Author: Eric Saeger

Dawn of Ashes, Infecting the Scars (Metropolis Records)

Back on my goth-rock tip again (for as long as it lasts), bringing you one from a Denmark-by-way-of-Los Angeles-based artist who unironically calls himself Krystof Bathory, a fellow whose wardrobe comes courtesy of VampireFreaks.com and who chooses only the finest gross-out makeup for that fresh-from-The Grudge look. Spooky character, this guy. He was a lot more aggressive in his earlier days (he’s been around since the early Aughts), but he’s mellowed some, I’d say; this LP is quite palatable if you’re into, you know, music as opposed to Hot Topic fashion statements. The best point of reference here would be mid-Aughts-era Wumpscut, and that raspy-growls-and-cheesy-tech sonic verisimilitude is what compels me to recommend this album. There’s some jackboot-stomping stuff on here that’ll please the Rammstein crowd but more than enough dedication to haunting melody that keeps it from being anything close to disposable. It’s for a Halloween-obsessed mindset, then, and does the job nicely. A

Honeymoon Suite, Wake Me Up When The Sun Goes Down (Frontiers Music s.r.l.)

Meanwhile, back at Frontiers Mercy Hospital, where former and would-be arena-rock bands go to receive emergency transfusions of actual record contracts, look who’s getting wheeled in on a gurney, it’s this Canadian hard rock/glam band, established in (good lord guys, look at the time) 1981 and which hasn’t charted in the U.S. since 1988’s “Love Changes Everything.” On this release, the band’s vibe isn’t ’80s hair-metal at all, more like a mutant cellular fusion of Buckcherry and Dashboard Confessional — actually, scratch that, I’ll say it, Weezer. That automatically lends them a nice fat stack of cred points, almost negating the Bon Jovi-meets-Bryan Adams robbery they committed with “Love Changes Everything,” and yes, I’m being serious, they’ve made a real effort to be 2020s- (or 2010s-) (OK, fine, Aughts-) relevant here, and that counts for something, folks, it really does. There’s some shredding for you Flying V disciples out there, and that’s really the only thing that one might say “sounds dated” (funny that, isn’t it). It’s perfectly fine, folks, and if you’re not convinced, “Way Too Fast” sounds quite a bit like Taking Back Sunday covering a Taylor Swift song, I’m not kidding, go listen for yourself. A valiant effort, really. A+

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A seriously abridged compendium of recent and future CD releases

• As per tradition, all the “important” new albums are being released this Friday, July 18, which, by the way, is the 12th anniversary of the City of Detroit’s declaring bankruptcy, which is probably prophetic. But what all my older readers want to know is whether or not Chicago-based arena-rock band Styx is promoting a new album, given that they’re playing at the Bank Of NH Pavilion in Gilford this Friday (this time without support from REO Speedwagon, because they’re basically broken up these days, or they might as well be, seeing as how singer Kevin Cronin isn’t speaking to them, probably for good reason). To that I reply with an emphatic “yes”: Their new full-length, Circling From Above, is out this Friday, which, by my calculations, means that the Gilford show is actually a record release party of sorts! Now, I know Styx is sort of a meme band at this point in the eyes of anyone younger than 60, but you should stop it, “The Grand Illusion” was/is a cool song, can’t you just admit it you guys, that’d be great, all you kids should go see this show if you want to be aware of ’70s-era rock music (OK, enough kissing butt so I can mooch free tickets next year, let me go see if this album is any good). Right, so “Circling From Above” opens the album as a two-minute intro thingie; it sounds exactly like something from Close To The Edge-era Yes (I hope there’s at least one person reading this who knows what that even means), and then it goes into “Build And Destroy,” which is even more Yes-ish but also borrows heavily from “Sheep,” Pink Floyd’s only decent song. So, to review, even at the age of 112 or however old those guys are, they’re even better musicians than they were during the 1970s, an admirable thing, which I also mentioned in my review of their previous album. So what’s the upshot, you ask? Well, given that good musicianship doesn’t matter in the Golden Age Of Twerking And Fake Beefs, it doesn’t actually matter all that much, but if you’re a serious musician you might be impressed with some of this stuff; it’s quite decent (you’d be better served buying an old Return To Forever album if you want to hear some serious prog-rock, but you’d be doing so at your own risk, just saying). (Actually, just forget it, don’t.)

