Last year, I launched a new feature for our Morning Report newsletter – the “Song of the Week,” segment. That’s right, each week I’d rummage through San Diego’s musical offerings and highlight an exciting musical gem.
There were times when I really regretted launching this feature last year – after all, who wants more work? But I never had a hard time finding something new to vibe to. Even if San Diego artists haven’t gotten the kind of recognition they deserve, it’s never stopped them from creating incredible music – the oldest song on this year’s list is from about 65 years ago.
The weekly ritual of digging around for something exciting also made me feel closer to the musical happenings of my hometown and gave me a deeper appreciation for this city’s sonic variety. Are you a fan of brooding dark wave? We’ve got you covered. Smooth, retro-sounding soul? It’s here. Homespun cosmic folk? Look no further. Laidback, fuzzy hip-hop? Order’s up.
So, without further ado, we’ve compiled every “Song of the Week,” from 2024 in one place. You can also press play on the YouTube playlist below and let San Diego sounds carry you into 2025.
Come next year I’ll be on the hunt for new musical nuggets, so please don’t hesitate to reach out. Shoot me an email with any songs by local artists you’ve been jamming to or any concerts you think I should check out. Also, don’t forget to subscribe to the Morning Report to get the local news of the day in your inbox every morning and the “Song of the Week,” every Wednesday.
One quick note: The selections from klurax, Vice algae, Gregory Page and Digigurl are not available on YouTube, so you’ll need to use the links listed below to find those tunes.
January
Welcome to a new year of “Songs of the Week!” Catch up on all 2023’s selections here.
I’ve been paying attention to The Fazes since 2020, when the band released the harsh, minimal synth wave single “Camera Shy.” It was an exciting introduction to an unquestionably promising act, but the intervening years have found the band evolving an even fuller and more enveloping sound. The Fazes’ debut album, “Underground Starz,” which came out last year, is an absolute gem that flits between heavy, disco-infused grooves and washed-out new wave tones. In other words, it’s a dream come true for me.
The Fazes, “Welcome 2 Dirt”: Complete with siren-like synths and a thumping bassline, “Welcome 2 Dirt,” is a dark, hedonistic track that showcases The Fazes’ ability to lock into a metronomic groove and keep the train on the tracks. Lead singer Isela Humerez’s vocals float in an intoxicating sea of reverb, acting more like an additional instrument than a vehicle for decipherable lyrics. It’s the kind of song meant for late nights filled with broken New Year’s resolutions.
Jan. 10
Scary Pierre, “Tramp”: Sometimes you need a little jolt to the system to make it through the week, and luckily for you, Scary Pierre exists. The band’s sound drifts between dark, gritty punk and exuberant rock and roll, but almost always remains loud and fast. “Tramp,” showcases that penchant for deliciously dark sonic mayhem. Distorted guitars and bass drive the booming track, accented by singer Lucina Mays González’s impassioned screams. It’s a pulse-quickening mixture that leaves you ready to fight through another day.
Jan. 17
Save for phenoms like, say Taylor Swift, pop superstars aren’t what they used to be anymore. Music is a more fragmented thing, as streaming and global audiences have blown asunder the once more cookie cutter approach both artists (and the record labels who often created them) took in past decades.
Sure, there’s still plenty of cookie cutter pop out there. But instead of trying to create something that appeals to everyone, many artists understand that that’s a fool’s errand and often only results in the most milquetoast version of a song seeing the light of day. That, to me, has allowed pop to take new and interesting forms, incorporating sounds and structures that once would have been anathema to the mainstream. It’s nearly a decade old at this point, but just look at Beyoncé’s incredible 2016 album “Lemonade,” for an example.
Kate Delos Santos, “Dime a Dozen”: I grew up on a mixture of punk and folk, two genres often at odds with modern pop sensibilities. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve found myself evermore enchanted with a hook. That’s what Kate Delos Santos delivers in spades on her 2021 single, “Dime a Dozen.”
It’s a seductive, immersive pop and R&B track that showcases De Los Santos’ sugary vocals amidst flourishes of synthesizers. Though not as effusively experimental as the aforementioned “Lemonade,” the track still eschews traditional song structure in a way that makes it feel all the more organic. In the final minute, it gets progressively more chopped and screwed making it all feel like a living, breathing thing beckoning you further in a shadowy cave before you.
Jan. 24
Pinback, “Tripoli”: Pinback, probably unsurprisingly, is one of my all-time favorite San Diego bands. Led by the formidable duo of Armistead Burwell Smith IV and Rob Crow, Pinback produced some of the most atmospheric and thoughtful indie pop to ever come out of this city. There are easily a dozen Pinback songs I could have chosen for “Song of the Week.” Heck, even the band’s big hits, “Fortress,” and “Penelope,” are certified bops. But since I could only choose one, I landed on the first Pinback song he ever heard, “Tripoli.” The song contains Pinback’s trademark intricately layered vocals and picking parts.
Jan. 31
San Diego is rife with “almost there” bands. Groups that pushed against the velvety film of stardom only to dissolve back into themselves and gently beach on our sandy shores. There are so many creative “what if’s” in a town like this, where talent is abundant but opportunities less so. What if we could’ve afforded that tour? What if we could’ve kept the band together? What if we had committed to the grind just a little more?
I don’t pretend to have any insights into those philosophical inquiries, or if any of them actually apply to The Donkeys. I also don’t know if the members would agree with the following assessment: the band always struck me as the kind of group that was for years just on the brink of mainstream success.
The Donkeys honed its sun-soaked mix of folk and garage rock for more than a decade, in the process spawning a loyal following, of which I am a part. It’s been about six years since the band’s last release, but one of the silver linings of bands like The Donkeys returning to the warm bosom of home is that we’re lucky enough to be treated to the continued sonic musings of some of its former members.
Calcutta Kid, “Peace (Clouds Scrape the Sunroof)”: Since leaving The Donkeys, multi-instrumentalist Jessmeet Gulati has struck out on his own, putting out a handful of releases under the moniker Calcutta Kid. Much of the handspun and intimate feel of his work with The Donkeys is present on his 2021 release “The Natural Frequency,” but there are some big pivots.
The seven songs on the release are sparse, ambient and meditative, ditching vocals in favor of sitar plucks and meandering organs. The gentle acoustic picking and slowly morphing synth on “Peace (Clouds Scrape the Sunroof)” puts on full display Gulati’s ability to conjure, well, peace, and put listeners in a sublime, dreamlike state.
February
Cole De La Isla’s voice is really something special. On “Memorial,” there are shades of Thom Yorke’s gymnastic vocal leaps, while on “My Lightning,” there are brief flashes of the plaintive crooning of someone like Regina Spektor.
But even with those comparisons, De La Isla is unique. Their voice is colored by a deep sense of yearning, authority, and at times, the weariness of someone for whom the waters of life have begun to erode drop by drop.
Omo Cloud, “My Lightning”: This was a tough one. I’ve been eagerly absorbing each new Omo Cloud song ever since I happened to catch the band at Whistlestop last year. There’s a dynamism to their sound that just can’t be captured in one track. Alas, one song is all I can treat you with, so I landed on “My Lightning.”
