Cam Recommends

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Like many folks, I considered Boards of Canada’s masterfully dark Tomorrow’s Harvest from the halcyon days of 2013 to be their final statement. With barely a peep in the intervening 16 years, the slow roll of a viral marketing campaign over the last month (with its cryptic VHS mailers and randomly appearing posters) came as a major surprise, so much so that I wasn’t sure it was all real until I actually saw an email arrive from Warp itself proclaiming the imminent release date of LP5 (or six, depending on how your rank Twoism). I’m excited as anyone about new material but even still I’m worried that some BOC fans might have skipped one of their best-ever releases since its buried on streaming platforms under the “Singles & EPs” tag and that’s the stunning little 4 track EP from 2000 called “In a Beautiful Place Out in the Country.” It might actually be the best entry point for a newcomer, even if it’s kind of unfamiliar to long-time listeners. It has a lot of the BOC hallmarks: that woozy production, warped and childlike vocals and an obsession with the underbelly of spirituality. So while you wait for Inferno spend a little bucolic time out in the country…

You want the kind of bass-heavy electronic track that hits hard right at the top, slides into a groove and then just stays hard-hitting for the entire run time, that–holy hell–is over 8 minutes long and you didn’t even notice it? Well, stop reading this and hit play on Nathan Fake’s incredible “Slow Yamaha.” You’re welcome.

Sounding a bit adjacent to those stalwarts of rock/funk instrumental jam sessions, The Budos Band, The Olympians offer generally sunnier tunes but with no less focus on the craft and the overall mission of providing a rollicking good time. Example today is the pretty stunning “California” which sounds somehow both modern and retro, with its clean production and high energy carrying multiple earworm melodies blasted out by muscular horns and a locked-in rhythm section keeping things chugging along nicely. But stay for the incredible guitar solo which isn’t bombastic (indeed there might not be anything more than simple amplification) or anything but still kinda rocks my socks off (like, from a sock-hop). Great stuff.

Though we’ve had a couple great projects from lead singer Nicol Miglis, the last time we heard from open-hearted synth rockers Hundred Waters was all the way back in the beforetimes of 2017. “Takeover” was never included on their mainline albums and resides cozily in the middle of the “Currency” EP. But don’t let its relatively side-lined position fool you: this might be the most emotionally overwhelming and powerful song in the band’s discography (which isn’t lacking for song that make you get into your feelings). Miglis perfectly captures the yearning of for an intimate connection that may or may not happen: “Sideways glances, oh will it pass?//Softer now, your touch, think I’m losing my mind and doubting conversation.” During the chorus the gauzy beats transition to sparkling synths before real drums crash in as the song bursts open like a kaleidoscope. And by the end, it seems, the yearning has become action: “Will it take over now?” becomes “I can take over now” repeated over and over as the song fades into an oceanic ambient mist. 

So, whatever you think you’re going to hear when I write the phrase, “Animal Collective member side project revolving around the hurdy-gurdy,” I can kind of promise it’s not going to be what you think. Eschewing some of the wild experimentation of his other project, Brian Weitz’s Geologist project instead locks into a loopy, psych-rock tinged kind of krautrock that seems beamed in from an adjacent universe where the hurdy-gurdy gained as much prominence as the electric guitar. Listen to the driving album closer “Sonora,” and you’ll either come away with a sense of bafflement or will be completely hooked. You can guess which one describes me. 

Thirteen tracks of unbelievably good chill beats with some ambient/field recording filagree that elevates each one above the standard “lo-fi” video compilation tune. The album, despite being something of a label sampler and featuring as many artists as it does tracks, is still remarkably cohesive as a listening experience. It’s a calming balm of a listen that I’ve found myself coming back to over and over this year so far. For a bit of log-rolling, an observant listener will see that I haven’t posted in quite a while, despite a track record of at least a post a week for the last year or so. I don’t want to agonize too much over it, but my mental and physical health have been all over the place and I’ve found it so, so, so difficult to focus. So, big thanks to Aureolin Winter for sitting at the top of my “to write about” list for the last little while, hopefully, its patience will be rewarding to you as you listen. 

