New York experimental outfit Ritual Boys Club is a hard group to pin down. Their debut LP Fishing in Roon radiates a wide range of disparate indie subgenera, sometimes simultaneously and authorities in quick succession — droney slowcore can quickly become upbeat jangle jams, math-y breakdowns congeal into twee indie, with the whole project underscored by the pleasant lo-fi hiss of tape recording. It’s this drive towards experimentation, towards seeking out inscrutable electric guitar-centric soundscapes, that makes the record so incredibly listenable, twisting at each track towards a new undefined direction, yet unified under the intimacy of Ella Sinskey’s intimate, almost home-recording quality vocals and concise, focused songwriting. Recommended for fans of Avi Buffalo, or perhaps those seeking a quieter band in the vein of Captain Beefheart, give it a listen below. 
 

In process of falling for someone, it’s common to recognize minuscule benchmark moments when you know someone is “the One,” the fleeting mental images one surreptitiously captures when they know they’re in it, deep. This experience of recalling such lovely bite-sized memories largely informs “Glue,” the latest track by psych rock savant Constantine Anastasakis, better known as Blonder. Amidst fuzzy riffing and hazy synthesizers, Anastasakis’ sweet phaser-laden vocals deliver plainspoken aphorisms (“love is sunlight going through your brown hair”), finding time in the track’s chorus to employ more metaphorical language that likens infatuation to floating on a cloud or discovering a solution that helps keep things “glued” together. Such misty recollections and dreamy comparisons, when coupled with instrumentation evocative of Tame Impala’s Currents and MGMT’s Congratulations, help to sonically recreate the somewhat indescribable experience of falling — the pleasant disorientation and often surreal headspace inherent to discovering how much we truly value another person. It’s confusing and terrifying, and sometimes the best solution is to just let the music play out — that said, give the song (and its accompanying visuals) a play below.

“Phonograph,” the latest single by New York mutli-instrumentalist and songwriter Vlad Holiday, has all the trappings of neo-noir soundtrack — compressed vox, dreamy telecasters, and a visual component that sets the scene for any variety of seedy midnight capers. Betwixt shots of the M train’s exterior as it snakes through Brooklyn, we catch solitary scenes of Vlad Holiday solitarily crooning in the studio, his echoing vocals seemingly dissipating into the room amidst the hissing of vinyl, creating a brief hush before a full brash fanfare dramatically accents the song’s chorus. Such stirring visuals encapsulate Holiday’s lonely, longing lyrics, and creates the perfect aesthetic for this tune’s backdrop. Reminiscent of equal parts Can and early Phantogram, it’s recommended viewing for those seeking an atmospheric nocture trip — watch it below. Photo by Chaunte Vaughn

It was 1977 when David Bowie, drawing inspiration from the sight of his producer embracing his lover by the Berlin Wall, released “Heroes,” ostensibly one of his best singles (and probably one of the greatest rock tracks of all time). While the politics of the period undoubtedly underscore the song’s lyrics, the track’s core theme is distance, the varying uncontrollable factors that keep us from the people we long most to see. Though this is may be an ahistorical reading of Ziggy Stardust’s intentions, it’s hard not to listen to Brooklyn multi-instrumentalist Jeremiah Brunnhoetzl’s (d.b.a. Arlo Indigo) cover without considering the context of our contemporary malaise-ridden daydream — in the age of social distancing, it’s likely many of us find ourselves fantasizing about how things would be, how great things could be, if the odds could be overcome, albeit briefly. Thankfully, Brunnhoetzl’s “blue pop” instrumentation, his pulsing synth-driven, 80s-tinged approach to Bowie’s work, masterfully captures the original’s dispirited energy with a contemporary spin. Give it a listen below.

David Pattillo is something of a blues rock cult hero in New York City, but you could likely tell that from looking at him. Replete with hair well-below the shoulders and a flare for late 60s / early 70s fashion, his music under the moniker Strange Majik conjures up classic influences, which when channeled through a contemporary filter, become something else entirely that’s wholly (and delightfully) weird. His latest offering 20/20 excels in this mishmash of past and present sounds, a psych-y, funky odyssey that reads like an alternate history Summer of Love wherein the public found out every batshit conspiracy theory of the time turned out to be true (as opposed to being declassified years later). And while Pattillo’s craft is in a five decade long tradition, his songwriting is very much of-the-times, which makes for an engaging cognitive dissonance — hearing Strange Majik groove under lyrics describing the breakbeat pace of modern living (“World On Fire”) and the surveillance state (“Whistleblower”) feels inherently anachronistic, a prediction of things yet to come hidden in dusty forgotten vinyl. Moreover, this combination of a modern worldview, a carefully curated mix of genera, and Pattillo’s strange bent succeeds in making a rock and roll record that feels truly contemporary, a task that’s no small feat these days. Play it loud, below. —Connor Beckett McInerney, photo by Ky DiGregorio