In the Spotify Age, musicians looking to sell hardcopy releases are well-advised to bring extra assets to play. “L’Aventura,” the latest box set from songwriter and composer Tyson Swindell comes correct for lovers of musical minutiae, with a bound book of poetry and an honest to Memorex mixtape of pre-release material alongside his sweet, new lo-fi lament “Binary Stars.”

At bad open mics or the wrong side of YouTube, the term “lo-fi” can be shorthand for “low rent, low effort, low energy.” Not here. Swindell’s work is “lo-fi” in the best sense: slow, intimate, real. Ironically, the actual production fidelity is excellent. Swindell’s work has been consistently well-produced, and in places “L’Aventura” is almost cinematic.

The same sense of growing mastery extends from the production to the sound. Working almost exclusively with electronics, Swindell starts with the vibe of an excellent bedroom DJ, but shows a classic, songwriterly sensibility that recalls some of the bygone best of indie and shoegaze masters. “Binary Stars” may rely on digital instruments, but there’s as much blood from Band of Horses as Tycho, with both sides serving a poetic but personal lyricism recalling Bright Eyes and late-career Elliott Smith. It’s sad boy music for certain, music to mope to, but executed with pretty production and elegant restraint.

As to the rest of the assets, The Deli can’t comment – haven’t received a copy. If the book and tape live up to the single, however, the box is worth a look for anyone seeking musical company for a quiet night in.

– Matt Salter

“I Will Not Be Your Prison, I Will Not Be Your Guide” is a challenging and — if you have the taste for it — rewarding three track release from Austin experimental metal band God Shell. The EP immediately throws the listener for a loop with “Skinwalker.” The discordant guitar riffs surprisingly remind me of chaotic no-wave/noise rock outfits like Sissy Spacek and Sleetmute Nightmute. The rhythms are jagged, with thundering drums and angular guitars. The song comes in phases, changing tempo but keeping a constant claustrophobic mood. The guitars squeal and screech, eventually overcoming the actual notes themselves, and as the drums gradually lose momentum, the song returns to the noisescape it began as.

The second track — the semi-titular “A Prison” — is more experimental. The introduction reminds me of Daughters’ “You Won’t Get What You Want,” before the beat suddenly collapses amidst a maelstrom of glitches, and shifts into a droning noise cut. A phantom-like drumbeat hides under one thick, sustained chord for most of the runtime, creating the sort of dark, oppressive mood that is so dense it almost becomes cozy. I say “almost” because the song is interspersed with unpredictable — and at times startling — stutters and skips.

Ender “Hagibalba” is the most straightforward on the EP, starting off with a catchy, toe-tapping riff that I was stunned to hear after the first two songs. Like “Skinwalker,” “Hagibalba” turns on a dime again and again, changing speeds and flipping from cacophony to measured playing. The drums stay consistently tight considering the whiplash-inducing song structure, providing the listener with a sort of light for navigating the strange progression.

All in all, “I Will Not Be Your Prison” is a release for fans of sonic extremity. The music is entirely un-formulaic and to-the-point. Where another experimental release might gish gallop the listener with semi-listenable,  tedious and indulgent pulp, Shell God explores new concepts with precision and purpose, keeping the listener engaged. The music is leaden, but when performed with such rawness and intensity it becomes irresistible.

– Tín Rodriguez

In 2021, having just come out of a year in which the demand for psychotherapy grew by leaps and bounds, the Calm meditation app is on everybody’s phone it seems and fifteen quarantine pounds gained is the norm, now more than ever, we badly need a trippy record to help us to relax. In a half-normal, post-pandemic world, we’re yearning for a record made by a band who promises their music will take you on a journey and bring you back seeing life differently. 

The Cush, a Fort Worth band consisting of husband Burette Douglas on vocals/guitar, wife Gabrielle on vocals/bass, Ben Hance on guitar and keyboards and Austin Green on percussion, place themselves in the “trippy genre” om their self-written Spotify bio, in which they also promise us a memorable musical journey. Their album “Riding In the Stardust Gold,” released April 23, was recorded at Fort Worth’s Empire Sound studio and Eagle Audio with Ben Harper’s Mad Bunny label imprint.