Dutch psychedelic groovesters Yiin Yin are back at it again with a new set of unbelievably earwormy jams. I really loved their 2024 Mount Matsu with its spaghetti western/kurasawa vibes and fantastic sense of pace. This year’s Yatta is a bit less cohesive than its predecessor but the band aren’t resting on their laurels, instead they give themselves more freedom to incorporate disparate sources into their pool of sounds, leading to some of their most experimental and rewarding work yet. They can’t, however, resist starting the record with an extended quote from Alan Watts, and so it’s not like there isn’t some explicit themes going on here, specifically with that whole “inside/outside” thing where it seems like each track here has a kind of inverse somewhere else. But it’s not a puzzlebox, so maybe just dive in with the extremely danceable “Golden Lion” which kind of picks up where Mount Matsu left off and then dials it up even more, adding glam and heaps of twinkling haze. But I’d be remiss if I also didn’t plug “Slow Burner” which, at the halfway point, could have legit come right off a TOBACCO project. 

Ace of Spit’s new record, II, blazes by in a cacophonous twenty seven minutes. Nearly all of its ten tracks have their feet fully pressed down on the garage rock/rockabilly accelerator and while not all tracks have vocals, when they emerge, they’re sung with the appropriate wild abandon of a grease-haired hesher. That said, exactly halfway through the record, they slide in with “Parts List” which stands out for sounding so dissimilar to the rest of the project that it’s kind of breathtaking. Substituting distorted electronic drumbeats for the kit and really hammering those pedal effects until the guitar is unrecognizable, the song clatters around until it really breaks down into its component–ahem-parts for the back stretch. It’s a great little interlude that shows that Ace of Spit might have ambitions beyond their (admittedly great) other divebar-ready tunes would suggest. 

I guess I can’t really resist a song with a good accordion part but there's even more to like here from genre-smashers Lucha Luna as they blast huge reggaeton beats over delicate guitar lines and hard hitting vocals. If you can, it’s best to roll all your windows down and turn the volume waaaay up for this one. 

Marcel Sletten’s new album is an incredible work of sound manipulation and digital collage, with giant swaths of noise descending upon the listener like pieces of carved black marble. Playing like some kind of halfway point between the slowcore down-tuned guitar blasts of Sunn O))) and the neon-glow sky-high synths of Fuck Buttons, the whole record is meditatively invigorating and challenging without being punishing (indeed, Sletten provides several tracks containing more sedate vibes). The title track, “Psycho Narcissus,” is a good place to start, but, really, the whole thing is really worth your time.

Just listen to that bass riff! The snap of the strings is mixed right up close to the listener and if you like a great bassline like I do then you don’t need anything else to recommend here, just push play. But if you do need a bit more, just keep listening! The song ramps up and with very little actual amplification this band are able to kick up quite a bit of dust, coming off something like a stoner rock band playing MTV’s Unplugged (or a Tiny Desk for those not old enough to remember the former semi-institution). The singer really sells the whole bit too with just enough rasp and edge, making this not only a great bit of music to headbang to but as a fantastic opening track to a record packed with great jams.

Time to add another song to that little indie rock subgenre of “self-deprecating breakup song where I sing about how much I suck and you’re right to go on without me…but maaaaybe it’s also kinda your fault?” (See also, “The District Sleeps Alone Tonight” by The Postal Service or  “Madder Red,” by Yeasayer). Set against gentle banjo plucking and warm production with plaintive vocal stylings, it’s easy to think it’ll be a simple love song until we get to this couplet around which the entire song revolves: “I hate myself so much, you might as well hate me too. I’m a big fucking loser the best thing about me is that I still care about you.” He sings of gentle memories, compares his lover to a storm: all very romantic indeed, until he drops that little “buuuuut maybe…” line: “are you really gonna die on that hill that you couldn’t even climb?” The song, of course, comes back to its central theme (after a very Sparklehorse-worthy guitar solo) as all songs like this do, but that little kernel of doubt oozes into the rest of the song especially as it plays out without a final resolution, just letting that seeming penultimate note hang in the air.