INTER CLAUS 6: We may be running out of cool taglines, but we will never run out of noise.

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the scene,
The bass was thumping—it was borderline obscene.
The elves donned hoodies, the reindeer wore shades,
Santa rolled in shouting, ‘I’m here for the drops, babes!’

His sleigh screeched to a halt, skidding into the crowd,
He adjusted his belt and yelled, ‘LET’S GET LOUD!’
His boots hit the floor with a jolly ol’ stomp,
While Rudolph moonwalked to a vibey synth romp.

The DJ froze mid-spin at the sight of Saint Nick,
Who grabbed the mic shouting, ‘DROP SOMETHING SICK!’
The bass hit like thunder, the glow sticks all waved,
For tonight Santa Claus was the king of the rave.

He flossed, he dabbed, he did worm-like contortions,
An elf said, ‘Calm down or you’ll jingle your proportions!’
But Santa replied, mid-shuffle and sweat,
‘I haven’t felt this alive since the ‘90s, my pet!’

Dasher spun records, Prancer vogued near the lights,
While Cupid beatboxed—it was such a wild sight.
Elves double-dropped candy canes, going full hyper,
And Blitzen served moves like a cyborg-wired viper.

When dawn crept in softly, with Santa still hyped,
He called out, ‘Alright kids, I’ve got something spiked!’
Not drinks, no sir—this was far more absurd:
A sack full of noisemakers, gifts for the herd.

‘Kyle!’ Santa shouted, and tossed him a drum.
‘Play this instead of smacking your bum!’
To Daisy, who shrieked at her brother with glee,
He gave a kazoo that was slightly off-key.

For Timmy, the tantrum champ throwing his toys,
Came a slide whistle perfect for shrill, squeaky noise.
‘Stop wrecking silence!’ Santa quipped with delight,
‘Just form a band, kids—it’s better done right!’

With his work mostly done and the warehouse a mess,
Santa moonwalked back to his reindeer express.
He hollered, ‘Remember, when you’re loud with intent,
Music’s epic—chaos is just discontent!’

And he flew into the sunrise, his beats fading away,
Yelling, ‘Merry Christmas! Drop fire tracks and slay!’
For rumor now says, if you party all night,
Santa might just join you—his moves? Still tight.

Inter Claus returns once more to be a fountain of wisdom and jolliness, and the old fart graced a couple of naughty kids with some dope shit music. Ah, beautiful traditions.

Dominik Böhmer was a good kid and got

Usually I use my wish for Inter Claus to get something unhinged and heavy, or at the very least something I wouldn’t have checked out by my own volition. Well, this year that MO went right out the window, because I had a far more obnoxious idea. You see, a while ago, I bought a vintage art nouveau-style lamp for my living room (pictured below), and I thought to myself, ‘what if I asked Inter Claus for a record that has the same vibes as my new lamp?’ Which I then proceeded to do, you know, like an annoying person.

Luckily I didn’t receive the divine intervention I definitely invited there; instead, the jolly old codger gifted me the latest record by Guatemalan cellist/vocalist Mabe Fratti, Sentir Que No Sabes (‘Feeling Like You Don’t Know’ in English), an album I’ve been meaning to get into ever since it came out this June. No time like the present to… unwrap this… present (grade-A writing, champ), so let’s get to it!

Sentir Que No Sabes definitely passes the vibe check: it’s experimental, at times flamboyant, but also very grounded and soothing. It matched my new lamp’s energy quite nicely, even without having that same slight patina of tackiness. Mabe Fratti probably couldn’t write something tacky if she tried. Oh well. Her cello is the bedrock upon which she builds the instrumentals for her uniquely flavored art pop. Comparisons to Julia Holter would be apt but uncalled for – this is entirely her own niche.

