MX LONELY – Perfect House EP

MX LONELY are back with a new EP. Having written about All Monsters back in February, I was keen to hear where the Brooklyn quartet would go next, and ‘March 16’ duly earned a place on my October DKFM show. Their new EP, Perfect House, has Rae Haas on vocals and synthesiser, Jake Harms on guitar and vocals, Gabriel Garman on bass and Andrew Rapp on drums. Together, they’ve developed a sound with real grunge weight, floaty shoegaze guitar textures and memorable vocal melodies Across these four songs, they return to ideas from different points in their history, bringing years of playing together to material that still had something to say.

In October of last year the band sat down in their basement studio and picked these four songs from a slew of demos made during the lifespan of MX. Those existing recordings became the starting point for further work, with parts added, removed and reconsidered as the songs developed. Friends Caitlin Starr and Connor Gibson of Wiring also contributed vocals and guitar. It sounds like a lovely way to work, giving an old idea time and company until you understand what you want to do with it. The EP’s interest in love, separation and recurring emotional habits makes that process of returning to the past feel particularly appropriate.

Let’s dive in and see what the band ended up creating.

A slowly moving bass introduces ‘March 16’, with eerie feedback creating an uneasy atmosphere above it. The verses have a stop and start movement that reminds me of Great Grandpa, particularly in the way those interruptions keep you attentive to the rhythm. Haas and Harms share vocal duties, with Starr’s contribution adding to the harmonies as the choruses expand. There’s a satisfying relationship between those interrupted verses and the fuller passages, allowing the music to express some of the uncertainty in a relationship caught in familiar patterns. Intriguingly, its melody and lyrics emerged while the band were working with Starr on harmonies for ‘Ex Rae Punk’. That spontaneous beginning suits a song with such an immediate appeal. It was a pleasure to play this on the October show, and hearing it open the EP gives you a good sense of why I wanted to share it.

‘Ex Rae Punk’ gets straight to its guitar riff, settling into a slow chug that gives Haas plenty of room to lead. Their vocal is superb here, carrying the song’s hurt with a directness that makes the relationship behind it feel close. The guitar decorations around the chorus give the arrangement a lift, introducing melodic detail above that persistent rhythm. Haas has explained that the song revisits the first piece they wrote with Harms in 2019, with an earlier version appearing during their time as v0idb0ys. Returning to it with Starr brought fresh harmonies and the chance to explore the heavier approach they had originally considered. That history gives the song a particular poignancy. These are old feelings being sung by people who have continued living and playing since they first wrote them down. The lyric “I’ll look around for you” suggests how a relationship can continue affecting your attention long after it ends, leaving you recognising traces of someone in other places. Then there’s Starr’s wonderfully unruly guitar solo, its effects taking the sound into stranger territory while the song retains its underlying weight. I love how much personality that passage brings, adding another voice to a song already full of unfinished feeling.

The conversation between bass and drums at the beginning of ‘Twenty Seconds’ immediately changes how you listen. Their phrases leave openings for each other, and Harms’ vocal seems to supply the missing beat when it enters. This is the arrangement that really gets me thinking about how closely these musicians listen to one another. You can hear each part in relation to the next, with the gaps helping to establish the rhythm. The use of empty space is inspired. Those brief absences keep you anticipating what comes next and make the musicians’ responses feel especially alert. Gibson contributes vocals and guitar here, extending the collaborative approach beyond the quartet. For me, the pleasure is in how the performance keeps that conversational quality intact. The band allow you to hear the decisions within the arrangement, and the spaces become as absorbing as the notes themselves.

‘Bird’ arrives all mellow like, ready to close the EP. Approached with MX LONELY’s particular sense of weight and proportion of course. Haas and Harms sing it as a duet, putting their shared vocal presence at the centre. After the rhythmic interruptions and guitar effects of the preceding tracks, there’s something especially satisfying about hearing the pair given this setting. I particularly like the half time chorus, which opens the song up through a change in feel. The broader rhythm gives the vocals more space and lends the chorus a fullness that suits its place at the end of the EP. Bass and drums play with real sensitivity throughout, supporting the ballad’s pace and emotional tone. Rapp’s approach to these sessions feels relevant here, with the percussion responding to what the song needs. Garman’s bass gives that performance a steady presence underneath. It’s a beautifully judged ending, and the care within the playing leaves as strong an impression as the heavier moments earlier on.