• Speaking of music for guitar nerds and other people who can’t maintain normal relationships, blues-rocker Joe Bonamassa is back in the emailboxes of us professional music journalists again, hawking his new LP, Breakthrough! I punched up the YouTube for the title track, and holy cultural appropriation, Batman, this is the most Willie Dixon-sounding tune I’ve heard from a white dude since the last five Willie Dixon-sounding white dudes, like is he this generation’s Ry Cooder maybe? I don’t know, so one of you people can message me the deets if you’d like, given that I don’t care about such things.

• Florida punk band Against Me! has basically been kaput since 2016, but the band’s trans frontperson Laura Jane Grace is still making albums for her wildly devoted LGBTQ+ fan base! Her new one, titled Adventure Club, includes the single “Wearing Black,” a semi-speedy, aggressive tune that combines angular Gang Of Four guitars and Exene-level brattiness. It’s an anthem intended for pride parades, and I’d love to tell you some of the lyrics but I’d get in trouble, so never you mind.

• And finally we have New York City’s We Are Scientists, an indie band that’s never impressed me, but who knows, maybe the 500th time is the charm. Their new LP, Qualifying Miles, features the tune “Please Don’t Say It,” a shapeless meatloaf of goth/pseudo-industrial sentiments that has an emo aftertaste, hard pass on this.

Afterz, The Midnight Cafe (self-released)

Mixed pot of trip-hop artistry here from a London, UK-based duo, professing to be influenced by Massive Attack et al but deeper and more world-music-rooted than that. These guys are inspired by the Alté movement in Nigeria (a fusion of genres that include Afrobeat, hip-hop, R&B, and alternative sounds), as well as the dance music culture of South Africa. They aim to bridge the gap between traditional Afrobeats and amapiano (a South African deep house/jazz-based hybrid) and more experimental-alternative and electronic sounds. This EP is like a collection of dream sequences, borrowing heavily from Tricky’s sounds but with the reverb set to 11; passages come and go, processed through the aural equivalent of a Vaseline-smeared lens. The title track may have the gentlest reggaeton undergirding I’ve ever heard, put it that way, while “Voltaire” comes off like a shape-shifting wave pattern that emulates a giant’s resting lungs. This is some exquisite stuff but could stand a little more layering. A

Black Sabbath, Never Say Die (Warner Bros Records)

Continuing with my inconsistent, totally off-the-cuff series on Classic Rock Albums Zoomers Need To Know, you know how you’ll go on social media and see someone talking about something you sort of like and then find out that the person really hates it? That happens to me every time someone mentions this 1978 album, the last record that featured the original lineup of Sabbath (yes kids, with Ozzy): everyone hates it. Now that the band has just (reportedly, and I don’t believe it for a second) scrapped itself forever, it’s safe to come out of the closet and admit that this one featured a few pretty good songs (the title track, “A Hard Road,” “Swinging The Chain”) and was actually quite a bit better than its 1976 predecessor, the absolutely dreadful Technical Ecstasy. Mind you, defending this LP is no hill I’d ever want to die on; the bad tunes are truly bad (“Johnny Blade,” “Junior’s Eyes,” the soggy “Over To You”), but it’s notable in that it was guitarist/bandleader Tony Iommi’s final desperate effort to keep the band interested in staying together. That was impossible: They’d been ripped off by their manager for years (fun fact: to this day they still get no money from their first five albums, yes kids, including Paranoid) and Ozzy was about done with it, yet Iommi persisted heroically. Obviously he knew the band was over, and it shows; there’s a deathly pall over the record that’s quite sad, but again, some of it is well worth knowing. B-

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A seriously abridged compendium of recent and future CD releases

