Wind Wand

#1 in The Weapon Series

A series of animated videos that highlight tracks from
my 2023 music project The Weapon Series

A good portion of my 2023 was spent braining up on the multiple generative art methods currently out there: image generation via Midjourney, adding movement to stills with Runway ML, and now running Stable Diffusion (and Deforum) locally on my own GPUs to generate animations. You can view a selection of the prior year’s exploratory imagery on my Instagram account, but for the coming weeks I plan to release a series of animated videos that highlight tracks from my 2023 music project The Weapon Series. Here’s the first for “Wind Wand.”

Autumn Artifacts

Recent singles that have become stuck in the memory banks…

Impossible not to fall under the spell of this understated and groovy mood on “The Florist” from Abby Sage.

New Hand Habits, “Greatest Weapon,” with an epic chorus: time is the ruler of my hell.

Cate le Bon‘s latest is dark and cracked. Singular and consistent.

Funky fuzzed production on the new Laundromat track. There’s cowbell.

Guilty pleasure pop of the month: Gretel Hanlyn.

Wombo – Fairy Rust

Over the past two years, Fire Talk Records has become a trusted go-to source for finding great new artists. They’ve curated a tight roster of acts who fall across a wide spectrum of post-punkish indie style rock. Rack em’ up: Deeper, Cola, Dehd, Mamalarky, and Bnny to name a few – but it’s been Wombo, a power trio out of Kentucky, that has most captured my imagination over the past year. While they have two albums prior that are wide sprawling in ideas and performance, it’s on last year’s excellent “Keesh Mountain” EP where they leaned into a decidedly more angular and Dada approach. Their new album Fairy Rust builds on top of that in layers, pushing further on their ability to veer from math rock to pop hooks and finds them hitting a solid stride in carving out a sound all of their own. It’s a clean sparse production that puts their tight instrumental interplay front and center, with bassist/singer Sydney Chadwick’s detached and eerie voice tying the time-signature shifting skronk together in ways that belie the cacophony often going on underneath.