Perfect House makes a persuasive case for revisiting an idea when you have the right people around you. Across four songs, MX LONELY find room for the uneasy repetition of a relationship, the continuing effects of heartbreak, the discomfort of city life and the closeness of two voices sharing a ballad. I’ve particularly enjoyed how much attention the rhythm section rewards, whether through the opening bass of ‘March 16’, the spaces in ‘Twenty Seconds’ or the sympathetic playing on ‘Bird’. Haas and Harms remain central to the emotional connection, while Starr and Gibson bring contributions that feel fully part of the songs. Give this EP your time and listen to how those individual performances work together. MX LONELY have made a Perfect House with plenty of room for everyone involved.

Perfect House is out now on cassette via Julia’s War Recordings. You can check it out over on the MX LONELY Bandcamp page.

You can follow MX LONELY on social media here…

Seems Like Forever – A Song For Davey

When I wrote about Seems Like Forever’s debut ‘Listen’ back in March 2024, Matt Etherton and Jackie Kasbohm were introducing a partnership with plenty of experience behind it and room to experiment ahead. Etherton brought us shoegaze pioneers Presents for Sally and Kasbohm’s contributions to Echodrone and The Devil and Her Chauffeur gave us a few clues about their musical pedigree. Their shared enthusiasm for rough recording textures, melodic songwriting and stranger little details offered plenty to get curious about. ‘Stray’ followed that July, continuing their early run of releases. Now they return with A Song For Davey, a three-song EP whose starting point is deeply personal. Dedicated to Kasbohm’s lifelong friend David Baca following his sudden death, it brings their approach to writing and recording into a conversation about grief, friendship and the memories we carry into our everyday lives.

There is affection in the way this release has been put together, from the numbered physical copies of the CD to the inclusion of Davey’s actual voice with his family’s permission. Across its three tracks, the EP gives us chiming guitar pop, electronic psychedelia and an acoustic ballad. You get a good sense of the freedom these two allow themselves, alongside the care they bring to the subject.

Let’s dive in.

‘A Song About Davey’ opens on chiming guitar and a drum loop, establishing a lightness that carries through the song. Kasbohm’s heartfelt lyric soon leads to the gentle bass completing the picture, and I love how naturally those elements sit together. Each part has a clear purpose within an arrangement that gives you time to take in what she is singing. This is an ode to grief, to loss and how we cope and carry on with our lives carrying the memory of those we lose with us. Its almost playful quality feels central to that idea. There is room here for the affection and happiness associated with someone, for the memories that still make you smile when their absence remains difficult to comprehend. I love how the band’s optimism shines through. It makes the act of remembering feel active and present, part of living from one day to the next. How often does a small, happy memory arrive while you are doing something completely ordinary? That’s the kind of closeness this song suggests to me, with its steady rhythm and chiming guitar making space for fondness within the sadness.

The electronic surroundings of ‘Help Me’ take us further into the duo’s experimental interests. Glitchy sounds gather around Kasbohm’s voice, creating the peculiar sensation of hearing something familiar through a half-remembered dream. Sonic Boom is the reference that comes to mind for me, particularly in the way the psychedelic character grows from the relationship between the voice and its setting. There is a nursery rhyme quality to the song, a hypnotic simplicity that gives your ear something to follow as the electronica introduces its odd little distractions. Seems Like Forever’s taste for experimentation serves the mood beautifully here.

Etherton takes centre stage for ‘Come In From The Cold’, and the acoustic setting brings another aspect of the partnership into focus. His Oasis influence is easy to hear, with the song suggesting the sort of Gallagher B side you might develop a particular attachment to. There is a pleasure in that familiarity, especially after the electronic setting of ‘Help Me’. The acoustic ballad gives you a clear route into the writing and lets Etherton establish his own presence within the EP. I am particularly fond of the low fidelity production. Its rough texture suits the song, giving the performance an informal closeness. The closing section then brings in drums and Kasbohm’s backing vocal, adding fullness to the arrangement at just the right moment. Her voice accompanying Etherton makes for a lovely final passage, and the extra rhythmic support gives the ending a more expansive feel. After hearing her lead the first two tracks, that change in role also lets you appreciate how their voices contribute to the partnership in different ways.

Across these three songs, Seems Like Forever give grief room to exist alongside warmth, curiosity and the pleasure of making music together. The opener’s chiming guitar and gentle bass, the strange electronic textures of ‘Help Me’ and the acoustic intimacy of ‘Come In From The Cold’ each offer a different way into the EP. What stays with me is the optimism in that first song and the companionship suggested by the voices coming together towards the end of the last. There is care in those choices, and enough musical variety to make returning to these tracks a pleasure in itself. Give the whole EP your time and consider the people whose memory continues to accompany your own everyday life. Seems Like Forever have made a touching contribution to that act of remembering, with love at the centre of A Song For Davey.

A Song For Davey is out now. You can check it out over on the Seems Like Forever Bandcamp page.

