New Music Friday: Stream new projects from TisaKorean, Fabiana Palladino, Vegyn, and more

At his best, TisaKorean sounds like the most successful class clown American public schools have ever produced -- well-dressed, well-funded, and well-beloved by beautiful women. And in another, better universe, MUMU 8818 might serve as the soundtrack to a raunchy coming-of-age comedy a la Superbad, brightly earnest and slightly off-kilter.

“JOCKIN ME” brings to mind the sproingy steel drums of Super Mario Sunshine; the insistent bleeps of “WRESTLER” recall the heyday of Sicko Mobb, and Tisa stomps through the clattering production with a grin. Elsewhere, MUMU 8818 elaborates on the wheezing synths and mesmerizing melodies of “Backseat,” an ode to vehicular intercourse that found new audiences last year thanks to its inclusion on Don Toliver’s 2023 album Love Sick.

That’s most evident in the squeaky promise of “SILLY NIGHT,” where Tisa’s over-articulated verses devolve into mush, a stack of vocals alternately harmonizing and overlapping. But it also comes through on “8818,” where Tisa channels the spirit of 808s & Heartbreak to delirious effect, as if he got tired of remixing 2006 and moved on to 2009. It’s an unusually somber moment from one of rap’s merriest rhymers. — Vivian Medithi

Hear it: Spotify | Apple Music

Despite sounding like a confident seduction, Fabiana Palladino’s self-titled debut is a surprisingly layered rumination on the death of a long-term relationship. It’s vulnerable, honest, and intimate, which may seem at odds with the sleek, hyper-produced grandeur of her ‘80s pop-R&B production, from the bright and buoyant “Can You Look in the Mirror?” to the radiant warmth of “I Care,” her sensual duet with Paul Institute label co-founder, Jai Paul. However, it starts to make sense once you begin to notice the tiny imperfections that surround her silky falsetto, punchy synths, and funky basslines. Because on the very edges, you can hear the graininess or the subtle slip of a key, which lends even her most polished of productions that kind of raw human touch you’d expect from a D.I.Y. bedroom musician. — Sandra Song

Hear it: Spotify | Apple Music | Bandcamp

In the past Vegyn has released projects that could stand accused of gimmickry. Whether it was the 71-track Text While Driving If You Want To Meet God! or last year's The Head Hurts But The Heart Knows The Truth (which featured vocals entirely made by A.I.), it can feel like the London-based producer has a tendency towards experimentation that is at best playful, though occasionally veering toward self-destructive. The Road To Hell Is Paved With Good Intentions doesn't just work because it's his most conventional but the absence of hurdles to jump over certainly makes it his most welcoming project to date. Recorded alongside a coterie of friends and collaborators including John Glacier, Matt Maltese, Léa Sen, Lauren Auder, and Ethan P. Flynn, the album feels like tapping into a group of creative friends utterly at ease in each other's company. Flynn, an idiosyncratic folksy singer-songwriter by trade, emerges blinking from the club on "Another 9 Days" while Glacier's deadpan raps add a steely edge to two tracks ("In The Front" and "Dreams Go On Forever"). The latter half of the album, largely free from vocals, is just as engaging as Vegyn's frenetic drum loops and melancholy synths merge into one another and carry the party through into the early hours. It's a transportive listen and, perhaps uniquely for a Vegyn album, one that demands repeat listens. — David Renshaw

Hear it: Spotify | Apple Music | Bandcamp

Few albums let you sink into them as deeply as Joseph Shabason, Matthew Sage, and Nicholas Krgovich’s self-titled debut as a trio does. Comprising eight slowcore soundscapes that gradually reveal themselves as pop songs, it’s a deceptively easy listen: Each track is so impeccably produced that the manifold layers of instrumentation — Sage’s sumptuous synthesizers and Shabason’s saxophone, as well as a zither, a harmonica, and several other instruments plucked, struck, and blown — appear as plumes of color beneath a single, smooth surface. Above that plane, Krgovich’s voice is soft and unassuming as he relays simple details of day-to-day existence, such as “Holding open the door for an old dad / With his teenaged daughter and her friend / At a Vietnamese restaurant / On an overcast spring break afternoon” (from track two, “Bruce,” which made me cry a little for reasons I don’t entirely understand).

Hear it: Spotify | Bandcamp

Most of the online hype currently surrounding Caleb Landry Jones is related to his role in Luc Besson’s surreal revenge fantasy film, DogMan, mostly thanks to the same offbeat grunginess you can hear on his fourth studio album, Hey Gary, Hey Dawn. While Jones is disinterested in talking about artistic influences, his latest record is a gritty garage-rock gem, reminiscent of both Jay Reatard’s uneasy anxiety and Kurt Cobain’s grizzled angst. It’s intense and complex, with discordant arrangements and chaotic breaks that incorporate elements of proto-prog eccentricity, psychedelic bloom, and a sudden burst of pure punk wrath into the mix. And paired with Jones’ unsettling vocal delivery, Hey Gary, Hey Dawn is an ominous whirlwind of an album that sits at the intersection of fascinating and hair-raising. — Sandra Song

Hear it: Spotify | Apple Music | Bandcamp

As lala lala, Lillie West makes post-punk garage rock jams that tap into the darker sides of our psyches, music that tries to understand the depths of our inner and outer demons. if i were a real man i would be able to break the neck of a suffering bird, Lillie West’s first release under her own name, is a complete deconstruction of Lala Lala; it’s an instrumental, explorative album that meanders, an ambient project that and ebbs and flows. West participated in a program in Seyðisfjörður, Iceland where “the sun never enters the fjord,” communing with nature and learning about the town’s geology and history. She camped outside and recorded noise moments of the environment that surrounded her: the people, the animals, the trees, the rocks. Sonically, if i were a real man… evokes the kind of atmospheric intensity you get at churches and places of worship, mysterious synths droning in and out of time and space that’s occasionally accompanied by birdsong; mystifying, spirited and enigmatic, all at once. — Cady Siregar

Hear it: Spotify | Apple Music | Bandcamp

"Everybody knows, there's so much more to know / There's so much more to grow" RiTchie sings on "Wings [Intro]," the first song from the Arizona rapper's debut solo album Triple Digits [112]. His voice, syrupy and sunset-tinged to match the pitched-down rage synths, sounds all too aware of the costs that come with evolution. His experimental rap trio Injury Reserve suffered the tragic loss of Stepa J. Groggs, one of its founding members, in 2023; now a duo, the group rebranded as By Storm and continues to release music. Despite this trauma, RiTchie isn't searching for the comforts of solid ground. There's a conscious effort to let loose across Triple Digits [112] while tapping into rap's past and future — RiTchie's lyrical style lives somewhere between Jay-Z and OutKast's The Love Below, with airtight lyricism and jazzy vocals. Tracks like "Dizzy" and "RiTchie Valens," both scalpal-accurate dissection of pretenders, are bolstered by RiTchie's pen, but tracks where he builds a sonic structure, like the heartbroken and bitcrushed bedroom indie of "Get A Fade," are no less engaging. — Jordan Darville

Hear it: Spotify | Apple Music