Kristin Gundred relates a hymn not of helplessness, but of instructive empathy—albeit while dressed exactly like a Pat Benatar impersonator from Fast Times At Ridgemont High.
Johnny O'Donnell & Sacramento Masquerade
"All my friends, it seems, are cracking up/Alcohol has turned our brains to mush," O'Donnell begins over sub-Jim Croce California claptrap rock, and his grimaces only deepen from there. This is a survivor's lament, hangdog and sodden, imbued with the kind of survivor's guilt all the tequila in Cabo won't wash away.
"Trust" is theme and practice alike for the sisters Larson: They preach it ferociously, even as they test the outer limits of yours, jackknifing from muffled, misfiring sirens to mystical world-pop to Goddess knows what else.
"World" puts me in mind of rider-less subway-car trails shuddering around the spires and through the bowels an urban landscape in ruins, screaming all the way—a world decimated, demolished, diminished.
World's End Girlfriend
If Katsuhiko Maeda were a Doom Patrol rogue's gallery reject, he'd undoubtedly be Agent "!"