You can follow Seems Like Forever on social media here…

DEAFCULT – All My Friends Are Leaving

The wizards from Oz are back! Yep, Brisbane’s Deafcult have returned with their first new music in three years, and I reckon there will be a fair few shoegaze fans grinning from ear to ear when they hear this one. Since their self-titled debut in 2015, Deafcult have established themselves as one of the most interesting bands in the genre, with 2017’s Auras becoming something of a favourite among fans of guitar music. Their 2023 album Future Of Illusion saw the band exploring darker territory, bringing industrial influences and a more aggressive approach to their sound. Now they’re back with All My Friends Are Leaving, a two-track single released through Hobbledehoy Records on a rather lovely limited edition red 7-inch vinyl. So, have Deafcult returned to their shoegaze roots? Well, judging by these two tracks, they certainly seem to be enjoying their pedalboards again.

Opening track ‘Mount Forever (Sic)’ immediately takes me back to the Deafcult I first fell in love with. Those familiar layers of dreamy, saturated guitars are back, surrounding the vocals in that wonderful haze that the band do so well. There’s a real warmth to the melody, although listen a little closer and you’ll hear something rather interesting happening underneath. A low, grinding guitar tone adds a heavier texture to proceedings, giving the song an underlying sense of menace. It’s a lovely combination of the band’s earlier melodic instincts and some of the darker elements explored on Future Of Illusion. What I particularly enjoy is how the arrangement develops towards the end. As the guitars recede, we’re treated to a final minute of ambient piano, gently revisiting the main riff. It’s an unexpected change of direction that gives the song a rather beautiful ending. A wonderful way to welcome Deafcult back.

Flip the record over and things get considerably louder. ‘Sentimental Mistake’ absolutely floored me on first listen. I genuinely thought the guitars were going to come leaping out of my speakers. There’s an incredible density to the sound, with multiple guitar parts combining into this enormous wall of fuzz and distortion. The vocal treatment is particularly striking, giving the singing an almost otherworldly quality as it fights for space among the guitars. Meanwhile, the frantic drumming drives everything forward at a terrific pace. Just when you think you’ve got the measure of the song, the tempo drops into a crushing half time section. The guitars become thick, sludgy and almost doomlike, with the rhythm section digging into a much heavier groove. I absolutely love this moment. It gives the music room to breathe while making the distortion feel even more imposing. Then, with little warning, we’re racing forward again, the guitars returning to full intensity before the whole thing dissolves into a final minute of abstract ambient guitar textures. It’s a fascinating ending and one that rewards repeated listens. I’ve already decided this one deserves a spin on my October DKFM show.

What I love most about All My Friends Are Leaving is hearing Deafcult reconnect with the enormous guitar sound that made so many of us fall for them in the first place, while bringing some of their more recent experimentation along for the ride. Both tracks have their own personalities, with ‘Mount Forever (Sic)’ offering melody and reflection while ‘Sentimental Mistake’ provides the heavier thrills. Those unusual ambient endings are a particularly welcome addition, suggesting the band still have plenty of ideas about where their music might go next. Two tracks of new Deafcult music has left me wanting considerably more. Hopefully we won’t have another three year wait. After all, with All My Friends Are Leaving, I’m rather glad these particular friends have decided to stick around.

All My Friends Are Leaving is out now via Hobbledehoy Records. You can check it out over on the Deafcult Bandcamp page.

You can follow Deafcult on social media here…

Youth Valley – As Passive Aggressive As It Gets

Youth Valley have given their second album a title that promises a few uncomfortable conversations. As Passive Aggressive As It Gets concerns itself with the feelings we struggle to express, the resentments we allow to grow and the awkward business of understanding one another. Their story began in 2019, with the three-song Youth Valley EP following in 2020 and their debut album, Lullabies For Adults, arriving in 2023 through Make Me Happy Records and Shelflife Records. Childhood experiences and their continuing influence on adult life have been recurring concerns in their songwriting. This second album, released through Fine! Records, brings that emotional background into sharper contact with anger, distance and the difficulties of relationships. It also gives their shoegaze and dream pop a particularly restless post punk energy.

Joseph Powell supplies the lyrics, vocals and guitar, alongside guitarists George V and Aki Rei, with Rei also contributing keys. Dean Jola handles drums and percussion, while longtime collaborator Alex Bolpasis plays bass throughout. Bolpasis also recorded and mixed the album at Suono Studio, sharing production duties with Powell, with Nick Townsend handling mastering at Infrasonic Sound. Those details deserve a mention because the relationship between the instruments is such a pleasure here. The guitars can become wonderfully dense, the rhythm section frequently sets a demanding pace, and you can still follow the individual parts. Youth Valley know how to make a song feel busy, tense and full of movement while keeping its melody clearly in view. Across these ten tracks, that attention to arrangement gives their emotional subject matter a very physical expression.

