“Take It Out On Me” – Smug Brothers

Incisive, immediate, well-built

“Take It Out On Me” – Smug Brothers

The Columbus, Ohio-based Smug Brothers return to Fingertips with more of their durable lo-fi pop rock, in which the “pop” has little to do with its contemporary usage but refers rather to the platonic ideal of modern music that’s incisive, immediate, and admirably well-built. This is the pop of “power pop” and “jangle pop” but less confining. It’s music made by humans with three-dimensional instruments and a reflexive predilection for the Beatlesque.

This song’s particular charms are rooted in the way it ongoingly anchors its melodies away from the downbeat (i.e., the first beat in a 4/4 measure). This creates a slinky, seductive atmosphere in which the song becomes its own backstory–a propulsive backbeat on the one hand, melodies that weave between the lines on the other. Kyle Melton’s sturdy vocals begin the verses within a megaphone filter, inviting us to lean in, before allowing his Tweedy-ish tone to fully inhabit a song that eschews narrative for the stringing together of evocative lyrical phrases. All in all these guys operate so far from what passes for popular music here in 2025 that I can nearly imagine a moment of cultural whiplash that would bring them straight to the forefront of the zeitgeist. Don’t laugh: any indie band forever remains one canny song placement away from if not fortune then at least fame.

“Take It Out On Me” is a song from the 11th Smug Brothers album, entitled Stuck on Beta, released earlier this month on Anyway Records; check it out via Bandcamp. MP3 courtesy of the band. The band has also released seven EPs and nine singles, all of which are also up there on Bandcamp. The band has previously been featured here in 2023 and 2019.

“Solar Babes” – Storm Recorder

Brisk, poignant guitar rock

“Solar Babes” – Storm Recorder

Driven by brisk, clangy guitar chords, “Solar Babes” has an unmistakable poignancy about it, even as I can’t quite put my finger on what’s driving that impression. Some of this seems built into Jesse LeGallais’ voice, with its fetching, slightly nasal timbre. Some of it may be generated by the verse’s insistent, two-chord melody, the sing-song-y quality of which creates an underlying innocence to the proceedings.

The chorus, comprising little more than the word “fight,” creates a passing sense of movement even as it’s still built on the same two-chord foundation. The breakthrough happens around 1:15, after one more round of verses: we find ourselves in an extended bridge or bridge-like section that offers the ear the sorts of chord progressions the song has previously withheld from us, and which sound all but heroic in context. Equally heroic is how the opening chords are re-cast at the end in a brief, quasi-Springsteen-esque conclusion (2:07). Wrapping up in under three minutes, the song invites and rewards multiple listens.

Storm Recorder is the Nova Scotia-based duo of LeGallais and Palmer Jamieson. LeGallais was based in Montreal for 15 years, playing in an assortment of bands, before moving to Halifax; Jamieson is a Halifax-based producer who runs his own studio. LeGallais initially intended to record a solo project with Jamieson. Their level of affinity ended up turning the record into a new, joint project called Storm Recorder. “Solar Babes” is the opening track on the album Always Coming Home, which they position as an homage to the Ursula LeGuin novel of the same name. A particular inspiration for the duo comes from a LeGuin quotation the band has posted on its Bandcamp page: “We live in capitalism, its power seems inescapable–but then, so did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings.” These are words that feel especially welcome right about now. Thanks to LeGallais for the MP3.

“Serious Man” – Soltero

Brisk and thoughtful

“Serious Man” – Soltero

A confident burst of thoughtful indie rock, “Serious Man” hooks the ear first with its jangly guitar riff and then witih its characteristic time-signature hiccup, arising first as we hear the titular phrase around 0:13: those two extra beats required to fit the music to the words manage both to interrupt and to reaffirm the appealing flow. Nothing like a little asymmetry to make the world a better place in this age of overly perfected beats and AI-induced conformity. Nothing, too, like Tim Howard’s reassuring, unpolished voice, to remind us that we want and need human beings out there expressing themselves. (Why anyone would want to hear a machine expressing itself remains a puzzle to my organic brain and my beating heart.)

“Serious Man” is brisk and to the point, but also expansive enough to include some incisive octave harmonies, some scratchy guitar work, and, as unexpected as it is welcome, a bass solo (1:35-1:47). Best of all is the underlying sense of humor that subtly supports the enterprise, knowingly undercutting the singer’s effort to assert his seriousness. It’s not laugh out loud humor, at all; it’s weary-acceptance-of-the-human condition humor. Although Howard’s low-register vocal following the bass solo (1:47) does provoke a soft smile, at least for me.

