VXO – Alcanzarme


The manifold sounds of Connecticut’s experimental musician VXO takes new shape following their earlier release “Why U Call Me” and Color Plus feature “Fade 2”: layered harmonizing vocals cross-stitched into peaking synth melodies and dirty breakbeat rhythms.

“Alcanzarme” is the second single from VXO’s self-titled EP on Vanity Press Records, out 10/20—vinyl preorders available at FIT Detroit. Album art by Ali Bonfils.

Quavius – To The Ville…


Lustwerk labelmate Quavius has been quietly self-releasing dusted warehouse gems from Jacksonville, Florida—recounting the vibes of steamy jimjilbangs and smoked out speakeasies with intimacy. His newest release To The Ville… is eight tracks that take you from Southside Blvd. to N. Myrtle in the earliest and latest hours, surveying foggy avenues and desolate turns with the low-beams turned off.

Elohim and Whethan – Sleepy Eyes

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They’re not actually sleepy eyes; I’m just not high enough to be completely okay with promiscuity in a summer festival setting despite the aid of empathogens. And this song, with its cute horns and Odesza beats circa In Return, isn’t locking in because beyond the melodic summer vibes and faux-PLURness, it reminds me of how dependent I still am on other people for validation, how I still struggle with feelings of attachment, and how I still can’t reconcile with the unpredictability of the future. But sure, if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll open my eyes when I kiss you. Whatever makes you happy, dear.

Cardi B – Bodak Yellow (Zora Jones & Sinjin Hawke Bootleg)

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When Becky is being passive aggressive at the club and you just wanna scream, “All we do is navigate the cisheteropatriarchy daily to survive in a society that has oppressed our bodies, co-opted our experiences, and commodified our culture, so please: don’t fuck with me on some petty shit, bitch.”

Repeated Measures – Day Party (feat. Dirty Merlin)

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It’s Sunday afternoon and there’s a ketamine-fueled motorcycle rally through Compton’s industrial park. Everyone has reconciled with the narcotizing dysfunction of hyperreal politics and the music-industrial complex. Being a wallflower is no longer stigmatized, and creative expression has been absolutely devalued. Absolutely freed. Maybe this is what American Zen sounds like.