There’s an infectious sense of joy to creating music and performing that you hear in the recording of Tomora’s new EP, as they’ve clearly been so overcome with creativity in their collaboration. “Celebration” opens the effort with a cinematic and triumphant feel that’s like a climactic finale that sends you into the stratosphere several times over with fireworks. There’s a more concerned delivery to “Hold On Let Go” that warps ideas of the danger and revenge of nature that you usually hear more rustically in Aurora’s solo work. But here, it’s all cranked into an electronic beast that feels dance-ready, but frightening all at once. This is taken one step further into a folkloric chanting call on “What Do We Got,” but it cleverly spins their closest moment to a band-like track into a thrashing rave chorus that sees Aurora leaning into this witchy energy with her whole voice and body, and even in the studio panning of her voice. This calling to more primal and holistic ways can be felt in their live rendition of “In a Minute” as well, with added synths, shouts, and a more body-driven tempo that take this track somewhere that extends the roar of this record.
Favouring slow but suave grooves over rushing riffs, Be Your Own Pet builds a brooding pire on their latest single. The track is chunky and grimy, slowly bleeding in more lo-fi tones to up that punch. And the track builds a blaring 80s horror menace that tides over into more moody territory in the bridge. Even this moment opens into a blending of horror eras, as the synths gain an eerier sci fi tone before the guitars spiral into Phrygian licks. This rolling cast of aesthetics makes the stomping return to that final chorus feel like a truly satisfying ritualistic chant, as you’re finally fully sucked into their witch’s cauldron.
Truly at the frontier between satisfying punk release and performance art that takes you through systemic violence with pinpoint precision and detail, PISS are one of the most fascinating acts on the scene right now. Their latest album holds nothing back, sending you through the ringer emotionally, tonally, rhythmically, and never letting any single note feel out of step with the other. There’s a frantic danger in the sound of “I Wanted to Be a Singer” that feels like a fight in sonic form rather than a simple song, and lets the song act as a tangible realization of how violence molds our life away from our dreams. “Time Loop at Hot Slit” uses its stomping beat to set you up for excitement before throwing you to the wolves of high expectations and low realities. The fear and trauma on display in the performances of “Blocking a Scene You Can’t Remember” are almost as immense as the weight in its story, as every line blurs the line between creating art and reliving sexual violence through your art. From its cold spoken word moments, “Rote Zora.” morphs into military barrages of wailing drums and guitars, with Taylor Zantingh’s performance truly melding into the sound here.
The riffs slink like snakes on Thee Soreheads’ latest single, echoing the fury but also the serpentine nature of men this song dissects. You can feel the song ramping its tension moment by moment, but when it drops its chorus it’s such an exponential burst of combustion, that it feels like a firecracker morphing into a bottle rocket in real time. This surreal quality almost breaks the song in two for a moment, with that suave beat sending it into an exotic shuffle that doubles as a sonic response to the mental ricochet of all the chaos in the lyrics. That dissonance gets louder as the song skewers fake “allies” who use causes for social points, while actively working against them. This makes the drop into the all-out onslaught of the finale so powerful, as they rip into a call to action and middle finger to the institution with a tonal palette that reminds you how they’ve scored gigs with PISS already.
Given we missed Wendy Eisenberg’s latest effort when it dropped earlier this year, her extended takes on a few of the songs had us circling back to its bite-sized forerunner. There’s an understated magic to her initial record that is endlessly fascinating, while the newer EP of long-form work feels perfect for a jazz and improv crowd looking for a live, experimental take on her sound. “Take a Number” sets the album off like spring winds and sun coming in with a cool air, rolling over hills, and soothing you in its pleasant but temporary charm. The building grooves and collection of strings on “Meaning Business” lets it really sink its teeth into you, slowly overtaking you in that rhythmic thump. The extended take on her new EP runs over 37 minutes, going at times between a Steely Dan-like jam, other times like a studio improv, and often like an emotional breakdown of each idea of the song to the nth degree. The 90s guitar charms of “Vanity Paradox” has one longing for oversized t-shirts and a thick pair of shades, as it really recalls a very specific era of sound, while still managing to build a grimy, rustic snowball of its own.