• Ugh, this new-CD-release Friday is July 11, meaning the summer’s already half over. I hope you already visited the Atlantic Ocean (you know, the really waterlogged place that makes up everything to the right of New England), because I haven’t yet, except for a quick fish ’n’ chip basket at Bob’s Clam Hut in York, Maine, where I sat gawking at the muddy estuary next to it, where all the seagulls go to poop and make little seagulls. But be that as it may, it’s time to look at this week’s list of new albums, which I assume is rather long, given that almost no new albums were released last week, and, with the slightest modicum of luck, doesn’t have any holiday albums in it, because come on man, it’s way too early for those, please not yet, I beg of you. OK, no Christmas albums this week, that’s good, now let me see if I’ve even heard of any of these people who’re releasing albums this week (things don’t look promising). I’ll start with English singer Mark Stewart, a pioneer of post-punk and industrial music and a founding member of The Pop Group, whose most renowned song, “We Are All Prostitutes,” wasn’t the slightest bit industrial; more of a ska-punk joint that had a Trent Reznor tint to it. Stewart died in 2023, but as is wont to happen, some old recordings of his have been found and summarily compiled into a new album, The Fateful Symmetry. “Memory Of You” is one of those tunes; in a nutshell it sounds like David Bowie singing with a goth-techno band, which of course means that it’s worthwhile in its way.

• Blub blub blub, nothing else is really jumping out at me, so let’s keep moving and I’ll babble something I hope is informative about No Sign Of Weakness, the new LP from Nigerian dancehall/Afrobeat singer/producer Burna Boy! In 2019, his fourth studio full-length, African Giant, was nominated for a Best World Music Album at the Grammy awards, but what you obviously want to know is whether or not his dancehall stuff is as fun as Mad Cobra or whatnot. It isn’t, but one of the singles, “TaTaTa (feat. Travis Scott)” is pretty authentic. Would I dance to it at a tiki bar? No, I do not do such things.

• Actress/singer Noah Cyrus is the sister of famous bothersome person Miley Cyrus, and toward that I have no comment at this time. Interesting how Wikipedia doesn’t even bother assigning a musical style category to Noah like they do with literally every other singer on Earth, given that anyone could take a wild guess, but let’s look and listen, shall we, actually wait, let’s not, I want to see what I’m about to deal with — OK, Wikipedia categorizes Noah’s 2016 debut single “Make Me (Cry)” as “electro,” which sure narrows it down, doesn’t it folks, do I really have to do this? Ack, I suppose I do, so here’s the skinny: Noah’s new album, I Want My Loved Ones To Go With Me, includes a single, titled “New Country,” and guess what, you’ll never guess, it’s not electro, it’s a country ballad duet with some obscure country singing dude named — let’s see — “Blake Shelton” it looks like, unless there’s a typo. The tune is unplugged Bonnaroo bait, pleasant enough I suppose, but come on, can Blake Shelton ever just get out of our face for five seconds for once, that’d be great.

• We’ll wrap up the week with seven-piece jazz/Afrobeat band Kokoroko and their new one, Tuff Times Never Last! The single, “Sweetie,” is “a salute to West African disco music from the ’80s/’90s,” so yes, it sounds like something Sade would listen to while she’s getting a foot rub. No brains required here, but it’s nice, sure.

Madison McFerrin, Scorpio (Madmcferrin Music)

As everyone who’s ever paid the slightest bit of attention to pop music mythology knows, the best albums come after romantic breakups. That, I’m informed, is the case with this one, but you wouldn’t know it by its smoky, torchy, breezy and ultimately upbeat vibe. As you’d guess, Madison is the daughter of Bobby McFerrin of “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” fame, a sentiment that applies here as far as I’m concerned, but in a much more nuanced, sensual, tech-soulful manner, a la Erykah Badu, if you know who that is (if you don’t, think Anita Baker in fully unlocked mellow mode with a focus on loop-driven acid jazz). Regret and pain and such are part of the lyrical template, yes, but again, it’s meant more as gentle escape for recent divorcees and dumpees, not maudlin Adele epicness for those who feel a need to dwell in what-might-have-beens; it’s quite soothing. If you’re planning ahead, she’ll be at De La Luz in Holyoke, Mass., on Oct. 19, and Space in Portland, Maine, on Oct. 20. A+