I always love listening to music in languages I don’t or barely understand; I feel like it adds a certain air of mystery to the sounds and syllables. Here, it’s Spanish, a language I can decipher comparatively well as a decent French speaker. Still, there’s so much that I can’t grasp in the spur of the moment, which lends Sentir Que No Sabes the effect I was describing earlier in this paragraph. It’s not even for exoticism, but for genuine curiosity for what I can’t comprehend (yet).

As the year is winding down, both musically and job-wise – as of writing this, I’m a day away from Christmas break – I’m grateful for this opportunity to indulge in things that might’ve otherwise gotten lost in the shuffle. And Mabe Fratti absolutely deserves to have her music interacted with; that much was obvious to me from the very first notes. The balance of earnest artistry and playful exploration, catchy hooks and outré experimentation, soothing vocals and at times baffling instrumentals makes for a tasteful collection of sounds and sensations.

To me, there’s no inherent need to point out a standout track from Sentir Que No Sabes, mainly for two reasons: 1) the whole record flows impeccably without focusing on the single track too terribly much, and 2) I feel like I don’t know where to even begin with this task. There are 13 songs on this album, and each one has its own charms and entrancing moments. So why not take it as it is, without going for the pre-chewed algorithm version?

In short, thanks for another lovely gift Inter Claus – this Mabe Fratti is exactly what I wanted.

Broc Nelson was a good kid and got

I asked Inter Claus for something folky, maybe electronic this season. I wanted something that was beautiful, lyrical, and a little off beat. I was surprised by my gift, as it does indeed satisfy what I wanted, but in a way that I was initially unsure of. See, I had just heard Ganavya. November’s Daughter Of A Temple was a gorgeous album of spiritual jazz that popped up as a suggestion for me one day. It drew me in with how pretty it sounds and the amazing collection of guests including Esperanza Spalding, Shabaka Hutchings, and Vijay Iyer, who all have had amazing releases this year. It also feels very devotional, and as such, is a little outside of my daily album rotations.

However, Daughter Of A Temple is the second release from Ganavya in 2024, following March’s like the sky i’ve been too quiet. The New York based, Tamil Nadu based singer/musician weaves Tamil and English sung vocals into an array of electronic and jazz based ambient/downtempo music. Produced by Shabaka Hutchings and featuring Floating Points and Leafcutter John, this album is a celebration of the ecstatically serene.

Electronic pulses on tracks like “Seal” throw a wrench in what could almost be considered ‘traditional’ world music, disrupting the Carnatic singing style Ganavya is known for without making it any less enchanting. While “(sister said) home is a direction” unfolds like an ambient track, gentle percussion and flutes amongst mellow synth drones. The refrain of ‘when I walk, may I walk with slow steps in the right direction’ is sung in such a way that it lets you hang onto and absorb every word in an equally intentional passage through time. We are made to embrace Ganavya’s mantra with rapt attention.

There is a haunting quality to this album that feels arcane, like some secret knowledge from beyond our own perceptions is being transmitted into you through the slow unraveling of tradition and modernity. When we begin to glimpse at some fixed point, the electro-folk-jazz pivots in a way that snaps the present back into focus. Closing track, “I walk again, eyes towards the sky,” launches into an Appalachian spiritual climax, Ganavya letting her voice project and soar into the stratosphere over something that, if sped up, you could stomp your feet to.

This has been a lovely gift, Inter Claus. Thank you for something I will treasure for years to come and an even more concrete reason to follow Ganavya. I still believe in you. Please enjoy this mettigel and Ritterguts Gose I have left out for you.

Shaun Milligan was a good kid and got

By jove, if my seasonal supplier of musical goodwill hasn’t gone and done it again. For the past five years, the curmudgeonly Christmas-aversed Inter Claus has flawlessly delivered quality trinkets of tunefulness to my ears. As 2024 prepares to rightfully retire itself, I appealed to Inter Claus yet again for assistance in finding less volatile musical pastures than those I’ve frequented for most of the year. The result? How To Dress Well’s I Am Toward You.

