2023 has felt like a year of transition at Undrcurrents HQ. In many ways, that has been a positive: I’ve been able to return to activities I enjoyed pre-COVID, and I’ve had a very busy start to the year professionally. However, some of this has come at the cost of this site; I haven’t had as much time for listening as I did while sequestered at home, and consequently have written less here than in previous years. I’m still searching for the right balance here, but as always appreciate everyone who takes the time to reach out to submit music or read anything we publish. Even helping one person discover a new favorite album still makes the site worth keeping alive.
In that spirit, we present our fifteen favorite albums of the year so far, ordered roughly chronologically by release date. I have no doubt that we’ve yet to hear plenty of gems, but one thing is certain: for me, these albums have made music worth following in 2023.
The Tubs – Dead Meat
The Tubs, a self-described “Welsh boyband”, are the latest group to emerge from the ashes of the much beloved Joanna Gruesome. While there are certainly echoes of that band here (especially when its former lead singer Lan Mcardle provides backing vocals), The Tubs have a much sunnier and less overtly noisy sound than their predecessor. The eccentric pop of Martin Newell or Lawrence are both good reference points, as is a British folk-rock master like Richard Thompson; their are songs more focused on jangly melodies and sticky hooks than the controlled chaos of Joanna Gruesome. Perhaps my favorite thing about a Tubs song is that it doesn’t grasp for any sort of unearned, uplifting conclusion. It’s music that understand that beauty, despair and humor can all be felt in any given moment, refracting each one through its buoyant melodies.
Sluice – Radial Gate
Sluice craft gentle folk songs that will quietly creep up on you. Centered around Durham’s Justin Morris, their sophomore album boasts a long list of contributors from his local scene and beyond. The album’s understated instrumentals allow Morris’ lyrics to sit front and center, which mix universal truths with the minutiae of everyday life; one moment he’ll be singing about the humor of just being alive, the next will be about eating a cheap pastry in a motel room. Funny, contemplative and heartbreaking in equal measure, it’s music that slowly winds its way to profundity.
Deerhoof – Miracle-Level
I think it’s uncontroversial to say that Deerhoof are an institution, and after nearly three decades of recording and performing together, it’s easy to take their consistent excellence for granted. Miracle-Level represents the latest in a long line of artistic evolutions, a set of songs that pushes the band in new directions while also serving as a perfect entrypoint into their vast discography. In some ways Miracle-Level stands apart from the rest of their catalog (aside from being their only album with lyrics entirely in Japanese, it’s certainly veers towards the poppier side of the band’s sound), but it perfectly represents what makes this band special: they’re fearless. If, like me, you lost track of Deerhoof over the past few years amid the unrelenting pace of new releases, this is the perfect place to dive back in.
MSPAINT – Post-American
MSPAINT came up with the new vanguard of American hardcore (think bands like Soul Glo, Militarie Gun and Gel), but their debut album proves them to be a distinctive voice in this milieu. To my ears, The Hattiesburg, MS band’s music is most notable for its elasticity, oscillating between punishing heaviness and fragile beauty. A song like “Acid” demonstrates this balance, moving seamlessly between a delicate, pulsing synth melody and more standard hardcore riffage. At times Post-American feels like it could easily like the soundtrack to a movie about some dystopian digital wasteland, but the hard won sense of optimism in the lyrics says otherwise: even when everything burns to the ground, something will always sprout from the ashes.
Parannoul – After the Night
After the Magic, the sophomore studio effort from mysterious Korean pop project Parannoul, could easily have a spot on this list. However, over the course of the past six months I found myself returning more frequently to After the Night, a companion live album recorded in early January and released at the end of March. Where their studio releases build immaculate soundscapes, these recordings dirty them up with the exact right amount of noisy grit and grime. Boasting an all-star backing band (including members of Brokenteeth and Asian Glow), it’s also worth noting this is the first live show Parannoul ever played. Given the quality of the music here, that’s absolutely mindblowing; this is truly a generational talent, one we’ll undoubtedly be hearing from for years to come.