Butthole Surfers, Live At The Leather Fly (Sunset Blvd Records)

To the guy who was giving me crap all last year for “covering too much mainstream stuff” (he’s literally been the only one ever [eye-roll emoji]): this oughta make you happy. I’ve always hated this San Antonio, Texas-based psych-punk band’s name more than any of you people do, trust me, but its way-over-the-top weirdness has absolutely earned these guys a star on some Rock ‘n’ Roll Walk Of Fame somewhere; at this point, leaving them out of any non-commercial-rock conversation would be like pretending the Sex Pistols never happened, so let’s just not. Bandleader Gibby Haynes and his boys offered a unique brand of bizarrely skewed but somehow addictive tuneage that often conjured Jello Biafra babbling over your uncle’s garage band as recorded by an answering machine, but it was somehow irresistible. This live set (recorded someplace that’s still unidentified; the “Leather Fly” was a Gibby in-joke) kicks off with a wacky version of “Graveyard” from their 1987 LP, which was when I boarded their victory train to nowhere; it’s an album I’d still tell anyone on Earth to listen to until they like it. What a mess here, but a glorious one. A

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A seriously abridged compendium of recent and future CD releases

• This Friday is the Fourth of July, are you drunk yet? I should be, because what am I supposed to be talking about this week, like, what kind of lunatic releases an album on the Fourth of July, when they know full well that anyone who actually buys albums rather than pirate all their music through all those totally suss but workable YouTube-To-MP3 sites will be drunk that day? OK, I expected a bunch of new albums to be released this week on odd days that weren’t Friday the Fourth, but no, I’ve had to go hunting around to find enough albums to fill up this space, because according to Metacritic there’s literally only one more-or-less-notable LP streeting this week, so I suppose I’ll have to do some actual work this week, to find stuff, but for the moment we’ll jump into this horror with Period, the latest from Kesha! Now, not that Kesha’s stuff is distinguishable from half the bling-divas who emerged during the Aughts, but in her defense, she’s something of a survivor, having spent her childhood living in actual poverty, as opposed to the non-actual poverty Billie Eilish was originally purported to have suffered. Then of course was the kerfuffle with her producer Dr. Luke, who allegedly was an abusive lunatic. What does all this mean? Not much, it just means that I’m willing to give Kesha five seconds to impress me with the album’s newest single, “Boy Crazy!” So, it’s got a sort of trance-meets-hip-hop vibe with a side of Mr. Roboto, and the hook is nothing more than a Millennial Whoop bit, which I thought had gone out of style five or 10 years ago, but whatever, all the power to her, I suppose. The video features her lusting after basically every type of guy, including older guys, a growing trend among younger women that I endorse wholeheartedly. She’ll be at the Xfinity Center in Mansfield, Mass., on July 24.

• Like I said earlier, very few albums are being released this Friday, but we can play a little catch-up by talking about Atlanta rapper-singer Lazer Dim 700’s new album, Sins Aloud, which came out on Tuesday, July 1. Lazer, whose real name is Devokeyous Keyshawn Hamilton, is renowned for his breathless ad-lib rhyming, a fetish for primordial 808 beats and bringing a lot of fun to his art (for example, last year’s single “Injoyable” is propelled by a sample of Spongebob Squarepants’ laugh). New single “Undalay” is pretty weird itself, with its drum-less, woozy, Lewis Carroll-redolent beat; in the video, Hamilton spits at top speed (he’s been rapping since second grade, by the way) while fondling stacks of hundred-dollar bills. No tour coming for the moment; last year he was at Boston’s Middle East, in case you were wondering whether he’s “legit underground.”

• Let’s see, what else. On July 3, London, U.K.-based indie-rockers Double Virgo release Shakedown, which is their first full-length, I believe (the two principals, Sam Fenton and Jezmi Tarik Fehmi, also play in the band Bar Italia). I was really impressed by the single “Bemused,” which combines drunken pub-indie/oi with art rock.