There’s a quaintness to the track, which is chock full of bells, gentle piano flourishes, toylike organ sounds and De La Isla’s ethereal vocals. But even though the track isn’t as brash or upbeat as some of Omo Cloud’s others, it’s no less absorbing. The sonic restraint showcases the band’s ability to command hushed intensity and transform it into compelling and emotionally resonant indie pop.
Feb. 14
When I turned 18, San Diego was in the midst of a blogosphere-induced return to musical relevancy. Buzzy, often DIY and lo-fi bands like Crocodiles, The Soft Pack and Delta Spirit were prompting the Rolling Stone to declare that our hamlet, better known for palm trees and fish tacos than for house shows and power chords, had become a “source of seedy, dangerous noise.”
As a young musician who wanted nothing more than to make music that could be classified as seedy, dangerous noise, it felt like an era of opportunity. A dirtbag musical renaissance that hearkened back to the much hyped “It’s Gonna Blow!!!” period a decade earlier, only this time the GarageBand-produced music sounded even sloppier and more shoddily recorded. Even that aspect felt like a localized mirror of punk’s emergence and reliance on three-chord song structures as a response to the shredderdom of earlier musical generations.
Though there were certainly bands that captured my imagination more (see the still criminally underappreciated The Sess) few projects captured my teenage angst and aimlessness quite as much as Wavves, the brainchild of songwriter Nathan Williams. Wavves’ music, but especially its earlier releases, fully encapsulated the sort of bitter, half-stoned nihilism that pervaded the late-aughts San Diego scene I was beginning to dive into. The unpredictable antics of his early years, which included getting in a fight with his drummer on stage with a belly full of assorted substances, for me, only added to his cred.
Though Williams’ project has since evolved and matured, those early releases still hold a special place in my heart.
Wavves, “No Hope Kids”: Though much of Wavves’ early output has to do with being young and hopeless, there are perhaps no songs as direct as “No Hope Kids.” The track is a wash of sunburnt guitar, blown-out vocals and a no-frills drum line, that felt almost like an anthem for dirtbag kids like me. It was a soundtrack to a summer of house shows, alleyway cigarettes and light beer.
Like with most of Williams’ music, the lyrics aren’t particularly deep or poetic, but in exclusively one and two-syllable words, they expressed the essence of a youth that felt both empty and like it was slipping away. All these years later, it feels silly to admit how much songs like these meant to me. But then I put on a pair of headphones, crank up the volume and stop caring.
Feb. 21
San Diego County is a strange place. If you travel far enough in each cardinal direction, you’ll find something totally different: the bustle of Tijuana to the south, the yawning Pacific Ocean to the west, the neat suburbs and eventually Los Angeles to the north or the sparse mountainous towns that give way to the desert in the east.
It’s in the last direction that, perhaps surprisingly for many who only see San Diego as a place to dip your toes in the ocean, a unique brand of Southern California cowboy culture persists. It’s also there that I imagine local country singer-songwriter Kimmi Bitter sitting on some porch nestled in the shade of an oak tree, strumming away on her acoustic guitar.
Kimmi Bitter, “My Grass Is Blue”: Bitter’s sugary sweet voice is the stuff of classic country legends. It’s the kind of voice that seems more apt to spill out of a dusty jukebox in a 1960s country saloon than to be prompted by pressing play on Spotify.
So, it’s no surprise that she’s been compared to titanic figures of early country like Patsy Cline. But it’s not just her vocals that carry a shade of the Nashville legend. Bitter’s compositions are simple, delicate and timeless, eschewing the empty bravado of modern country for the gentle croon of the genre’s past.
“My Grass Is Blue,” which was nominated for “Song of the Year” at the 2023 San Diego Music Awards, showcases both of those traits. In it, Bitter laments a love lost, as a lap steel guitar glides tremulously and a chorus of voices “ooh,” plaintively. It’s an old recipe, but one that’s earnestness is still refreshing.
Feb. 28
Zack Oakley, “Look Where We Are Now”: If you’re into the shreddy, 70s-influenced psychedelic jams, Zack Oakley has you covered. “Look Where We Are Now,” the first single from the band’s forthcoming full length is a frenzied musical treat tailor-made for light shows and melting walls. The five-and-a-half-minute track is a searing mixture of solos – guitar, organ and harmonica (maybe?) all duke it out for instrumental supremacy. What takes the track to the next level for me is the B-52’s-esque call-and-response chorus.
From reader Aaron Poehler: Drummer and vocalist Eli McKenna’s prior band Someplace Nowhere was monolithic and his new band Downsider is similarly impressive. Downsider’s EP “Astride The Grave,” combines delicacy and power with an expert touch, bringing a subtle melodicism to the band’s towering constructions of sound. It’s entrancing stuff, exemplified by the opener “Under the Harshest Light.” So good.
March
Tijuana’s long been San Diego’s more rough and tumble sister to the south, an identity at times fueled and at others feared, by its neighbor to the north. When it comes to music, especially rock, the city has earned that reputation. I’ve always told friends interested in playing in Tijuana that you may not get a great pay out (though to be fair, the same is true in San Diego) but you’ll likely play to an infinitely more epic crowd.
That advice is a bit dated now. It’s been five or six years since I’ve played to raucous crowds at Mustache Bar or anywhere else in Tijuana for that matter, so I’m not sure if the wild, beer-soaked and cigarette-stained energy is still there, but given that San Pedro El Cortez is still around and kicking I’d like to hope it is. The band has for nearly two decades mixed garagey punk, surf and psychedelic tendencies into a raw, toxic stew of noise.
San Pedro once had some real buzz. The music blogs of the early 2010s were all over the band, and a Tijuana filmmaker also made an excellent documentary about what made San Pedro so fun about a decade ago. There was a no-holds-barred nature to them that saw band members smoking meth in music videos, getting naked mid-performance and even burning an American flag. You know, real scuzzy punk stuff. But they weren’t all spectacle. Even if the buzz has worn off slightly, as buzz often does, their music delivers as potent a high as ever.
San Pedro El Cortez, “Asco”: San Pedro’s knack for hooky, crunchy garage punk is on full display in “Asco.” It’s the kind of sound supercharged by youth and bad decisions. It’s all simple enough but delivered with a genuineness that’s not easily faked. That’s part of what makes San Pedro’s music so good – the sense that the only thing they really give a damn about is playing loud and having a damn good time.
March 13
One of the great delights of having to find a new local song to write about each week is finding a new song each week. While I’ve been familiar with, or a fan of, many of the songs and artists I’ve highlighted, that’s not always the case. Many Tuesdays consist at least partly of me trolling through local show listings, looking for something new and interesting, and that feeling of discovery is so exhilarating.
It reminds me that even though I’ve lived in San Diego my entire life, I’ll never stop stumbling on new things, partly because new things are constantly being created. No place is stuck behind glass, unchanging, and San Diego’s no exception. This city’s still got life in it.
That Tuesday ritual is how I discovered this week’s song and Eric Schroeder. This track comes from a release that was recorded live, and it shows. Schroeder has some more tightly produced releases, but I just love the imperfections that dot this release. It’s a reminder that things don’t need to be perfect to be great.