Although the new album often shows the expected musical influences of a trippy indie pop album nowadays (The xx, Alex G, The Cult, Slowdive), their imaginative songwriting and musicianship puts them more in the life-changing escape realm of “Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots” than that of a regular dream pop record.

There are two tracks here that swerve from The Cush’s happy sonic dream vacation to create a challenging — even frightening — mood akin to getting seriously lost while traveling: “Beneath The Lines” and “Chariots of Smog.” And they are both quite fun upon a second listening. Between the Deep Purple/Stone Temple Pilots/Black Sabbath/Faith No More metal guitars, these really rock hard! On “Chariots of Smog.” Burette sings like a moody teenager. On “Beneath the Lines,” Gabrielle’s usual sweetly gorgeous vocals turn satisfyingly tense and emotional, with a few shrieks thrown in for good measure. Their long-time fans will be very surprised at this new side of the band.

“Haters,” the album’s first single (and the only one that Ben Harper produced) is currently receiving radio airplay. Hopefully Ben Harper’s fans will spread the word as well so that music fans discover this gem of an album.

– Jill Blardinelli

Emily Wolfe lets her light shine in her latest single “Something Better.” The song takes the listener on a ride by starting soft and sweet, then showcasing huge vocals, catchy guitar licks and powerful drums along the way. Simply put, after listening to “Something Better,” one can’t help but feel “better.” Even though the lyrical content is rooted in loneliness, the overall vibe is undoubtedly positive and it’s clear that Wolfe has been able to turn a painful experience into an uplifting pop-rock anthem.

Wolfe wastes no time jumping into the lead single from her upcoming album “Outlier.” Right away, she pulls you in with her distinct, high-registered vocals that straddle the line between classic rock and modern pop. It’s something that’ll appeal to many generations of music listeners, almost as if Stevie Nicks and Demi Lovato put their voices in a blender. The intro is gradually complemented with a straightforward drum beat and Wolfe’s scorching guitar riffs. There have been many artists who blend elements of pop and rock, but Wolfe does so in a way that should satisfy purists from both genres. She possesses the look, attitude, and guitar chops of a true Rock n’ Roller. Yet her crisp, dynamic vocal style, polished production, and uncanny ability to create an earworm chorus could easily land her on some of the biggest pop stations around the world. 

Wolfe repeats that she’s “alone” and “tired” and looking for “something better.” She laments about the monotony of it all, and her yearning for a more exciting life is highly relatable — it’s easy to fall into a rut and mindlessly go about your everyday routine without ever stopping to ask, “Why?” Though this can be a sad reality, Wolfe ultimately is sending an optimistic message — that it’s never too late to fully go after what you want, and though we may find ourselves stuck at times, there’s always hope that we’ll find “something better.”

It’s easy to see why Emily Wolfe has accomplished so much in her young career thus far. She has her own sound, the edge and the “it” factor that appeals to a wide spectrum of listeners. “Something Better” highlights her ability to craft music that is catchy and pop-oriented, while also rocking out in the process.

– Quinn Donoghue

In her own words, San Antonio artist, claire rousay (stylized in all lowercase) “is a person who performs and records.” She is a skilled percussionist and composer who makes use of her excellent ear for recorded sound to conjure sonic landscapes from the material of everyday life — sounds from a kitchen, garage, desk, bathroom, or just outside the living room window. Her music prioritizes emotional immediacy, and on “a softer focus,” she has chosen to ruminate on the strange ways that isolation has intensified our fractured relationship to space in the digital era. Much of her discography can be placed within a broader tradition of experimental collage-based music, but “a softer focus” is a more composed release which explores diverse instrumental stylings in service of something more grounded; a classical album which seeks to stimulate the humanity often buried within digital experience.  

The first time I heard claire rousay’s music was at Me Mer Mo Monday, a weekly event once held at Volstead Lounge which served as an informal hub for Austin’s underground experimental music scene. The awkward tension between Me Mer Mo and the rest of East Sixth Street would make itself apparent whenever a bachelorette party or frat crew would stumble upon a free jazz or noise set by accident, yet on occasion these two worlds would converge amicably. In the middle of a particularly spacey duet with more eaze, claire set her White Claw down and began scrolling through her phone, but instead of a field recording or a sample, Charli XCX came blaring out of the Aux cord. claire proceeded to play the entirety of Charli’s debaucherous electropop anthem “5 In The Morning” before eventually transitioning back into an abstract jam. 