• And finally, Pitchfork Media tells me we have a new record from another Londoner, Nilüfer Yanya, namely the Dancing Shoes EP, which came out on Wednesday, July 2! The single, “Where To Look,” is more upbeat and tribal-sounding (she grew up on Turkish music) than your average Chappell Roan tune. She’ll play three shows in Massachusetts (one at the Drake in Amherst and two at the Roadrunner in Boston) from Sept. 9 through Sept. 11.

Frankie Cosmos, Different Talking (Sub Pop Records)

In nepo baby news, this New York-bred singer (real name Greta Kline, daughter of actors Kevin Kline and Phoebe Cates) specializes in sleepy bedroom pop, more specifically early-Aughts “anti-folk,” the twee-ish sort of stuff that made up half the Juno soundtrack (I still love the line in that movie when Elliot Page said Sonic Youth sucks, so I was ready to hand this record a hall pass despite its being nothing I’d ever voluntarily listen to). This new LP brings nothing too much new to that formula, which will certainly please its 30-to-40-something target demographic. Lots of waifish moonbat warbling that’s lighter than air and equally substantive, but sure, a lot of it is pretty, for example “Vanity,” which was born for Cape Cod fashion-boutique loudspeakers and shows signs that she’s grown somewhat. Things like “Pressed Flower” are more along Belle & Sebastian lines. She’ll be at Brighton Music Hall in Boston on Sept. 19. A

Durand Jones & The Indications, Flowers (Colemine Records)

If you want to capture the essence of 1970s soul-disco this summer (and there’s no better time for it, of course), look no further than this record, put forth by a band whose songwriting core consists of former students at Indiana University’s Jacobs School of Music, who obviously put tuneage from period contemporary radio-R&B bands like Four Tops and The Spinners under an electron microscope in a fevered push to synthesize it. Melodically it’s top drawer, with “Lover’s Holiday”’s instantly accessible cool-breeze vibe evoking convertible cars cruising through beach-town streets as the crowd starts ambling back to its hotels. “Flower Moon” is even more accurate, nicking the lazy horn-driven steez of Chicago’s “Only The Beginning” exquisitely; any ’70s kid would swear they’d heard it somewhere before. If you were looking for something to inspire you to drive to the beach, this is exactly it. They’ll be at Citizens House of Blues in Boston on Sept. 26. A

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A seriously abridged compendium of recent and future CD releases

• We continue not to be safe from new albums, and a bunch more of them are coming on Friday, June 27, which is World Diabetes Day, so if you eat any American food at all that day you’re being as tradition-conscious as a Dropkick Murphys T-shirt on St. Patrick’s Day and I salute you. It is the last Friday of June, and with the Fourth of July drinking-contest date in the works and car-backseat mating season in full swing, many famous rock stars want to be part of your summer memories/nightmares, so let’s go, open the gates and let all those new albums loose, into the stores and Napsters, look at ’em go, running around like it’s the Deerfield Fair’s pig scramble, let me just grab one of those little rascals with my snark-lasso! Jeepers, there are so many it’s like shooting whales in a barrel, I’ve got one already, and it’s squealing its head off, right in my face! Yikes, it’s an ornery one, this album, the new one from Japanese kawaii-metal influencers Babymetal! Maybe you somehow don’t know what this band is, so let me explain to all three of you: Imagine three 20-year-old girls dressed like anime princesses but their miniskirts are leather, and they’re singing and dancing like Destiny’s Child to really fast thrash-metal music, sort of like early Poppy when she was relevant (and in fact they’ve done a feat-or-vice versa with her). If they were Pokemon they’d be named Waifuta, Waifutite and Waifutatta, identical triplets who are all easily captured using sleep attacks, but if you had to catch them to win Pokemon Go, you’d have to get past friend-of-the-Hippo Dan Szczesny, who thinks they’re so awesome that he guards them like a hairy Charizard, so that his daughter will always have them available for consultation when she eventually inherits this column from me, after WMUR-TV finally taps me to become the on-air replacement for Fritz Wetherbee and once she’s mastered the art of long sentences! This is an exciting time for our totally corporate-manufactured trio, with their new album Metal Forth heading to your earbuds, led by a tune called “From Me To U,” which sounds like a cross between Black Veil Brides and the Beyblade cartoon’s theme song, you have to hear it to believe it, folks!

