Cam Recommends

If you’re not really “into” prog but just say to yourself “I’ll get around to getting into it” and never wind up doing it (maybe it’s the usual extended length of the songs, the loosy-goosy nature of the instrumentation and song structure, the obtuse or corny lyrics, etc.), then I’ve got a song for you! “Gamle Mester” by the talented Lars Fredrik Frøislie somehow deconstructs and then reassembles a masterful mini-prog rock instrumental that is as technically impressive as it is engaging. It’s amazing how just rearranging the constituent parts alongside some thoughtful production choices can make something as niche as a “70’s style 7+ minute instrumental prog rock” extremely approachable. Blasting out of the gate with what would usually be saved for the epic late-song jammy climax, the song surges ahead with a sparkling energy: vocal “ahhs” over laser-light show guitar and synth lines and a rollicking rhythm section for nearly two minutes before finally touching down at would more likely have been saved for the intro: a noodly little organ line and sparse drumming. Instead of building towards what we heard in this song’s actual intro, this slower section serves instead as a breather and come-down and then, over the course of another minute it slowly rises out of the mist until it reaches a sheer escarpment of organ blasts and double drums before slipping and falling once again into noodly territory. In this final section of the song, Frøislie should, by now have you by the throat, having trained your ear to expect this loop and then with expert tension he gleefully builds back to the opening’s exuberant chorus. And just like that, you’ve lost seven minutes but, hopefully, are thirsty for more.  

With sneaky hits of strings in the back-half and a lurching sense of anticipation for its heavier moments right from the jump, Clare Morales’ new single is a tasty slice of indie-shoegaze that evokes a sun-streaked, yet dusty, twilight. 

Built around a woozy little off-kilter guitar loop and a charming beat, songwriter Julian Cubillios pulls us into his hazy, sun-baked world of small anxieties. Fitting that it starts with a coughing “oh shit!” from what I have to assume is some pretty dank stuff. And that’s not the worst place for you to try to get your head for this bouncy late-summer tune.

Big-sky, open-hearted anthemic rock with touches of both Muse and The War on Drugs but entirely Krooked Tongue seem entirely concerned with keeping their heads down and just cranking out crunchy riffs and mile-high guitar solos. I took a spin through Krooked Tongue’s catalogue and they’ve been grinding since at least 2019 with really solid tunes. I hope that this great new track signals them coalescing around a full-length project as, based on the strength of this song, we’re in for a low-key visionary ride with a future album. Fingers crossed!

Organic, faintly nostalgic, fuzzy, ambient-tinged downtempo beats are the order of the day here. The percolating arpeggios pleasingly float above cloudy synth pads as vocal dreamy samples drift in and out of focus. And, in a year already stacked with great album covers, this one (awesomely titled summer somewhere) is a hypnotic standout. Whatever feeling you get from the image below is pretty much the exact feeling you should get from listening to this fuzzy little slice of beachy warmth.

When electronic trickster weirdo duo Two Shell put their minds to it they can create some of the most emotionally resonant dance music around. Whether it’s wrapping a nostalgic plaintive vocal around a popping-galloping beat that somehow brings me to tears at the halfway point (“Home”) or creating a hauntingly catchy lament about loneliness (“ghost2”), Two Shell know how to really twist the knife when they want to. And here we have “finding my spirit,” a standout from their surprisingly mature new record. Repeating a simple refrain “hey you…I cannot get my spirit back” over a tumbling beat, it’s a heartbreakingly dancey track that I haven’t been able to get out of my head. 

Jessica Winter drops an extremely ambitious debut album (appropriately titled My First Record) in which she throws down the 2020’s Pop Diva Icon gauntlet with a considerable amount of oomph. There’s lots of good stuff here but if you’re pressed for time, start with album centerpiece “Worst Person in the World,” which, to my ears, deserves a seat at the table with that oh-so hallowed music that can be best described as “degenerate party girl pop” (at the head of the table, of course, Brat-era Charli XCX). Mixing bits of sunny early 2010’s Lily Allen, high-powered bubblegum pop from vintage Kylie, touches of 80’s radio hits from Madonna with just a hint of high-flying Kate Bush experimentalism, Jessica Winter then gently turns up the dials marked “hyperpop” and “guitar heroism” and finally drops in weighty but still ethereal achingly ironic vocals to create one of the best songs of the year. I kind of can’t believe that Charli herself didn’t write the gobsmacking chorus: “so we should be together because it don’t get any better: I’m the worst person in the world.” 

