Run For Cover Records

Australian duo Armlock make music for having your head in the clouds. On new album Seashell Angel Lucky Charm, Simon Lam and Hamish Mitchell bring you on a steady ascension through compressed and heavenly sonic realms. The band's second proper release, and first for Run For Cover Records, showcases the songwriters' experimental electronic roots through an indie rock lens. Free from distortion or overindulgence, Seashell Angel Lucky Charm is a collection of consistent rhythms decorated with clean guitar tones and eccentricities. Through playful layers of vocal harmony and minimal arrangements, Armlock capture the inventive and uncomplicated essence of Pinback or Alex G.Self-described as "indie rock with a touch of spirituality and emo," Armlock's journey into a higher realm is seeped with the looming confusion that comes with exploring the unknown. With an introverted demeanor, Armlock explores the human desire to find guidance in a world much bigger than its people. Album highlight "Guardian" cuts to the heart of the album and its central theme — the desperate search for a spiritual guide. Vocalist Lam sifts through his everyday life that feels laden with meaning. "Ready for my essence to be found / Cos I'm seeing their number all around / Guide me safe lead me from harm / My seashell angel lucky charm." Guitar bends and piano rolls ping across the song's structure until it fades into an airy soundscape where Lam yearns for his "guardian" through hushed vocals and chirping birds.Armlock's genre-spanning musical influences coalesce best on album opener "Ice Cold." One trap beat away from a Bladee track, the song begins with robotic voices reminiscent of Boards of Canada and evolves into the meditative warmth found in Adrianne Lenker's more lo-fi work. There’s a subdued tenderness to Lam's vocal delivery as he ponders the loss of a friendship and introduces the album's fixation on air signs and higher dimensions. Every sound on Seashell Angel Lucky Charm feels precise and intentional, making the anthemic choruses on tracks like "Fear" and "El Oh Ve Ee" feel expertly placed and pop-oriented. These two songs show Armlock's savvy with harmony as they use octaves of angelic sounds to stretch a simple one-word chorus until it soars with meaning. Unlike most indie rockers, Armlock use guitar as a tool in their belt rather than a vessel for songwriting. Where their 2021 EP Trust set foundations in downtempo acoustic guitar, Lam and Mitchell's evolved songwriting is a testament to where an electric guitar can amplify a song’s groove, or usher in sonic space.

 

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Operating in the farthest margins of L.A.'s cutthroat music business from 1961-1991, Mel Alexander's Consolidated Productions was among the longest running Black-owned independent record conglomerates of the 20th century. Caught up in a confusing web of imprints—including Ajax, Angel Town, Car-A-Mel, Emanuel, and Kris-this first volume gathers 28 smoldering R&B cuts by the likes of Lee Harvey, B.B. Carter, Marilyn Calloway, Del Reys, Deb Tones, De Velles, Gene Russell's Trio, Jimmy "Preacher" Ellis, and Ty Karim. Remastered from the original 1/4" tapes, Consolidated Productions Vol. I includes carefully researched annotation, discography, and photographs from a vital producer.

The first two minutes of Sun June's third album, Bad Dream Jaguar, 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 dance floor. 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 felt strangely and specifically Texan – unhurried, long drives across an impossible expanse of openness, refractions shimmering off the pavement in the heat. But on Bad Dream Jaguar, Sun June is unmoored. The backdrop of Texas is replaced by longing, by distance, by transience, and a quiet fear. The only sense of certainty comes from the murky past. It's a dispatch from aging, when you’re in the strange in-between of yourself: there's a clear image of the person you once were and the places you inhabited, generational curses and our families, but the future feels vast, unclear – and the present can't help but slip through your fingers.There's a mix of hi-fi and lo-fi; some songs, like "Texas," which the band had to learn at a breakneck pace ahead of their recording session, was recorded on a first take, live in the room, while "Eager" and "Easy Violence" feature early vocal takes from Colwell, the final songs built atop the demos. The latter track details staying up all night, being a menace to society, falling into bad patterns, but is followed by "John Prine," a drumless, piano-based ballad, a mash of pedal steel manipulated to sound closer to synths.Sun June's records have always been deceptively airy sounding in the face of melancholia, belying its densely textured foundation in a sense of ease. The layers on Bad Dream Jaguar don't tangle but they float, sheaths of divergent and luminescent sonics hanging together as the sun goes down, darkness seeping in. The record exists in the chasm between giving up and going all-in. And a flicker of quiet confidence powering through, a small hopeful glow at its core.