Headless Horseman is a band full of contradictions. While much of members Fareed Sajan and Conner O’Neill’s repertoire contains the intimate spookiness of Icelandic bands like múm and Sigur Ros, there’s also an immediacy in their recordings at home in their Brooklyn surroundings, bringing Sufjan Stevens and even Sleigh Bells to mind in songs like Sh8ker and Growing. Achieving large, sing-along moments over sparse guitar work, then moving without pause to mouse-like whispers rising over blaring electronics, this band deals exclusively in musical and emotional dichotomies. It makes sense that fellow Wesleyan alum Himanshu Suri of Das Racist manages the duo, a man who is simultaneously de- constructing and re-constructing music by similarly forcing disparate ideas to work together. Constructing their large palette from found objects, Headless Horseman conveys a childlike sense of musical discovery in their songs where the listener feels as surprised at the messy but endearing results as the band does. Making generous use of kitchen utensils and collage sound editing techniques, Headless Horseman has managed to make a fully realized musical environment sound like an intimate experience. Check them out with the other bizarre electro kinds in Com Truise at Cameo on January 21. – Mike Levine

Lia Ices probably couldn’t have written “Grown Unknown” without taking a break from Brooklyn. Due out in February on Jagjaguwar, the singer’s sophomore album collects nine impressionistic fairytales, each song a misty sylvan dream world unto itself. The music is airy, uncluttered, and untouched by civilization. Prospect Park and Green Wood Cemetery have their dark, secluded spots, but as refuges from civilization—places capable of inspiring the kind of wonder and dread hissing beneath the quietude of this record—Brooklyn’s premier green spaces have nothing on rural Vermont, where Ices spent last winter writing. We asked Lia a few questions about the recording process for her upcoming album, here.

Born and raised in Israel, Itamar Ziegler might find himself pigeonholed and subsequently ignored by indie aficionados whose instincts will firmly place him within the “World Music” genre. It’s a shame, because anyone who overlooks "Memories of Now" will be missing a real treat. A treasure chest of tinkly instrumentation, dexterous acoustic play, poetic lyricism and strong pop melodies, the album is a slightly zany experience, with the song writing and arrangements rarely treading any kind of obvious ground. For example, opener ‘The Story Must Be Told’ captures that big-top, funhouse feel with its peculiar flutes and Arabian-esque guitar lead. ‘To Father’ is reminiscent of White Album-era McCartney with its delicate acoustic plucks and hypnotic vocal. An ode to his sadly deceased father, the record rarely shies away from important subject matter, often touching on themes of life, death, social injustice and war. On ‘Lordy Lord’, the militant percussion is the backdrop of the album’s most politically charged track as Ziegler bemoans the senselessness of war in God’s name. “We know you love us/We know you hate them/And when a child dies/It’s in your name,” he croons desperately. Indeed, the whole piece has an emotional core that coupled with Ziegler’s clever musicianship makes "Memories of Now" an unexpected winner. – Dean Van Nguyen