The Buoys: Unsolicited Advice for Your DIY Disaster EP
From the tougher end (i.e. Sydney) of the current Australasian wave of women-in-indie-pop come six emotionally intelligible songs, well sung/strummed/struck by Zoe Catterall and her friends and failed Tinder dates, missing only an Melburnian moment of irony for a breakout (“Drive Me Home”, “Carpark”, “Lie to Me Again”)
Whether achieved through instruments, technique, or studio trickery, Bravo’s steelpan sound is so otherworldly and beguiling that every keyboardist in Brit-indie wants to contribute overdubs (“Can’t Control Me”, “Santana’s Daughter”, “Hiyah Man”)
Adept if WOMADy singer-songwriter in four languages shades her feminism-good avarice-bad material well, with assorted family members supplying balafon, ngoni, and percussion and a French guitarist adding hot licks (“Fo O Biaré”, “Sou”, “Mousso”)
Even more so than Halsey’s, well-wrought ’90s post-grunge is not necessarily the best use of her vocal strengths, but that somebody under 30 wants to make music sounding like this should reassure whichever alt-rock radio programmers are left (“So Mean”, “Her”, “On the Level”)
Tom Cardy: Artificial Intelligence
If not as formally perfect as his butthole joke, the one about punching his prospective father-in-law in the dick repeatedly and the one about bad cop Dwink Bexon going on a shooting spree are nearly as funny—his taste and subject matter should ensure his success on Australian public broadcasting for some time (“H.Y.C.Y.BH”, “Business Man”, “Mixed Messages”)
The crawl towards becoming a grown-up studio band that plays nice with Kenny Beats is hampered by their not yet having found a unifying sonic principle to replace their previous excess of energy, but Joe Talbot sings with something approaching soul, the guitarists adapt well to the mood shifts, and half the new noises they try out are promising leads (“The Beachland Ballroom”, “The Wheel”)
Not a one-note band, which is a shame because their one note is what makes them distinctive, whereas their other notes are primarily of interest to people who still play, say, Sleeper, which sometimes I do (“Chaise Longue”, “Ur Mum”, “Wet Dream”)
1914: Where Fear and Weapons Meet
Ukraine’s premier blackened death-doom metal band’s heavy as fjuck (save for the period pieces, like the ballad about being shot in the head by your own corporal) music puts across their fascinaition with war-is-hell as much as their lyrics, and if none of that screams well-adjusted, these aren’t well-adjusted times (“… and a Cross Now Marks His Place”, “Don’t Tread on Me (Harlem Hellfighters)”)
Caetano Veloso: Meu Coco
While it won't be often that you’ll answer “hey you know which Caetano I feel like listening to today” with this one, all-timer still has songs in him and sings them pretty good (“Noite de Cristal”, “Anjos Tronchos”)
Fanfare Ciocarlia: It Wasn’t Hard to Love You
Fun in small doses, and I’m glad they’re getting Borat money, though the number of tracks is a fair multiple of the number of new ideas (“Gypsy Mambo No. 555”, “Just the Two of Us”)
The Hold Steady: Open Door Policy
Marginal differentiation is always possible—the arrangements here are a bit more compelling than their average, the characters a tad less—but their band name is getting more and more apt (“The Prior Procedure”, “Heavy Covenant”)