The most striking element of White Hinterland’s latest album, Kairos (Dead Oceans), is its focus on the human voice, the strongest and most unique instrument that any on person can utilize. White Hinterland’s (Casey Dienel and Shawn Creeden) instrumentation is light and carefully inserted into each song, and not utilized as a means of overcompensateing for a lack of melody. In fact, Kairos is rife with strong, eloquent melodies (sung by Dienel), making it more of an r&b album in comparison to the group’s previous work that combined elements of psych, folk, and indie rock.

The album speaks to a contemporary independent movement in which musicians attempt to make albums that blend genres, especially genres that the population tends to relegate to the mainstream (pop, r&b). The unfortunate result of this is the much-expected question of authenticity. Eventually, the criticism outweighs the focus on the execution of the music and whether or not it is good. In White Hinterland’s case, it is good – very, very good.

“Icarus,” the first single from Kairos, is a quietly layered tune. Dienel’s voice is at her most ethereal and the song is a dream-pop delight comprised of a drum machine and a couple of carefully placed synths. Like their contemporaries The xx, Dienel knows when to add additional elements to a song that already seems beautifully complete a capella, and when to take a step back.

In “Thunderbird,” a powerfully daunting and looping bass forms the backbone of the song, transforming it into a pseudo-dubstep piece of perfection. It is the band’s darkest compositional moment and Dienel’s most haunting vocally. The combination gives the song the sort of physical presence that makes the album so rich. On “Bow and Arrow,” the splintered and simplistic instrumentation has the nostalgic aesthetic of a late 90s hip-hop song. The listener expects the lyrics to be more tongue-in-cheek but they have the sort of open earnestness that stems from a folk singer-songwriter tradition.

The album would sound striking if it were released a decade earlier but now, years into the slow progressing, yet still seemingly inevitable, blending of genres, sounds fitting. Compared to past White Hinterland albums, Dienel and Creeden sound surer of themselves. Dienel’s warped melodies and vocal intonation feel more genuine. The album has a few missteps – songs that sound incomplete or are too heavy-handed in their instrumentation – but the strengths far outweigh the weaknesses. With Kairos, Dienel and Creeden have begun to come into their own.

Download “Icarus” for free at Dead Oceans

The New York Times recently published an article detailing New York’s burgeoning “home gallery” scene, though people familiar with the do-it-yourself aesthetic that largely defines Chicago’s art world would recognize the concept immediately. Locally known as “apartment galleries,” these spaces not only provide curatorial opportunities for artists and post-graduate arts administrators looking to branch out beyond the sometimes-institutional confines of the gallery scene. They also provide a much-needed, non-traditional beginner’s platform for emerging artists to establish themselves in a gallery scene that largely promotes non-local talent. Medicine Cabinet, a curated space within Chicagoan Chris Smith’s bathroom medicine cabinet takes this idea to the extreme. Past artists have curated dioramas within the cabinet’s two shelves or projected short videos on the reflected veneer of the front mirror.

Although the galleries provide ample opportunities for artists to present their work, the logistics of running such spaces can prove difficult. Bad at Sports,  a Chicago-based podcast and blog about contemporary art, recently posted a collection of insightful interviews and essays with writers, artists, and curators originally commissioned for gallery Floor Length and Tux‘s recent one-day event “Untitled Circus” about Chicago’s thriving apartment gallery art space scene.

In one such essay, artist, writer and educator Erik Wenzel questioned the place of apartment galleries within the traditional gallery scene and whether or not they are detrimental because of a lack of experimentation. Wenzel says, “A lot of art at alternative spaces, and in Chicago in general, is very polite and geared towards accommodating the audience. What about art that confronts the audience, makes them uncomfortable, makes them feel stupid, or alienated or confused? What about art that appeals to or requires an intellectual participation? Or art that you aren’t even sure where it begins and ends?” More insight into the aesthetics, problems and benefits of apartment galleries can be found at Bat at Sports.

I am regrettably more of a casual movie fan than I would like to admit. I often watch films months after the hype has worn down, not as some sort of statement, but because of my inherent laziness to actually go to the physical theater itself. Yet, despite being a casual fan of the cinematic experience, I can’t help but feel enamored with I Love Hot Dogs.

Shannon Maldonado’s collection of film stills and posters at I Love Hot Dogs – from such horribly underrated films like Ladies and Gentleman, the Fabulous Stains, cult classics like Pierrot Le Fou, and beloved hits such as Boyz in the Hood – is not only a testament to the power of image but is also an tremendously pleasurable learning experience for those of us who are less knowledgeable about films than we’d like to admit. Her breadth of knowledge and thirst for entertainment is never pretentious. With reviews ranging from a quick riff to a more thought-out analysis and an extensive array of title shots and stills, Shannon presents films in way that addresses the current neuroses and nuances of the internet user by first and foremost creating a heady, visually stunning combination of images that remain unforgettable on first glance.

Matias Aguayo’s songs start off strong and continue to progress. He builds a melody – somewhere, somehow – but it’s never quite what you expect. Each song leaves the listener scratching their head, trying to articulate exactly what they’ve heard yet ultimately failing. A second listen is required, at least to somewhat discern the what (in terms of instruments, or the lack thereof) and the how (as in how each number is produced).

What’s more interesting is the major shift the musician made with his latest album, Ay Ay Ay, released by Kompakt. His formerly standard techno tracks somehow morphed into minimalist, beat box-like jams: a combination of 70s funk grooves, Tropicália, and a DIY-spirit. His ultimate aim is to bring you to the dance floor, and he is thus far succeeding. Early single “Rollerskate” is the sort of summer jam you wish you knew about back in mid-July. Endlessly enjoyable, the song is a certifiable ear worm meant for easy listening and afternoon leisure.  Hear it after the break.