Somewhere between a Canadiana Jandek, or a tone-deaf Neil Young, prairie-born Dave Smith drops a few of his strongest Going Down the Road-styled slices. Smith’s jams are often nothing more than tape buzz and harmonica-folk devolving into windy noise but with enough personality to shame Shotgun Jimmie into submission. Man of the land.

Hey, you over there. Brazilian Money is back didn’t cha know? Led by bespectacled teen heartthrob Garrett Johnson and a new backing trio of friendly and familiar faces, these boys on the bus are back to what they do: making artfully warm and warbly pop wormholes. Their latest release Doug Nasty asks questions: “What do ya do when a guy comes and shits on your floor?” and ponders the simple things: “Nothing is free, some things are cheap.” Maybe it was the product of several late night acid parties; maybe it was just the people. Maybe it’s for the dance floor slackers, burned out, thinking about the incomprehensible. Either way, it’s fuuuuuuuuun! Glad to see Johnson still shuckin’ and jivin’ in yer minds, giving you reason to think.

The infinitely astonishing half of the Brothers Tonstartss has unleashed a prophetic tome of popular drone. Andy Boay’s disharmonic orchestra eschews a wondrous pop dialectic; streams of incredible catch coalesce within tempered vibrations and dense bowed riffery while swathes of warm, ecclesiastical timbers mellow with hypnotic ease. Evil Masters brings us mere nanometers towards understanding the creative behemoth that is Andy Boay; yet the face doth melt and the hand grippeth ever more.

Crabe have unleashed a totally blasted and inexplicable artifact from the Montreal underground. Forging undefined links between Archimedean power pop and wasted Ramones covers, their unreadably-titled CDR gives the briefest glimpse into basemental prog conjured by the dialectically adventurous. Quintessentially bizarre. We’re not even sure if this is grippable.

The Cyber Prophet is back, reppin’ the Chinese zodiac—playing ubiquitous anthems from two (supposedly) suicidal songwriters who you (and classic rock radio) love. His weird cacophony of organ, electric beats, Jim Morrison recordings, and on-board SFX all swish around lyrics you’ve been mumbling since you were in utero, strange, and all one in the sun. After releasing a profoundly fractal-shaped affair, what else could the Year of the Dragon have in store for our Tiger?! West coast: watch out.

Paisley rays of avant-pop sunshine emanate from this overflowing homage to the Age of Aquarius. Montreal’s best and brightest contribute a tune (or two, or three) under a variety of guises, all filed under psych, cosmic and library music taxonomy. From Brave Radar’s hazy afternoon bliss-outs to JLK’s biker blaze and multiple turns from label founder Christian Richer, this meticulous mixtape is a tie-dye dream come true. All in all, Asaël Robitaille steals the show and proves his secret weapon status with a grip of winners from his various projects. Wake up sucking on a lemon with a grin from ear to ear.

Swaddling their inaugural cassette in a surgical glove cocoon, Montreal’s newest modular synth and electronics power duo scramble brains like Ramsay does eggs. The inspired mind-meld of Frank “Hobo” De Gallo and Jesse “Meat Parade” Osborne-Lanthier oozes from ear to ear with effervescent washes, high-pitched squeaks and interplanetary gabber in a post-space-rave chillout room. The totemic objects encased within offer a time capsule from the year 2046. O.R. They?

From the manufactured landscape of Southern Ontario a new hybrid emerges. The Denim Reptile moves nimbly on warbling electronic feet across man made hills, but its tough exterior is defined by unabashed parking lot guitar solos. Donning an Iron Maiden T-shirt, the lizard king compresses roadhouse blues through a Windows 95 soundcard. A much needed flashback to basements of the early digital era.

Free-floating memories of Sunday morning devotionals merge with the holy ghost of Ann Peebles on this earth-rattling rave-up in the name of. Fresh to def with instantaneous heft and a front-to-back set of unshakeable tunes, Chrissy Reichert’s pitch (and paradigm) shifted bangers twist up Tranzac avant-squawk with dusted brother ‘No C’ Zukerman, including feline sound effects guaranteed to freak out your cats. Tenderness could be 2012’s sonic salvation. Get ur grip on.

With decade-spanning CVs instilling sonic seasickness, Toronto’s smirking surrealists have become an underground institution of near NSB proportions. Carboard Oracle marks Six Heads’ inaugural expedition on vinyl, and it’s a seriously woozy cruise. Sipping from the same strange brew as Smegma, A-side “Smaller, Larger, Lighter (Incantation of the Naugahyde Witch)” finds Twin Peaks’ little man from another place bubbling up the bong and raiding a kid’s tickle trunk to find a kalimba. The flip slides even further sideways, as “Carnival Dust” spins on a not-so-merry-go-round of smeared signals, chimes and disconnected static from the depths of the Devil’s Triangle. Not for the faint of stomach.