Great Grandpa: Seattle grunge-pop! Their new release, Can Opener, "...is five songs worth of knotty, twisted, and warm rock music that’s as melodically satisfying as it is, at times, confounding. The Seattle band has a knack for making sure everything slides into place with just the right amount of irregular edges... They’re a band that shines just as brightly in individual moments as they do over the course of a whole song. And while it’s easy to drift off and follow one interlocking rhythm to its conclusion and lose the forest for the trees a bit, the forest is just as well-structured... Great Grandpa borrow from some obvious touchstones, they never feel too comfortable settling into just one for too long, a promising proclivity for such a young band." - Stereogum
Sarah Bethe Nelson: From San Francisco, on Burger Records! Formerly of the band Prairiedog, her debut solo record, Fast-Moving Clouds, is "...full of striking realizations and vignettes painted in expert strokes. Even on an album full of emotional vulnerability, there’s no weakness or self-pity. Nelson brings an old-world confidence, almost a bust-through-the-saloon-door swagger to her suburban ennui. Over a slippery bass line on 'Black Telephone' she compares seeing her crush to 'falling into a cactus tree.' The title track, true to its name, speeds along like a cruise through a desert highway, counting dusty miles but never reaching civilization, just like the relationship it describes. 'You’ll pull my hair but not hold my hand,' she complains with incredulity on 'Impossible Love,' but as she eviscerates the men who never live up to her expectations, her detachment remains.
"This isn’t really a break up album even if it’s sad. Nelson manages to narrate what’s going on around her without inhabiting the pain of the moment, a separation that works phenomenally on the record. In this way, Fast-Moving Clouds retains a hint of laughter even when telling the most gut-wrenching stories. It’s like Nelson was thinking to herself, 'This is gonna make a good story someday,' during each painful memory, and the record’s existence is the triumph of those realizations." - Stereogum