Eric Schroeder, “Dogwood Road”: Schroeder’s style is a charming and stripped-down blend of country and Americana that recalls a whole host of dusty road-bound troubadours. But for some reason, the first person that comes to mind is Pavement’s Stephen Malkmus, even though their music (outside of maybe “Range Life”) isn’t all that comparable. Schroeder’s got just a bit of Malkmus’ winding lyrical nature, albeit a little more tethered to reality. He also has some of the indie rocker’s brand of slacker vocal delivery, though with a dash of a drawl.
Schroeder sounds like the kind of guy who’s singing not because he can perform stunning vocal acrobatics, but because he’s got a whole lot to say. And on “Dogwood Road,” he both meditates on and mourns the road he’s traveled. It’s a song about decisions that bring regret, but also the hope inherent in breaking ties, and I’ll have the line “liberty’s a highway,” rattling around my brain for a while now.
March 20
Obed Padilla, “Sabor,”: I’d never heard of Obed Padilla, an Oceanside rapper and producer before a reader suggested I include one of his songs as a “Song of the Week.” In an email, Marisol wrote that Padilla’s latest release, “Sabor,” sounded “like a Saturday in San Diego,” and she was absolutely right.
“Sabor,” has a classic San Diego sound. It’s nonchalant, filled with the gentle strums of an acoustic guitar and the dulcet squawks of a Latin music-inspired trumpet. It’s hip-hop, but it’s not making a big deal out of it. Padilla’s silky-smooth Spanglish vocals have just a touch of nostalgic sorrow. It’s a fabulous tune that will keep you coming back for more.
March 27
When I was a teenager, I stumbled upon “Dig!” a documentary chronicling the exploits of San Francisco-birthed neo-psychedelic band Brian Jonestown Massacre. Those who have seen the film may tut-tut and point out it also followed BJM’s frenemies, The Dandy Warhols. While technically true, let’s be real: there’s no legitimate reason to care about The Dandy Warhols.
Not only did the BJM’s music – which threw shoegaze, folk and garage rock into a sonic blender and served it hot – speak to my particular brand of grungy paisley taste, the band’s towering personalities captivated me. There was Matt Hollywood, the stoic workhorse of the group, Joel Gion, the mischievous Puck-esque sprite and finally Anton Newcombe. In my young mind, Newcombe had a cult-leader-like transcendence that was contemptible and tragic but also alluring.
All these years later, my love for groups that wield this sort of sound always brings me back to sitting on the floor watching, wide-eyed, as Newcombe blew up his shot at a major label deal onstage at the Viper Room. That documentary, and BJM’s timeless sound, come to mind whenever I press play on a song by The Loons. The band is actually something of a contemporary. It was founded back in the mid-90s and is still releasing music to this day.
The Loons, “Blue Ether”: The Loons haven’t changed much in the nearly three decades they’ve been putting out music. That’s not a dig, what they have is a solid formula that will probably last another 30 years. “Blue Ether,” finds The Loons doing what they do best, infusing The Kinks-esque 60s revivalism into driving garage rock structures accented by lead singer Mike Stax’s sneering vocals.
It’s hard not to get excited by a sound so classic that’s executed well. It’s a vibe that’s easy to imitate, but not as easy to make it sound genuine. Luckily for us, The Loons have never had that problem.
April
It would be hard to find a song that’s come out of San Diego that’s had a larger cultural footprint than “Angel Baby.”
The swooning doo-wop track was released by Rosie and the Originals and was penned by Rosalie “Rosie” Hamlin at just 14 years old as a love poem to her first boyfriend at Mission Bay High. The band recorded the track a year later, when Hamlin was 15. By that time, she’d already spent years sneaking out of her family’s home in National City to perform with bands.
In the six decades since its release, “Angel Baby,” has been covered by the likes of Linda Ronstadt, John Lennon and Charles Brown. It’s a true classic. But just as quickly as Hamlin burst onto the scene, she left, retiring from music two years later, but not before dropping some additional musical gems. Last week marked the seven-year anniversary of Hamlin’s death, so it seems fitting to remember her brief, but profound, musical legacy that led to her becoming the first Latina inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
Rosie and the Originals, “Lonely Blue Nights”: Though not as massive of a hit as “Angel Baby,” “Lonely Blue Nights,” is just as resplendent. It’s more polished than the rough-around-the-edges “Angel Baby,” — presumably at least because that track was recorded in a studio built in part of an airplane hangar in San Marcos — but carries just as much emotional weight. On the track, Hamlin croons about a love lost and begs for a second chance over the gentle plunks of a piano and guitar. It’s a timeless sound that, whose brazen sentimentality can still tug at the heart strings all these years later.
April 10
Music scenes are kind of like icebergs. There are little bits that peek out of the surface, all gleaming and there for everyone to see, but the majority of the structure is underneath the water keeping the whole thing afloat. In San Diego, that’s especially true. We have a vanishingly small list of artists that have “made it,” in a commercial sense, and a whole lot more that have spent years laying the foundation of our scene, show by show, DIY release by DIY release.
That work is hard and often unglamorous. It’s easy to give it up or ship out to greener pastures, because unlike houses, scenes are living, breathing things that shift, evolve and deteriorate. The foundations of a scene require an endless amount of maintenance and reconfiguring – venues shutter, bands break up and local labels pack it in.
There are far too many excellent people who’ve done that often thankless, nitty-gritty work in San Diego to possibly thank, but one person helping keep the DIY scene moving is Matty Terrones. Terrones has been around San Diego’s scene for years, whether it’s booking shows and putting out releases by other bands with the Make Believe DIY collective they helped found or making their own music.
I first came across Terrones’ tunes when they played in the long-standing pop punk-tinged band KIDS., but the lo-fi, homespun indie jams of their new project Neutral Shirt have for years been an absolute favorite of mine. Here’s a deep cut for you.
Neutral Shirt, “I Don’t Know Anything”: The first serving from Neutral Shirt’s new EP “Egg Time,” finds the band in full form, loading up on the sonic density and fuzz. It’s full of muscly grit, chorussy guitar plucks and Terrones’ trademark plaintive vocals. It’s also a gleeful display of both Terrones’ knack for writing catchy, compact songs and their ability to weave in angular musical left turns. At times the song gallops, at others it jogs and at still others it chugs along, satisfying a whole host of musical cravings all at once.
In short, it’s a stellar jam. Then again, I don’t know anything.
April 17
If you hang around a music scene long enough you get to see new artists pop up, evolve and branch out. It’s a fascinating and captivating thing. For me, Shelbi Bennett has been one of the most rewarding local artists to watch.
I first met her through a coworker and I vividly remember the first time I heard her sing: it was late and we’d all been drinking, and Bennett was perched up on the kitchen counter of my coworker’s Golden Hill apartment. Her voice was stunning, a velvety croon that transported me back to a smoky 1920s-era lounge. I literally got goosebumps.
From that moment on, I knew it was only a matter of time before Bennett made her mark on San Diego music. In the dozen years since then, she has, with bands like the folky The Midnight Pine (with whom she won a San Diego Music Award), the phenomenal Kate Bush cover act Baby Bushka and with the garagey, pop-punk group The Havnauts. All these years later, her voice still gives me goosebumps.