On one level, this was simply a fun moment — I love Charli XCX and I was also drinking White Claws — and everyone in the room was smiling. But I was also blown away by the boldness of this decision to insert an untouched pop song into claire and more eaze’s exercise in sonic manipulation. There is a moment on the track “peak chroma” which took me back to this avant-pop crossover: after two and a half seamless tracks of typewriter field recordings, wistful piano and swelling strings, claire’s heavily autotuned voice enters the mix and she begins to sing a melodic verse by crooning “I’m trying not to miss you / I put on the newest blackbear song”. 

A staged eavesdropping ensues, and we hear two or three auto-tuned voices whirl around one another as they casually express different attitudes towards posting on social media. One of them has a habit of deleting her posts as soon as they go up online, as she feels uncomfortable extending her sense of self into online space. More bluntly, the final track “a kind of promise” pokes at similar anxieties of technological representation — a beautiful melancholy piano and string miniature is brought to a violent halt by a warbling cassette tape.

On “a softer focus,” recorded space is not limited to the conventional set of environmental sounds (oceans, insects, birds, traffic, etc.) which conventionally signify space or nature, though it does make extensive use of them. As social media usage has further settled into the environments where we live and listen, music which honestly depicts (or perhaps creates) the experience of being present must also include or reference the prepackaged and processed sounds that have found themselves more and more omnipresent in our lives. To me, the title of “a softer focus” deliberately evokes the unconscious experience which underpins the act of scrolling: staring into your screen in motion as sound peaks out at arrhythmic intervals, hinting at other places which arise from our shared topology.

By musicalizing the feeling of scrolling, claire rousay has beautifully illuminated the inner processes which guide that banal habit, and while what we do with this perspective is a bigger question, we are better off having heard it for ourselves. It’s important to note that none of these ideas would hit home were it not for the timeless beauty of the compositions that carry them. 

– Blake Robbins

Kevin McKeown and Eric Owen may have grown up in North Toronto, but the work they’ve done as duo Black Pistol Fire does honor to their adopted home. Their latest video, “Look Alive,” is pure Austin — a little bit hick, a little bit hipster, plenty of punk. Their signature straight-ahead rhythm and fat, fuzzed-out guitar sound are still on display, but “Look Alive” shows a few flourishes to stand out from the pack of Jack White acolytes.

“Look Alive” is strongest when it starts, benefiting from a welcome dose of psychedelia courtesy of delayed guitar and some suitably opaque spoken word, but then things chug into straightforward rock that’s a shade predictable after the fun intro. Still, “Look Alive” sticks close to an appealing 70s-freakout sound without ever being too Tangerine Dream to move bodies or too Winters Brothers to blow minds. Black Pistol Fire know their influences and show them due reverence while adding a stylish spin of their own.

The video for “Look Alive” is as dead-on as its soundtrack, mixing a grizzled actor, some garish green screen and the de rigeur muscle car to great effect, even if it might look a tiny bit like the boat scene from “Willy Wonka” from time to time. 

But seriously, folks. Black Pistol Fire is a must for anyone into rock purism with a thick, distorted edge. White Stripes and Black Keys fans should check this out yesterday. If “Look Alive” is any indication, they’re sweetening their professionalism with a welcome dose of weird. And if that keeps up, Black Pistol Fire could rank with the best pure rock bands in town.

– Matt Salter

Let’s get right to it — the first song on this album features the line "All this crazy border madness/That makes a country create laws/without looking at the faces of the children." Earnest, we’re saying. If that’s your jam, allow us to recommend Leti Garza’s latest, "Borderland."

Musically, "Borderland"’s Spanish-language tracks hit hardest. Salsa rhythms, smooth pianos and lovely multipart vocal harmonies make these tracks sweet to the head and heart. The pure folk numbers aren’t as musically accomplished, but they’re more than Poli Sci homework, showing occasional poetic flourishes worthy of the Guthries, Joni and the other influences those tracks wear on their sleeves.