Dirty, fuzzy, heavy garage rock that kind of sounds like it was recorded in a dank flooded basement, you can’t help but notice the reference to the Nine Inch Nails mid-90’s goth-pop industrial masterpiece, but they only really invoke Trent’s iconic sounds obliquely, borrowing the intensity but shedding everything else, especially as an organ rises from the murk halfway through to really send this song into more proggy spheres. Overwhelming in just the right way. 

If Sunn O))) had to release a “radio-friendly” single it might sound a little like this track from this expansive doom/drone project from Belgium musicians Neptunian Maximism. Derived from an intensive 4-day residency recording in a centuries-old Anglican church building in London, they constructed a listen that is alternatingly pummeling and meditative (and sometimes managing to combine the two). And maybe due to the nature of the live recordings in the ad-hoc recording space, but it also sounds electrifyingly alive and present. The horns hit with an intensity and clarity and somehow rise above the monstrously low bass and drum section and it all swirls around multiple stop-start dirge crescendos that continue to build in intensity until it all dissolves into black wispy vapor. 

Chilean progressive rockers Chercán (great name) introduce their latest album with a stunning 7 minute mini-epic that surges on waves of chugging guitars and tightly wound blasting horns. Singer Martín Peña-Voces really swings for the fences with a high-wire vocal delivery that shifts from hysterical high-register growls to smooth crooning with an ease of a wizened prog-rock veteran. Halfway through the track we get a fantastic breakdown with horns that build tension before what sounds like a wall of distorted guitars and roiling drums build to an orchestrally flourished finale. It’s a bracing piece of music that is only the beginning of a great album. 

A rollicking good time from jazzy instrumental funk rock outfit Calibro 35. Very much puts me in mind of those stalwarts of the genre and friends of the blog The Budos Band (and, to be clear, it looks like Calibro 35 has been in the game for nearly as long as The Budos Band), but Calibro 35 also brings a distinctly cinematic flare, and one evoking a very particular era of gritty grindhouse theaters and midnight screenings with some Morricone-scored Spaghetti Western vibes for good measure. There’s also just enough modern touches (some light record-scratching and beefy bass-end) that elevate it to top-tier status.

With “A Fine Pink Mist” Chico, CA based power-pop rockers bring us an absurdly catchy opening track to their new full-length record that’s overall filled to the brim with fuzzy, buzzy, high-tempo power-pop psych rock. The opening track seems to take bits of vintage Ramones and classic Misfits and then blends them together with the frenetic energy of high-octane Osee’s tracks and finally mixes in a huge amount of just plain tasty musical sugar for a rip-roaring, fist-pumping listen. 

 With a new Anamanaguchi album on the horizon maybe I’m just more primed than usual to respond to any chiptune-adjacent sounds but this new record from Chicago 3-piece Gosh Diggity hit me like a ton of bricks. Mixing emo/pop punk sounds with chiptune isn’t anything new but gosh darn it, Gosh Diggity brings such an energetic and youthful touch that it sounds incredibly fresh. The three members constantly swap the mic and occasionally bring in a gang of background singers when a particularly anthemic moment needs more muscle. Approaching everything from a decidedly youthful (but extremely clear-eyed) perspective, lyrically they often grapple with Real Shit™ like religious intolerance in the face of free expression (“The Season”), environmental collapse (“It’s Too Crowded in Here,” “10 Simple Tricks…”), growing up with all its uncertainty (“12th Grade,” “Display," "Growing Pains"), relationship ennui (“Dog Song”) and social anxiety for former “gifted students” (“I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter)”. But they can also bring the humor (“Gosh Diggity Dental" with its hilarious voicemail sample and subsequent black-metal scream) and consistently coax their vintage video game system hardware to produce huge hooks and gummy earworms that seem nearly impossible. It’s only 30 minutes long but Gosh Diggity show that they have the ambition, chops and vision for an incredible musical career.