The Havnauts, “Down Not Out”: Lots of bands describe their music as infectious, mostly because they think their songs are just that catchy. I don’t always agree, because what part of what makes a song truly infectious to me is whether it feels like the band’s actually having fun. The Havnauts have never had that problem. The band’s stripped down “pink punk,” as they refer to it has always struck me as incredibly genuine, and a genuinely good time. “Down Not Out,” is a wonderful example of how The Havnauts can divine joyful bits of tuneage out of even a deep feeling of malaise.
April 24
The sad reality of local music scenes is that for every band that bursts out into the wider world, there are dozens of excellent ones that never make it out of the domed ecosystem of their hometown. They toil in obscurity for years, become mainstays at places like the Casbah but not much more or burn up in the atmosphere on attempted liftoff.
One of those San Diego bands who never made it out, but probably deserved to, is New Mexico. The band’s 2013 release “Malpais,” is one of my favorite San Diego albums of all time, as evidenced by my worn-out vinyl copy. What made New Mexico so great, aside from the excellent tunes, is its ability to evolve.
The band’s sound went from the pseudo powerpop of the 2007 album “Plastic, Fake and Frozen,” released when its name was still Apes of Wrath, to the loud, scuzzy garage rock of 2010s “Have You Met My Friend?” which came after the band changed its name to New Mexico. By 2013’s “Malpais,” New Mexico’s final album, the band had rewritten the script again, embracing a wiry, post-punk tinged brand of indie rock.
It’s a potent, intimate record whose songs bleed into one another that came at a time when my musical tastes, like the band’s, were evolving. All these years later it still packs a hefty punch.
New Mexico, “Johnny Garçon”: It’s hard to pick a favorite track on “Malpais,” which was released 11 years ago yesterday. It’s an album filled with fantastically cold, melancholic, post-punk inspired tunes. “Johnny Garçon,” however, stands out. It’s a splash of light that, given its under three-minute run time, dissipates nearly as quickly as it materializes. Warbling synths, driving guitar strums and lead singer Robert Kent’s reedy vocals all mesh into a frenetic, contagious head bobber.
May
Language is a living, breathing thing. A word’s meaning can change, a word can go extinct or even be transmogrified in the linguistic furnace of the internet. Music is the same way. Genres, and their descriptors, change from one generation to the next as music’s porous borders stretch and recede. Often, as is the case with goth, those descriptors become relegated to the world of fashion rather than music. This is the part where I do an imitation of an old man shaking his fist at a cloud – I miss old goth music.
Vice Algae, “Covered in Grief (TSOGL)”: Vice Algae feels like old school goth music. It’s sparse, heavy and drenched in a deliciously thick fog of reverb (likely at least partly because these tracks are demos.) On “Covered In Grief,” there’s a bit of frontiersy instrumentation – like a song from a classic Western movie recorded in a basement. That all dissolves near the end of the track, as the lead singer’s Ian Curtis-esque yips egg on a chaotic crescendo.
May 8
The 80s are back in. They have been for a while now. So long in fact that maybe they’re back out? In any case, you can still find the new wave of yesteryear infused in nearly every single release. But few artists do so as effortlessly and convincingly as Twin Ritual. The four-piece, comprised of scene veterans like Laura Levenhagen and Anthony Ramirez, has been pumping out cinematic synth-gilded jams for years and has still somehow managed to always sound fresh and authentic.
Twin Ritual, “Allie,”: The 2023 single, “Allie,” is a perfect example of Twin Ritual’s knack for seamless, slickly produced and hooky songs. It’s awash in sparkling synths, pumping bass and delicate guitar flourishes. But Levenhagen’s soaring vocals are the real standout. She has the kind of voice that would shine in any era but is an especially perfect fit for Twin Ritual’s brazen 80s pop vibes.
May 15
Please Ask For Paul,” The Dove”: There’s no shame in being sincere – just look at Please Ask For Paul’s latest single, “The Dove.” The track’s folk-tinged indie rock is dreamy and cinematic in all of the right ways.
Singer Marlo Smith’s ethereal vocals float above a bed of thumping drums and bass and sparkling guitars. But it’s also a deeply genuine song, unconcerned with pretense and focused solely on transporting the listener to a gorgeous, sprawling soundscape.
May 22
It’s not often you see outlets like SPIN declaring a San Diego band’s “timeless pop rock is destined for stadium success.” But in June, that’s exactly what the nearly four decade-old publication had to say about Pleasure Pill. If you haven’t heard of Pleasure Pill, you’re forgiven. The band still hasn’t reached stadiums, but they have been around longer than it would seem.
Pleasure Pill rose from the pandemic ashes of the more off-the-wall JINX!, which released dozens of songs starting in 2016. That name may also ring a bell because of the band’s prolific postering work over the years. Though some of the delightful eccentricity of JINX! has been stripped away with the reinvention, Pleasure Pill’s decidedly retro sound is indeed infectious.
“Favorite Color Gold,” sounds like a riff on Jane’s Addiction’s rollicking 90’s rock, while “Get There Soon,” feels like it takes a page from Brian Jonestown Massacre’s mixture of 60s revivalist and Britpop. Throughout it all, though, Pleasure Pill smashes you with an unwavering wall of fuzz.
Pleasure Pill, “I’d Rather Be”: Pleasure Pill’s latest single, “I’d Rather Be,” is about as straightforward as it comes. It’s a fuzzy, love-drunk garage track dripping with nostalgia. Jonah Paz’s bratty croon is framed by a bouncy bassline and some classic guitar riffage. It’s the kind of track that could find an audience anytime over the last 30 years. But calling it straightforward is no knock. You don’t need a gimmick if you can just write a catchy and kickass tune.
May 29
There’s a vintage nature to much of The Gift Machine’s jangly indie rock, likely because the band’s been at it in one form or another for more than two decades. Lead singer Dave Matthies hails from the Pacific Northwest, specifically Anacortes, Washington, home to indie legend Phil Elverum of The Microphones and Mount Eerie fame, with whom Matthies has previously collaborated.
The Pacific Northwest is in the veins of The Gift Machine’s tunes. There’s a blissful facade that melts away into a sense of tranquil melancholy on much of their music, which is only heightened by the dulcet harmonies of Matthies wife and bandmate Andrea Matthies. The band’s relocation to north San Diego County hasn’t excised those roots. This is music made for daydreaming.
The Gift Machine, “I’m On It Now”: The Gift Machine’s latest album, “Consolation Prize,” finds the band doing what it does best – crafting dreamy, guitar-led indie pop. “I’m On It Now,” showcases the band’s knack for breezy and infectious songwriting. That musical lightheartedness allows even heavy lines like “I didn’t mean to be honest. Is it time we called it a truce? Can you cut me down from this noose?” to be delivered with a certain weightlessness.
June
Organist and lead singer Doug Ingle, the last living member of Iron Butterfly’s classic lineup, passed away last week. Though Iron Butterfly was born in San Diego, in a familiar tale, the band moved to Los Angeles to pursue a real career. It was there, in the garage of the Laurel Canyon home Ingle and drummer Ron Bushy shared, that the psychedelic tour de force “In-A-Gadda-De-Vida,” was penned.