Soltero is a shape-shifting project fronted by Howard, which got started back in 2001. Sometimes a solo project, Soltero is now a trio. “Serious Man” is the lead track from Soltero’s ninth album, Staying Alive, released last month. You can check the whole thing out, and buy it, over on Bandcamp. This is the first album Soltero has recorded since the American-born Howard relocated to Berlin in 2018. Soltero has been featured five previous times on Fingertips, most recently in 2023; see the Artist Index for all the links.

“Fire Sign” – S.G. Goodman

Strong personality and drive

“Fire Sign” – S.G. Goodman

Alternating between a dusty stomp and a keening incantation, “Fire Sign” finds S.G. Goodman sounding weary yet self-possessed. At the song’s heart, the Western Kentucky singer/songwriter changes vocal registers to persistently pose the question “Who’ll put the fire out?” The repetition, lyrically and musically, takes on an aspect of supplication. Is part of her wondering what it’ll take to extinguish her inner drive? Why is she assuming it can/will in fact be extinguished? Unless she’s pondering the permanent extinguishment that awaits us all. Her press material does report that this song was written in the aftermath of the deaths of both her dog and a good friend and mentor while Goodman was out on a grueling tour. Meanwhile, why is it a “who” versus a “what”? (Note that in the same material she answers the question directly: “The only person who can put my fire out is myself.”)

Astrologically speaking, fire signs are characterized by their strong personalities and drive. This song has both. Goodman’s knack for the offbeat turn of phrase–“Shapeshifting through the night of life’s turn rows”? “No curling in the daylight”?–is buttressed by the music’s durable framework. We don’t hear anything but bass and drum under her cold-open vocals until 36 seconds in. The only addition we get at first is a thoughtful, resonant guitar, describing phrases that lag behind the song’s rhythmic center. Halfway through (1:12) we hear a keyboard that’s just as thoughtful and restrained, adding almost subliminally to the hand-wrought texture, moving to the front of the mix only at the tail end of the coda. What the song may ultimately lack in development it makes up for in potency. No one’s putting Goodman’s fire out just yet.

“Fire Sign” is a song from Goodman’s forthcoming album, Planting By the Signs, which will be arriving in June. She was previously featured on Fingertips in August 2020.

“Wherever” – Jonas Carping

Steady melodies, resonant vocals

“Wherever” – Jonas Carping

There’s something about the central descending melody delivered by Jonas Carping’s rich baritone that feels especially satisfying here. Perhaps all the more so because of how Carping teasingly withholds the crucial chord progression that underpins the melody the first time he takes us through it (0:12-0:22). As a listener I feel both intrigued and a little “huh?” at that point. But the context is corrected immediately thereafter (listen for that first, greatly anticipated chord change at 0:27), and throughout the rest of the song.

The other attractive thing about “Wherever” is the way its aural space subtly shifts as the song unfolds. For the first 50 seconds we’re in an unmoored, vacant lot of a space, with vague background sounds accompanying a heartbeat drumbeat. Things solidify slightly at 0:49 as a full drum kit kicks in while a droning electric guitar ringingly expands the landscape. A brief but incisive drum fill at 1:12 flips a sonic switch and we lose the muted fogginess of the opening third. As things progress the song’s simple, steady melodies acquire a sort of august resonance, amplified by Carping’s sonorous vocals. While the song stays mostly within his lower register, the couple of times in the last minute that he reaches slightly higher are each a mini-highlight.

Jonas Carping is a singer/songwriter based in Lund, in the south of Sweden. Interesting story: Carping has been submitting his music to Fingertips since 2012–enough times to be an inbox regular, not enough times to be an annoyance. I’ve always liked his songs but they each time seemed to fall just a little short, due no doubt to my own idiosyncrasies as a listener. “Wherever,” for whatever reason, hits the mark for me; so here, at long last, is Jonas Carping. “Wherever” is a song from an upcoming EP. MP3 via the artist.