Mystic 100s – On A Micro Diet
Had Milk Music existed in the 80’s, I have no doubt they would have ended up in Our Band Could Be Your Life. Their 2010’s output felt indebted to the fuzzy SST-style punk of many featured players in that book, and they also seemed to operate by the same DIY principles as those artists; their music has been consistently made on their own schedule without heed to commercial appeal or press cycles. After a six year absence, the group has reemerged with a new name (Mystic 100’s) and an almost entirely new sound. Though hints of the old Milk Music remain (see the relatively straightforward rocker “Windowpane”), they’ve largely transformed themselves into a sprawling jam band. You can hear hints of Hendrix, Young and even Bitches Brew-era Davis, but it’s the band’s almost telepathic connection that pushes this music to the next level. They act as a single unit, each stray idea or apparent tangent eventually revealing how it connects to the greater whole. It’s a marvel to watch unfold.
Nondi_ – Flood City Trax
From its opening moments, Flood City Trax had me hooked. Muffled, blurry synths rattle around for nearly a minute, serenaded by swirling ambience. Rhythms emerge from and recede into the background, making their presence known but never forcing their way into the spotlight. That opening track, “Fcd (Floaty Cloud Dream)” does exactly what its title promises, constructing a gauzy, dreamlike sonic confection. Over the following eleven cuts, Nondi_ uses footwork, breakcore, ambient and even strains of video game music to build a series of dreamscapes, each hovering in some liminal space between reality and fantasy. Many of the obvious influences here are rhythm heavy genres, but Flood City Trax somehow manages to make them feel light and airy, almost as if they’re being heard through a dense fog. A near perfect debut.
Monde UFO – Vandalized Statue To Be Replaced With Shrine
What first drew me to Monde UFO’s hallucinogenic pop vignettes was the seemingly disparate set of influences cited in their press release: exotica, bossa nova, free jazz, drone, and indie rock. Once I actually listened, what kept my attention was the peculiar gravitational pull of their music. A typical Monde UFO song is equal parts fever dream and cryptic alien dispatch, the fantastical blurring into the mundane; angels and devils consort and prophesies unfold against a backdrop of trash filled forests and vandalized churches. These stories play out against an equally fluid musical backdrop, one that can sound like Stereolab one second and Gilberto Gil the next. Untangling all these references is only half the fun; it’s music that stands easily on its own merits, pulling you into its orbit and refusing to let go until its final notes ring out.
ther – a horrid whisper echoes in a palace of endless joy
Early on a horrid whisper echoes in a palace of endless joy, Heather Jones sings “how strange to be born in a time like now / where everybody’s freaking out.” It’s a perfect encapsulation of everything that makes her work as ther special: matter of fact, poignant and almost comical all at the same time, it captures a complex mix of feelings and emotions in a single phrase. a horrid whisper echoes in a palace of endless joy is a collection of songs so full of these sorts of messy contradictions they seem to come become animate. Arrangements feels elastic, mirroring the cadences of Jones’ stream of conscious lyrics and singular delivery; songs seem to flit, ponder, rest and sprint breathlessly forward. Whether she’s turning a series of disconnected thoughts into a meditation on life and love or exploring her feelings of grief over a lost friend, few recent albums capture the beauty and absurdity of modern life as well as this one.
Greg Mendez – Greg Mendez
Greg Mendez has been a key member of the Philly DIY scene for well over a decade, just as long as he’s been writing and re-working on the songs that make up his third full length album. They’re songs that feel suspended in time, snapshots of Mendez’s life both before and during this period. We see a hint of a strained relationship with his mother in “Sweetie”, a sobering portrait of the pull of addiction in “Maria”, a volatile romantic entanglement in “Clearer Picture of You”; each one is painstakingly etched, cutting straight to the emotional core of its chosen subject. Elliott Smith or fellow Philly artist Alex G are obvious sonic comparisons for Mendez’s hushed singer-songwriter sound, but spiritually the album reminds me most of Car Wheels on a Gravel Road; much like Lucinda’s masterpiece, it’s the rare case where years and years of tinkering and fine tuning actually result in a perfect album.