There are few songs that captured the zeitgeist of the burnt psychedelia of the late 1960s more than Iron Butterfly’s sprawling acid rock extraordinaire “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida.” The 17-minute dirge managed to be both messy and hypnotic, and presaged the direction many hard rock bands would take in future years.
The story goes that Bushy returned home to find Ingle blitzed on a gallon of wine and playing a song. When asked what it was called, Ingle’s drunken slurring was incomprehensible. So, instead of “In the Garden of Eden,” as Ingle intended to title the song, Bushy wrote down what he was able to make out: “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida.”
Iron Butterfly, “Unconscious Power”: Though “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” pretty much steals the spotlight, Iron Butterfly had a bunch of excellent tracks. There’s the lighthearted, lovestruck hippiedom of “Flowers and Beads,” the windblown rock and roll of “Easy Rider,” and the organ-heavy meditative meanderings of “Possession.”
“Unconscious Power,” is another standout that doesn’t get the recognition it deserves. The track is an explosion of rollicking garage rock and proggy solos. A snaking bassline and crunchy guitar stabs complement Ingle’s deep, booming voice. It’s not easy to make subtle complexity sound this effortless.
June 12
Klurax’s music is all over the place. Tracks like “u me forever,” are maximalist, hyperpop-influenced explorations of some distant galaxy. Meanwhile, “enough,” feels more like the soundtrack to a sweaty night of club hopping. This is an artist who is not afraid to throw things against the wall and see what sticks. Turns out pretty much everything sticks. Throughout it all, though, klurax’s delicate, ethereal voice gently floats amidst the chaos.
Klurax, “funeral clothes”: On “funeral clothes,” klurax dials it all the way back. Gone are the breakbeat drum parts, the crystalline droplets of synthesizer and the mishmash of textures. Instead, we’re treated to a hazy, dream-pop track that’s as restrained as it is alluring. It’s an addictive tune that, taken with klurax’s later work, showcases real versatility and vision.
June 26
I can never get enough grimy, chaotic tunes. The feeling of being subsumed by some bone rattling fuzz is, quite simply, unmatched. Luckily for me, Psychic Graveyard’s new album, “Wilting,” has added some tracks to my playlist that perfectly fit that craving – and just in time for summer, no less.
“Wilting” is the band’s fifth album in six years, and it’s a doozy. A generous mix of punk, post-punk and noise rock, “Wilting” finds Psychic Graveyard heaping on the anarchic synthesizers, heavy drum beats and snotty, snarling vocals. It’s a beast of an album meant for savoring.
Psychic Graveyard, “Your Smile is a Hoax”: Album opener “Your Smile is a Hoax,” feels like the most radio- ready track on “Wilting.” If you think that means it’s bright and inviting or features a catchy hook, you’d be wrong. Instead, it’s a grim and hypnotic track powered by a motorik drum beat, an absolutely filthy bassline and harsh synth and guitar flourishes. This is the kind of song you shouldn’t even bother listening to if you’re not willing to turn the volume all the way up. It’s absolutely delicious, but an admittedly acquired taste.
July
Summer is here. The days are hot and long. The beaches are packed. The grills are lit. And I’m in need of a cool, cool drink of music. So, I give to you, Drew Pelisek.
Just this year, Pelisek’s released two EP’s filled with blissfully restrained tunes that mix folky songwriter fare, indie rock and shoegaze instrumentation. It’s a low-key, blurred-out cocktail that’s sonically pleasing and cool to the touch.
Last month’s “Reheater,” EP dials up the fuzz and dials down the fidelity on wistful tracks like “Ode to Red.” But it’s on “Rapid Stag,” released in March, where Pelisek’s ability to expertly strike a serene equilibrium shines most fully. The EP’s four stellar tracks find him embracing a more spaced-out, acoustic guitar-tinged vibe that’s absolutely divine.
Drew Pelisek, “Portal”: Listening to “Portal,” feels a bit like hearing a song from underwater. Delicately strummed acoustic guitar, wispy flourishes of washed-out electric guitar and Pelisek’s hushed, sugary croon build into revelatory swells before receding once again. The track’s lyrics also reflect that transitory, hazy feeling, with Pelisek singing “There’s a portal state, somewhere far away. Where the weeds won’t grow and the thinking’s slow.” It’s a song that elicits a distinctly dreamlike state, and goodness, is it some dream.
July 10
Dark wave has come back in a big way in recent years. From the TikTok-ification of a once obscure Belarusian band to the launching of yet another Southern Californian music festival devoted to synth-powered vibes to the resurgence of the goth aesthetic, black seems like it is indeed back.
It’s not entirely surprising. These are strange, dark times we’re living in. Plus, the goth aesthetic and the music that inspired it are incredibly alluring. I’m also not complaining. Though the gaudy fashion trends can be a bit grating – especially given how completely divorced they now are from their inspiration – I’ll take an extra serving if it means I get just a little more dark, synthy, sunglasses-clad clove cigarette-smoking music.
That’s where local duo Twin Ion Engine comes in. They make exactly the kind of catchy dark wave that drives the kids wild. And in this instance, I count myself as one of the kids.
Twin Ion Engine, “Dead Lights”: A propulsive bassline and a glimmering guitar drive Twin Ion Engine’s “Dead Lights.” The song is at once a messily recorded DIY affair and a calculated dark wave bop. Like in much goth-adjacent music, vocals play something of a backing role. Frontman Eddie Lopez’s booming Interpol-esque vocals flit about the edges like wisps of smoke.
July 17
Sometimes starting a band isn’t about making it big. Sometimes you start a band because you really like to play music. Crazy concept, I know. That’s how I’ve long felt Bang Bang Jet Away approached songwriting.
The duo, comprised of two long-time San Diego musicians, has quietly been putting out some of the most thoughtful, well-crafted and delightful tunes of any San Diego band. There’s something super organic about the music, not least of which is because of the homespun feel of the recordings and instrumentation. These are recordings made to fit songs, not songs made to fit recordings.
My first introduction to Bang Bang Jet Away came nearly a decade ago, when I stumbled across the excellent tune “Like a Tiny Grasshopper,” on SoundCloud. The song is a retro gem that presaged some of the paisley-infused neo-psychedelia feel of early Foxygen.
But with each subsequent release, of which there are many scattered like rare trading cards across streaming platforms, Bang Bang Jet Away has added depth to its unique sonic tapestry, even while maintaining the homespun feel. There’s the sparse, ominous pondering of “Quotidian Barbarian,” the fleshed-out 90s indie rock of “You Slept With My Best Friend,” and the tinkling bravado of “Cocaine Company.”
It all recalls something I deeply miss about the pre-algorithm days of music: when a band’s catalog didn’t sound like the same song arranged for different keys.
Bang Bang Jet Away, “We Conquer The World”: Taken from last year’s EP, “Graves,” Bang Bang Jet Away’s “We Conquer The World,” hits you with a beautifully fuzzy wall of guitar sound. It has shades of Brian Jonestown Massacre’s early work if Anton Newcombe was capable of writing a more complex vocal line. Accompanied by a bustling bass line and singer Matt Binder’s charmingly snotty vocals, the track exudes an easy confidence. It’s a sing-along for a sunny Saturday morning.
