the song explodes in a wash of guitar pedal dissonance. But the new direction is neither aggressive nor unflattering: the heavier section retains the first's jaunty whimsy—albeit with a little more teeth.
is out June 2 on Good Cheer Records. Listen to the premiere of "Maui's" below and be sure to catch Cool American play with Turtlenecked and Museum of Recycling at Alphaville June 25
A heavy-hitting lineup of Actress, Forest Swords, and UMFANG graced the stage May 10 at Mercury Lounge. We hope you made it. If not, relive the magic and check out dreamy shots from the atmospheric night generously provided by Erez Avissar.
On Olden Goldies, Tall Juan mixes things up. The ecstatic rock n’ roll stylings of his latest transmission on BUFU Records resonate with the playfully inverted title of the record: on Olden Goldies, Argentinian-born Far-Rockaway transplant Tall Juan mines a sound reminiscent of the golden oldies of AM radio scuzz—but, not without reverence, warps the sound and structure of a racially and sonically exclusive genre with his Spanish lyrics and casual brashness. This nonchalantly progressive attitude, always tinged with a cocksure enthusiasm, colors the resplendent Olden Goldies with an insouciance tinged with loss and hardship—of drug addiction, heartbreak, and immigration—that Juan bats away with a grin. But beneath this grin scratches, yelps, and yawps Juan’s inimitable voice, a testament to both his Latin roots and his new digs in Queens.
Ranging from a youthful squeal on “Time Bomb” to the soaring spaciousness on the reconciliatory “Kaya” to the introspective melodiousness on slow-burning closer “Take Your Time,” Juan’s versatile voice jaunts with the listener through a rollicking subway ride around Juan’s geographies and relationships. Although Tall Juan may “not know what to do” as he maintains on “I Don’t Know What To Do,” our next step, as listeners of Olden Goldies, is clear: to canonize Juan along with the rockstars of the golden oldies, celebrating both his virtuosity—comparable to classic rock’s standard-bearers—and his visionary rejuvenation of a dormant genre.
Stream Olden Goldies below ahead of its release on Friday May 5th, courtesy of BUFU Records. Catch Tall Juan at his record release show on Sunday May 14th at Baby's All Right in Brooklyn.
El Murki’s Breakeadito hurdles along at a ludicrous speed. From the very first locomotive kicks of “Kagemusha S.A.” to the slippery juke stutter of “160 Tranqui,” a tilting inertia propels each fragmentary transmission that composes this album from the Argentinian producer otherwise known as Leandro Ramirez. At this streaking velocity, the sounds—ranging from synth squeaks to vocal shards—atomize into discrete blips, components of the stuttering pastiche formulated by El Murki’s goofball poetics. In this state of overdrive, the quantized particles of Breakeadito highlight “Kahn” smear into a chromatic spectrality textured by sputters and pings. And it’s a sumptuous, though overwhelming, texture. But what sticks here isn’t necessarily the full weight of the variegated onslaught but the twinkling moments, always-already receding from the Buenos Aires-based producer’s fecund momentum. As an exercise in truncation and reassembly, Breakeadito seems to grasp at an ecstatic futurity—a resplendent vision of a joyous Latin American reality.
Breakeadito is out May 5 on Orange Milk.