Artists like Magdalena Bay who are extremely rhapsodic about their craft must be appreciated. In the current era of rampant commodification and mass production of art, there’s intense pressure to conform to this convention to secure success. Meanwhile, the Magdalena Bay duo of partners Mica Tenebaum and Matthew Lewin sit above this expected conformity. What these artisans concoct is lustrous and glistening explorative music. Their sickly sweet acoustics and hook-heavy melodies, injected with a great dose of optimism, bathe listeners’ ears in soothing tranquillity. Tenenbaum and Lewin know how to make a song sound enormous, but their perceived religious loyalty to boisterous pop is a mirage.

Brian Leeds’ wheelhouse spans an impressively wide range. One moment the Philadelphia-based producer is skewing the conventions of house music with esoteric ambience under his principal alias Huerco S. The next, he’s delivering post-rave microhouse melodies. The latter sketches are released under the moniker Loidis, whose output was constrained to a 2018 three-track EP of impeccably-produced minimal dub techno. Now, Loidis is further realized with Leeds’ latest LP ONE DAY: Aquatic, afterhours DJ tools in perpetual forward-stasis.

The beats are tightly compact with clicks coiling the ears, each drenched in misty compression that eases the listener for impending nightfall. Opener “Tell Me” skitters with a ticking, start-stop beat. “Wait & See” is effervescent, with clicky trills underscored by levitating choral pads. “Sugar Snot” is carried by a percussive deep house groove and buoyant arpeggiations, perhaps the funkiest cut on the release. The ping-pongy “Dollarama” is truly spellbinding with wistful chimes melting and sparkling in each ear. On ONE DAY, Leeds goes deep, low, and dark, compelling you to simultaneously dance and listen attentively. You can check out the album on Bandcamp. [Dom Lepore]

The music on Salmon Brothers’ More To Love stands unwavering. The hugely infectious and high-spirited debut disco record from members Nick Meredith and the late Nick Weaver (Deep Sea Arcade and The Tambourine Girls) is vibrant, colourful and sincere fun. There’s a Parcels-esque buoyancy to these soulful tunes—it’d be strange if you didn’t move to the music. That also goes for being moved emotionally; More To Love is an exquisite swan song, being Weaver’s final body of work. His...

Something that Will Wiesenfeld (Baths and Geotic) immediately makes clear about the writing of his first feature film score is that the prospect seemed very daunting. “I got really lucky,” he says of the opportunity to score director Corey Sherman’s debut feature-length film, BIG BOYS. “It was a mix of luck and having a balanced enough career already where people identified that I could do it.” Sherman reached out to Wiesenfeld by email as an existing fan of his music, asking his interest, and a...

It’s our Bandcamp Picks of the Week, featuring charlie lomonaco’s title-says-it-all ROCK MIXTAPE FOR AWKWARD AND SAD WOLVES and talker’s vulnerable alt pop spectacular I’M TELLING YOU THE TRUTH!
 

charlie lomonaco – ROCK MIXTAPE FOR AWKWARD AND SAD WOLVES
Genre: Noise Rock, Post-Hardcore, Slacker Rock
Favorite Tracks: “pain,” “it’s not your fault,” “tell me why”
Queens-based charlie lomonaco’s ROCK MIXTAPE FOR AWKWARD AND SAD WOLVES is exactly that: wolven minute-long catharses with abrasive gu...

I adore albums that keep you on your feet with surprises. That’s precisely why Pavement’s adventurous Wowee Zowee and The Beatles’ multifarious White Album are my favourite records by said groups—you have no idea what musical twist and turn is going to strike you next. What’s even more impressive is how impressive such diverse songwriting is. The range of genres that are covered build a kaleidoscopic picture of sonic extremes, impressive musicianship and an unforgettable listening experience. Personal Trainer’s latest bombastic record, Still Willing, embodies the same energetic spirit that defines those classic dynamic albums.

