As I swayed gently in a dusty hammock at my campsite somewhere off the Logging Road trail of Pendarvis Farm at the recent Pickathon festival, the sky began its nightly shift from blue to purple to black. The spectral tones of three or four artists flitted through the moss and ferns of the camping zones all at once, threatening an unwanted early snooze on an evening promising late night Galaxy Barn freakouts and moonlit paddock meanderings. As I willed myself to begin the trek back down to the source of the intermingled sounds, the small pack of teenagers who’d set up their hammocks all around my own emerged, raving with adolescent energy about the musical spectacles unfolding before their ears and eyes. They championed the catharsis of Vancouver, B.C.,’s PISS, the power-punk of Mexico City’s Sgt. Papers, the unhinged dirtwave of Portland’s Taylor Kingman and the Electric Skeleton. I grinned at their recollections in an unavoidable pseudo-eavesdrop, and marveled at the young crew’s dedication to broadening their listening horizons. The future seems in good hands—from a musical perspective, anyway. 

Much like the meandering magic of Pickathon, this week’s Spin Cycle picks are unconnected by any thread other than the invisible kind that somehow strings the whole wild art world together when it’s done right. Happy listening!

spun – Million Moths 

For fans of Kim Gordon, Kee Avil, Yves Tumor

Those with a fondness for the funereal will find plenty to dig on spun, the debut album from Portland’s Million Moths.

Million Moths is the brainchild of producer, sound engineer, and vocalist Erica Von Trapp, and spun, recorded at her Portland studio Sapphire Jaguar, contains a cauldron of tattered charnel pop that invokes uncomfortable moods, dissonant elegies, and a knack for a kind of blurred, found-sound aesthetic. The vibe is often shrinkwrapped in cozy aural confines, as on opener “Ride or Die,” a sleepy-eyed dirge with creepy swells of jittery synth and Von Trapp’s spoken-word murmurs plotting the scene. Dark electro-acoustic shimmers give depth to tracks like “Water Sweet,” complete with verses that sound like they’re recorded underwater, a sparse percussive warble keeping liquid time with Von Trapp’s plaintive wails. 

The ripples of some secret cosmic portal seem to guide the Million Moths milieu, with tracks like the single “Inner Piece“ and “Can Barely Hear You” coming on like hauntings. Von Trapp’s vocal lilt is a ghostly serenade over the proceedings on the latter, a barely-there acoustic guitar pairing disjointed drumming and an ethereal drone that adds tense, eldritch overtones. “Guard On” treads a trippy gutter-pop trench, with twisted lullabies that coil around a macabre sonic template featuring clapback snares, whispered verses, and strange swells of synths that make for a fascinating and frightening listen. 

By the time you get to the disturbed audio ransom note chill of “Chimes,” you’ll feel a warm bath may be in order. That is, until the distorted pop finale of “Both Hands” breaks through the grime just in time to close the record out on a higher note of resilience. 

Self-released on July 24, spun is available for purchase as a digital album or limited edition CD from the Million Moths Bandcamp. 

Fathers – Fathers

For fans of Vulfpeck, Bill Evans, Haile Supreme

The makings of a jazz supercollective find strong footing on Fathers, a stone-cold scorcher of a debut from the project of the same name. The trio of notable players boasts sought-after keyboardist Keifer (Keifer Shackleford), busy bassist CARRTOONS (aka Ben Carr), and visionary drummer Nate Smith together under the guidance of producer Kenneth Bloom (formerly known as Kenny Beats), each vintage jazz impresarios with a penchant for hyper-smooth grooves.  

The collection kicks off with the velvet cool of “Eye Level,” folding a twinkly cascade of space-y keys and fat bass lines alongside Smith’s unstoppable pocket shuffles. It’s an instant upshift into the dreamy jazz grab bag that the three musicians draw from throughout the album. With a watchful eye on the past, songs like “Patchwork” crib Stevie Wonder atmospherics within wordless compositions that come party-ready and layered with retro reverberations. The otherworldly “Pearl” crosses a new threshold with spirited percussive syncopations, polyrhythmic wormholes, and the sort of cinematic sweep that could soundtrack a shag-carpet lounge for hours on end. 

Informed by the collaborative work the trio’s members’ have been part of (credits include George Clinton, Childish Gambino, and Jon Batiste among an enormous list of production and studio projects), the group’s genre-blurring is center stage on Fathers. Flutters of hip-hop shoulder the onus of the dangerous laze of “Stub,” a mellow track that demands your full attention. Similarly, “The Leak” is a slice of gritty progressive jazz that features incendiary moments from each of the players, notably Keifer, whose keys glow in all the right spaces on tight turnabouts of easy chic.

These are world-class players. This is essential listening. 

Fathers dropped July 10 via Blue Note Records, and has mostly sold out of its original run through the Blue Note website. But you can pre-order the next batch of vinyl or grab a CD (or a digital download, if you must) there. 

Blowin’ Up – Kiwi Jr. 

For fans of Quasi, A.C. Newman, Luke Sweeney

The Toronto, Ontario jangle-rock quartet Kiwi Jr. has already achieved a below-the-radar burst of fanfare from their stint on seminal underground label Sub Pop the last handful of years. But it’s on their fourth album, Blowin’ Up, that they truly ascend to their rightful place on the podium of heady power-pop. 

Kiwi Jr. is almost unfairly catchy from the outset on their newest release, beginning with “Photos of the Reenactment,” a Paisley Underground gem that ushers in vocalist Jeremy Gaudet’s breezy lyrical acumen atop jangly freak-pop guitar. Gaudet’s vocals emerge casually, as if retelling a story he’s heard a thousand times, regaling the listener with jumbled, hilarious lines about hoisting horses out of motel pools, and stealing glances of sports highlights through closed barroom windows. Luckily, the songs are as animated as their lyrics, with few low energy moments across 10 tracks that also feature contributions from Fred Thomas, members of Protomartyr, and Kerri Maclellan of Alvvays. 

The title track is a fiery bizarro-rock funhouse with Attractions-adjacent keys, big production blasts on the drums, and untold numbers of smart pop hooks. The sincere slacker-pop earworm of “Hard Drive, Ontario” forges deep existential grooves along the highway of your soul with the unforgettable chorus line “It’s hard to leave home with your heart on a hard drive.” Whimsical and sonically satisfying, the song arrives roiling in bright synths and the kind of attention to melodic mastery that cannot be half-assed. Further evidence of full-assed subterranean rock comfortable in its skin can be found on the punk-bop of “Pure Michigan” and “New Jade Rabbit.”

On Blowin’ Up, Kiwi Jr. are apt pupils of ’90s guitar pomp and find themselves hopelessly imbued with melodic oomph, allowing the bleak world to flow through their songs with optimism and heart. 

Blowin’ Up drops August 14 on K Records. You can (and definitely should) buy the album on vinyl or CD through Kiwi Jr.’s Bandcamp.