We are Under The Stars people. You know the drill, lovers of music and culture. This quasi-weekly column stays on message with strong-ass opinions, presenting new music releases and upcoming shows, hustling with the changes, and thinking outside the margins. Hop in. And thanks for spending some time with us. Let’s go…
abracadabra, peel away EP
There could be a new trendino happening if these awkward, funky rhythm soundscapes keep on kaverking from the Bay Area.
A couple of years ago, Oakland-Berkeley music collective Naked Roommate made some righteous weird jams that moved along with the squishiness, soundtracking the daily hustle of surviving “the failures of disaster capitalism.” 2024’s Pass The Loofah, featuring members from East Bay groups The World and Blues Lawyer, made these asinine, post-punk, funky, and politically charged sounds lean into that “Downtown 81” vibe while glorifying West Coast cheekiness.
Now, in 2026, here is abracadabra, the Oakland duo composed of Hannah Skelton (vocals, synthesizers) and Chris Niles (bass, synthesizers). They make tunes to move to as well. Jagged, spiky synth lines; heavy, dub-influenced low-end patterns; quirky, jerky beats; and Skelton’s vocal stacking. These Bay Area musicians are making tunes that possess their own bodily high. So you may move, being guided by low-sung observations, deviant disco beats, steam whistles, and a sound system siren, but the landing point most times is unknown.
That’s what’s refreshing about these “I’m high on Talking Heads, ESG, Tom Tom Club, Stereolab, and Arthur Russell” upstarts. Whereas some others are tinkering with that cheesy Casio, plastic pawnshop toy, or garage-sale clunker instrument for those dated grooves—abracadabra use these passed-over tech portals as gateways to their audio trap doors and jump scares.
Big hittin’ drum machines do indeed “peel back” that ole freestyle bounce, granting us a peek into the heady arrangements, where Skelton plays a lovely game of peek-a-boo with her vocal alterations. abracadabra recreates the best aspect of ’80s-styled alt-pop: The groove is in the discovery, not the disco. The physical edition of this EP is sold out on Bandcamp (go find it at local record stores), but you can still grab the digital edition.
DANIEL VILLARREAL, LADOS B WITH ANNA BUTTERSS & JEFF PARKER (INTERNATIONAL ANTHEM)
The Jeff Parker multiverses are a deeply vast and wonderful network of 21st-century musicianship. The Daniel Villarreal extension finds Parker on guitar and Anna Butteress on bass, pushing that lazy Sunday-afternoon, dusty-pocket type of groove. Panama-born, Chicago-based drummer Villarreal steers these players out of their “lemme hop on that” pattern, opting for something smoldering from the ashes of soul, dub, ambient, and Afrobeat.
Some say Villarreal’s expertise lies in Latin music. To me, he’s just a dope musician who knows what works best for him. In this trio of sorts, the end product wields those talking guitar chords from Parker and deep, booming, and thumping basslines from Butterss. There’s even room for a track on here, “Salute,” in which Chicagoan Neal Francis plays Fender Rhodes, matching that vibe-y dynamism with subtle touches here and there.
It’s only been a couple of years, but thank goodness Lados B is back in stock to tell a different, more grounded Sunday tale in this Jeff Parker world; Villarreal’s shifting combinations of drum set and hand percussion give us the atypical Parker/Butterss result. Kinda like a lost yet beloved episode that nobody knew was missing from the set. Grab it here.
THEE SINSEERS, “THERE SHE GOES” FROM LOVE LETTERS (COLEMINE RECORDS)
When the YouTube comments start dropping truth bombs, you know the track is working: “My mom used to play these songs in our old Camry on the way to school back in ’94. She and my dad often danced to this when they were dating back in ’75. I still have the cassette to this day.”
Now, Thee Sinseers, East LA natives, were not even taking clarinet lessons in ’75, but we know exactly what @Teen_Drama means.
“There She Goes” drops us in that time portal. When the Delfonics and the Chi-Lites ruled radio with those theatrical story enhancers. Stage horns, the vocalist informing us that he’s hurting. Can he ever love again? Getting an immediate response from that rich, low bass foundation, sometimes muted, like a Charlie Brown teacher’s voice?
Joey Quinones, lead singer of the group, establishes a certain environment, with bells chiming, string charts, stringing, and those background voices. Quinones’ operational know-how perfects the feeling of sounding so sad and yet so sweet and innocent.
Amen. Grab the single and pre-order Love Stories here or wherever you can.
THE PHONE BOOTH, 1398 S VAN NESS, SF
I’m meeting a friend for a pregame drink before heading down to The Chapel for a show, and we start catching up on life and quickly realize, no Chapel tonight. So we sink in at the bar, sippin’ Pacificos and reposado tequila on the side, and I realize this feels right. Like any bar that makes patrons “earn it,” they only take cash.
What seems like a nuisance is a proper deterrent. Make the car app, Hinge dating, and Instacart eaters work for this drink. Bring cash into the mission, Holmes, and be a proper human for a couple hours. They do have an ATM, though.
Visions of former conversations being held in that dark corner of the bar near the wall come rushing back. Great nights with DJ friends, visual artists, musicians who sported that Bob Dylan white dude afro, soon-to-be ex-girlfriends, and soon-to-be new girlfriends.
One of the last times I saw my buddy Rick, he was happy.
Phone Booth’s low-key nature always kept the negativity in life at the door.
Everything from Al Green to The Cure comes firing out of the CD-laden jukebox, so nobody can skip over your selections. There’s always a friendly pool game in the back room, and a birthday party is happening at some side tables. I realize the woman whose birthday it is was at the bar by herself two hours in earlier, constantly checking who was coming through the door.
In this snug 700-square-foot neighborhood dive, everyone is welcome; it’s LGBTQ+-friendly and for the most part idiot-free. All that being said, for me, it’s a time portal to the past, where professional bartenders who are great took no shit.
I’ve brought friends from out of town to this bar numerous times in the past, and they kept asking, Can we go back? Matter of fact, the night Obama won, I swiftly huffed it to this bar, just to catch a breath, see if what I saw was real, and then consider what the consequences were. Surely there would be no blowback from this country electing its first Black president?
Phone Booth is a haven, Jack. Bring cash and a backbone; you will be fine.