With a career spanning over 14 years, Tom Krell has built a catalogue of tonal tapestries that boast impressive eclecticism and rich atmosphere. This latest offering is no exception, as you’ll discover for yourself if you sit down and immerse yourself in its eleven tracks of ambient charm. There is much to discover on I Am Toward You, and return visits will yield more from its deceptively dense contents. It flows steadily along a seemingly singular strand: central motifs and sounds are established at the beginning and, although distinctive, subsequent songs frequently recall fragments from one another throughout I Am Toward You, resulting in moments that invoke a familiarity that is embedded by the record’s close, even on your first listen.

There’s also a wonderful balance of instrumentation here, staggered between organic and artificial. Guitar grounds the record, with songs such as “Contingency/Necessity (Modality of Fate)” playing out like a fever dream. It effortlessly entwines the droning, soothing ambience that pervades the album’s entirety with digitised affectations that peer from behind reverberating vocals. These understated, softened vocals also make excellent use of harmony, providing additional splashes of colour elsewhere on the likes of lo-fi-esque “nothingprayer”.

It’s all paired beautifully with low-end synths and predominantly electronic percussion, lending a sharpness that complements while never overpowering the organic heartbeat at the core of Krell’s compositions. “No Light” showcases this, keeping glowing, summery vibes to a modest tempo amidst more fervent dissonance and distortion. Such differing components have no right to work as well as they do here (“Gas Station Against Blackened Hillside” even stirs glimpses of breakbeat into the mix), but under Krell’s guidance the result never feels jarring.

Krell also experiments with unpredictable yet refreshing touches. “Crypt Sustain” employs racy double bass drum kicks and choppy electric leads, while “A Faint Glow Through a Window of Thin Bone (That’s How My Fate is Shown)” initially samples piano over the broad, electronic vista painted across so much of the record. Yet, at the song’s close, a more disconcerting sound arrives – one not unlike the onslaught heard when sticking your head outside a car window at high speed.

As the wistful beats of “A Secret Within the Voice” draw the album to a close, textures gently bow out and the wash of synthetic embrace offers a gradual departure – like waving to a dear friend as your train departs. They’re left on the platform as you return to everyday life, fondly holding the memories of your shared experience and eagerly anticipating another opportunity to be with one another. How To Dress Well has been that friend for me these past couple of weeks. It’s a comforting entity that provides great company and a place of respite from the chaos around me: I’m left peacefully aloft enough to feel alive without feeling too distant or disconnected. I strongly advise you to follow Inter Claus‘s winter wisdom; seek out I Am Toward You if you too are in search of sanctuary or solace this season.

Steve Loschi was a good kid and got

It’s hard to be naughty when you’re all alone.  Or is it easier?  Hmm.  I usually don’t give it much thought because as a school teacher and a husband and a father and all around old, curmudgeonly Gen X cis-gendered white male, I am HARDLY EVER ALONE.  So, really, when I posted on your question, it was in a moment of peace abject loneliness. I was sitting on a bench in a São Paulo performance space, sipping on my second caprihina, getting ready to see the amazing Brazilian R&B/jazz artist Dora Moreablaum. Maybe it was the cachaca going to my head, or maybe the just the sight of so many beautiful human beings gathered in a small space, none of whom even spared me a glance: it was a wave of wanting washing over my inebriated soul, and I sent a desperate message to the one and only- and quite possibly lonely- Inter Claus.

‘What’s the sound of one-hand clapping,’ I asked. And you answered with the cacophonous noise of Austin amputees Font and their 2024 EP Strange Burden, which- ironically- features a band that frantically jumps from instruments to synths and drum pads as if they were multi-limbed cephalopods. So ‘amputee’ doesn’t work metaphorically OR literally. I’m clearly all alone here. But at least I’ve got this frantic, Talking Heads meets Radiohead meets 2002 electroclash via Williamsburg, Brooklyn music to get me through my moments of friendlessness.

