The explosive, cinematic, hard-pop band Saint Motel is, to put it best, hard to resist, and damn fun. In the world of Saint Motel, nothing bows to convention: Stages become forests and living rooms, and shows become kaleidoscopic mind explosions in 3D. This theatrically creative world is due in large part to the fact that the gentlemen of Saint Motel formed in film school. The band's keen visual sensibility has yielded an array of stunningly original videos that accompany songs from their recently released debut EP ForPlay, released via the band's label On The Records, and the physical or digital version of ForPlay includes the free added bonus of the beautiful, ultra-conceptualized videos for each song.

Saint Motel is A/J Jackson (vocals, guitar), A Sharp (lead guitar), Greg Erwin (drums) and Dak (bass) – musicians who constantly experiment and push boundaries within the songwriting process to keep evolving their signature sound that features unique guitar tones and surprising sonic twists throughout.

The raw energy apparent in Saint Motel's music is felt at a new level when experiencing them live. The band's live shows are marked by this effusive energy and the spectacle of exciting visual soundscapes that blend the sonic with the artful. Jackson explains, "People want to be entertained when they go out to see a show so we try to offer not only an energetic performance but also a memorable experience." Metromix agrees, stating that "Saint Motel never fail to put on a show that's a treat for the senses" and The Onion claims "Saint Motel has a...particular blend of wholesome indie rock brimming with raucous sexual energy," while Flavorpill declares the band "Imploring, atonal, and irresistible garage glam."

Speck Mountain are an ambient-soul band possessed as much by the grit of southern soul as the spell of infinite drones. Co-leaders Karl Briedrick and Marie-Claire Balabanian provoke each other with intuitive, womb-curled melody, exploded texture, and spiky, strutting rhythm—and so far I’m just talking about the guitars. Marie-Claire also keeps a full-sized Aretha loaded in her throat like some kind of ungodly spring reverb, but has the sense to only let her uncoil just enough, never overdoing it. Karl and Marie-Claire fill out the songs with lyrics in thrall to the mysteries of compulsion, and the ache and rapture of giving in.