Lyrically, "Borderland" is laser-focused on the plight of asylum seekers at the Mexican border. Their struggles are central to the album, with Garza mostly stepping aside as lyricist to let the suffering of the people speak for itself. Some of the songs may be a bit dry and didactic – the opening track in particular is a challenge – but as a whole Garza’s latest is part of a vital dialogue about freedom and moral responsibility. Not every song needs to be danceable. "Borderland" has a message, and it’s absolutely worth hearing.

A vital final note — 100 percent of the proceeds, every last cent Leti Garza makes off this album, goes to Global Response Management, a charity dedicated to delivering emergency support to underserved people in crisis locations. That’s an extraordinary gesture that we at The Deli are proud to support. Right on, Leti.

– Matt Salter

“Dancing With Ghosts” is the teaser single from Jesse Beaman’s forthcoming album, “Mira.” The track starts out simply, with soft, reverbed synths and a steady four on the floor beat, building a dark stage for what’s to come. As instruments gradually come in, it feels like your eyes focusing, adjusting in the darkness. Shapes take form: snares roll subtly under bright, whirring pianos.

The track does not transform, it unfolds. The melody stays largely consistent, but it blooms and softens, heaves and contracts in a very organic way. Kinetic yet subtle, the instruments move with such understated synchronicity that — should you not be listening hard enough — you stand to miss the best parts. It is a sleek and seamless piece, ethereal and icy. It is music that feels “cool” without sacrificing self-awareness.

Self-awareness is essential here, as “Dancing With Ghosts” lends itself easily to introspection. It’s electronic but it’s distinctly human. While it opens with hard, precise drums and synths, the end of the song finds the aforementioned bright pianos fluttering, scattered and disembodied over a beat that crashed to a halt measures earlier.

The song is powerful, not only in its watertight production (handled by Interpol’s Brandon Curtis) and its composition, but in its mysterious emotional weight. Though the piece clocks in at less than four minutes, the phases of the song pass like seasons: at times it feels nostalgic and longing, at times vivacious. If Beaman’s music can take so many forms in under four minutes, the inquisitive listener will find themselves excited for what he’ll do in a full-length release.

– Tín Rodriguez

The local talent Primo the Alien cultivates a mysterious, dreamlike universe on her latest single “Sunrise,” along with some help from LA-based musician Shadowrunner, who produced the track and was behind its instrumentation. Her noted influences, such as Whitney Houston, Tina Turner and David Bowie, are all on display here, showcasing her powerful vocals establishing a theatrical, Bowie-esque presence. In addition to channeling some of these iconic artists, Primo and Shadowrunner incorporate modern synthwave sounds to create a nostalgic, dreamy and upbeat atmosphere that is fresh and unique.  

Despite being mainly influenced by older artists, Primo is also inspired by contemporary electronic-oriented artists like The Midnight — leading to a very natural collaboration process between her and Shadowrunner.  If Primo’s thunderous and distinct vocals were to be isolated, one might not expect it to be paired with Shadowrunner’s electro, synthwave production. Yet they both make it work seamlessly.  “I tend to tailor the delivery, tone and stylistic choices to the song. For this, I was looking for something  sweet, innocent, and pure,” she says. “I think that that matched the production that Shadowrunner  brought.”

The lyrical content is rooted in loneliness and isolation. “I was thinking of the yearning that is when you can’t be with someone. Looking at our current situation with covid and just being apart and away from each other a lot of times is kind of what I was drawing on,” she says.

It’s a song about waiting to be with someone and the pain that comes with that, but there is undoubtedly a hopeful message — that, even though you may have to wait to be with someone, you’re going to wait for that person no matter the barriers and limitations.

– Quinn Donoghue

Geoff Bradford gives Austin a fresh taste of relaxation and energy with his beautiful and dynamic, new EP “Texas Psychedelic.” The EP comes across as almost a look at musical history as it takes you through acoustic, jazzy and electric tracks, all the while featuring Bradford’s clear and distinctive, Ben Folds-esque vocals. The EP revolves around echoey and ethereal instruments — both physical and electronic — and slow tempos resonate with peace.

The EP is five heavily-varying tracks — Bradford experiments with dynamics, tempo and timbre throughout. Here, Bradford’s personality and creativity is on full display. Though the lyrics and vocals are largely the same, the changes in beat and instrumentation highlight moods ranging from bright and playful to relaxing.