“Consequences” – The Spectacular Fantastic

Semi-lo-fi semi-power-pop

“Consequences” – The Spectacular Fantastic

An early-era Fingertips favorite returns for the second time in, oh, 20 years. The Spectacular Fantastic are still up to their semi-lo-fi, semi-power-poppy ways, guitars and fuzz and melodies at the ready. Clocking in at a pop-rock perfect 3:33, “Consequences” is adeptly built, with a solid underlying chug that gives the incisive guitar work time to stretch out. Frontman Mike Detmer sings in a tone that sounds one part irritated and one part wounded; it’s a fine line sometimes. There are even some loud-soft and fast-slow dynamics at play here, a perhaps unusual touch for such a homegrown enterprise.

“Consequences” grabs the ear with its opening line–“What I do when I do what I do/Is none of your business”; after that things get charmingly elusive in terms of both structure and content. The lyrics sound half defiant, half apologetic. Consciously or not, this appears to be reflected in a song that seems to operate in a middle ground between verse and chorus, somehow not possessing either thing fully. There is basically one eight-measure melody–it ascends, descends, and then sort of resolves and sort of doesn’t. While you’re left thinking about that, there is space for the guitar, in all its nicely articulated glory, its tone calling to us from another time and place. For variation, the main melody at one point gets delivered, stripped down, in half time. As for hooks, there is (kind of) one–the recurring, repeated lyrical phrase “I don’t care”–and yet its very concept is undermined, humorously (I think!), by the song’s title. The guy is braying about not caring and yet the song is called “Consequences.”

The Spectacular Fantastic is a loose-knit, intermittently gathered project fronted by Mike Detmer, whose day job for the past four years or so has him running a neighborhood coffee spot with his wife in Lawrenceburg, Indiana, on the western outskirts of the greater Cincinnati metro area. (It’s called Funny Farm Coffee, another hint at the sense of humor Detmer deploys.) “Consequences” is a track from TSF’s forthcoming album, Fantasy Clouds, coming out later in February. Thanks to Mike for the MP3. By the way, all of the band’s releases–eight previous LPs and four EPs–are uploaded on the Internet Archive and are available there for free.

For those keeping score at home, the Spectacular Fantastic have been featured here three previous times: twice in the innocent days of 2005, and once more in the substantially less innocent year of 2016.

“Stereo” – Kendall Jane Meade

Exquisite singing, memorable melody

“Stereo” – Kendall Jane Meade

What starts as a precise bit of acoustic singer/songwriter fare transforms itself in the chorus into a memorable mid-tempo rocker. What pulls the listener in and through is Kendall Jane Meade’s beguiling singing voice. Soft and silvery, it’s the kind of voice that makes you wonder why some other people even bother to sing. Equally important here is the strength of the melody in the chorus. With the verse, the ear gets it, sure, she has a pretty voice; when the chorus arrives, by some deep alchemy the thing leapfrogs to a new level. The instrumental bridge with the ringing, distorted electric guitar (1:37) is an unexpected bonus. “Stereo” is not very long; the chorus only comes around twice. I put the song on repeat and left it there for quite a while.

The song had its origins in news in 2023 about Madonna canceling tour dates due to a health scare. Like Madonna, Meade is from Detroit and had always felt a kinship with the so-called “queen of pop.” The thought of potentially losing this hometown icon put Meade in a reflective mood, and “Stereo” was the result.

Meade was previously featured on Fingertips back when she was recording as Mascott, in 2013. I was as smitten with her voice back then as I am here in 2025. “Stereo” is a song from Space, Meade’s first solo album released under her own name, coming out at the end of February on Mother West Records.

“Cut Stitch Scar” – CocoRosie

Expansive, idiosyncratic art rock

“Cut Stitch Scar” – CocoRosie

As adventurous and idiosyncratic as ever, the Casady sisters are back with their singular brand of expansive, inscrutable art rock. Alternately heavy and restrained, changing rhythms and tones at will, “Cut Stitch Scar” traffics in one of CocoRosie’s superpowers, which is the capacity to be experimental and accessible at the same time. Even as it takes a while to get one’s arms around this one as a whole experience, the song’s initial urgency brings the listener in without hesitation. Bianca Casady sings with that child-like warble of hers, but rather than hesitancy it conveys authority. The lyrics urge us to “Take a leap of faith,” and that’s just what listening to CocoRosie demands. You’re not going to know what they’re singing about, you’re not going to anticipate or necessarily vibe with all of their musical choices, but it’s so clear that they know what they’re doing that I see no reason not to jump in with them.

