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This is perhaps the logical extension after a world of underground heads ingested the Hospitals’ landmark record, Hairdryer Peace. Dead Luke isn’t nearly as esoteric as Stonehouse and company, nor is he as synth-dependant as he has been on previous releases. American Haircut is brutal and murky in all the right ports, combining loner folk and acid drips, but always remaining obscured, submerged beyond the state of full comprehension into a fidelity that blurs the line between trash and treasure. Proceed with caution.

This is Ripley Johnson furthering his experiments in Kraut chug-und-groove. Along with Sanae Yamada, the leader of the Wooden Shjips takes this voyage down a path similar to that of his other preoccupation (you’d have a hard time keeping the two bands apart). By adding washes and blips of analog space dust, Johnson seems determined to spread out his riffs across a sky littered with stars in order to stretch out and relax in the universe’s hammock.

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An interview with this Seattle quintet has proven a fruitless conquest the past few months. Why would I keep pursuing them? Well, this little piece of wax, which could easily be pinned as Animal Collective for Dummies, continues to amaze me with every listen. It’s a tropical jam, with field recordings of wild animals blurring the horizon, polyrhythm on woodblocks, and plenty of catchy guitar fuzz splayed under the surface. On top of all that, they understand the pop hook takes precedence over beach-breeze-bucolic gimmick.

This is the second installment culled from hours of tape from Columbus cum Harrisburg’s prodigal sons. I know when I ask if there’s more someone will try to be honest and tell me it’s not all golden, but this newest collection makes me think otherwise. If any of the archives are half as good as the mystical psych and cheap-drug punk these guys were cooking up way back when, I want to hear the boxset. Includes a rousing rendition of Ron House’s “Our Love to the Third Power” backed by the Players in a state of blotto flux.

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Already there are days and days’ worth of Daniel Lopatin’s synth awakenings, whether in the form of his alter ego, Games, or noodling in chopped and screwed R&B mixtapes, or as his main focus, Oneohtrix Point Never. While I actually prefer the latest from Emeralds to much of Lopatin’s work, this album is the grand mal of analog explorations, making waves of sound that creates synesthesiastic mind-fucks and thoughtfully taking us to places we never imagined possible. Drone baby, drone.

Let’s just imagine that Björk wanted to front Fleetwood Mac during the summer of AC-induced power outages and the renaissance of artisan popsicles (that would be the present). Instead Björk wants to be a Dirty Projector and Twin Sister takes on the role of seasonal savior. Color Your Life is genuinely quirky and smooth, compacting syncopated riffs and soft-rock, tossed-off whimsy and breathy coos into those fever dreams we get when temperatures become too hot to handle.

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