• But then again, maybe you don’t like anime metal and prefer instead to trash your eardrums the old-fashioned way, not with digitally neutered nu-metal guitars but with 60-year-old Fender Stratocasters played though analog guitar amps cranked to 11, in which case you’ll be glad to know that Motörhead is also releasing a new album on Friday, titled The Manticore Tapes! This recently unearthed set features the band’s original “three amigos” lineup playing all sorts of loud Motörhead-y proto-punk songs, including an early demo version of the band’s flagship track, “Motörhead!”This is exactly the type of album you want to crank in your bedroom if your sister keeps ignoring the sign on your door that says “Positively No Admittance, Please Take Note!”

• You remember when New Zealand’s Lorde was important, after her big single “Royals” and her dreary cover of “Everybody Wants To Rule The World” for the Hunger Games: Catching Fire soundtrack, right? Well guess what, her new album is here, headed up by the single “What Was That,” a Chappell Roan-inspired hormone-booster about having a lousy boyfriend, unless it’s about something else (it never is).

• Finally it’s New York City-based alternative-rockers Blonde Redhead with their latest full-length Shadow Of The Guest! Includes the tune “Before,” a nice-enough twee tune with a children’s chorus singing along for some reason.

The New Eves, The New Eve is Rising

Couple of advance singles from this U.K.-based all-female art-whatever band; I wanted to get to this before I forgot, not because the band’s upcoming (Aug. 1) full-length LP The New Eve Is Rising is a “who’s who”-level release, more of a “what the hell is that” that I think your super-awkward roommate should know about so she takes a break from talking to you. Weird, edgy recipe here: Visuals from the Flower Power era but with one foot firmly planted in The Blair Witch Project (seriously, go look); ritualistic, sometimes polyrhythmic chant-along tuneage that’s borderline tuneless unless you’re into Rasputina when she’s in certifiably crazy mode — I’m sure this stuff is inspired by some sort of goth-faire band or some such, but either way these girls are alright. The video for the flute- and Peavey-plugged guitar-driven “Rivers Run Red” looks like found footage of the Manson girls before they did their thing and it does fit, even their gobbling bowls of strawberries and dancing their pagan crook-leg summoning of Cthulhu or whatnot. “Highway Man” isn’t as nutty, more or less combining No Nos with Romeo Void. The Go-Go’s on acid is the bullet version. B

The Wildmans, “Highway Man”/”Rivers Run Red” (Transgressive Records)

I have a Twitter friend I absolutely adore, an Appalachian-bred woman who was adopted into a hilariously hardscrabble life and is nowadays chugging right along with a career in political knowledge work. She inspired me to take Appalachian folk music seriously, and it’s a genre I’ve come to like quite a bit, which brings us directly to this brother-sister act from the lush hills of a burg called Floyd, Virginia, population 449. They’re on the way up, having already shared stages with Bela Fleck, Billy Strings and Steep Canyon Rangers, not a bad resumé given that they’re in their early 20s. Guitarist/mandolinist Elisha has a Linda Ronstadt quality to her voice, a good match for these stubbornly country songs as well as the harmonizing of her fiddle-playing brother Aila, who won the 2018 Best All Around Performer award at the Galax Old Fiddlers Convention in their home state. Lots of depth and prettiness to be found here, primarily focused on balladry, I didn’t hear any cutting-loose here but there’s plenty of time. A

