Styling a perfectly timed cutback. Gliding across a perfect open face with ten toes over. Soul arching into a crystal-clear blue tube. Riding a vintage motorcycle around the mountainous, curvy Amalfi coast of Italy. Lounging in a plush Brazilian beach resort, sipping on a cocktail. Cruising some hip San Francisco art galleries before a night on the town. What do these activities have in common?

They all would be perfectly scored in a film by the jazzy, breezy, and stylish tunes of Santa Cruz, CA’s, The Mattson 2 and their debut LP, Feeling Hands. With Tommy Guerrero, Ray Barbee, Tortoise, The Sea And Cake, Dick Dale, and John Coltrane as influences, it’s evident that The Mattson 2 have their sights set on the aesthetic of classic style and a jazz basis of song crafting. From vigorous to ambling lethargy, the tempo of the album ranges wildly but within perfect context given their chosen instrumental platform, which includes everything from surf guitar and New Wave keys to proto-punk, jazz, and classic rock ‘n’ roll, all with a cool, surf-jazz composition. Standout songs from the duo include, “Chi Nine (featuring Ray Barbee)” and “Give Inski’s (featuring Tommy Guerrero),” which incidentally is one of the grooviest tracks I’ve heard in a long time. And album opener “Pleasure Point” lends itself well to mind surfing the wave for which it’s named.

If you want a lesson in cool, The Mattson 2 are dolling them out on Feeling Hands, a work of near perfection in the instrumental field. Everything makes sense here, like a well-tailored suit or Tommy Curren’s surfing; nothing is out of place. By Peter Viele

The most important thing about metal in general, maybe black metal even more so, is clear, unadulterated separation for these artists between everything going on inside their minds or physically around them and the music they are recording or the set they are performing. This is why bands like Liturgy and their music are so polarized among the masses. Disturbing, weak, overpowering, too intense, or not intense enough — it doesn’t matter when a group fully divides into another realm of inner calm and delivers what they themselves need for peace. Those who play metal own it for themselves to keep, and if it does appreciate in value they will never sell it for the wrong reasons because they represent the best form of music purity on display. If they break the rules then they aren’t metal, and there is a community of very intelligent, savvy fans who will let them know in a moment’s notice.

I always feel comfortable reviewing metal because of this honest culture among the fans. I’ve heard time and again a metal fan or two, always kind and easygoing, explaining why one album isn’t worth the time and another is incredible, all while I sit to the side wondering what the difference could possibly be. To me it’s like being put in a chokehold a thousand times before I can finally turn around and tell the person I’m fighting exactly where they were doing things right and where they were doing things wrong. Metal is a painful investment for everyone involved. Not just the audible assaults, but the physically tasking shows, the brutal honesty of the fans, the stereotypes associated… everything as hard to pursue as metal will draw a unique crowd to create and a unique crowd to appreciate.

So after several years of long conversations and deep listening over numerous nights with friends who took their time to explain all of the idiosyncrasies of metal genres, I can proudly hold my head up from the chokehold and tell you that Aesthetica is boldly written and tightly performed. Liturgy steers hard lines of precision with perfectly placed samples of hypnotic chant. I understand from other’s perspectives that they are bending the rules of black metal and doing it well. I understand from my own perspective that I can listen to Aesthetica and hear brilliance applicable. By this I mean that they could soundtrack any visual, any first date, any day in any life and it would somehow make sense to me. By Will Tunstall

Is there an indie rock band name in existence worse than 1,2,3? Defying easy categorization, alphabetization, and Google-ization, this Pittsburgh duo’s debut album is surprisingly all over the map, packing a treasure trove of unique ideas barely hinted at by the rudimentary moniker. From the triumphant guitar trills and floating falsetto white-boy soul of frontman Nick Snyder on opener “Work,” to the downcast indie pop of “Scared But Not That Scared,” to the string-laden, sexed-up yacht rock of “Heat Lightnin’,” 1,2,3 is clearly clicking on all the artistic cylinders that Snyder and Joshua Sickels saved up not worrying about what critics like me might think about their name.

