Stovall’s new project is called Skyline Drive, and you can download their album free for the rest of the weekend.

Get a little appetizer by listening to the bands or watching some videos.

With “Drone of Dume,” N O W’s Kevin Litrow (formerly of 60 Watt Kid) turns in a six-minute love letter to the restorative effects of the Southern California coastline. Over a looped drum machine beat and two repeated rec-room organ chords, Litrow sings of taking a glum friend to Point Dume, at which point things become slightly surreal. “The dolphin baptizes you/and releases all the pain/from the city,” Litrow croons, and “Drone of Dume” becomes an “Under the Sea” for nature loving trippers. “Your eyes are dilated/My spirit’s elevated … Can you take us to the underwater shack?” Sure thing, for 25 dollars an eighth! While the musical structure rarely utilizes the drone referenced in the title, Litrow frequently throws in an explicit psychedelic flourish; the echoed, slightly flanged minor chords that lend a little tension at the halfway mark, before easily sliding back into the dominant melody like an ebbing tide, for example, or the rhythmically loose synth burbles and multi-tracked vocals that texture the last half of the song. The drums cut out at the end and Litrow fades the last lengthy note into a wash of wave crashing before one final surge from the organ. Sounding not unlike a sketch of a song Brian Wilson might have dreamt and promptly forgot about upon waking during the recording of “Feel Flows,” the song is an unassuming grower, filled with warmth and humor, much like a trip to Point Dume should be.

—Tom Child

www.youtube.com/watch?v=hALO4bFOjtk

—Daiana Feuer

There is a lot going on in belles of the ball Big Whup—a lot of instruments, a lot of vocal acrobatics, a combination unicorn/Pegasus/microphone named Party!, some adorable hopping and dancing, etc. It’s ambitious, but the actualization of that ambition doesn’t always reach the ideal. Drew Denny’s voice, and the piano melody on “No Mommy” were hypnotic, but were interrupted by an instrumental break that seemed to be there just because, which is generally as valid a reason as any other—but this particular break broke the trance that the rest of the song induced, pulling us towards a crescendo that didn’t really
connect. Denny’s yell and vocalist Geoff Geis’ Gogol Bordello-reminiscent gravelly shout in “Chant” were backed by a puzzling disco beat and mournful, noodling viola that veered more toward cacophony
than chant. And yet, the same cacophonous elements existed in pleasurable symbiosis in songs like the bubbly “Yaaaay” and the horseback journey-friendly “Trim,” a challenge issued to the Nation from Geis. They have all the tools they need, but must figure out how they work best together. The less than stellar sound quality at The Smell that night didn’t do complex arrangements any favors, either.

The last set of the night began after a bit of onstage do-si-do, in which Geis and drummer Rand Voorhies remained while the 3 ladies of Whup exited the stage in exchange for the 3 remaining gentlemen of Pizza!. Pizza! retained some of the stylistic schizophrenia of Big Whup, but it’s more cohesive—perhaps attributable to the fact that they’re an older band by several years—though oddly self-conscious. Geis asked those
dancing in the crowd to dance in front of the stage to “make us feel more comfortable.” The crowd moved closer, and Pizza! seemed to draw a bit of energy from the dancers. The influence of the ‘80s on the band
was plain to hear, as well as weaved in elements of Joy Division, Remain in Light-era Talking Heads and Brian Eno with synth, layered percussion via Voorhies’ roto toms and drummer Tyler Sabbag’s kit, and Geis’s relative monotone. Pizza! was a fitting end to Big Whup’s birthday extravaganza.

—Ayse Arf

—Gab Chabran