This tremendous record awakens with the announcement: “Ladies and gentlemen, we will shortly be landing at Hong Kong Kai Tak International Airport.” Well then, brace yourselves for the landing, because these colossal, lustrous trip hop songs are going to come crashing down to grace your ears. DESIGNED IN HEAVEN MADE IN HONG KONG is the fantastic debut by Los Angeles-based music collective Kai Tak, led by Chris King of post-punk band Cold Showers. The project, named after the retired Hong Kong airport, is a triumph for its firm grasp over transportive atmosphere. All the crowd chatter from the region’s Tsim Sha Tsui district that’s sneakily snuck into each song grounds the immersion of seeing flashy metropolises with a hazy-green tint. The trip hop and dream pop leanings are also authentic—echoes of these genres’ stalwarts, from Sneaker Pimps to Cocteau Twins, are sewn into the fabric of this filmlike album. There’s not a dull note to be heard.

Features from dream pop-adjacent artists in LA give King a helping hand. The introductory one-two punch, “No Better Tomorrow” and “Flood the Harbour,” contain the voices of Chesley Boy and There’s Talk and Tamaryn, respectively. The almost-post-rock opener is ignited by scintillating synthesizers and massive drum work, while its follow-up adopts shoegazing drones and a swaying, baggy groove that’d fit splendidly on CCFX’s self-titled EP. “Villains in my Mind” carries a gothic rock sensibility from Foie Gras’ strikingly divine vocal delivery. Meanwhile, “Midnight Pretender” is driven by stadium-sized percussion and massive synth leads, easily the most lavish pop number. On the closer, “Until We Leave From Here,” King ingrains the sense of place that defines Kai Tak by integrating traditional Asian instrumentation with dream pop stylings largely proliferated by Western acts. It’s an uplifting, wondrous crossover of musical aesthetics.

Where this flight takes you is open to interpretation, but it is always an inspired, daring voyage through vaporous guitars. Such excellence of this genre is often a rarity, but the vivid imagining of place—in this case, being airborne, thousands of feet above the earth—is just as hard to come by. That’s a beautiful thing. You can check out Kai Tak’s lofty traversal over on Bandcamp.

“Involve your friends in your art” is a striking statement I recently stumbled across—working with like-minded people is a reliable way to produce a labour of love and revel in fun. That’s exactly what Australian psychedelic rock pioneers Jay Watson (Pond and Tame Impala’s touring band) and Ambrose Kenny-Smith (King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard and The Murlocs) got up to when concocting their collaborative album, Ill Times.

Japan’s Roopen sure loves ‘90s electronica, and it’s felt all over their newest mixtape, JUICY TRAX. This release follows their previous set of songs, THE FRONTIER, which was similarly inspired by ambient techno and downtempo. While that collection had more length and variety, JUICY TRAX distills their assortment of woozy and bleepy ambient house into a succinct nine tracks. The resulting tape is digestible and commanding, playing out like an exploration of nostalgic mellow house from yesteryear. Even the cover serves this notion: a tribute to fractal landscape-rendering programs such as Bryce3D, the most fitting visual depiction of these ethereal floor-fillers.

The tracks are quite fluttery and floaty, tied together by frilly bells and whistles like sampled hi-hats and bongos, which drive the propulsion. Opener “Wanabee” skitters along with chirpy acid squelches. The Balearic influence cements itself on “:)” and “The Bomb,” both reminiscent of Soichi Terada’s entrancing deep house. “Africa 2040” matches the artwork—a naturalistic, blissed-out voyage across still waters. “Alien Technology” continues the Terada worship, until “Flip It” subverts the preceding playful charm for low-slung, trippy breakbeats. On the whole, it’s a fun and endearing display of the hypnotic deep house that seeped its way into the early noughties. I hear echoes of local chillout compilations of that time throughout this thing, and I’m certain other listeners will draw their own comparisons. Cassettes produced by Odd Tape Duplication are available for purchase, which you can buy on Roopen’s Bandcamp.

