SLOW PULP Yard (Anti-) — Slow Pulp might be the only act that actively tried to preserve some of the limitations they endured during the era of COVID lockdowns. The band that originated in Madison, Wisconsin before setting up shop in Chicago was forced to finished their debut full-length, Moveys, in isolation from one another, a situation that caused a fair amount of dismay. In retrospect, they decided there was a value in the together-apart approach, and their follow-up album, Yard, was crafted in part through frontwoman Emily Massey locking herself away in a Northwoods cabin to write, all the better to tap into fraught emotions that she might be more reluctant to expose in a bustling rehearsal space. The result is a sterling indie rock album that radiates purpose. The band finds tremendous range within their chosen vibe: “Slugs” is vintage college rock that’s been crumpled like construction paper into a distorted rumble, and the country-tinged “Broadview” sidles right up to Big Thief’s modern yearning. Massey’s heartfelt lyrics shine throughout, giving the sense that she’s ready to openly confide to the whole world, one pair of earbuds at a time. Slow Pulp is a band that clearly knows how to make the most out of whatever comes their way. Cartwheel through the sprinkler to the following tunes: “Doubt,” “Cramps,” “Carina Phone 1000,” and “MUD.”

DESSA Bury the Lede (Doomtree) — On her first full-length, solo endeavor in five years, Minneapolis native Dessa gives in to the groove with glorious results. Probably best know for her indie rap stylings, Dessa embraces pop on Bury the Lede, adding another layer to her erudite musical mastery. “Chopper” soars with wistful exuberance, putting it not that far off from the Robyn model, and “I Already Like You” and “Long Wave” draw just enough on both late nineties R&B and ambient techno pop to suggest what it might have sounded like if TLC had undergone their own version of Madonna’s Ray of Light makeover. Dessa doesn’t subsume her creative personality to these newer-to-her styles, especially in terms of her whip-smart lyrics. And there are ample instances of taut, exuberant hip hop, including the boisterous, sly album opener “Hurricane Party” (“Okay, who broke the chain letter/ Too much bad luck to try to get away with it/ One more plague, nobody goes to recess”). The album burst forward like a confetti cannon stuffed full of wicked beats. Don’t call it reinvention; it’s evolution. Excavate these leading cuts: “Decoy,” “Blush,” “What If I’m Not Ready,” and “Rothko.”

Featured image credit: Alec Basse