Suche:curses so strange

The first two minutes of Sun June’s third album, Bad Dream Jag-uar, is a reverie - Laura Colwell’s voice floats above a slow-burn,sparse synth, conjuring a tipsy loneliness, a hazy recollection, a disco ball spinning at the end of the night for an empty dancefloor. Sun June’s music often feels like a shared memory – the details so close to the edge of a song that you can touch them. And as an Austin-based project, their music has also always feltstrangely and specifically Texan – unhurried, long drives acrossan impossible expanse of openness, refractions shimmering off the pavement in the heat.

But on Bad Dream Jaguar, Sun June is unmoored. The back drop of Texas is replaced by longing, by distance, by transience, and aquiet fear. The only sense of certainty comes from the murky past.It’s a dispatch from aging, when you’re in the strange in-betweenof yourself: there’s a clear image of the person you once wereand the places you inhabited, generational curses and our fami-lies, but the future feels vast, unclear – and the present can’t helpbut slip through your fingers.

Tallahassee, FL singer-songwriter Sarah Morrison's debut studio album
Attachment Figure depicts the strangeness of exploring new
relationships with subtle and spacious electronic production - As a
former live keyboardist in Locate S,1, Morrison co-produced Attachment
Figure with fellow bandmates Ross Brand and Clayton Rychlik, both of
whom also play in Of Montreal's backing band
She was motivated to experiment with looser song structures and more
unconventional chord progressions by her collaborators' fondness for avantgarde jazz, as well as Locate S,1 frontwoman Christina Schneider's idiosyncratic
writing style.
Throughout the album, echoing keys, woodwinds, and guitar ripple like a moonlit
lake from which Morrison's voice emerges. Her presence is spectral, yet
conversational, willing to conjure concrete imagery of mango- flavored vitamins
and the warmth of phone chargers alongside ghost stories of mannequin corpses
and epistolary curses, a balance shaped by an obsession with the theatrical
sincerity of Kate Bush and Mark Hollis.
Lyrically, Attachment Figure meditates on questions about identity, personal
growth, and helplessness - whether within a relationship or the oppressive
structures of society itself - often rooted in Morrison's experiences growing up in
the South. "There's a connection between Southern hospitality and femininity and
just allowing things to happen," Morrison says. "I've been in many relationships
with people who have used that 'southern charm' to their advantage. I think a lot
of people, non- men in particular, put on this charm instinctively. It's a defense
mechanism that I was interested in studying."
Attachment Figure is perpetually suspended between states of being, harmony
and dissonance, and contradictory sentiments we all hold as we enter into the
arms of someone new, but ultimately, it's guided by a desire for authentic love--
and a flair for intricate, intuitive songcraft.

Are you still here? Or are you still there? Berlin-based/Italian warehouse-rave warrior, Younger Than Me, and Italo-American romantic goth-wave prince, Curses are THERE. They're there where it's at!

It was the bond of bold friendship that brought these guys together - and of course a shared history of subgenre juxtaposition and meshing. Both grew up on Punk, Rap, and of course the early days of Techno. »Still There« is their first EP together and thus of course their first for Live At Robert Johnson. It's a venture into the euphoric, psychedelic power of early Trance and Breaks mixed with the attitude and energy of EBM and Electro.

Starting with the moody slow beats of the title tune »Still There«, Y2C takes you on a journey to a faraway chill-out room in some dark yet warm and cozy cellar. Or is this place to be found in synth heaven? It could well be if you listen to those dreamy melodies. Melodies as beguiling as the song of the Sirens that seduced good old Ulysses.

Y2C pick up on that dreamy vibe but throw in that slight and subtle Trance-factor, taking up speed with »Romantic Squat«, dragging you into their very own romantic squat.

Next up is »Love Your Enemy« - oh yes, shouldn't we all? Icey claps with lots of reverb and a bass line draw you onto the dry ice flooded aluminum floor and there's no way back - especially when that strange break with that crazy sound makes you stop for a second and think, why did I stop dancing? Get back on the floor y'all!

The last track »Lullapaluza« is indeed some kind of a lollapalooza ride, a very special ride. And no, it does not lull you to sleep because the beat created by Y2C here is a demanding one, a special which gets you going all over its eight and a half minutes. It's sheer bliss, you gotta believe it.

This is not a one-off novelty EP, it's a kinetic collaboration. Y2C is a force of nature, a force of RAVE/WAVE energy, with many more to come, a force to reckon with.