As they expand their sound on each album, Molchat Doma have had to navigate the tricky ground of maintaining an iconic aesthetic while finding something new to say. They do a great job of threading that needle on their latest LP, breaching into dancefloor production for an added kick, and opening up a little hi-fi wonder in the backgrounds of their songs to make for a more lush experience that doesn’t take away from their unique voice. One of the sharpest jumps in sound comes right out the gate on “Ty Zhe Ne Znaesh Kto Ya,” where the band melds lo-fi, 80s/90s electronica and brooding, shadowy productions into a track that is equal parts menacing and infectiously danceable at every moment, with hooks flying off it for days. “Son” is a more restrained and singular melodic beast, with its cold, airy reverb playing out like a touch of New Order on a snowy, desolate field. There’s a more emboldened and hopeful burst of riffs on “III,” also seeing subtle harmonic highs from the band that we virtually never get in such poppy punches and synth runs that would make Lazerhawk proud. The vintage darkness that surrounds “Ya Tak Ustal” lets its more downbeat pop grab hold, and lets all the textured tones of the track really paint a visual setting for your mind’s eye to behold.
There’s a cold chill in the air through Desiree Dorion’s latest single, as she tries to rally others to fight against despair in the face of dark times. Blurring lines between physical wear and emotional toil, the song speaks to a broader desire to push past the oppressing weight of pain. The cloudy and airy production adds to the more mysterious and wandering feeling the song has, as Dorion leans into a sense of being lost in a personal fog. And as those uncertainties seem to shed away, the solo roars like a fire in the shadows, leaving the final chorus more confident and empowering.
After 1.5 decades celebrating their powerful debut LP, The Okmoniks have finally released more brash, lo-fi gems to treat our ears. Still ripping with that same frantic and blown-out fury, it’s a great return to form for the California party rockers. The stomping beats and crunchy guitars are flying on “Ain’t Comin’ In,” with the keyboard lines delivering a delicious swirl of riffs to keep you coming back. “Don’t Wanna See You” takes a more breakneck approach, with handfuls of stop and go moments, blistering bass runs that take you to the mountain and back, and an excitement in its bones to really get you shaking in your house. The grime is cranked up even more on “I’ll Let You In,” with singer Helene 33 wailing over the frenetic key-organ, as the band builds more and more to a chaotic wail, with Helene matching them beat for beat. There’s a strange kind of magic to the walled-out sound of “He Left the Party with Me,” as the band strikes a racing pace to serenade an emotional high with just as many mini solos and smashing beats as they deserve. Hopefully it won’t be quite as long for this outfit to deliver on their beautiful rock promise again.
While it starts seemingly all too wholesome, there’s a sense of loss mixed in the happy times of “So Long.” As sparse as its verses start, the swirl of strings and subtle keyboard notes send each section and pre-chorus of into a galactic sense of euphoria, as the whole track seems to open up like a burst of colour. In the midst of these evocative arrangements, the band lament the deceptive passage of times, and how one can easily lose many years of time together without even noticing it. But those same rushes of chipper excitement speak to the track’s message of never letting these regretful breaks happen again, and throwing yourself into preserving friendship. This perfect meld of emotion into the aesthetics of the song makes “So Long” a smile-inducing wonder, and one that will brighten your day.
No strangers to a magnetic sound, Magdalena Bay nevertheless managed to finesse their production exponentially on their latest record, bringing us through a dark future. Sounding at times like Chairlift and others like Pond or Guerilla Toss, you can’t really pigeonhole the directions this album will take, other than that it has a mind-expanding quality. And with that kind of unique sound, the album easily stands as an instant classic for the year that will be tough to beat. There’s a blissful strut to “Killing Time,” between the serene synths and bass that takes you dancing by the hand, before shrieking guitars and more demented harmonies add a more frightening angle to the track to boost its frantic nature. Meanwhile, the sophistication of “Image” is constantly oozing cool and dazzling you with its mix of electronic and percussive tapestries, so that by each chorus, you’re almost relieved for a moment to have things focus in, if just for a second. Like a late 90s/early 2000s pop track through a stunning futuristic glaze, “Death & Romance” is perhaps their most overt pop production, but one amazingly finessed in the studio to create a truly singular listening experience, and really make the joy of the performance tangible to audiences. The more angular and slinking “That’s My Floor” is perhaps the most rock and riff-oriented track of the album, with the outfit taking a more growling and destructive approach than their explorative pop usually allows for.