It is, indeed, a strange burden to carry when you are marching into a performance space by yourself. And I’d like to think the next time I do that it will be to the warped LCD Soundsystem rhythms of “Hey Kekulé”, as I finagle my way to the front through hundreds of other half-drunk, sweaty, lonely human beings. The song, like many songs on Strange Burden, follows a singular theme and then stretches it into as many contortions as it can without actually breaking it. In this case, it’s a triplet played on the synth that just permeates the entire song until it reaches a crescendo. If there’s a sound that one hand makes clapping, surely this frantic, pulsating, anxiety-inducing three minutes of sonic noise is pretty damn close to representing that.

Singer Thom Waddill’s lyrics don’t border on the edge of obtuse, as much as they burrow into them like a blind mole-rat into the soft soil of a carrot patch.  And if that’s not the loneliest thing you’ve ever heard, the stream of consciousness that Waddill spews over the propulsive rhythm of “Looking At Engines” will certainly make you feel as if you’re dancing in your bedroom with nothing more than a towel and hairbrush.  The song represents what Font does best: it’s a complex combination of sounds that remains just out of reach, but also sometimes result in irresistible, celebratory musical explorations of what it means to be alive.

The angular krautrock of “Sentence I” is a throwback to SST’s Minutemen, which isn’t something I’ve written in a long, long time.  The southern Californian band established themselves by having an impeccable rhythm section that supported the wildly sporadic and dirty guitar playing of D.Boon. And like Minutemen, Font have found their own place in merging the discordant sounds of the noise they make, with our own desire to grab onto a melody we can all share.  In some ways, Inter Claus, you’ve given the perfect gift for the lonely incel that lives deep within all of us. Font occupies such a singular niche in modern music, that their loneliness may be the one thing that brings us all together.

So Inter Claus, if you’re out there (my son tells me you don’t exist, but he also ate kitty litter when he was younger, so I don’t believe anything he says anyway) in some seedy North Pole bar where they play Fear of Music and the Maxi version of ‘The House of Jealous Lovers” on repeat, just know you’ve made this lonely guy feel a little bit less alone. Strange Burden may be the sound of one hand clapping, but if you have enough of those hands in one room, they will inevitably hit each other, and that might just be the start of the loneliest crowd roaring.

Eeli Helin was a good kid and got

This year has been nothing but a consistent and constant low blow from all imaginable directions. At times I’ve been really shaking with things, and truthfully still am to an extent, but at least the year is drawing to a close to mark a metaphorical ending point to the flood of bullshit. Chances are it’ll continue next year without further ado, but that’s a problem for future me. Either way, I was expecting the arrival of Inter Claus to get one last squeeze of vocabulary juice out of myself during this eh, festive season, and our household Santa-like figure hit it home once again. So, what was his present to me that is more than likely the only one I’ll get this Christmas? Let’s unwrap it.

The Swedish duo SHXCXCHCXSH put out their latest album …..t via Northern Electronics a month ago, and the monumental record arrived on my plate solely due to the aforementioned transaction. While I could expect something to really enjoy, just like during the previous editions of this feature, I was still very much floored when I hit play on it.

The fifteen-track album is like a one gigantic image built from fragments, resembling a patchwork of sorts yet existing without any discernible edges or limits otherwise. It’s an exhilarating journey through wonderfully crafted, pulsating and rhythmic, structured noisescapes that simultaneously possess the ability to enthrall as well as to destruct the listener, capable of conveying a surprisingly vast array of emotions and tonalities throughout. All in all, being what it is, ……t has a surprising easy-access edge to it, yet it fully exposes itself only through a multitude of repeats with separate focal points. SHXCXCHCXSH are someone completely new to me, but seeing there’s plenty of earlier works of theirs to get acquainted with, my cold heart is filled with an odd sense of glee.

