Stephen John Kalinich – A World Of Peace Must Come (Light In The Attic)
Legend has it that Brian Wilson took to his bed sometime in 1967 having junked his Smile album and given in to drugs. He certainly left that album unfinished but the rest is myth: he’d relinquished control of the Beach Boys but still cut music until truly retreating from the world in the early 70s. This curio comes from 1969, the product of a collaboration between Brian and poet, Kalinich. It’s strictly for the heads: sparse, Smiley Smile style (non) production occasionally couches winsome, folky, spoken word passages. Still, an excellent snap shot of an L.A. bereft of innocence at the end of the sixties.

Deerhunter – Microcastle (4AD)
Deerhunter are the kind of band that polarise opinion. They describe their sound as ‘ambient punk’, while,  in the (mis)shape of front man Bradford Cox, they have an autocratic, openly gay singer who’s not adverse to confrontation and self-aggrandising statements. A testament to Deerhunter’s subversive nature is the fact that their recorded music is so accessible. Their 4AD debut also recalls early R.E.M in its murky, Southern Gothic melodicsm. No surprise there: both bands hail from Atlanta, Georgia. Maybe Microcastle’s soft-focus flow can be attributed to Silver Jews producer, Nicolas Verhes. Or perhaps this is all part of Cox’s perverse plan for world domination. Either way, everyone’s a winner.

Slipstream – Mantra (Enraptured)
Taking shape whilst seeing through their duties in Spiritualized, Mark Refoy and Jonny Mattock have been making music as Slipstream for over a decade now. Anyone expecting the same kind of bombastic, intravenous snooze-core as their old paymasters will be sorely disappointed. A good thing. Mantra sounds rather quaint in its kosmische dance-rock grooves but the melodies are lazed guided and true, taking merciless aim for the pop jugular. Burn Till You Die would be an indie anthem if this was 1989, Endless Road is spot on in its New Order homage and Mediation 1 is appropriately blissful, electronic psychedelia.

Greg Weeks – The Hive (Wichita)
When he’s not running his own imprint, Language of Stone, mold encrusted, vintage analogue recording facility, Hexham Head, or acting the hirsute demi-god shot caller of rustic revelry in Espers, Greg Weeks finds time to make his own, beguiling, bohemian, bong blasted brand of folk music. I mean, anyone who can turn Madonna’s Borderline into a slo-fi, prog-folk slab of eerie wonder has got be worth his blood. And this Mr Weeks truly is.