Tape

Always good to see Tape back in the mix and on their sixth album proper, the Swedish stalwarts are still walking the line between creeping minimalism and their own cracked pop lens. Their songs are earthen, filling rooms with the faint whiffs of concrete, moss and oncoming rain. The band tends to lend themselves to the introvert, soundtracks of quite reflection, even isolation at times. In that vein Casino is hung with a cautious sadness, and while the same sighs have filled other releases by Tape, they are never dour, just a little exasperated at the constant cloud cover. With the various offshoots of its members, it’s a wonder they find time to all be in the same room, let alone to craft with as much heft as they have on this album. Nothing here is as explosive as some of the other collaborations that members have found time for but in a way it’s their patience for quietude that packs the strongest punch. Highly recommended for the oncoming chill.

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	Propeller - Let Us Live Together Formed by Achim Reichel, longtime RSTB fave from AR & Machines and all around Krautrock hero. Here he pairs with fellow members of The Rattles and Wonderland and a few guests from Lucifer's Friend for a band that skews more to the heavy / glam axis. The
repetitive elements that show up in his landmark works are all but a whisper here but the record has a huge sound and a very early 70's thumbprint that's apparent in the heavy blues riffs, soft psych touches and rootsy breakdowns. Truth be told, nothing about this album feels like it was formed by German players at the time, its more indebted to the UK swath of rock that was rolling through at the same time. Oddly his own Die grüne Reise (The green journey) was released in the same year, so it seems he was splitting personalities with his experimental and pop sides. Alas, the band would make only one album as Propeller before disbanding but Reichel would go on for many years as a solo artist. Listen: Support the artist. Buy it HERE

Panabrite

Panabrite's Norm Chambers has been nothing if not prolific in the past few years, teaming up with Digitalis, Aguirre, Tranquility Tapes, Bathetic and Hobo Cult among a dozen others to bring immersive synth soundtracks to the world. Now he's skipping over to Immune, another obvious home for his worn page ambient journeys, with Pavilion, a darker side to his dissociative universe. The album begins with the patter of rain, a nod to his Northwest homestead, and links its eight tracks into a weave of bubbling distraction, translucent calm and meditative headspace. The record, as with most of Chambers' works, winds up rather cinematic, feeling like a thread looking for the needle of a camera's eye to truly give it purpose. At once gorgeous and ethereal but strangely claustrophobic and anxious, Pavilion has a way of feeling like the waking edge of a dream caught while sleeping on the job, the sounds of machinery fading to the edges but always pulling at the focus so that you can't just float away with the receding tide of calm hallucination. The album works best between the nestle of headphones, where the enveloping qualities of Chambers' world can best block out the encroaching chaos of the outside world. The rain seems to pop in and out of Pavilion, a recurring sense of ennui that perfectly matches the nervous, pit of the stomach sadness that encapsulates Panabrite's universe. Sure its a bummer, but its a perfectly engrossing bummer, and one that feels as necessary as ever these days. There are many to choose from but this stands as on of Panabrite's best.

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Steve Gunn

It's hard to follow up the year Gunn had in 2013, with a celebrated solo album and RSD gem Golden Gunn, but he's back at it again and in true form, he's wrangled another gorgeous solo cut that's pushing him ever further towards the pop edge while still keeping that mournful soul that's always drawn us in. Way Out Weather is less of an introspective tumble than Time Off, opting instead for expansive skies tinged with amber hues that feel like they might stretch on forever. He's returned again to Black Dirt Studios, gestational home to many RSTB beloved albums, and there Gunn and his core players (plus a few new additions) shaded the album into form with fine brushstrokes. Gunn's become something of a new troubadour in the process of the last couple of records, equal parts JJ Cale and Tim Buckley, while contextualizing his wilder guitar side into digestible, but no less remarkable form. Though he does let his wilder instincts prevail on closer "Tommy's Congo." So while he's got plaintive pathos to spare and Way Out Weather draws the listener in with promises of smooth porch rockers that blossom on further inspection into weightier material much to our delight. It seems certain that fall has found a new companion in Gunn and this may well end up your soundtrack through the end of 2014.

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Hundred Visions

Austin's had plenty of heat as a garage rock breeding ground and the latest gem from the city of 1000 shows is Hundred Visions. The band's blending SF garage-punk along the Segall / Cronin axis with a touch of pop in the vein of Green Day in their less opulent days. The result, their sophomore LP SPITE is a thick-veined, rubber-necked blast of Texan heat that lodges Acme safe sized hooks in between Oh Sees worthy whoops and guitar frazzle. Its hard to escape the Dwyer umbrella these days as a garage punk band with any exuberance, but to be fair they don't spend the whole record in that shade. Taking it down for a few slow moments that pluck at our 90's pop hearts, the mid section of the album shows they've got more than just rabble in their tank. A solid sender from the Southern line and well worth a few spins on the table for sure.