Coming off their latest performance at Collingwood’s lovely Hope St Radio (which we wrote about for the magazine), David Chesworth and Robert Goodge, founding members of the legendary Melbourne band Essendon Airport, are in good spirits. “We found it great,” Goodge says, “it was the first time we’d played as a five piece with our original drummer Paul [Fletcher]. We’re finding ways to use our old material from that period, like, most of those tunes were from 1979.” Chesworth chimes in, “We don’t have any strategies necessarily as to what we’re going to play, but I suppose that [material] was the most playable with the group.”

It’s exciting to see passionate, emo-laden math pop emerge from Northern Italy. Spirited gratitude soars across the globe, no matter the location. Bulgarelli are a group of friends from Bologna who started playing together in 2017, following a hot summer day drinking beer in a public park. They grew up together near the sea, so if you envision the stunning sights of Bologna’s beaches, their music sounds even more spectacular.

What looks like the heritage building of the Collingwood Technical School actually houses a sprawling artist district neatly tucked away on Johnston Street. Entering the towering structure at an early evening hour led to a courtyard with plenty of bustling activity, especially for a weeknight, was how I discovered the Collingwood Yards—repurposed from the former tech school to foster cultural and artistic production. Outdoor fire pits warmed up aged concertgoers, some blokes were having a ciggy after clocking off from the neighbouring record store next to Hope St Radio (a bar and radio station with its walls covered in scribbles alluding to creative liberty), which is where Essendon Airport, the piloting stars of the night, were ready for take-off.

Throwing ideas at the wall to see what sticks is what HOMESHAKE is all about. The long-time musical project of Peter Sagar transcends mere pleasant, unattentive listens; Sagar’s bedroom pop-adjacent sensibilities mirror his headspace during recording. Where his livelier and more celebrated releases such as 2017’s Fresh Air ooze with jovial indietronica and alt-R&B, Horsie is Sagar’s second release in 2024 following March’s CD Wallet, and a continuation of the latter’s heavier approach.

Behold – the dense, cerebral, and visceral woodland that New York-based composer MIZU has propagated on Forest Scenes. Describing anything rooted in growing greenery as “blossoming” is perhaps a tried platitude, but her naturalistic, deconstructive cello-based spectacle is a marvel in the act of self-discovery that genuinely unfurls over time. MIZU forgoes the classic methodology of using her voice to give sound to her feelings, the stretching, brooding tonal range of her cello delivers all the lilting emotion. During the intensely evocative trek of Forest Scenes, field recordings, digitised glitchy skitters, and brooding spiccatos uniformly grapple with transformation and comprehension of one's physical presence. MIZU’s is skilled with her instrument, but here, moreso than ever the classical harmonic soundscapes discordantly clashing with electronic manipulation is her incredibly earnest portrayal of self. This confluence of styles, especially through a queer lens, invites others to make those interrogations.

It was a real joy to discover underscores, aka April Harper Grey, was finally set to headline our continent. The San Francisco artist’s 2021 debut album fishmonger made waves in the hyperpop scene, and 2023’s Wallsocket did that more so by bending indie rock, dubstep, Midwest emo, pop punk and all the sort. We got the chance to see her fervent artistry in person, witnessing her interweaving of maximalist rocky-electro soundscapes with pensive lyrics and worldbuilding to lose yourself in. It’s funny that Grey is credited so vehemently for her contributions to the hyperpop genre, despite telling the NME last year it is “officially dead”. It makes more sense to view her oeuvre in a post–hyperpop lens; she genuinely is changing the game. With her diverse artistic facets, Grey is a truly inspiring force for this current and upcoming generation of creatives. Many young uni students aren’t too far off from her age and similarly found their expressive footing using the internet. To then see her live at Richmond’s Corner Hotel was an opportunity I couldn’t miss.

