It probably goes without saying that it’s difficult to choose just three albums to feature for each edition of Spin Cycle. Inundated by a flurry of cultural crib sheets, personal recommendations, and last-minute rando diamonds in the rough, whittling down to what ends up in this column can be an internal struggle. And being off social media for years, in my case, makes the game a bit more insular.
But did you know you can just sign up for mailing lists, scour flyerescape.dad and Mercury Music Picks, or go for a walk—keeping your eyes peeled for weather-tattered album release show fliers on telephone poles to stay as much in the know as something like this little column demands? If not, now you do.
There is power in reclaiming what is important in the world for yourself, rather than being force-fed it through algorithms. The diversification of attention as it pertains to finding art that moves us is important, and an approach I encourage everyone reading this to try. And, yes, I realize the inherent hypocrisy of my regaling this info unto you while ostensibly tasked with directing readers toward a few standout releases. So I guess, after all, the world just groans to turn. The below albums ought to scramble your brains enough to make the chaos of it all slow to a more agreeable clip.
Year of the Coyote
Hell Wall
For fans of Coalesce, Isis, Armed for Apocalypse
Few sludge crews have been as integral to Portland’s underground metal scene as Year of the Coyote. The trio’s pedigree, with members having logged time with yesteryear hardcore bruisers like Brutal Fight and Twohands, speaks to a long memory of sweaty basement shows, cramped nights at former Portland haunts like the Know, and thousands of hours of riff-honing. On the band’s second full-length, Hell Wall, that dedication to the unruly is borne out in an avalanche of heaviness that leaves a definite mark.
Dispensing with any notion of fucking around right off the bat, album opener “Inhuman” unfurls with reckless intentions, an onslaught of odd-time signatures and downtuned sneers leading you through a gauntlet of ferocity. The band’s power trio bones are filled out with seismic guitars courtesy of vocalist/guitarist Matt Hagan, whose punishing growl throws in a grumpy fourth layer to the record’s intensity. Ample evidence of metal’s many second cousins permeate the dynamism on songs like “In the Water” and “Man Alive,” the latter of which dips its sludgy big toe into propulsive thrash. “Bitter Root” announces itself as a dissonant piledriver of a track that permits welcomed opportunities for air during breakdowns that allow the rhythm section of bassist Jesse Schneider and drummer Travis Wisner to systematically lull you into complacency before uncorking a battering ram of heavy damage. Throughout the LP, tracks segue into each other through squalls of feedback, radio static, and ambient loops that make for a compelling, nonstop assault on your senses. When the transition finally clears way for the album’s title-track finale, Hagan’s jarring guitar scrawl unfolds through three minutes of cacophony before finally dropping the hammer on one of the chunkiest riffs on the whole album—a slow, pissed-off bookend replete with energy to spare, even though you’ve gotta think his voice would basically be scattered into a thousand shreds of viscera at this point in the record. But what the doom-stretched adieu, “Hell Wall,” amounts to is close to what the titular barricade purports: You are now up against a wall of hell, and it starts to sound that way near the 9-minute mark of the track. You may be well advised to towel off, but good luck getting the grime to wash out anytime soon.
DIY to the core, Hell Wall, was self-released on April 23 and can be picked up at Year of the Coyote’s Bandcamp as a cassette, compact disc, and digital download.
Jai’Len Josey
Serial Romantic
For fans of Mary J. Blige, Black Box, Missy Elliott
My relationship with pop music being slightly frayed, it’s with a degree of relief and excitement to have come across Jai’len Josey’s vibrant debut album, Serial Romantic. Redolent of 1990s R&B, house, and soul, Josey’s psychological concept LP follows her alter ego (also called Josey) through an obstacle course of emotional compromises, persona shifts, and lovelorn dispositions that lay the groundwork for a monster pop record. It’s the sort of stylistic coming-out that seems altogether poised for a big, deserved breakthrough.
A string-laden “Heart & Strings” intro backdrops the spoken-word theme, introducing Josey as “a woman caught in the relentless pursuit of perfection and acceptance.” Immediately, Josey’s seamless flow flutters in, laying tracks for the alter-ego Josey’s amorous experiments. While every track could well be construed as a bonafide banger, the first moonshot is “Housewife,” a peppy spritz of feminist trade-off that finds Josey admitting to the potential for domestic acquiescence for the right partner. Here, the inherent groove comingles with a quippy bass and Josey’s elastic, sensual voice. “New Girl” pulses like a dancefloor destroyer, with blippy synths and a motorik percussive beat. Josey’s timing and sass catapult the sexy cut into new stratospheres, with addictive tempo changes and depth that delve into ghettotech traditions while maintaining its pop pockets.
The eminently singable “Love Ain’t Shit” ought to be held in reverence as the de facto anti-love grail for a new generation with lyrics like “I should just leave you / and avoid all the bullshit we’re gonna go through / I’m sorry in advance / but we never had a chance.” Here, the album tempo slows, revealing new dimensions to Josey’s songwriting. That respite continues as the genre-splicing “Truce” spreads a chill, muted groove pulling the covers over an intimate lover’s quarrel, warming itself in crisp bass and a slow-burn beat that stands as adequate backdrop for Josey’s liquid vibrato runs. When the oomph returns, “Won’t You” shimmers in a glam-pop sheen, Josey’s chorus stating, in no uncertain terms, “If you don’t wanna be here / I won’t force you to love me.”
On Serial Romanticism, the candid immediacy of Josey’s transmutations are dissected into musical moments of profound liberation that only sizzle more by way of her obvious talents. Sleeping on this album ought to be illegal.
Serial Romantic dropped April 24 on Def Jam Records and can be streamed and downloaded on Josey’s website.
Snüff
Silly Not Silly
For fans of the Gories, Hey Lover, Sonny and the Sunsets
Followers of cross-the-pond punk might wonder if the band in question here is the ‘90s London group Snuff, minus the umlaut. And while that isn’t correct, it’s a fun bit of trivia that both bands feature drummer-vocalists. Which is only one of the reasons I have fallen in deep with Snüff, despite the fact that their drummer-vocalist Giorgia Malagò also plays standing up, Victor DeLorenzo style. On Silly Not Silly, the band’s second album, the Italian garage-pop trio transcends all that aesthetic bullshit anyway, delivering a high-energy dose of pogo-ready pageantry.
“Luciana,” in all its simplistic pop-punk plumage, writhes in a raw catchiness that shows off the band’s melodic sensibilities beyond their more sinister turns. High-octane numbers like “I’ll Be Around” harken to trenchant punk roots with chorus-pedal distortion and oodles of left-turn guitar lead zigs and zags. The band’s aggressive allegiances to rock ‘n’ roll’s ballyhooed abandon comes through loud and clear on “Be Cool,” a two-minute stomper further elucidating Malagó’s powerhouse vocals (which sometimes sound like Eleanor Friedberger, in what is most definitely a compliment), punctuated by guitarist/vocalist Andrea Davì’s saccharine harmonies.
The album’s unmitigated pep is only rarely watered down, as heard on the minimalist “By the River,” which takes the vocal tandem to contemplative depths, like an early Lou Reed meditation, only to be summarily blown apart by an onrush of heavy-lidded psych at the song’s extended conclusion. Setting the table for the LP’s end is the explosive “T-Man,” another in a string of combustible singalongs that also includes the vaguely Black Francis-Kim Deal-esque “The Experiment.”
It’s enough to make you wonder how much you’d need to save to catch the band on their home turf sometime in the very near future. Until then, ciao bella.
Silly Not Silly released April 3 on Wild Honey Records and can be picked up on Snüff’s Bandcamp in vinyl and digital download formats.