When listening to “Texas Psychedelic” I find myself amazed by just how vibrant every part of the song is. While powerful guitar trills or riffs cascade in the background, there is still a consistent clarity that puts me at ease — at no point do I find myself overwhelmed.

Perfect for the reopening of “the old normal,” tracks truly are buoyant and delicate. It’s what the psychedelic experience is all about and “Texas Psychedelic” is an unorthodox, feel-good album that we very much need. 

– Eric Haney

Austin Meade lays down a feel-good, summer vibe in his latest video “Lying to Myself.” Meade seamlessly encompasses multiple genres and eras of music — think 80’s anthem rock, late 90’s alternative in the Everclear/Silverchair vein and modern Americana artists like Shakey Graves or The Avett Brothers in the vocals. That being said, the groove remains simple throughout the track, and the uplifting mood is accompanied perfectly by a comical video, featuring clown costumes, juggling and pissed off women. 

The guitar tones and straightforward drum beats a la Def Leppard or Whitesnake immediately solidify a stadium rock atmosphere. Yet Meade’s laid-back vocal style delivers a smooth contrast to the instrumental. On top of all of this, Meade adds his unique Americana twang to give the track a modern feel, despite some of the other vintage elements that are occurring. “Lying to Myself” exemplifies Meade’s ability to channel many different influences while maintaining a sound that is fresh and original. 

The silliness on display in the music video seems to only elevate the liveliness of the song. The video tells the story of a guy — presumably recently heartbroken — wandering around, attempting to pick up an attractive female. Throughout his escapade, he gets his foot stomped, a drink poured on his face and his groin area punched. One could simply interpret these events as a man pathetically trying to rebound from a lost love by mindlessly pursuing other women, but a deeper message may be present underneath this obvious analysis — the male actor is experiencing a loneliness that is relatable to anyone who has experienced a painful breakup. Towards the end of the video, the guy is on stage with the band and they’re dressed up in clown costumes, signifying that not taking life too seriously and enjoying things as much as possible are the only ways to move forward sometimes. 

Austin Meade’s “Lying to Myself” showcases his fluid songwriting and crisp vocals, all while reminding us that life is too short to dwell on the past. The Texas based musician possesses a mature sound that is uniquely his own, and we should all be excited to see what his future holds.

– Quinn Donoghue

Fetid Bowel Infestation is a one-man, electronic metal outfit whose new album, “Born Into Darkness,” provides a gruesome addition to the slam and brutal death metal lineage. Flying in the face of the cliché that metal is the modern equivalent to classical music, Fetid Bowel Infestation comes from the lineage of brutal death metal that crawled from the primordial ooze, saw the virtuosic sweep-picking, finger-tapping guitarists and mechanically precise percussionists and shuffled back into the water to embrace a more chugging, more odious take on the genre.

The band bears comparison to Devourment’s classic slam death metal, with the electronic elements reminding me of German cybergrind outfit Libido Airbag. At times a bit of Mortician’s more neanderthalic tendencies creep in, though mostly by virtue of the synthetic drumming. The music is uniformly dank and sludgy, giving the whole album the claustrophobic ambiance of a damp, muggy catacomb. All of this might sound negative, but words like “disgusting” and “gruesome” are high praise for an album like this.

“Bathing in the Blood of Angels” begins with an atmospheric soundscape that suddenly gives way and thrusts the listener into the album. Downtuned guitars laden with distortion (HM-2 perhaps?) form a dense sonic jungle, while unnaturally low gutturals drench track after track. Throughout the album — as on the track “Wrath of Cerberus” — the meticulousness of the drum programming shows, with tasty fills and varied beats cutting through the swampish music like a machete. At times the drums even reminded me of the cybergrind flourishes one would hear on Agoraphobic Nosebleed’s “Agorapocalypse’.’

The electronic instrumentation and animalistic vocals work together to create a sound that is both mechanical and bestial. This is most evident on “Ancient Corpse Exhumed,” which employs screeches as well as the grunts and low growls that one hears throughout the album; all this over a precise, double-kicked rhythm section. The effect is at times dizzying, and almost always feels like a caveman bashing your head with a leg-bone. All in all, if you’re a fan of slam and brutal death metal “Born Into Darkness” is a disgusting delight.

– Tín Rodriguez