That latter song embodies all that is unexpectedly amazing about New Heaven. Over softly strummed acoustic guitars and distant whistles, a crackling electric guitar solo emerges halfway through the song, igniting it with fiery pyrotechnics that seem equally out of place and perfectly positioned. Ditto for Sickels’ shuffling junk-shop percussion and synthesizer twirls on “Lonesome Boring Summer,” which back Snyder’s vocals as they soar and then drop into a creaky rasp reminiscent of Deer Tick’s John McCauley. 1,2,3 play roots rockers again on the haunting “Sorry, Soldier,” but not before they traipse through a splendid garage-pop garden on “Wave Pool,” furthering the schizophrenic happiness that New Heaven exudes at every twist and turn.

My favorite moment, though, came on “Just Like Heaven (Is Gone),” which bleeds prime-era T. Rex glam-rock guitar riffs while Snyder’s falsetto hearkens back to the doo-wop ballads that predated raw rock ‘n’ roll in the 1950s. It’s a sweaty, staggering moment that would surely sound even better at one of 1,2,3’s acclaimed live shows. The only stumble on New Heaven comes towards the end, when “Riding Coach” emerges as a steamy chunk of blatant ‘80s New Wave revivalism. But the alluring acoustica of album closer “20,000 Blades” more than makes up for that, its dusty drum beats building to an irresistibly unclassifiable five-minute surge of joy. As Snyder said in press for the album, “That’s the general idea with this band — that it doesn’t belong to any specific genre, and that there aren’t any preconceived notions about the name or who we are.” Scoff if you will at 1,2,3 — but there’s nothing simple about this expertly constructed ten-song debut album. By Nick McGregor

Neon spandex, bad hair, and worse lyrics made the ‘80s the most despised decade in music. While most try to scrub the atrocious auditory memory of Reagan-time from their brains with steel wool, Junior Boys run to the decade like the U.S. government did to arm the Nicaraguan Contras. Slathered in ‘80s pop sensibilities bound by modern minimalism and moodiness, It’s All True conveys a complete body of electro-pop music that balances the indulgent past with the hushed present. Synth sounds, modern R&B, and ’80s Duran Duran-style guitars meld with calculated precision on Junior Boys’ fourth album. Sparing 2009’s Begone Dull Care, the band’s third album that was largely considered a flop, It’s All True continues the bands’ progressive momentum as seen on its first two albums, 2004’s Last Exit and 2006’s So This Is Goodbye.

Before diving in, it should be noted that Junior Boys’ sound progression must largely be attributed to what was surely substantial production expenditure. Despite the growing popularity of lo-fi — still haven’t figured out why — Jeremy Greenspan and Matt Didemus, the doe-eyed men of Junior Boys, broke out all the bells and whistles to make It’s All True. That’s not to say that random noises and synth shrills bog down the album, but that the recording’s clarity and clinical execution is second to none. Crystal sound quality is just what album opener “Itchy Fingers” needed. The busiest song on the album, “Itchy Fingers” snaps between muted smooth and disco dizzy without warning. R&B bridges, synth splashes, and a parade of bass and percussion lines come in and out during the nearly five-minute-long song.

Don’t mistake Junior Boys for a pure rave band, however. The gentleman dish out danceable desserts covered in a sauce of pain and hot passion. Following the lead of underrated Australian duo The Presets, Greenspan and Didemus aren’t afraid to get deep and sound dark on It’s All True. Tracks like “The Reservoir” and “Playtime” find the duo unleashing groove-worthy melodies while relishing their own depression. By far It’s All True’s most fun song, “You’ll Improve Me” maintains the album’s introspective haze in an infectious jam. Layers of synth building on a funk melody make the body move before the band unleashes the only sing-able chorus on the album: “That’s the way/ That’s the way/ That’s the way you’ll improve me,” Greenspan sings again and again, emotion building with each repetition. It’s All True admittedly lacks diversity. The album is concise and refuses to throw any major curveballs. The busy “Banana Ripple,” inspired by Howard Hughes’ temporary infatuation with the ice cream flavor, comes closest, but still fits nicely in the band’s homespun genre. Diverse or not, Junior Boys almost redeem the ‘80s with It’s All True. And that’s a feat in and of itself. By Alex Lemonde-Gray