Arriving in the postbag recently was the sophomore album ‘Brooklyn, I Am’ by The Satellite Year. With a melodic post-punk sound that incorporates elements of electronic and pop music, The Satellite Year give the impression of deriving from the very city that is encompassed in their latest album title rather than their actual roots of Saarbrücken, Germany. Geographical roots aside, The Satellite Year know a thing or two about creating a catchy melody that often is graced with abrasive edges. Think 30 Seconds To Mars, Hundred Reasons, Thursday et al and you’re somewhere close to the influences running through ‘Brooklyn, I Am’. There is much to consider here as The Satellite Year shoehorn in great levels of detail into each, and every song with the pace never sauntering. Such a feat is to be admired, and really takes hold during the first half of the album, ranging from the melodic blast of ‘That This Was Wrong’, to the nimble guitar entrance of ‘Early In December’. Despite some familiarity with a couple of the songs, such familiarity is never allowed to stagnate as evidenced by the passionate delivery of ‘Fireworks’ that rattles along at pace and possesses one heck of a meaty chorus. The following ‘In Vitro’ gives the impression of a band reaching for the stars, musically, whilst searching for honesty in those around them on ground level. As it stands, ‘Brooklyn, I Am’ is a record that will grab your attention from the off but, more notably, it will keep pulling at your senses because it is an album with much depth that throws up new twists and turns via subtle hooks that will see any listener return, and return again to The Satellite Year’s brand of post-punk and alternative rock. A truly impressive piece of work.

Just before anyone gets all hot under the collar, the indie tag applied to Carl Bradychok’s self-titled debut album reflects both the status of this release (i.e. independent) in addition to the pick ‘n’ mix of genres chosen. Rightly, as its press release declares, the man at the centre of this long player feels a sense of unease at the thought of being ‘clumped in to one genre of music’ with rockabilly being the main source of contention here. Negative connotations aside, there are examples as clear as daylight where rockabilly exerts its influence, with the intent held of ‘Do Me No Wrong’ being one of the most obvious candidates. Elsewhere, the confident swagger in the rhythm of, ‘The Way I Walk’ complete with nice backing vocals, is balanced appropriately with the opposite sound of ‘Please Give Me Something’, due to the edginess of the guitars with hints of Johnny Burnette and The Rock ‘N Roll Trio, and occasional hollers in the lead vocal adding to the pleading nature of this particular song. Having indicated a definite pulse to the aforementioned track, the country ‘Your Cheatin’ Heart’ falls flat due to a lack of conviction in the vocals. Balance is soon restored, however, with the excellent instrumental ‘Malaga’ with Bradychok this time allowing his guitar to do the talking. ‘You Ask Me To’ allows for more country but offers a different approach with its singular vocal kicking things off, before walking the listener through what sounds like a personal song where great affection is expressed. Country is the obvious choice when presented with the song title ‘Heartaches By The Number’, which contains some clever lyrics when counting through the number of distresses involved. With two more instrumentals presenting themselves – ‘Double Agent’ and ‘After Five’ – and concluding with the philosophical ‘End Of The World’ which, by the way, is the clearest indicator that Bradychok’s music is anything but straight rockabilly considering its American alternative-rock (and pop) references. The debut album by Carl Bradychok is to be admired for its technical abilities, strong song writing and for its daring to include broader references that should appeal to a wider audience rather in the same way that one Brian Setzer has managed so successfully.

Latest addition to the recording stable of West Yorkshire’s Monster Jaw is ‘The Basement Sessions EP’. Having written, recorded and produced all four of the tracks making up this EP, the trio of Mik Davis, Neil Short and John Bradford secluded themselves for a two month period in a rented basement in order to complete this latest project. Calling on the experience of Justin Sullivan, from legendary post-punk outfit New Model Army, to help out with mixing and mastering, ‘The Basement Sessions EP’ sees Monster Jaw taking another step forward in their musical progression. Such progress can be seen from the unique stance of the entire recording process, which saw the band make use of a Tascam 688 chrome tape home recording studio in an attempt to capture something close to a live experience. With this plan dubbed “a very brave idea” from those working in the music industry, according to the accompanying press release for this latest EP, Monster Jaw remained unperturbed in their quest to record a series of unedited tracks set straight to tape with no additional overdubs. The overall atmosphere surrounding all four songs presented here is often dense and claustrophobic. Such an example of this can be identified from second track, ‘Love’, where oxygen appears short in supply due to the air having the consistency of treacle and causing heads to swim uncontrollably. Monster Jaw pull off such a feat by means of a prominent bass that is incredibly raw and drives the song, but also by giving the impression of looping the vocals with its repetitive lines regarding the subject of love to the point where one can almost visualise the room spinning, it’s that potent a brew! With ‘Feel It’ showing its affection for New Model Army as far as the guitars are concerned, and with its vocals retaining a very compressed feel, it would seem that Monster Jaw bonded as one with their chosen recording environment. The closing song, ‘Never Change’ cleverly borrows elements from a previous song, ‘Losing All My Friends’, but manages to transform it into a composition that has more in common with the current EP release, despite sounding slightly euphoric in its chorus. With so much to offer, hopefully the next release from Monster Jaw will extend to a full album because the affection for this band just got considerably bigger after experiencing ‘The Basement Sessions EP’.