July 24
I love Quali. That won’t come as a surprise to any of my friends, the band has long been one of my favorite local bands. Quali has perfected a mixture of noisy, messy and intricate rock that straddles the line between shoegaze and 90s-influenced indie.
There’s a dark, foreboding sense to many of Quali’s songs that borders on meditative. See the gorgeous, lethargic sparseness of “Stalker,” on the band’s latest album “When the Dark Presses,” for a prime example. But Quali is also not afraid to dial up the distortion and play with the loud-quiet-loud dynamic The Pixies perfected, like on the bewitching track “Eraser.”
Quali, “Slow”: While many of Quali’s tracks can have a deliberate, plodding tempo, ironically, “Slow,” is one of the faster songs on the band’s latest album. Vocalist and guitarist Isaiah Nery has long known exactly how to build songs that wrap around his delicate, whispered vocals like a cocoon. “Slow,” with its bursts of distortion-fueled chaos, is no different.
July 31
It’d be hard to name a band that’s come out of San Diego in recent years that’s as straight-up delightful to listen to as Thee Sacred Souls. The group specializes in vintage R&B that sounds like it was plucked from a stack of prized old records. But Thee Sacred Souls do it with a genuine verve and creativity that makes it feels far from a tired retread.
While the band’s musical stylings are singular, they’re also absolutely enchanting. From the stunning and breezy “Easier Said Than Done,” to the starry-eyed “Can I Call You Rose?” Thee Sacred Souls bring the goods. The band’s organic feel and instrumentation is also an antidote for a modern musical landscape that far too often feels manufactured and synthetic.
Thee Sacred Souls, “Lucid Girl”: The first single from the Thee Sacred Souls’ forthcoming sophomore album “Got a Story To Tell” maintains all of the transcendent charm of the band’s debut. Josh Lane’s intoxicating vocals are still the star of the show. But bandmates Salvador Samano and Alejandro Garcia know just how to build the warm, inviting canvas to best complement them.
August
I always find the way bands evolve to be fascinating. In best case scenarios, it feels like an organic process sparked by a change in the way a band sees itself and what they want to do. But often there’s a forced nature to it, like a band jettisoning aspects of itself to keep up with the times.
Luckily for us, the evolution of Hey, Chels, who have been pumping out tunes for more than half a decade, falls squarely into the former option. The band’s self-titled 2018 debut was a classic pop punk album – and just for the record, there’s nothing wrong with that. But the next two releases found Hey, Chels stretching its legs a bit and embracing a more colorful vibe.
The band didn’t abandon its roots, as songs like “Pulse Check,” show. Hey, Chels just added some extra tools to its arsenal, evident on earworms like “Disaster,” and “Crumbling.”
Hey, Chels, “Burn”: The band’s latest single, “Burn,” is an infectious and unabashed mixture of indie and pop rock. Unlike Hey, Chels’ other recent single “Playin,” a mid-tempo jam propelled by a grimy bassline and accented by ghostly keyboard notes, “Burn,” is much more compact. It’s dominated by crunchy, driving guitar strums and Jacque Mendez’s magnetic vocals and at a hair longer than two minutes, it’s a delectable little bite of a song. So go ahead, play it again. No one’s judging you.
Aug. 14
There’s no shortage of excellent undiscovered bands lurking in watering holes across America (and San Diego), but oftentimes, tunes from local bands can feel half-baked. That shouldn’t be a surprise and it’s not a dig. Very few bands drop into the world fully sonically formed. There’s a growth process that finds them grasping around in the musical darkness, experimenting with sounds and mixing together the influences of various members.
But for many bands, the baking never ends. There’s always something sort of missing, something that’s not quite clicking. Ultimately, that’s why many bands end up staying “local bands.” Hex, however, feels ready to be pulled out of the oven. Hex’s seamless blend of dream pop and shoegaze demonstrates the band knows exactly what it’s looking to do and exactly how to do it. The results are, simply put, delightful.
Hex, “The Tower”: Hex’s 2022 single, “The Tower,” is the band’s most fully realized track to date. There are shades of Real Estate-esque jangle pop here and a sense of melancholy that gives me the feeling of watching the world glide by through the passenger seat window. What’s perhaps most impressive is how well every element fits together – the whispered, barely audible vocals, the laidback drum work, the shoegazey guitar lines. It’s a heck of a song and hopefully a sign of what’s to come for Hex.
Aug. 21
Lady Dottie is the real deal. Born Dorothy Mae Whitsett, she originally honed her chops as an Alabama gospel singer and that background is evident in her vocal bravado. Her voice is equal parts honey and fire, intoxicating and ferocious. It’s the kind of organic talent that’s often lacking in our modern age of music.
Lady Dottie’s band is similarly scorching. They accompany her vocals with a phenomenal mix of blues, rock and roll and garage rock. At times, they crank up the heat so high the mixture feels at risk of boiling over. It’s a truly incredible combination that reinvigorates sounds that in lesser hands can feel worn out.
My only criticism of Lady Dottie and the Diamonds is that we don’t have more. The band only has one release, 2008’s self-tiled album, which is a mix of covers and originals. Laddy Dottie and the Diamonds have spent the intervening decade and a half playing pretty regularly though, and the band’s live show is fantastic. So, while we may not have new recorded music at least we still have those sweaty Lady Dottie nights.
Lady Dottie and the Diamonds, “I Ain’t Mad at Ya”: What is there to say about “I Ain’t Mad At Ya,” other than it absolutely shreds? Lady Dottie does what she always does, but the Diamonds burst out of the gate with an almost feral garage rock tune delivered at breakneck speed. Everyone gets a chance to shine in this sub-three minute fireball that includes drum and guitar solos, organ flourishes and call and response vocals. Simply put, it’s perfection.
Aug. 28
I was born and raised in San Diego and many of my earliest musical memories are intertwined with the local music scene. From The Rugburns to The Dragons, I feel connected to much of the music that bubbled up during my childhood. But perhaps my clearest memories of local music have to do with Gregory Page (aside from those with, you know, my dad).
I vividly remember my mom singing snippets of “Cyrus,” from Page’s excellent debut album “The Romantic Adventures of Harry” as we cruised around in her Saturn. Later in life, when I’d begun to play music myself, I adored Page’s new Parisian folk bent. There’s long been a genuine depth to his music, which presaged the rise of the indie-folk-coffee shop vibe people like Jason Mraz rode to stardom.
All these years later, Page’s gentle croons still strike a chord with me.
Gregory Page, “The Great Wild Beyond”: The opening track from Page’s debut album, “The Great Wild Beyond,” captures all of what makes Page such an excellent songwriter in just under four minutes. It’s a heart-on-your-sleeve track that manages to be vulnerable without crossing over into cheesy. Page’s gentle, plaintive croon is paired with a beautifully written acoustic guitar part. The whole thing feels both incredibly intimate and reflective of the wide open space of life the very best folk music invokes.
