Youth Lagoon, Wondrous Bughouse
Driven by Powers’ distinctively arranged palette—stark and forlorn piano-buoyed indie-pop threads, lyrics of longing and loneliness, sheepish vocals filtered through reverb—The Year of Hibernation made good on that pre-release commentary. Wondrous Bughouse, Youth Lagoon’s second record, continues its predecessor’s narrative, following a trail up a mountain through thick sonic forestry. Bughouse is bewitching, compelling and immensely endearing. Its roster of surreal song titles (“Raspberry Cane,” “Pelican Man,” “Daisyphobia”) goes handsomely with its fine fuzz-to-clean-to-fuzz crescendos, unpredictable but satisfying tonal shifts and fidgety background touches (scratches, hisses, screams, etc.). Youth Lagoon’s crux is still The Year’s bedroom-born, chillwave-reminiscent gloom, but shades of twisted psychedelics and friendly folk are braided through it, too. Powers’ voice is still trapped in a half-intelligible fog, his presence still strangely warm. If Tim Burton ever returns to his roots to concoct a film that’s eccentric, peculiar, uplifting, heartsick and lovable all at once, its soundtrack is waiting. March 5, Fat Possum Records (Reyan Ali)
The Cave Singers, Naomi
Standout tracks include the mellow “No Tomorrows,” where the bravery of deciding to move on after a loss is captured in the lyrics, “I’ve got no sorrow/ don’t need to follow.” “It’s a Crime” flirts with surf-rock territory, with an impossibly catchy beat and dance-inducing spell. “When the World,” the album’s conclusion, is a jangly, upbeat, tambourine-driven tribute to forgiving yourself. The sunshine-y chorus, speckled with hand-claps, is one of the most beautiful moments of the album, with the lyrics, “When the world it tumbles and falls/ reach out your hand/ a solitary man/ there’s room to grow.” March 5, Jagjaguwar (Kolbie Stonehocker)