On the night, the Corner became a hotspot for avid and vibrant concertgoers celebrating hyperpop’s maximalism. Seriously—once the music began, it didn’t stop. Opening for Grey were numerous DJs—Babie Club kicked things off with glossy, glittery dance bangers typical to the genre that eased us into the mood. Big Chocolate swiftly followed, bringing a massive stage presence with their producer Dexter helming the music. They’ve been around the block across the scene—when not on their own, they’re playing with the Melbourne Trap Orchestra, a local band who reimagine the music of Chief Keef, Playboi Carti, Ice Spice and others with a jazz fusion palette. Their communal presence is not one to miss and it’s only appropriate Big Chocolate played for underscores—their sped-up cover of Owl City’s ‘Fireflies’ really got the floor moving. This high-octane energy was sustained by Chaotic Good making the crowd bounce, pulling out a glitchy garage edit of Grey’s own ‘seventyseven dog years’ to commemorate the event. Frog Chaser pumped us up even more before Grey took centrestage, pulling out all the stops with an intense DJ set. Beefed up club-ready versions of SOPHIE’s ‘Immaterial’, Vengaboys’ ‘We Like to Party’ and the mid–2000s classic internet meme ‘Numa Numa’ were some standouts. ‘Caramelldansen’ wouldn’t have been out of place.

Finally, the star of the night fell upon us—a projection that read “underscores presents” cut to a scene almost straight out of a PS2 game, with Grey playing Dance Dance Revolution and driving off with a friend to their hometown. The display of the tour promo led to a cry of cheers, which multiplied once Grey stepped on stage with her guitar and immediately went into the explosive ‘Cops and Robbers’. A thrilling and bombastic introduction, certainly, which never slowed down across the hour Grey played for. Switching between fishmonger and Wallsocket tracks throughout the set, as well as the newly-released hit ‘My guy (Corporate shuffle)’, it was like Grey guided the audience through her imaginative world. Constantly in view were hand-drawn and flashy 3D visuals, often with naturalistic aesthetics, which brightened the dimly-lit venue.

There’s a vulnerable, rural or suburban queer sensibility to the underscores world—it was awe-inspiring seeing it in the flesh. More intermissions were woven in the performance: one was of Grey buying cigs at a service station and another was an out-of-place audio calibration test, the former followed by the solemn standout ‘You don’t even know who I am’. However, from then on, the electrifying energy never curtailed. Grey’s twangy strings cut through the space with a shoegazing sound during the set’s final third. Everyone was jumping and singing along by that point. Several vortexing moshes like whirlpools made the Corner’s floors rumble, which brought friends together each time they settled. Those mosh pits would be an insane first pit experience for any fresh concertgoer. Grey told the crowd that Melbourne was the wildest crowd yet on her Australian leg—that came into fruition once the encore, ‘Locals (Girls like us)’, concluded her unforgettable show.

It all comes back to underscores as an artist—her eclectic musical background, stage interactivity and all-around heart on fire mentality made this night possible. The horde of fans belting every word during her performance is the most organic evidence of Grey’s impactful influence reaching many optimistic souls. To reiterate, then: she really is changing the game. To have been immersed in her world was a great treat, but to have done so among fans who were so very passionate, was remarkable.

The moody, nonchalant indie rock from UK’s bar italia is, paradoxically, so exciting. They finally received their deserved flowers with May 2023’s Tracey Denim – a textually hypnagogic, lethargic, and pensive guitar record with an echoey timbre and self-destructive narrative. Like its cover’s high contrast photo capturing the trio sitting unassuming, their music mirrors that, as if they accidentally became so acclaimed. On the surface, bar italia don’t sound technically proficient, but thorough listens swiftly reveal the complexity underscoring their chemistry. Their sound evokes the night. They soundtrack gloomy overcast days. They’re alluringly bougie. Also, like their contemporaries on Dean Blunt’s World Music label, there is a surreal but familiar quality to their sound, almost like it’s liminal. The inversion on Tracey Denim is indeed an act of taking familiar ‘90s art rock conventions and making them new.