Perhaps the most pleasant thing throughout ……t is how floaty and strangely positive it is. It’s easy to set out to make electronic shit and just pummel the listener from here to wherever with walls of sound and utter annihilation, but SHXCXCHCXSH’s approach to everything is unbelievably fresh and easygoing. Sure, there’s layers of atonality and plenty of buzzing and crackles to revel in, but the enveloping mood is just…nice? Like, it’s just fucking nice?! That’s all there is to it. Go listen to the album you naughty peeps.

While I truly loathe Christmas and everything associated with it, I have to say that Inter Claus has made it a tradition to become a beacon of light in the middle of all this nonsense. On that note, I’m very much looking forward to next year’s discovery.

Thomas Mendes was a good kid and got

I’m not gonna sugarcoat it, it’s been a bit of a rough year for me. I’ve found myself unemployed for most of 2024, and despite some really good moments (including attending ArcTanGent for the second time and visiting the good people of Pelagic in their very rad birthday party), it was hard to feel good for the most of it. I got a job eventually, and while that was a huge relief all around, my energy was still at an all time low until very recently. I’m pulling myself back together, slow and steady, and as always, music has been one of my silent – and often very loud – partners during these trying times.

So I asked our dear Inter Claus for a hard one: something that helps in my quest to retain my energy and my hopefulness. Once again, he hits the nail on the head with Viva Belgrado’s latest release Cancionero de los Cielos.

It’s a very peculiar sound – it’s like a hopeful, happier spin on shoegaze/screamo with a post-punk energy and a good amount of experimentation. How does that work, since shoegaze is naturally sad by nature? Can’t really explain, but it does! I didn’t know the band, and this was a perfect first exposure to their sound. There’s a ton of heart to it, making the music sound quite nostalgic and cozy, despite being totally authentic. “El Cristo de Los Faroles” was an instant standout with its awesome vocals and “Gemini” is so intense it sounds like a Hispanic Birds in Row.

The one track that perfectly encapsulated the sound that I was looking for is “Perfect Blue”. It just makes you feel like things are gonna be okay. And that’s what I needed right now. Honestly a late contender for one of the best songs I’ve heard this year, and the more I listen to the whole album, the more I feel like I gotta do a deep dive on more Viva Belgrado, fast.

As I write this, listen to Cancionero de los Cielos and reminisce on my past year, I realize that the feeling of hope comes and goes. Maybe I’ll be hopeful for specific things, while remaining a downer about other things. I mean, the state of the world is kinda fucked right now. So I’ve decided to do my best to remain hopeful for what’s within my control. There may be some moments when it feels like nothing will be, but these moments pass. Life is quite cyclic, after all.

At the very least, I can remain hopeful about music – and I can thank honest and inspiring artists like Viva Belgrado and my good people in Everything Is Noise for that! So yeah, if you feel like you’re needing a little pick me up, do give Cancionero de los Cielos a spin. It may bring a smile to your face, and some warmth to your heart.

As morning arose and the beats faded out,
Santa Claus gave one final shout:
‘You’ve danced, you’ve grooved, you’ve partied so true,
But now my dear ravers, I must bid adieu.’

His boots still sparkled with glitter and glow,
His beard? A mix of faux-snow and confetti flow.
He waved to the elves, now dozing in piles,
And winked at the kids, flashing cheeky smiles.

‘To all you mischief-makers, both naughty and nice,
May your season be merry—your gifts, precise.
Remember the joy of a beat that inspires,
And harness your noise into musical choirs!’

He climbed on his sleigh, still pulsing with sound,
The reindeer sighed deeply, yet still stuck around.
‘One last track,’ Santa teased, and spun the reins wide,
Then blasted his anthem as he took to the skies.

Through clouds painted golden by dawn’s warm embrace,
He soared, leaving echoes of bass in his place.
With a chuckle, he bellowed, his words crisp and clear:
‘Merry Christmas to all—rave on, my dears!’

And so from the heavens, his laughter would fade,
As Santa the Raver exited stage.
If your house fills with cheer and a funky delight,
Know he’s still grooving through the world, this night.