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Andy Stott

Stott's always been a master of gathering clouds, forcing menace to the surface in small rivulets that build to a storm. By the time the creeping dread is on you, its far to late to do anything about it. He gathers a new squall on Faith In Strangers twisting his way through metal shards of dub as befit any of Stott's past works, but there's also a renewed appreciation for calmer waters. Lingering icicle moments of anticipation that leave the listener waiting for the crush. It finds the line between violence and the salve without ever feeling like he's trespassing in either tone. As he has in the past, Stott utilizes the vocal collaborations of Alison Skidmore in both instances to add a sense of, not necessarily pop, but an ethereal, smoke bathed soul. Its an alternate dimension's torch record, battle cry and requiem all in one.

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	Herbcraft - Push Thru The Veil Been a while around here but Herbcraft return to the fold, this time expanded to a trio with Aaron Neveu of Woods on drums & production and Joe Lindsey on bass. The first new offering from the new setup is "Push Thru The Veil" a
psych/dub, bleary-eyed trip through the heather. Brittle guitars that bring a touch of 70's afro-funk crunch nicely atop a thick stream of butter dubbed percussion and bass giving that new rhythm section an instant workout. It’s a fuller sound than the band's brought forth before, but still true to their faded gatefold psych approach. The flip on this one actually cranks the dubplate tighter with a version that's all swirl n' hotbox swelter. The single acts as a run-up to a new album on the way next year. From these sounds, there's a lot to be hopeful for in 2015. The single makes way as the first offering from the band's own label SA! Listen: Support the artists. Buy them HERE

Bloods

Ever since those early singles we've been following this Aussie trio and its good to see them finally grow into their own on an album that delivers well on those budding expectations. Versed in 90's Elastica riffs, Dum Dum Girls moves and tearing through a pixie stix punk ethos the album actually ends up equal parts sunshine days and heart hung lonesome odes that delve further into the pop well than the band has ventured previously. Naturally its good to see them stretch, but its hard to hold back the pogo when the band cracks open the fizz and lets loose on those wild, hair shaking moments that feel just right to hairbrush sing the morning away. With some crisp production and a eye on the widescreen, Work It Out full realizes the shading that they'd hinted at on their previous EP and it remains a perfect addition to some early Fall playlists, squeezing the sugar rush bounce of "Want It" or the doleful pining of "College" between Beach Day and Jenny Lewis for a perfect segue.

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Beach Day

Still a terrible name, still doesn't matter. Beach Day is rooted in the ringing, resounding voice of Kimmy Drake, who's got the pipes that Bethany Cosentino's been searching for. The band's always rumbling just below that horizon, an unfortunate case as they've got a stronghold on sunny riffs, handclaps and sand-grit guitars that make you wanna pop the windows open at 60 and just drive straight towards the sun. Its all heartbreak, he said / she said and hubris but that's the beauty of Native Echoes, there's no need for furrowed brows and politics. Sometimes its best to just keep things simple, sweet and instantly replayable. It’s a doo-wop record with dirt in its teeth and for that you can be grateful. There are still a scant few days of hangover summer left and the wise bet's on a boombox and a copy of Beach Day. Hell, even if it gets cold, there are more than a few tracks here that wrap tight like a favorite hoodie. Find time to savor it.

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Bass Drum of Death

BDoD blew onto the scene a few years back in the wake of main miscreant John Barrett's involvement with Flight, the cornerstone of Mississippi voodoo fuzz. Barrett bore a similar style to Flight's octane heavy, vocally obscured burners but immediately began to burn cleaner once he hit the long players. With Rip This the fuzz has subsided with the tide but there's still plenty of six ton riffs and Southern garage power pummel to punch the bedroom walls of each and every track, leaving behind a mess of plaster and earache hanging in the air. Barrett's gone from underdog sideman to garage darling in double time but that's not to say that its not deserved, every smoldering chunk of Rip This lives up to that boastful title. Its rips like a fishhook through the cheek, drawing blood quickly and leaving jagged scars like a pox on the listener. Hard to deny that this one's got legs and bears repeated listens.

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Ausmuteants

Yet another Aussie band pulls a 2014 twofer that proves prolifically minded bands can keep up quality with their ambitions. Order of Operation, their second LP for the year continues their push towards jittery, bugs under skin synth punk that's one part Repo Man and one part belt-sander scuffed early Devo records. A deep, weary sickness permeates pretty much every inch of the record, and that sickness seems to be the core of their sound. They may be younguns but they have a sense of what they hate, and I can get down with that. They've deepened the lyrical load from some of their more adolescent humor on past releases to, if not completely adult, at least approaching that level. If you need more reason to celebrate, the band is hitting the states for a tour finally, bringing their uneasy noise to US stages.

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