Some records politely ask for your attention; the "Moss E.P" from MOSS just sets a small, contained fire on your coffee table and waits for you to feel the heat. It is an immediate and strangely familiar atmosphere, like a half-remembered David Lynch dream scored with the staticky pulse of 90s trip-hop. Bee Davison's voice cuts through this hypnotic haze, not as a lament,...

It's like discovering a rogue disco ball hidden in a forgotten record store, except instead of dusty surfaces, it’s polished chrome reflecting pure, unadulterated energy. We know absolutely nothing about Frank, and honestly? I think I prefer it that way. This track drops, a single, not some bloated album-behemoth, and suddenly the walls are sweating. Fun, like a sticky summer afternoon where you forget...