_PLAYLIST

A seriously abridged compendium of recent and future CD releases

• Friday, June 20, will bring us, guess what, new albums, because that’s what Fridays do for us, whether we need new albums or not. The number of albums released by humans is now in the trillions of gorillions, but our appetite for new albums cannot ever be sated, because we instinctively know that a trillion monkeys putting out a trillion albums in the 2020s will, by anyone’s logic, eventually result in an album that’s just great and awesome without being derivative, and no, I’m not referring to Chappell Roan, because all she really did was gussy up top-drawer Madonna/TayTay-style tuneage with Ed Banger beats, which I told you people in February, but did you listen for yourselves to find out I’m right? Mind you, if you’re in a band and trying to write new songs, it’s almost impossible not to be the teensiest bit derivative; when I was putting out records with my own punk-metal band years ago, I tried to force-feed myself music that I wouldn’t have normally listened to in the hope that it’d somehow influence my punk-metal music, which is really how you should really approach songwriting if you have a serious band with record label interest (in case you didn’t know, that’s all Led Zeppelin did when they started, rip off Willie Dixon et al. songs from the early ’60s). At the time, a really old DJ dude had given me a big box of 45-rpm singles from the 1970s, including Kool & The Gang’s “Jungle Boogie” — this was before the tune became famous for its inclusion in the Pulp Fiction soundtrack — and I listened to that nonsense constantly, hoping that all that weird antique disco stuff would worm into my brain and influence my punk-metal songs and — oh, you guys don’t care about this, except for the serious musicians out there, you just want to hear about the latest news from totally derivative artists like Cardi B or Vanilla Ice or whatever you’re doing here, let me go look at the list and see if there’s anything that isn’t horribly derivative and/or generally stupid, fat chance, let me look. OK, here we go, let’s start with the three sisters who comprise the soft-rock band Haim, and I’ll try not to ruin everything by mentioning that they’re basically the Zoomer version of Fleetwood Mac, because they don’t like when people do that, so stop thinking about Fleetwood Mac you guys, come on. Their new LP is called I Quit and features the fun little single “Down To Be Wrong,” which totally doesn’t sound like Fleetwood Mac at all except for the Lindsay Buckingham guitar parts, the carefully sculpted ’70s harmonies, and the subtle country-pop aroma to it that you only detect on Fleetwood Mac songs, look, just forget it, I need you guys to knock it off right this minute.

• English alt-rock singer Yungblud claims to have been “diagnosed with ADHD at a young age,” but in my opinion ADHD is a sign of normality in our TikTok world. His new album Idols is here and starts with “Lovesick Lullaby,” a cross between Eminem and Blur. It’s very cool and totally completely a derivative mashup, let’s move on.

• Straight-laced pop-rocker Benson Boone wisely left the 2021 American Idol competition before the show’s vapid judge-monsters voted him out for sounding like a lame version of Billy Squier. American Heart, his new album, spotlights “Young American Heart,” a tune that evinces his talent for totally not ripping off Bryan Adams, OK, it does, but that’s fine by me, next.

• Lastly, like any band that’s on Third Man Records, New York City’s Hotline TNT has a story about the time hamburger-addict Jack White decided to sign them. Their forthcoming full-length Raspberry Moon includes “Julia’s War,” which takes their usual shoegaze-ish formula and retrofits it with Foo Fighters-ness. Real dumb video, but hey.

Lüt, “Opp Ned” (Indie Recordings)

Well here’s a filthy, ear-grabbing burner, the final advance from this Norwegian post-emo band’s third, apparently as yet untitled LP. I’d love to tell you more about them, since I really like everything I’ve heard from them so far, but we’re in the era of Anonymous, when bands and various other artistes — Banksy, for instance — keep their identities secret, or force prospective fans to do their own research if they want to know more about them. Metallica drummer Lars Ulrich loves these guys, if that’s of any import to you, and they’ve played at a good number of unpronounceable European festivals, but all you really need to do is hear one of their better songs, like this one. This song’s hook is absolutely epic, for one thing, but the ingredients list for their vibe is uniquely awesome: the attitude of The Hives, a guitar sound that binds ’80s goth-rock to no-wave (think Taking Back Sunday, for shorthand), and the boisterous energy of Dropkick Murphys. If that doesn’t interest you, go check your pulse. Seriously, give this a shot. A+ —Eric W. Saeger

Noah Haidu, Standards III (Infinite Distances Records)