Before any of that properly gets going, ‘intro’ offers a curious little false start. It has the feel of a phone left recording on the mixing desk, catching a fragment of activity before the album begins in earnest. The sound design comes from George V and Powell, and there is something pleasingly informal about this brief opening. You get the impression of arriving while preparations are still underway. It gives the record a human point of entry, a small glimpse into its making that leaves you wondering what will follow. That sense of anticipation gets its answer fairly quickly.

‘cerberus’ announces the full band with a moody confidence, and it fair shifts along. Bolpasis and Jola provide the forward motion, their bass and drums giving the song a firm sense of direction through the relatively sparse verses. Those spaces make the arrival of the choruses especially satisfying. The guitars come in thick with fuzz, filling out the arrangement and making the song feel suddenly much larger. I love how the band manage that change in density while maintaining the momentum underneath. Then comes the dip around the middle, which gives you time to register how much pressure has been building. When everyone comes crashing back in, the scale of it’s tremendous. Youth Valley have already established a useful principle for the record: paying attention to the quieter passages makes the loud ones even more rewarding.

There’s barely time to settle before ‘pills’ gets underway, with distorted guitars setting a similarly urgent pace. The central riff has been rattling about my head since I first heard it, and it gives the song a strong identity within seconds. You can hear the DIIV influence in the combination of guitar detail and persistent movement, a connection that fits naturally with the band’s acknowledged influences. What I particularly enjoy is how clearly that riff remains defined as the arrangement changes around it. The mix allows you to appreciate the thickness of the guitars and the movement within them at the same time. I keep coming back to that guitar figure, which seems to become more familiar and more enjoyable with every play.

Bass takes charge of our introduction to the oddly titled ‘earthbiter’, and the mood becomes decidedly darker. Gothgaze feels like a useful description for this one, with the rhythm section giving weight and motion to its brooding atmosphere. Powell delivers the words with a mantra like insistence, the repetition making the vocal feel increasingly absorbed in its own troubled thoughts. The song concerns anger that has been allowed to remain unresolved, and that sense of fixation comes through in the delivery. By the closing section, the band allow themselves a much greater freedom, and the release is sublime. The arrangement opens out with an abandon that feels thoroughly earned by everything preceding it.

The sound of waves meeting the shore introduces ‘ocean dream’, and the album gives us room to slow down. Chiming guitars establish a gentler pace, with enough space around the notes for you to appreciate their tone and the way they continue sounding. Across its runtime, the track gives this more relaxed approach proper time to develop. The drums arrive around the halfway point, making their entrance a significant event in the arrangement. I love the decision to give the bass the fuzz here. That roughness underneath allows the guitars to retain their clarity and provide the sort of hazy, melodic atmosphere that brings Beach House to mind. Your attention moves between the grain of the bass and the lighter guitar sound above it. Placed after the intensity of the opening songs, it offers a welcome change in pace and a fuller sense of the band’s range.

‘anchored’ restores the quicker tempo, and the doubled vocal immediately gives me something to enjoy. The effect adds thickness to Powell’s delivery, helping it sit within an arrangement whose guitar parts are particularly insistent. There is a real physical force to the playing here. The guitars keep pressing forward, and the density of the song makes its precision all the more impressive. You can follow each part clearly, hearing how the instruments work together and where they occupy their own space. That clarity keeps the repeated guitar phrases interesting, since your ear has several elements to follow within the same passage. Bolpasis and Powell’s production deserves credit for preserving that definition.

My album highlight arrives with ‘winning’, which I liked enough to play on my October DKFM show. Youth Valley’s interpretation of The Sound song fits beautifully into the record, bringing one of their acknowledged influences directly into the tracklist. The central guitar riff has an enormous presence, and the movement between quiet and loud passages gives it repeated opportunities to make an impression. Each return to a fuller arrangement feels satisfying because the surrounding space has been so well judged. Powell’s vocal melody adds a properly moody character, maintaining that emotional seriousness as the guitars expand around him. I get big Cure vibes in places, particularly in the relationship between the melodic appeal and the darker atmosphere. That combination has always been an easy way to my affections. Here, it produces a performance that feels completely at home among Youth Valley’s own songs and makes an immediate case for another listen.