Later in the same year, November brought upon The Twits – the noisier, Britpop-adjacent, and spiritually power-pop follow-up to Tracey Denim. It’s not more of the same, as the cover’s elongated bright yellow reading of the title hints at: more light has seeped into the trio’s dark crevices. It’s less monotonous and eerie than its predecessor, instead adopting a bluesy, chamberlike neo-psychedelic undertone. It’s creepily trippy – the brash, anthemic opener “my little tony” suggests otherwise – but every rhythm moves with grounded propulsion, like anything from Pavement’s thorny farewell record Terror Twilight. Better yet, The Twits resembles the ominous low-slung percussion of any The Brian Jonestown Massacre record in their prime. All in all, it’s a different beast. To then get more upbeat outtakes outside of the near-gothic country overpowering the album is a welcome treat.

The 2024 EP, The Tw*ts, perhaps cheekily titled given the band being shrugged off as provocateurs (the band’s own Jezmi Tarik Fehmi is quoted in Mixmag saying, “I don’t think there’s been a huge amount of exciting guitar music recently”), contains three would-be B-sides to “sounds like you had to be there,” a standout smoky dirge during The Twits’ final third. The first in the set, “The only conscious being in the universe” is poppy like “my little tony” and is maybe their most refined song. Warbled guitars vortex as if fed down a tube, Nina Cristante’s voice is as glistening as ever, but Sam Fenton is uncharacteristically raucous, interjecting with discordant screams that allude to another style change. “Sarcoustica” is an uneasy and mellow violin-infused acoustic guitar song. “drumstart,” then, features a punchy barrage of crunchy guitars and rushing hi-hats, with Fenton reprising his novel quivery vocal performance. People may still disparage bar italia for being careless, tired, or even pretentious, but their uncomplicatedness gives them their authenticity. Cryptic from being both ordinary and effortlessly cool – that’s remarkable. If The Tw*ts bookends their 2023 one-two punch victory lap, their next reinvention has much anticipation.

Outside of drumming for Slow Hollows and Current Joys, Jackson Katz is an impassioned, fervent presence when performing under his Brutus VIII moniker. You wouldn’t guess that from his well-mannered and soft-spoken demeanor, but Katz’s performances with the electroclash and darkwave project are intense and cathartic. Originally from Los Angeles, he then moved to New York to sharpen his captivating live act and on-stage persona. Through hard work in the city’s booming underground, Katz has cultiva

The boisterous punk rap of Los Angeles-based Paraguayan artist Josh Sanchez is not to be slept on. Recording as Kurupi, the lively, eccentric instrumentals that underpin his impassioned and pensive rap cumulate into an exciting and unique sound. The lyrical leanings into his Paraguayan Guarani heritage help Sanchez truly feel like an artist of his own, carving out a cultural space which he feels is missing from music.

Merry-Go-Round is thrilled to premiere the single “Patterns,” which follows 2

In this trying time of cost-of-living pressures, the powers that be are pointing to the heat death of the local music industry. Scattered across the Melbourne CBD are Greens Party flyers imploringly reading “SAVE LIVE MUSIC IN VICTORIA”, hinting at the threatening closure of live music venues. Festivals around the country are being cancelled left, right and centre—Splendour In The Grass, one of Australia’s largest, pulled the plug this year for the first time ever since its inauguration. Pitchfo

TX3K is one of last year’s best indie rock albums, yet very few have heard it; that’s a pretty ballsy statement, don’t you think? I promise you, that claim is not pure conjecture. The young trio—made up of Sakiyama, Jojo, and Kirin—are all based in a small residential area of Tokyo called Nakano, and have quietly forged masterful pensive alt-rock with a controlled ferocity. Texas 3000 reminds me of the aura surrounding early Oasis gigs before DEFINITELY MAYBE—the sound of a band trying to make it big. Not only are Texas 3000 the same age as their audiences, but they’re also in the same position—advantaged with loads of energy and still able to live carefree. In the frenetic opener “Connector Fuck Man,” the aggressive guitars sing these very notions. Half-way through, it abruptly comes to a halt. What initially sounds like cries and boos from a disappointed audience, quickly turns into a chant: “Texas 3000! Texas 3000!” A single kick drum then ending the silence, the song erupts once more, the trio knowing full well they’re humoring their audience. Hearing that exchange is like really being there in the crowd.