Finding a new place of residency at Eilean Records for his latest output, ‘Pleasurably Lost’, seems to have provided a source of inspiration to the song writing craft of Norwegian artist, Benjamin Finger. For what we get here is the trademark smorgasbord of ambient sounds, but it is an album where the creative ideas are reined in tighter, in the sense that the connectivity between each track is far closer than before. Take, for example, opening song ‘Diamond Earth’, with more ideas and creativity crammed into its entire five minutes than a lot of bands can muster in a whole album, but it is the manner in which such creative explorations fuse together more coherently from shades of light to dark, if you will. The song itself allows for a greater usage of vocals this time out, with a classical sounding segment smoothing the way by the faintest of piano keys and angelic vocal, after an initial barrage of electronic sounds jarring against each other during its introduction. By sourcing ingredients from all that surrounds him, Benjamin Finger utilises everything at his disposal. So don’t be surprised to hear the snap, crackle and pop stemming from a worn-out piece of vinyl buried deep beneath the mix during ‘Edges of Distortion’, or a sudden interruption of static via a renowned loading mechanism of a particular 1980s home computer that shakes up the sinister tone of ‘Once Upon Her’. The previously mentioned greater coherence between tracks of ‘Pleasurably Lost’ reveals itself further when the latter half of the album follows a murkier path, compellingly created by use of distorted guitar next to the electronics. Without subscribing by any means to the regulations of commerciality, Benjamin Finger has created his most accessible and consistent work to date, that should see a few more people flocking to his sound. For the moment, however, there is enough here to suggest that ‘Pleasurably Lost’ is truly flying the flag of independence by providing its clearest definition.

After many years as a recording artist and the proud recipient of four Norwegian Grammys, Bertine Zetlitz reached a crossroads in her life whether to continue this musical journey or call time on an otherwise successful career. The former decision was made, but based on a strict criterion of adding fresh ingredients to a musical formula which had passed its sell-by date. The result of this new found impetus is ‘Tikamp’; a ten-track album performed in her mother tongue and consisting of acoustic-based songs with added electronica, as well as a few electro-pop numbers as a means of not entirely alienating Zetlitz from her longstanding fan base. This newfound approach works instantaneously with recent single, and duet with Prepple Houmb from Norway’s Dum Dum Boys, ‘Sett At Vi Sier Det Sånn’ opening Zetlitz’ account admirably, with vocals combining in a gentle manner and complementing the hushed musical tone that eventually lets its guard down by way of its lead guitar steering this opening song to its conclusion. Familiar territory is revisited with the intriguingly named ’48 Hunder’ and fitting title of ‘Fort’ as both songs are steeped in electronica but with varying tempos. Such tactics work, however, as ‘Tikamp’ trims the use of modern technology yet combines what is left to great effect with the stringed instrumentation, which is best served during ‘Smil’ and the lavish sounding ‘Ingenting’. The fadeout track, ‘På Kanten’ offers the clearest example of where Zetlitz should ply her trade if the desire remains to continue her music career as its pared back style and honest vocals truly shine. Bertine Zetlitz has conquered any lingering doubts regarding her future with ‘Tikamp’, as it is a staggeringly good comeback and one that should not be overlooked.

The cover notes that accompanied debut solo release from Finland’s Matthau Mikojan left an interesting trail and one that requires further investigation. Having seen the demise of his previous band and without a record deal, the decision to set up shop and write and record the latest set of songs formulating in his mind was a no brainer really. The difficulty came when, despite a wealth of experience behind him as a musician, the realisation dawned that there was a dearth of experience when it came to the actual recording process. Rather than let panic ensue, Matthau Mikojan set the wheels in motion by means of studying every available textbook, trawling the internet for any appropriate advice, and observing studio engineers at work in order to learn the ropes as far as recording goes. Fast forward to the present and the end result is ‘Her Foreign Language’; thirteen songs that have received the closest attention to detail after many hours of hard graft and without much daylight to speak of. The clues can loosely be deciphered in some of the song titles regarding the painstaking recording process Matthau Mikojan has undergone, whether it’s ‘Hours Overdue’, ‘Good Nights, Bad Mornings’ or ‘Gold & Silver’. While strong comparisons with Bowie can be heard throughout ‘Her Foreign Language’, there are also traces of the Rolling Stones bluesy rock ‘n’ roll with ‘No Preference’ and ‘Hours Overdue’ being two obvious candidates. The amps are turned down during the reflective and largely acoustic ‘You’, which leads to greater self-examination once the gothic tones of ‘Presence’ makes itself known via an enthralling vocal and skeletal guitar sound. While there is a preference for the slight outer space oddities of ‘Wrapped’, for example, over the more straight bluesy rock which seems to outnumber the former, ‘Her Foreign Language’ is to be exalted for its courage to follow its own convictions and come out the other side with a more than palatable album.