There is a different sort of movement to ‘sunday oh monday’, which immediately has me thinking of a lost Talking Heads track with Peter Hook on bass. That is quite a combination to have running through your head, and it suits the song’s rhythmic character. The bass has enough personality to hold your attention in its own right, contributing directly to the tune’s appeal. Everything seems eager to keep moving, giving the performance a restless quality that sits comfortably within the album. Around the middle, a breakdown changes the relationship between the parts and prepares us for a more exuberant closing section. I really enjoy how that final passage develops the mood already present in the song. The increase in energy feels natural, growing from the rhythm and arrangement.

With the shortest of runtimes ‘just friends’ gets through its business with considerable enthusiasm. Built around a cool wee riff, it maintains the album’s appetite for pace and gives that central idea plenty of room to do its work. The directness is part of the pleasure. Following the changes within ‘sunday oh monday’, its compact arrangement keeps the sequence moving with a satisfying sense of purpose. It also gives your ears a concise dose of the band’s melodic instincts before the much longer closing track. Youth Valley sound thoroughly comfortable working at this scale, making a few minutes feel complete.

Then ‘the turn’ takes its almighty runtime to explore the full extent of what this band can do. Chiming guitar passages, heavily fuzzed sections and moody vocals all have their place, with instrumental stretches allowing the musicians to develop their ideas at greater length. The changes keep you involved because they recall sounds and approaches you have already enjoyed across the record. You recognise the guitar clarity, the density and the willingness to give an arrangement time to open out. Those familiar qualities acquire a different significance when they are brought together within one extended piece. I love the way it moves through its various sections, allowing a gentler guitar sound to register fully before taking us towards something much heavier. The vocal passages keep a human presence within that broad musical scope. By this point, the band have earned your attention, and they use the closing minutes with confidence. It’s a tremendous way to finish.

As Passive Aggressive As It Gets gives Youth Valley plenty to say about the feelings that complicate our relationships, and their arrangements make those tensions audible. The restraint in ‘earthbiter’, the space within ‘ocean dream’ and the repeated changes in intensity throughout ‘winning’ each offer a different way of experiencing the album’s emotional concerns. I love the contribution of the bass across the record, the care taken over the guitar sound and the willingness to let the songs develop at different lengths. There is pleasure in the riffs and the pace, alongside plenty to consider once you spend time with the whole sequence. Give it that time, follow the individual parts and enjoy how they come together. Youth Valley may be leaving some difficult feelings unspoken, but my enthusiasm for this record is about as direct as it gets.

As Passive Aggressive As It Gets is out now via Fine! Records. You can check it out over on the Youth Valley Bandcamp page.

You can follow Youth Valley on social media here…

Photo Credit

Elpida Rota Tikof

Iceblynk – BOAB

I first crossed paths with Iceblynk in a slightly roundabout way. I met Martin Newman at a Veldt show in Glasgow while he was playing with the band, and I got handed an Iceblynk CD to check out. Needless to say, I loved it. A little while later he sent BOAB my way, which made this one feel that wee bit more personal before I had even pressed play. Iceblynk have been on my radar for a while now, and one of the things I enjoy about following a band over several releases is hearing their musical vocabulary grow. The New York group began life in 2019 with Andrea Lynn on vocals, Martin Newman on guitar, and James Newman on bass, before Rachel Fischer joined on drums following the release of ‘Enter the Sky’. Since then they have continued to work around that meeting point between dream pop and shoegaze while gradually letting other sounds into the room. Their latest EP, BOAB, feels like another step in that process. Two Iceblynk songs occupy the first half, then two remixes take over and send familiar material somewhere else entirely. It gives these four tracks an unusual structure, almost two different sides of the same band packed into a relatively short running time.

Let’s hit play and see what this ones like.

If you have already heard Iceblynk, ‘Rememory’ feels like a very natural place to begin. It has been part of their live set for the past year, and you can understand why within seconds. A chiming guitar riff gives the opening an immediate lift while Lynn enters with that distinctive voice of hers. There’s this darker middle section which changes the temperature considerably. I love that passage. It gives the song a moody centre before the arrangement begins opening out again. The guitars and keys start circling one another and I can hear elements of The Cure and Slowdive in the way those textures meet. Iceblynk take those familiar ingredients and find their own balance.

That idea becomes much more pronounced on ‘Never Ready’. This song was retrieved from Iceblynk’s archives and reworked with a shoegaze and trip hop feel, which makes you wonder what the original version sounded like. The opening is gorgeous. Organ sounds arrive as though they are coming through an old timey radio, giving those first moments an eerie sense of nostalgia. Once the song begins filling out, that atmosphere remains. This is where the meeting of shoegaze and trip hop works especially well. Lynn sounds completely at home inside it, while Newman saves one of the track’s biggest moments for later. His guitar solo sends the closing section upwards and gives the arrangement a release after all that measured tension.