September
In the age of flannels and distortion pedals – when bands mixed bar chords with a vocal style I can only describe as a bit like someone dislocating their jaw to sing with an exaggerated underbite – Lucy’s Fur Coat emerged. The band gained traction quickly, signed to a label and released its first album, “Jaundice,” in 1994.
The grungy lead single “Treasure Hands,” garnered radio play and led to heavy touring from the band. But like so many things in San Diego that seem like they’re going to blow, Lucy’s Fur Coat sputtered. The band was eventually dropped from their label before reuniting and releasing “How to Survive an Air Crash,” in 1998.
Though Lucy’s Fur Coat never recaptured its original hype, they still retain the patina of “what could have been.” Their semi-frequent shows also still pack a hell of a punch.
Lucy’s Fur Coat, “El Cajon”: Many Lucy’s Fur Coat songs consist of similar building blocks. Chunky, chugging guitar parts, snarling vocals and sing-along choruses. “El Cajon,” though not a reinvention of the band’s sound, at times steps slightly out of that formula. That’s most evident in the reedy, restrained guitar strums that kick off the song and conjure an ominous, off-kilter vibe. By the time the chorus kicks in and the band reverts to its tried and true sound, you remember why they have a tried and true sound to begin with: they’re damn good at it.
Sept. 11
The future never looks or feels like I’d imagined it would when I was young. There are no flying cars (the closest we have are self-driving ones that seem to love to explode), the smart home technology we have scrapes and resells our data and holograms are generally reserved for resurrecting dead musicians at music festivals. I realize I just described technology from The Jetsons, but the fact remains that pretty much all of the structural problems society has always faced still rule the day.
Music is much the same. I’d always imagined the songs of the future would be glittering electronic gems that felt futuristic in some ineffable way. We do have some of that, but music is still ruled by much of what came before. What we also have, though, is fascinating genre-bending and mixing of unique styles that feels at times like the musical equivalent of the geological layering that takes place over millennia.
That messy process produces messy results. Some of the music is amazing and some is just baffling. But it does feel futuristic. And given the messiness of the rest of the future we’re living in, this kind of music ends up feeling much more representative.
Lecx Stacy, “Are We Awake”: Do you like gentle guitar strums? Delicate banjo plucks? Sirenic female vocals? How about bursts of fuzzed out electronic percussion or washy, ethereal synths? If you answered ‘yes,’ to any of these questions, Lecx Stacy’s “Are We Awake,” has at least a little something for you. The mixture is at times chaotic, at others serene, and always engrossing. At least for me.
October
If you’ve read even a couple of my song of the week entries, you’ve likely heard me mention the wild music scene that sprung up in San Diego in the 80s and 90s. The scene at the time was dominated by post-hardcore trailblazers whose music was characterized by blaring volumes, angular instrumentation, raucous live shows, and a heavy helping of weirdness.
The short-lived Clikatat Ikatowi perfectly personified that mixture. The band only put out a handful of releases in the few years it was around, but like many bands of that era, its influence is still felt. And next week, members are playing their first live show in 25 years.
Clikatat Ikatowi, “Affirmation”: Frenetic and screeching, “Affirmation,” is Clikatat Ikatowi at its best. The band inundates the listener with frenzied drums, squalls of distorted guitar and the trademark exasperated, shouting vocals. For fans of messy, noisy post-hardcore and punk, “Affirmation,” has it all.
Oct. 9
Year of the Dead Bird, “Paulie Walnut Shrimp”: Year of the Dead Bird’s new release “DJXQQ” puts the noise in noise rock. On one of the release’s two tracks, “Paulie Walnut Shrimp,” the band dials up the cacophony, mixing zippy synths, plodding drums and blown-out yelling vocals. The end result is almost nonsensical – but in a good way. Noise for noise’s sake.
Oct. 16
When it comes to musical legends with San Diego roots, there are perhaps none more legendary than Tom Waits. The enigmatic troubadour moved with his mother to Chula Vista when he was 10, eventually attending O’Farrell and Hilltop High. Even in his school days, he was drawn to music, starting a band with his friends called the Systems while attending O’Farrell. By the early 70s, after a brief foray studying photography at Southwestern College, Waits was working at Napoleone’s Pizza House in National City while honing his musical chops. Here’s a fun collection of the many times Waits has talked about Napoleone’s – which is still around. – including when he claimed to have the full menu tattooed on his stomach.
But while his career may be extraordinary, this next part isn’t. In a story that’s been repeated for decades since, Waits knew San Diego didn’t offer many opportunities to make it as a musician. So, in 1972 he quit his job at Napoleone’s and moved to the City of Angels. The next year, he released his debut album, “Closing Time.”
Tom Waits, “The Ghosts of Saturday Night (After Hours at Napoleone’s Pizza House)”: Waits’ penchant for detached storytelling focused on the everyman that uses brief snippets of everyday life to paint vivid portraits is on full display on “The Ghosts of Saturday Night (After Hours at Napoleone’s Pizza House).” The melancholic piano tune, whose focus slowly shifts like a panning camera, is the closing track on Waits’ second album “The Heart of Saturday Night,” which was released 50 years ago today. It’s a cigarette smoke-stained ode to those last weary souls awake as the “early dawn cracks out a carpet of diamonds,” leaving the “town in the keeping of the one who is sweeping up the ghosts of Saturday night.”
Oct. 23
Sebastian Alvarez has been releasing music since he was a teenager. He first caught my attention in 2016, when he was going by the moniker Peggy183. That’s when I heard “Hey Yuki!,” a delightfully kawaii bedroom pop gem. Over the years, Alvarez has drifted from sound to sound, free of the sort of genre restrictions other artists have placed on themselves.
From messy lo-fi indie pop to stuttering new wavey synth tracks to mellow Spanish acoustic tunes to nostalgic 90s-era hip hop, he’s tried it all. Alvarez’s willingness to morph, experiment and follow his artistic whims is a breath of fresh air in a musical world laser-focused on algorithmic supremacy that seems intent on trapping artists in smaller and smaller boxes.
Digigurl, “Playboy”: Some of Alvarez’s latest tunes, now under the moniker Digigurl, find him diving headfirst into doo-wop. The genre is a snug fit for the musical shapeshifter who sounds both genuine and fresh. On “Playboy,” Alvarez bemoans being defined as a lothario, singing sweetly “Darling, don’t you believe them. They say that to hurt us, don’t think of me as a playboy,” which would seem to me to be exactly what a playboy would say. In any case, the track is an infectious daydream of a song.
Oct. 30
Even in the least eventful of years, election season is an incredibly stressful time. Billions of dollars flood the airwaves meant to monopolize peoples’ attention and scare the absolute hell out of them. Sometimes it works. Finding a moment of calm in this most hostile of environments is tough. Luckily, I’ve had a secret weapon the past couple of weeks: this self-titled EP from the short-lived project Saffron.
From the delightfully messy folk of “Thrill of Love,” to the simultaneously gentle and crunchy indie of “Star Child,” each of the EP’s four tracks put on display what the band calls its “cosmic American music.” That’s likely because Saffron prided itself on constantly evolving live shows, never playing a song the same twice. That makes these recorded versions just one “of those variations, set in stone,” the band writes on its Bandcamp page. Those roads not taken are evident in the songs themselves, which feel dynamic and lived in and like they just may transform into another version living up in the ether before the next time you press play.
