Layers of distorted flux from the nether-zone of Ottawa’s poly-pop underground ooze within Boyhood’s unassuming mellow burner. These direct-to-disc weirdos sleaze back into an alternate 90s wu-mansion brimming with teen age riots and sour times. Drizzle these noggin’ nodders over fists riffling for the grip.

Ditching the saddleback for a deep-dive into sun-soaked desert jammery, Slim’s wasted wycked warble embodies a new, singular harmony. He’s been re-envisioned within a blizzard of smoked-out synthetics and organ-swung arpeggio; a centrifuge of lysergic balladry and kinetic insanity. Timeless burners for the possessed mind. Conjured via Calico Corp., Slim’s exotic new imprint of “unique articles, starkly designed.”

This one’s a total “no duh.” The latest subsidiary of the Long, Long, Long hit factory sheds a few layers of skronk while firing jangular hooks down the assembly line. Space echoes shimmer in an ocean of detached emotion while the tag-team harmonies sound positively fab. Drifting from the Maritimes to Montreal, our heroes have picked up a ringer to man the traps and cast this brilliant kahuna into the wild. A+++.

Rambling through the bedhead basement freak scene like a scorched tumbleweed, Student Teacher play hooky with classification. These teenage dirt ‘stache desert jammers make crocodile rock wha-wha pop sound just as leisurely as monotonic garage, wayward drifted psych-outs and corpse paint metal broods. Somewhere between the janglophone twang of Dead Ghosts and Babysitter’s hormone-overdriven hack and thrash, our new favourite Vancouverites are bumming out Mount Pleasant. Grip.

Saskatchewan’s bosonic youth continue their fluorescent acceleration into celestial pop abandon. Dirty boots tumble in an Electrolux spin cycle of voltaic hiccups and stadium-sized axe swings, swirling atop candy-coloured halos to illuminate the cranium of feral brainchild Ryan Davidson. Church of the Kaos Pad cult is in session, so leave your reductions at the gate and get cleansed.

Edmonton’s high drama manic panic punks are alive and kicking at the pricks on this Camaro red two-song flexi. Spasmodic bursts of windmill riffitude, boneheaded breakdowns and absurdist drill sergeant gang chants in a minute or less are all you’re going to get on this collectible sneak peek at the upcoming “long” player, and you’ll spoon it down with a grin. “This must be what it’s like playing chess with your mom / This must be what it’s like playing dress-up with your dad.” Bayonets!!! are proud parents of a Drop D student.

Like a phoenix emerging from its gilded egg of myrhh to set off a cave rave at the gates of Heliopolis, perpetual Weird Canada posterchildren GOBBLE GOBBLE have soared into the next level of hyper-pop consciousness, rechristened BORN GOLD. Yet Bodysongs is no Day-Glo abortion of the past, but rather a hydra-headed celebration of where these bodacious boys have been and where they’re heading next. Well-worn singles like “Lawn Knives,” “Wrinklecarver” and “Boring Horror” bump and grind against live staple “Eat Sun, Son” and the rebooted emo-Rihanna banger “Alabaster Bodyworlds”. Above all, the twitchy steel drum synths of “Decimate Everything” blast a laser beam into the future, proving these MUTEK/Ghost Throats hybrid humanoids still have plenty of tricks up their skirts.

Sugary sweet melodies and psych-punk explosions collide, creating a perfect distillation of Nobunny bubblepop and Wicked Awesomes-styled monotoned haunt-rock. You’re immediately drawn into a comforting K-hole, where you’ll ingest a lethal cocktail of melody and hooks that is 2011’s twee-punk single of the year, “Line by Line.” The deceptively sweet opener (Note: The lines they sing about aren’t lines of poetry) is just the start of a slippery slope. Hooks get buried, melodies get blurred and the atmosphere gets murkier as the 7” progresses, bringing a depth and range not normally seen on a debut. It’s time to let these Lethbridge abusers lead you through the Gateway. GRIP.

HEY YOU GENDER-FLUID, CAPITALISM-REVOLTING, QUEER-FRIENDLY THING. Are you and your friends sick of dirty cops and how they crack down on the unprivileged rather than white collar crime? Does your punk scene have wayyyyyy too much machismo? Do you get strange looks any time you put on Top 40 hip hop at a party (To steal back the sweet beats, disregard the hateful lyrics n tweets!!)? Well Mallory Knox is an anarchistic dose of sensibility. She makes tunes ranging from straight-up Top 40 auto-tune covers to blistering original folk punk anthems, and every modulation in between. Shoplifting lyrics from Cormac McCarthy and beats from Black Eyed Peas, no copyrighted content is safe. Mallory Knox doesn’t really trust me, you, or anyone either, but she probably has faith in us, otherwise she wouldn’t hand out these tapes for free.

Madam Raz features Paul Saulnier (bass) and Benjamin Nelson (drums) of PS I Love You, a band which has certainly hit the stratosphere in the last year or so, and thus providing heavyweight status right from the drop. The pair do not disappoint on the debut Madam Raz EP with a pounding, relentless groove throughout the seven songs of this cassette. However, it’s the pairing of vocalist Amanda Balsys and vocal/guitar shredder Carlyn Bezic that really put this band over the top; the combination of New Wave emoting and deft harmonization that give Madam Raz a unique opportunity to get people fired up. If you can’t tell, I’m really excited about this band. This is a life-or-death grip-emergency.