Then BOAB changes direction. The Summer Republic, a Brooklyn collective featuring members of Clone and The Veldt, take ‘Rememory’ and stretch it beyond six minutes for the ‘Total Recall Mix’. The synths move towards the front and a dancefloor beat replaces much of the original version’s guitar led momentum. What I enjoy here is the opportunity to hear how much the composition can withstand being rearranged.

Pablo Martin gets the final word with ‘Enter the Sky (Lulu Lewis Disco Mix)’, revisiting a song from an earlier point in Iceblynk’s story and pushing the electronic side of BOAB even further. Martin brings considerable remix experience to the job, and his version has a squelchy acid character running through it.

Iceblynk could easily have presented ‘Rememory’ and ‘Never Ready’ as two new songs and left things there. Instead, the remixes give the EP a second personality and place the band’s dream pop foundations alongside trip hop, synth music, disco and acid influenced electronics. These guys have a strong core identity, and the material here suggests they are increasingly interested in seeing how far that identity can stretch. For me, ‘Never Ready’ provides the most intriguing clue about where they might head next. That combination of shoegaze texture, trip hop rhythm, distant organ and Newman’s closing guitar work feels rich with possibilities. Then again, BOAB also makes a pretty convincing argument for leaving a few doors open and seeing who walks through them. Four tracks, several different versions of Iceblynk, and plenty to bring you back for another listen.

BOAB is out now. You can check it out over on the Iceblynk Bandcamp page.

You can follow Iceblynk on social media here…

Lies – Burning Wires, Silent Pull

I discovered Lies via my good friend Nico over at Shoredive Records in Brighton. He gave me the briefest of introductions to the band. He said “Slowcore + dreampop + post-rock, from Italy.” Frankly that sounded like heaven to me so couldn’t wait to hit play on this. I had to do a bit of digging to find out more about the band first.

Bologna based trio Lies began with Elisa on vocals and drums and Giuseppe on guitar and vocals exchanging ideas at a distance during the lockdown years. Once Daniel joined on bass, those early conversations grew into a three piece with a clearer sense of identity. Their self produced, self titled EP followed in 2025, setting out an intimate form of slowcore that could open into harsher guitar noise whenever the songs demanded it. This, their second EP, Burning Wires, Silent Pull, arrives through Shoredive Records, a label that’s a hallmark for musical excellence. Slowcore provides the foundation for the bands sound, while dream pop softness, post rock scale and shoegaze noise enter as colours and textures within the songs. The trio keep the playing economical and let the emotional weight gather at its own pace.

Sounds like an awesome combo. I’m in. Let’s hit play.

‘Spectrograph’ is a very assured opener, with a vocal performance that feels surefooted, slow and steady. The guitars and drums begin sparsely, leaving Daniel’s bass to feed the melody and establish the song’s emotional direction. That decision gives the lower register an unusual amount of room, and the track feels settled before the rest of the arrangement has fully appeared. There are touches of Radiohead in the chord changes, especially in the way familiar chords take on an uneasy colour as they resolve. An English sensibility also runs through the melancholy, giving the song a grey, inward character that remains light on its feet. The measured vocal delivery keeps you close to every turn, and the band leave each open space wonderfully intact. It was love at first listen for me, and repeated plays have only strengthened that first response.

The angles become sharper on ‘Wires’. Elisa takes the lead vocal over pulsing guitar figures and drums with a mechanical quality, creating a controlled tension from the opening seconds. Giuseppe’s guitar work has a clipped, jagged edge, while Daniel gives the song a steady centre beneath it. The arrangement feels alert, as though every beat has been placed with its eventual absence in mind. When the chorus arrives, much of that structure falls away and Elisa’s voice rises above minimal backing. The sudden reduction in sound gives the melody greater force and changes how you hear the verses when they return. A harmony vocal then enters and adds warmth without softening the unease already present. Lies understand that volume has greater impact when silence has prepared the way, and ‘Wires’ proves how well they can control that exchange.

‘Black Mud’ begins like a lullaby sung towards the night sky. Its opening glimmers with a fragile calm, allowing the melody to settle before the guitar arrives with fuzz and a low snarl. The title finds its musical counterpart in that change, as the song becomes thicker and dirtier and retains the delicacy of its first moments. Lies make both sides of the arrangement belong together. The softer passages establish intimacy, and the rougher guitar gives that intimacy a physical edge. Brief pauses leave squealing feedback exposed, turning the gaps into active parts of the performance. Those interruptions make you sit up because the band have already trained your ear to notice small movements. By the end, ‘Black Mud’ feels bruised and beautiful.