That said, this song maybe needs a few listens. It starts blippy and glitchy, quickly acquires a satisfying percussive groove, and starts, lyrically, in the middle of some sort of dramatic, dimly understood circumstance, perhaps a dream. The tempo, and much of the instrumentation, disappears at the tail end of the verse and into the chorus. Electronics mix with heavenly backing vocals. The lyrics, as ever with the Casadys, may often baffle but they always always scan. The groove returns, vanishes, returns. Rubbery synths are heard. Vocals get distorted. But we never get too far away from satisfying chords. That may be one of the things that keeps the song legible to the ear, however weird it gets: those satisfying chords.

Bianca and Sierra–who identify as part Native American–had an unorthodox, peripatetic childhood, moving regularly, living in a variety of different states, and being exposed to a variety of bizarre, New Age-y experiences, some more disconcerting than others. Their history together as musicians is by now too long and involved to summarize, but you can read a little more about them via the three previous times they’ve been featured on Fingertips: in 2007, 2010, and 2017.

“Cut Stitch Scar” is a song from the forthcoming album Little Death Wishes, arriving at the end of March on Joyful Noise Records. It’s the duo’s eighth album, dating back to their 2004 debut.

photo credit: Kate Russell

Kufsat Shimurim – Afor Gashum

Urgent, atmospheric, post-punk-ish

“Kufsat Shimurim” – Afor Gashum

At once urgent and atmospheric, “Kufsat Shimurim” churns post-punk-ishly, augmented by the canny use of random sounds and sound effects. The song takes its time to unfold, as the instrumental palette–guitars, bass, drum, noise–marks out a series of chords presented in a clipped, persistent rhythm. When they start (0:43), lead singer Michal Sapir’s pure, high-ranging vocals, in Hebrew, offer an effective counterbalance to the murk and clangor in the background. At the song’s midway climax, the instrumental break transitions from the legible to the abstract, as various electronic tones interject atonally but compellingly. Even without understanding a word of what’s being said I get a very 2024-ish sense of light struggling for footing in the darkness.

Based in Tel Aviv, Afor Gashum is a trio that self-identifies as a “long-standing and prominent member of Israel’s underground dissident music scene.” After a well-regarded debut cassette in 1989, the band, going their separate ways, did not record another album until 2013, but have been intermittently releasing albums ever since. “Kufsat Shimurim” is a track from their fifth album, Temperature, released last month. According to the band, the song grew out of Sapir’s participation in something called the Noise Agency, which was an artist residency program in Tel Aviv dedicated, broadly, to the art of sound. Sapir was specifically involved in a project that involved sending people out to make “various sound interventions” in public urban spaces. The song itself, says the band, “examines the possibility of a group of sonic agitators to introduce a different voice, foreign and subversive.”

And because I cannot directly understand the song’s lyrics, I will leave you as well with what strikes me as a powerful mission statement for Temperature, via the album’s Bandcamp page:

At a time when the struggle for justice and equality for all feels more urgent than ever, Temperature sets out to explore unstable harmonic territories, possible science-fictional worlds and transformative emotions, in a bid to imagine a different future – more interconnected, responsible, equal and just.

“Two Feet Tall” – Ciao Malz

Bright and slightly woozy

“Two Feet Tall” – Ciao Malz

“Two Feet Tall” is brisk and bright and slightly woozy; between the pleasant warble of the guitars and the off-center time signature shifts, the music here effectively mirrors the uncertain state of mind the song appears to be concerned with. Malz has a feathery voice that sounds natural and matter-of-fact, one of those singing voices that, while definitely singing, sounds like talking. (This is a compliment.) The music hustles along in the verse then gets a little whiplashy with that half-time chorus. The lyrics address a certain sort of failure to communicate, epitomized by the recurring line “But I can never tell, quite tell you stuff.” As this line, repeating later, shortens to “I can never tell,” the connotation is smartly complicated. The overall vibe is friendly and cozy and slightly befuddled. This is also a compliment.

Keep an ear on the dizzy guitars all the way through, but note in particular the short warped solo that happens between 1:08 and 1:19. That’s my kind of detail. Another: the abrupt ending, after a final “I can never tell, quite tell you stuff,” which is one last way that form and content echo one another here.

Ciao Malz is the stage name adopted by the Brooklyn-based singer/songwriter Malia DelaCruz. “Two Feet Tall” is a track from her cleverly named EP Safe Then Sorry, released earlier this month on the Audio Antihero label. She had previously self-released an EP called To Go in 2020. Check the new one out over on Bandcamp.

photo credit: Alex SK Brown