Jazz Rot

These are first days of October. The streets are damp and quiet with rain, blurring the world with an orange tint. The air is chilled and soft with a wind that lures the leaves from their branches. The colors of the trees have never been brighter shades of red and yellow. Days become shorter and your body is forced to absorb the extra darkness. You feel your hemisphere slip into the oddly poetic rot we call autumn. A captivating decay. Life feels both muted and expansive at once. Like autumn, these records make life out of death. They make small moments into great joys: your breath visible in the cold air like the steam of your warm drink. Music like this shows us how to sink into change. How to soak it up.

0, Low Roar (2014)

Intimate and other-worldly at once, even when trying to embrace indie on 0, we are reminded that Low Roar is capable of making songs for worlds bigger than our own. I personally love the story of how the band was discovered by video game creator Hideo Kojima, who heard the band playing on the speakers of a vinyl shop while visiting Reykjavík (the band’s homeland).

Kojima saw the band’s potential for creating peaceful yet haunting tracks, and soonafter put them on the soundtrack for his 2019 game Death Stranding. Across the band’s seven albums (the most recent of which has been released following frontman singer Ryan Karazija’s death in 2022), 0 stands out. The fragility in Karazija’s voice feels deeply human, pulling us closer to him. And yet, the cinematic quality of the songs that earned their place on Death Standing cannot be denied. Despite the sweetness of the delicate vocals and minimalist instrumentation on 0, there is always an ambient disturb to the backdrop of their work. I’ll Keep Coming uses distortion sound remarkably well, creating an addictively dark soundscape for sadness that serves as a pause from the acoustic strings. Another highlight, Nobody Loves Me Like You is heartwrenching and an honest acceptance of the collapse: “Settling is the sign of a dying man. Comfort in exchange for the promised land.”

Force of the Wind, SOYUZ (2022)

Force of the Wind is a special, soft-spoken fusion of old-school Brazilian jazz and neo-pop with Eastern European charm. The piano, flutes, and strings cultivate a fluttery sense of wonder, yet the album maintains a sense of calm at all times. The Belarusian take on the Brazilian bossa nova roots prevent the album feeling dated. It feels fresh, rather than nostalgic. It is one of the easiest listens I have encountered in a while.

Instant Holograms on Metal Film, Stereolab (2025)

The newest album from Instant Holograms on Metal Film, Stereolab is here (as always) to cheer us up. In the business for over three decades, the band finds themselves somewhere at the intersection of indie, old-school rock, bossa nova, and lounge-pop, and funk. While you might be abe to achieve much of the same goal by listening to any one of Stereolab’s records, Instant Holograms on Metal Film stood out to me.

It is one thing to sound retro. It is another thing to actually be retro. I wanted this playlist to be about the present, not the past, which is why I gravitated towards the balance this record seemed to strike. It had undeniable touches of 60’s and 80’s influences, but turned them into a coherent, modern record that felt appropriate for young jazz and rock lovers alike. Don’t be fooled by the aesthetic of the album - Instant Holograms on Metal Film will not blast you to the past. It will keep you grounded in the groove of today.

Cliffhanger, Grimm Grimm (2018)

Hands down, Grimm Grimm needs more attention. The Tokyo-born London-based artist is terribly talented at balancing charm with creepy. Grimm Grimm swaps big production with his own orchestra of delicate details that come together to create a fragile but full sound. Cliffhanger, while off-kilter at times, are not overly-so. It feels like a folk dream in some uncanny reality.

The whispered vocals and field-recording textures place the album in some unfindable time and place, like a ghost. It might feel strange at first, but if you can sink into the eerieness, you just might encounter Cliffhanger’s beauty. It is truly a tremendous skill to create a sonic world that feels so welcoming yet un-familiar at once. From the uplifting jazzy Wheels kept warm by plenty of hi-hats to the downright scary Orange Coloured Everywhere interlude, Cliffhanger will keep you guessing.

SNOEY, Zack Villere (2025)

SNOEY is Zack Villere’s own little world. The record feels like being a very little person, walking around the big, wide world. It is whimsical exploration of Steve Lacy-like guitar riffs, lo-fi, and soulful jazz warmth. In this way, SNOEY feels at once intimate and otherworldly. The premise of the album is a yeti named Snoey discovering music for the first time. It therefore was an attempt to capture the wonder of hearing something beautiful and strange at once.

Villere takes on a Kevin Abstract-like role, coordinating an assortment of other artists, from the swagger of Roy Blair’s bass guitar to the spacey, sexy sound of Girl Ultra. SNOEY is a genius arrangement of artists from every corner of music that came together in the name of our favorite yeti. However, despite a few big-name appearances, the majority of the features are largely little-known artists. The novelty of their sound - especially all in one place - is part of what makes listening to SNOEY such a pleasant surprise. Playful, sincere, with bursts of curiosity, it is an album that feels like feeling sunlight through fog. It is an impressive, skillfull arrangement that does not take itself too seriously. It finds joy and even humor in small things, which is why it fits perfectly at home in this playlist.

Blurrr, Joanne Robertson (2025)

I know what you’re thinking, but don’t judge a book by its cover. Although Blurrr’s album cover looks like an outdated Facebook profile photo (I honestly can’t tell if Joanne is trolling us - no offense if shes not), it is a real gem of a record. If you don’t believe me, just take a look at Pitchfork’s review, where the record has been given an astonishing(ly rare) score of 9, placing it in the “Best New Music” category.

The review details how Robertson “blurs words into tonal brushstrokes.” In this sense, Blurrr lives up to the name. The record feels like a watercolor painting: colors soaked with water and bleeding into one another. It comes as no surprise that Robertson is a painter and poet before she is a musician. Blurrr was (self) recorded “in between painting sessions and also whilst raising a child” and written in the reflection of her own poetry. The charm of this song-sung cello-infused indie folk record is that it is as demanding as you want it to be. Turn it up and float off into some ethereal fifth dimension or turn it down and embrace the miniscule intricacies of simple humanhood. Blurrr is in this playlist because it captures the mundane of minimalism, emotional untethering, and imperfection - and yet it is capable of more. Blurrr, much like Cliffhanger, has spectral soul. And yet, you are bound to find peace in its beautiful haunting.