Giuseppe leads the vocal on closing track ‘Star On Drugs’, his voice gives the EP a fresh perspective. The gently picked guitar and close harmony vocals bring Slowdive to mind, particularly in the warmth created by simple parts overlapping with care. There is an immediate tenderness here that made me smile, and the restrained delivery keeps a thread of melancholy running through the song. Bass and drums respond to the sparse arrangement with patience. Each contribution supports the melody, and every pause has enough room to register. The trio sound completely comfortable sharing the available space, with every performance serving the song. As the final notes pass, the EP closes in a mood that feels calm, affectionate and slightly unresolved. That last detail encourages another play, since ‘Spectrograph’ sounds even stronger when it follows directly after this gentle ending.

Across its four songs, Burning Wires, Silent Pull finds Lies becoming more precise about what their music needs. Restraint gives the melodies room, distortion arrives with purpose, and the vocals bring a human closeness to arrangements built from relatively few parts. The changes between softness and noise feel connected to the emotional movement of each song, so the heavier moments carry meaning beyond their volume. I keep returning to the bass throughout the EP, since it often supplies the melody while guitar and drums decide how much light to let into the surrounding space. Elisa and Giuseppe also give the record two distinct vocal viewpoints, with Daniel providing a steady presence beneath both. Fifteen minutes can pass quickly, yet these songs leave enough detail behind to reward another visit. Lies have made a second EP with its own quiet current, and you may find those wires humming in your head long after the music ends.

Burning Wires, Silent Pull is out now via Shoredive Records. You can check it out over on the Bandcamp page.

You can follow Lies on social media here…

Man Mountain – Threads Of Another Life

Eight years sit between Man Mountain’s debut album, Infinity Mirror, and its follow up, Threads Of Another Life. That gap contains more than the usual passage of time between records. The Southeast Michigan instrumental post rock quartet had to work through pandemic isolation, personal grief and the strange distance of remote collaboration. Mike Reaume and Bryan Cowles on guitar, David Reaume on bass and Jacob Goins on drums turned those experiences into seven ageless pieces arranged in the order their shared story unfolded.

Man Mountain’s roots reach back to 2012, when the project began with two musicians playing songs by The Appleseed Cast in a basement. Their first EP, To Call Each Thing By Its Right Name, arrived in 2013, followed by the standalone piece ‘To Be Made As New’ in 2015. Infinity Mirror came three years later through Spartan Records and established the long builds, layered guitars and patient sense of release that have stayed central to the band. Threads Of Another Life returns to those foundations with a deeper emotional range and a denser sound. The album draws ambient guitar, shoegaze textures and a strong rhythmic pulse into one continuous account of a period none of its members could simply leave behind. The seven tracks move through wonder, uncertainty, comfort, loss and acceptance, with recurring guitar ideas providing a thread between those feelings. By the final minutes, the album has passed through several emotional states and retained a clear musical identity.

Let’s drop the needle and I’ll tell you all about it.

‘Astralis’, meaning “of the stars”, slowly comes to life like the night sky appearing after dusk. A central guitar figure emerges first, then flecks of light begin appearing around it as the other guitar adds detail. Reaume’s bass and Goins’ drums hold down an escalating backbone, keeping the music grounded while the upper register guitars reach outwards. The group take their time over the opening, allowing every new layer to register before the next one arrives. That patience gives the louder passages a genuine sense of lift. There is awe in the arrangement, joined by a hint of uncertainty that keeps the music emotionally open. It is a glorious start and an immediate reminder of how much Man Mountain can say through instruments alone.

The slow evolution continues through ‘Bright Oblivion’, where bursts of distorted guitar punctuate the silvery sheen of the main melody. Those heavier entries arrive with purpose, briefly roughening the surface before the cleaner tones reassert themselves. David Reaume’s bass really comes to life here. It develops a counter melody beneath the guitars and gives the song a second line for your ear to follow. That bass movement lifts the whole arrangement and prevents the gradual build from feeling predictable. Around the midpoint, the band open everything up and the song explodes into life. The guitars widen, the drums gain force and the earlier restraint suddenly makes sense as preparation for this release. This is the first full display of what the quartet can do when every part arrives at the same emotional peak.

‘Liminal Void’ changes the album’s pace through a three-minute ambient passage that acts as a bridge while taking the record somewhere new. The title points towards an in between state, and the music seems to suspend ordinary ideas of forward motion. Tones hover, fade and return with small changes, giving you time to absorb the force of the preceding track. I find myself thinking of Sigur Rós here, particularly their ability to make open space feel emotionally charged. Man Mountain use that space with similar confidence. The piece also performs an important structural role, resetting your ears before the album enters its most comforting section. Its brevity gives every detail extra weight, and it stands comfortably among the band’s best work.