One of New York’s finest active jazz pianists here, a guy on his way up, jamming his third set of standards with count-’em two different rhythm sections. A busily simmering “Yesterdays” opens the album in fine black-tie style, followed by a bustling version of Rodgers and Hart’s “Lover” that’ll make wonks’ heads spin. Of course, jazz isn’t all about showing off technical skill, so we move into slowbies at that point with a bouncily phlegmatic take on Mercer Ellington’s “Things Ain’t What They Used To Be” and a lovingly rendered essay on Thad Jones’s “A Child Is Born” that reveals Haidu’s boundless capacity for turning melodies inside out. The more melodically sticky things come from the pop world, with the appropriately soulful “Stevie W,” and then from Chappell Roan’s (yes, that Chappell Roan) “Casual,” which is presented not as the stunning park-and-make-out mega-anthem that it is, but yet another scalar place to explore surgically (interpret that as you wish, but, reluctant as I am to admit it, sometimes Taylor Swift-flavored bubblegum is its own guilty reward). A —Eric W. Saeger

_PLAYLIST

A seriously abridged compendium of recent and future CD releases

• Nothing like a Friday the 13th, am I right guys, and as far as the new albums that are coming out that day, what could be more apropos than a new album from Van Morrison, my least favorite fedora-wearing pop musician, not that there are any fedora rockers that I’ve ever liked in this life? Yes, it’s as if I walked under a ladder and had five black cats cross my path on my way to my house, where I promptly opened an umbrella when I walked in and then broke a mirror, because I know there’s like five of you who’d flip out and message me on Facebook, yelling misspelled epithets in ALL CAPS if I neglected to mention this dude’s new album Remembering Now, so save it, I was already prepared for this disaster, because I was in the Mahket Basket the other day buying my week’s supply of Cheetos when there it was, assaulting me over the store’s evil loudspeakers, the song “Mister Jones,” which I’ve always hated, not because I thought it was a Van Morrison song (which it isn’t, it’s actually the biggest hit by Counting Crows) but because it makes me want to join the marines and volunteer to sweep for forgotten landmines in Afghanistan just so I’ll never hear it again. Whatever, I think I’ve heard a couple of Van Morrison songs that were OK, so I shall sally forth and click the clicky to hear — let’s see, the first song, “Cutting Corners,” I do these things only for you people. Oh, this isn’t all that bad if you like country music that sounds like it’s being sung by a mechanic from upstate New York, because that’s what it sounds like, there’s Slim Pickens-style dobro and fiddle, and at least it doesn’t sound at all like “Domino,” the dreadful Van Morrison song that obviously inspired “Mister Jones,” nor does it sound like the even-worse “Brown Eyed Girl,” which, as I’ve mentioned before, is the national anthem for accountants who can’t dance. So carry on with your sort-of country music, Van Morrison, until we meet again or whatnot.

• Now that that’s over with, we can turn our attention to my literal favorite Australian band, King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard, whose name takes up almost a whole line of column space, thanks for being insane, guys! Phantom Island is the name of this month’s King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard album, just in time, because I’ll tell you, I’d actually been worried for a few weeks that they weren’t going to put out an album like they usually do literally every other month, so here it is! When last we left our heroes, on whichever album it was, they were fully committed to making nonsense acid-pop, refusing to bother with stupid boring music-nerd stuff like hooks, instrumental interplay or song structure, so why don’t we just mosey on down to the YouTube corral, Van Morrison style, and take a gander at the latest blah blah blah from these blotter-acid-gobbling turkey-people, yes let’s. Lol, listen to the band’s funny singing man on the new single, “Grow Wings and Fly,” making no sense, something about hanging out in Shanghai, and then — wait, now it’s an actual good ’70s radio-pop song! What are they even doing! Help!

• But wait a minute, we’re not out of the woods yet, because look who it is, Buckcherry with their new album, Roar Like Thunder! The title track comes off like AC/DC, as always, but in arena-punkabilly mode. Ha ha, who buys these albums?

• Last but not least this week is British grime-rapper AJ Tracey, with the appropriately hip-hoppishly titled Don’t Die Before You’re Dead, aren’t you already scared of this hip-hop fellow? “Friday Prayer” recycles/steals from some old Otis Redding beat, and then we get some above-average grime-rapping, as advertised (hilarious note: the band’s Like-bots made no attempt to disguise themselves on the YouTube page for this one, it’s so cute). —Eric W. Saeger