As I’ve hinted earlier, the guitars soar loudly. It’s only appropriate; that’s the Midwest emo influence bleeding through their interplay. With chords that reach the highest of heights, Texas 3000’s sound intersects with many other guitar-centric greats. They borrow the energy from the best crunchy bits of Dinosaur Jr.’s stellar reunion records BEYOND and FARM. The Hotelier’s cathartic sunniness permeates the trio’s instrumental and lyrical delivery. Echoes of Isaac Brock’s pleading desperations defining early Modest Mouse are laid across the album. And there’s the digestible infectious alt-rock like Sonic Youth’s mid-noughts output, particularly on “Shanburuon.” But what’s closest to Texas 3000 is their own homegrown heroes, Number Girl, Japan’s post-hardcore legends of the new millennium. They, also sown by Western influences (David Fridmann who gave The Flaming Lips their percussive edge mixed much of their discography), stand out for their distorted guitar chords that pulverize overcast clouds. Cracks open for some sunshine and hope to emerge, a seldom remedy for a hopeless day, gracefully evaporating any boredom sullying the grounds on earth. That power in alt-rock is a crown jewel, and like Number Girl, Texas 3000 effortlessly pride themselves on that. Listen to “V Ni Ha Naranai” and “Hirame 2D” for that alone.

Of course, TX3K is not entirely wild, as it’s scaffolded by lighter acoustic moments. Parts of “Erika” recall Dinosaur Jr.’s output, specifically the gentle ditties from lead singer J Mascis when he fronted the band in the ‘90s. There’s also the shimmering closer “Here,” a spaced-out, luscious jangle pop jam urging one to put their hands up in the air. TX3K succinctly captures ‘90s alt-rock energy and draws it to the present. If one were to give it its due diligence, they’d simply have to listen to it. Truthfully, I imagined I’d offer a more ceremonious, flowery celebration of Texas 3000—a reliance on dense vocabulary—but it would be disingenuous to excessively water down their rare display of youthful hearts on fire through music. The songs speak for themselves. So, please, listen to TX3K on Bandcamp today. [Dom Lepore]

The wonder of transporting to somewhere serene is ingrained into Tourist’s output. The pseudonym of the UK producer, William Phillips, carries the exhilarating sensations of this fantastical travel through his music. His illustrious reach is boundless, having remixed renowned artists such as CHVRCHES, Deftones, Flume, Caroline Polachek, and many others. Forging beatific soundscapes over a fruitful decade, Phillips’s glossy, mood-based house music has bookended numerous chapters in his life, taking on all sorts of forms.

Phillips’s earlier releases were shrouded in rave, like the skittery breakbeats on 2014’s breakthrough EP Patterns, and the unwinding progressive breaks of 2016’s U, a project with the same passionate jubilance as any modern The Chemical Brothers record. However, drastic life events curtailed the straightforwardness of his work—the tragic passing of a close friend and the birth of his daughter during the coronavirus pandemic entangled Phillips in both grief and joy. Openly seizing this tumult led to 2022’s Inside Out, a tender, poignant display of self-reflection, and a marked increase in mature songwriting.

As Phillips’s life continues to enter this new meditative chapter, so too has his music. The pondering of death and new life has bled into the new Tourist album, Memory Morning, a collection of sensationally-layered songs that utter “keep on moving forward” by priding themselves on repetition. Where Inside Out planted the seeds for contemplation, Memory Morning is blooming from that subsequent comfort, seeking solace in the familiar—the memories of music you love. Phillips consciously draws from a glistening pool of ingenious artists, such as Cocteau Twins, Beach House, and homegrown sound collagists The Avalanches. While each’s knack to engulf the listener in a Wall of Sound isn’t as vivid here, Phillips unleashes a feeling that’s all the same in spades.