Lucy Liyou – Dog Dreams (개꿈)
The Korean term 개꿈, literally translated, means “dog dreams”. It’s used to frame dreams as nonsensical, figments of our imagination that have no bearing on reality. The latest album from Lucy Liyou attempts to flip the idea of dog dreams on its head, seriously interrogating the meaning of their own recurrent dreams. There’s plenty of contemporary music that treads similar territory, from the ambient-adjacent sound palette to the interest in conjuring up dream worlds, yet Dog Dreams (개꿈) feels utterly distinct. More than any album I’ve heard in recent memory, Liyou’s music captures the machinations of the subconscious mind. It’s an extraordinary piece of music, one that gives voice to the thoughts rattling around in your head.
Jim Legxacy – homeless n**** pop music
After an impeccable run of singles in 2022, Jim Legxacy seemed poised to become one of this year’s breakout stars off the strength of his unique sound. Take “dj”, the lead track on his latest mixtape homeless n**** pop music: Legxacy’s fragile vocals float above an airy instrumental that sounds as much like forlorn emo as it does an Afrobeats track. This ability to fuse genre in unpredictable ways is one of the great pleasures of Legxacy’s work, providing the same kind of thrill that 1000 Gecs did a few years ago. Even though the aforementioned singles make up nearly half of homeless n**** pop music, Legaxcy still manages to both surprise and impress: see the cascading vocals on “block hug” or the more straightforward rapping of the title track (complete with what sounds like a Dizzee Rascal sample). By far my favorite “pop” album of the year.
HITECH – DÉTWAT
HITECH’s music is best described as ghettotech, a genre whose history stretches back to the 80s in Detroit and incorporates the sounds of Detroit techno, Chicago ghetto house and Miami bass. As someone who is casually acquainted with much of this history I’d be hard pressed to explain the finer points of how HiTech are moving this genre forward, but I can tell you DÉTWAT is one of the most enjoyable listening experiences I’ve had this year. It’s twitchy beats are complemented by raunchy lyrics, some single phrases repeated for rhythmic effect (my personal favorite, from “POCKET PUSSY”, involves a Fleshlite) and others closer to full on rap verses. Endlessly listenable, compulsively danceable and laugh out loud funny, this should be a requisite soundtrack to the summer.
Home Is Where – The Whaler
After becoming the face of fifth wave emo, Home Is Where’s sophomore album feels hellbent on living up to the sky-high expectations surrounding it. In short, it’s a concept album set in a time warp where 9/11 occurs over and over again whose songs are as influenced by Jeff Magnum as they are by Bob Dylan. You may or may not pick up on this exact narrative, but the message at the core of the album is clear: even when accumulation of traumas (to name a few, assaults on trans rights and reproductive rights, police brutality, mass shootings, ecological disasters) makes every day feel like another national catastrophe, as a society we trudge on in the face of these unbearable tragedies. Whether you interpret their message as hopeless or hopeful, one thing is undeniable: it’s a wildly ambitious swing that hits its mark straight on.
Shizuka – III
Shizuka, the legendary Japanese band fronted by singer Shizuka Miura, have been experiencing a renaissance of sorts. Their sole studio album, Heavenly Persona, recently received the full reissue treatment, along with a number of archival releases from the group. But it’s III, recently released by Portland label Concentric Circles, that has captivated my attention the most. Sounding like a lost bedroom recording, Shizuka shed their typical heavy psychedelic rock sound and strip their music down to the studs; built around Shizuka’s hushed coos and guitarist Maki Miura’s gentle guitar strumming, these tracks are softer and gauzier than anything else in their catalogue. Easily the most intimate music the band ever recorded, this is music that envelops you like a thick fog before slowly dissolving into the ether.