Saffron, “Ellen (All Alone)”: There’s a sublime and delicate serenity to “Ellen (All Alone),” that channels shades of The Velvet Underground’s stunning 1969 track “Jesus.” It’s the kind of tune you play, float away during and then need to play again. Singers Ali Mehraban Ramirez and Galia Shakked’s whispered vocals float above a restrained, circular picking pattern, all of it perpetually at risk of being swallowed by an ocean of 4-track fuzz.
November
This week, I dug around for something to calm the tattered nerves many may be struggling with on Election Day and, dare I say, I found the perfect balm for weary souls.
If you’ve paid close attention to my previous selections, you may recognize Calcutta Kid, the musical moniker of Jessmeet Gulati. I included his incredible (and similarly zen) song “Peace (Clouds Scrape the Sunroof),” in January of this year. Since leaving the well-known local indie group The Donkeys, Gulati has spent the past seven years embracing meditative, sitar-infused psychedelic music. His latest EP, “Anjali,” continues his journey toward the sublime.
Calcutta Kid, “Kirsty’s Serenade”: This track is a bit of an outlier on “Anjali.” Two of the EP’s tracks are 10-plus minute sitar-led explorations and, to be frank, not much happens in “Kirsty’s Serenade.” To me, it feels something like a sort of spiritual sibling to “Peace (Clouds Scrape the Sunroof).” Still, that sense of serenely floating down a lazy river is exactly what I need right now, and I don’t think I’m alone.
Nov. 13
There was a period in the 2000s when the DIY moniker meant something. Musicians were recording on whatever damn thing they had lying around, and though for some recording purists the sometimes-ramshackle result was a turnoff, to me it was inspiring. Unchained from high recording costs and expectations, artists experimented with new sounds and approaches. It felt democratizing. Anyone with an idea and drive could produce something amazing – and many did.
During that period, DIY folk was a major player. Artists like Kimya Dawson gained popularity, as did her unabashedly unserious and twee sensibilities. Though not as folky, Tijuana’s surcarilita channel that willingness to be silly and have fun, and it pays off.
surcarilita, “walking online”: Much of surcarilita’s 2023 album “mírala mirando,” features guitar – sometimes crunchy, sometimes acoustic. The closing track “walking online,” flips the script, turning instead to dreamlike puffs of synth that conjure the feeling of floating through an 8-bit landscape. Still, sucarilita’s fabulous twee sensibilities remain, as does the DIY production and singer Ana Cossio’s whispered vocals.
Nov. 20
For years now, local label Egg Records has acted as a sort of incubator for local talent. Many of the artists fall somewhere in the sprawling “indie rock,” sphere, but that’s not a hard and fast rule. In fact, one of my favorite Egg artists is Oliver Slime, the musical moniker of rapper Kieran Miles.
Oliver Slime’s 2021 EP “For The Uninitiated,” was an infectious release that showcased not only his lyrical chops but his natural, effortless delivery. Throw on “Get Up, Get Out,” to get a taste of that mixture. In the years since, the project has kept the heat coming.
Oliver Slime, “Baby Are You Down For Me?”: The lead single from 2024 release “Thank You For Your Time,” is a laidback gem filled with analog fuzz, tinkling piano and gentle saxophone flourishes. Lyrically, Miles meditates on romantic disappointment and the inevitable distance time apart creates. It’s a delightfully smooth listen only made better by DELAHCRUZ’s vocal additions.
Nov. 27
New musical movements don’t pop out of nowhere. The rise of punk, for example, was a reaction, in part, to the optimism of the hippy era. The simple, fast and loud tunes often eschewed the flowery virtuosity of music from the decade before. There was also a nihilistic streak to the lyrics. Instead of psychedelic exploration and free love, the lyrical fare of many early punk was a snarling unwillingness to adhere to the status quo.
It spread quickly. Just three years after The Ramones burst onto the scene, Southern California answered. The Zeros – nicknamed the “Mexican Ramones” – followed the New York trailblazers’ lead with compact songwriting and straightforward but catchy melodies. But like oh so many artists in the region’s history, The Zeros were erroneously labeled a Los Angeles band. In reality, they were formed in Chula Vista. Get it straight.
The Zeros, “Don’t Push Me Around”: While songs like “Wild Weekend,” put The Zeros’ ability to crank out frenzied, high-octane noise on full display and “Rico Amour,” highlights the band’s sharper edge, it’s hard to stop playing “Don’t Push Me Around.” Full of snot, vim and vigor, it’s simply a perfect early punk track. I’ve been playing it all afternoon, likely annoying the hell out of my girlfriend. She’ll ask me to turn it off any minute now and when that happens I’ll just echo The Zeros’ endlessly satisfying refrain – “You always want me to stop, but I’m not gonna.’”
December
Exit Party specializes in an ethereal, sedated brand of dream pop. Sometimes the band guides you by the hand through lush soundscapes that make you feel like you’re moving in slow motion, like on “Heat Wave.” Other times, they hit you with a warm serving of nostalgia, like on “Baby Blue,” which features hints of absolutely fabulous harmonies and keyboard work. But at all times, the band’s music feels simultaneously sparkling and smooth.
Exit Party, “Sun Lux”: Exit Party’s debut single, “Sun Lux,” is a gem. There’s a bit of Real Estate-esque wistfulness both to the vibe and the music itself. The whole thing feels a bit like experiencing life through a thin pane of glass – you see and sense everything, but you just can’t touch it. Exit Party seems to know just how to deploy that sense of melancholic detachment, just how to communicate the feeling that something ineffable is missing from life. But by the time the track whittled down to just a lonely guitar strum and a gentle arpeggiator, I wasn’t any closer to figuring out what it was.
Dec. 11
It’s easy to sniff out posers. Though you often can’t pinpoint exactly what gave them away, there’s generally an overall feeling of “fakeness.” When I first read Spacehall Sound Machine’s Bandcamp bio, which describes their music as “a combination of explosive rhythms from West Africa & Latin America, dub, driving post-punk bass lines, psychedelic rock, funk breakbeats, and haunting melodies from the Middle East,” I fully expected my poser meter to explode. Boy, was I surprised.
The band’s debut self-titled EP is fabulous. There’s a tantalizingly exotic vibe to Spacehall Sound Machine, almost like some alien entity received a transmission filled with 1970s international psychedelic music, injected it with all manner of otherworldly tones and beamed it back to Earth.
But it also feels genuine. That’s likely because bandleader and drummer Matt Bozzone is the real deal, having toured for over a decade with all manner of groovy, international artists. That list includes Seun Kuti & Egypt 80, the son and former backing band of Nigerian Afrobeat visionary Fela Kuti. Now that’s a resume.
Spacehall Sound Machine, “Hold It Together”: The band’s sound is underpinned by Bozzone’s driving, authoritative drum lines and is gilded with seductive and ghostly keyboard and guitar parts. In many ways, “Hold It Together,” is the EP’s most basic track. Unlike the more frilly “Piledriver,” or “Dark Horse,” the track embraces emptiness, allowing brief riffs or whirrs of synthesizer to echo into the nothingness.