Take the opener, ‘Lifted Out’, where sprinkles of cascading piano chimes are underscored by lofty beats that elevate one’s spirit. Already, the listener is guided elsewhere, to a space unshaken by disarray. It sets the stage for ‘A Little Bit Further’, emblematic of reminiscing about loved music from the past by repurposing its fragments. A dusty sample of Mark Fry’s ‘Song For Wilde’ gradually dissipates into effervescent synthesisers, exploding into an energising blast of pure positivity. The unceasing thumping beat pummels the listener, exhorting them to “be okay” as Fry’s folky strings are expertly woven into the glittery catharsis. Phillips continues this euphoric streak on ‘Valentine’ and ‘Siren’, displays of angelic voices and pulsing downtempo, respectively.

The album’s latter half ventures into quieter, introspective territory on the naturalistic ‘Ithaca’. Scaffolded by underwater keyboards, an outpouring of gleaming acid synth lines adorn its entrancing microhouse groove. The aptly-titled ‘Blink’ features voices edited like clicks, fading in and out like vignettes. ‘Second Nature’ is centred on a nostalgic string-and-piano riff, urging the need to “keep pushing on” as its triumphant unending groove engrosses the ears. Then, the titular ‘Memory Morning’ is a gorgeous concoction of Phillips’s influences, with each element keenly patterned like patchwork to form a radiant mosaic. The choppy, warbled percussion and swirly vocals cumulate into a Four Tet-esque chilled dancefloor filler: earnest hope. It is a sublime aural journey that is perhaps Phillips at his zenith.

Beyond the namesake closer, Memory Morning is intended for closer listening. In Phillips’s words, “I want Memory Morning to be a place you go and visit often, and where you find new, little things in it every time you go.” Indeed, every spin reaps new rewards and nuances. The bleak darkness encasing the cover’s curious pastel illustration is deceiving: it merely outlines the window to momentarily escape any tragedy, by melting into sunswept rays of colour—Phillips’s enduringly uplifting songs. As is the case with his newfound compositional maturity, that very excellence is, clearly, non-transitory.

It’s fun watching fun people be creative. Dean Aaron Cluley runs the Instagram page Shibuyadust, which is not only a wonderful insight into his mind, but a treasure trove of just some of the music he’s engrossed in: Shibuya-kei, bossa nova, and jazz pop. His initiative in adorning such colorful sounds is organic and inspiring, as I too find myself integrating my influences into my own processes and personhood. After following Cluley for quite some time, it was a wonderful surprise to discover his music gives flowers to those genres. I’D LIKE TO LOVE is a true labor of love project, helmed by his cartoon apparition, Lúcia Selen, who’s the face of the album. Her patchwork, kooky appearance charmingly mirrors the jolly musical worlds that Cluley explores. To then portray Selen as bisexual and a typification of greater LGBTQ+ representation in modern-day cartoons exhibits earnest empowerment. In turn, Cluley’s ethos gracefully becomes even more fulfilling.

The album itself is cozy and comfortable. Cluley’s instrumental influences are proudly worn on his sleeve, with every sound sewn together by his own hand. “Reykjavík” and “Echo Hit Box” are a one-two punch of chipper walking tunes for a sunny morning. The latter sways with a steady beat and record-scratching, a backing track good enough for an unraveling Pizzicato Five song. “Isabella Tiger Moth” and “The Butterfly’s Effect” emulate the stilted, wavy glitch pop of Cornelius, both carrying shimmering percussion. “You Just Can’t Win!” expands on this inspiration, as humming synths, echoey guitars, and distant chimes woven into the background culminate into a breezy chillout groove. It’s almost like video game music, down to its addictive, cartoonish charm and nonchalant overtone. Meanwhile, the title track “I’d Like To Love” is split into two parts—the first an effervescent blend of trip hop and glitch pop, and the second a bit-heavy ambient odyssey, like traversing through a crystalline cave.

Cluley’s pool of sounds stretches wide and deep for how varied it is. It’s endearing to see any artist revel in the art that makes them feel whole. Cluley’s self-proclamation as a “connoisseur” of these exquisite pop genres is not in jest, rather, it is candid: he truly cares about supporting other creatives of many identities for their profound effects upon him, so his efforts also deserve to be wrapped with welcoming arms. Check out Cluley’s alternative pop adventure on Bandcamp.