That sense of suspension resolves into ‘Halcyon Dream’, the album’s happiest and most peaceful piece. Chiming guitars provide the structure while Goins weaves an intricate rhythmic pattern around them. The drums keep changing the angle of the melody, adding motion while preserving the warmth at the song’s centre. Each new guitar layer feels connected to the opening figure, so the build moves with clarity. The band let the music rise in measured stages until the whole arrangement feels illuminated. Even at its most exultant, the track retains its sense of safety. You can settle into it, follow the details and enjoy the simple pleasure of its central melody. This is the album highlight for me and the track I keep returning to first.

‘Absence / Descent’ carries us into the record’s bleakest stretch. The guitar tones darken from the outset, and the sombre drumming gives each chord a heavier emotional consequence. Its title separates loss from the movement that follows it, and the arrangement seems to inhabit both conditions. The guitars circle around one another with a severity that recalls The Cure at their most desolate. The instruments take on the emotional pressure that a vocal line might otherwise provide. Distortion gathers around the melody until the music feels raw at its edges. The band maintain their control as the guitars become torrid and the drums press harder beneath them. Coming after the comfort of ‘Halcyon Dream’, this descent feels especially stark and gives the album’s sequence much of its emotional force.

At more than seven minutes, ‘Generation Loss’ has space to develop through several distinct sections. Each passage sends the song in a new direction while remaining connected to the central theme. Guitar figures introduced early are revised as the arrangement progresses, sometimes moving to a different register and sometimes returning with greater weight. This repeated use of familiar material makes the piece feel like memory being altered each time it is recalled. The rhythm section keeps the transitions coherent, with the bass providing a line through the changes and the drums controlling the increase in intensity. Man Mountain keep adding pressure until the separate motifs begin to meet. The closing wall of sound feels earned because the song has shown you where each element began. It is a substantial piece that rewards close listening, especially when you start recognising how its earlier ideas reappear inside the climax.

The closing track, ‘Impermanence’, brings the album’s musical and emotional concerns together in one final breath. Tumbling guitar chords contain a clear sense of hope, and the complementary drums keep the farewell moving at a calm pace. Melodies from across the record seem to leave faint impressions here, giving the finale the feeling of looking back with clearer eyes. The band approach acceptance as an active process, something reached after confusion, comfort and grief have all been allowed their proper space. The piece has enough time to acknowledge everything that came before it. Its louder sections retain warmth, and the quieter details carry a sense of renewal. The ending feels like a “see you later” shared between people who understand that every ending feeds another beginning. It closes the record with acceptance and leaves a small light burning beyond the final note.

Threads Of Another Life turns five difficult years into music that feels considered, personal and deeply connected. Man Mountain let the emotional sequence guide the arrangements, giving every gradual rise and heavy release a reason to exist. Wurst’s production keeps the guitars expansive and preserves the bass melodies and drum patterns that give these songs their internal movement. Smith’s mastering adds scale and retains the rougher edges. The album carries grief, distance and change, then allows hope to emerge through the way its four musicians respond to one another. That wordless approach leaves room for your own experiences to enter the record, which may explain why different passages continue to reveal themselves after repeated plays. Man Mountain have returned with an album built from interrupted lives and enduring connection, and every one of its threads leads somewhere worth following.

Threads Of Another Life is out now via Spartan Records. You can check it out over on the Man Mountain Bandcamp page.

You can follow Man Mountain on social media here…

Homework – Bang Here If Stuck

Homework have become a pretty special band to me. Every guitar line seems ready to veer off course, every lyric makes you listen closer, and the whole thing holds together through the chemistry between the four members. Having written about them before, I already know how well they turn melodic indie rock into something crooked, funny and unmistakably Glaswegian. Their debut album, Bang Here If Stuck, takes that instinct across twelve songs and gives you a fuller view of what makes them such a special band.

Twin songwriters Michael Newton and Santiago Taberna share the vocals, guitars and writing, often sounding as though they are completing each other’s sentences. Lizzie Quirke and Andrew Gordon form the rhythm section, providing the steady centre. The album was recorded live at Chime Studios in Glasgow with Melissa Brisbane; to try and capture the magic you can hear at their live shows. You can hear the band responding to one another in real time, following an idea wherever it leads and trusting that someone will find the route back.

Let’s drop the needle and see what’s what.

A gauzy spread of guitars opens ‘Heroes Welcome’, briefly suggesting that Homework might ease us into their debut. The mist soon clears and a loose slacker rock song steps forward, with the vocal delivery carrying a trace of Pavement influence. Homework establish their own personality through the sheer density of the words. Lines tumble into one another, internal rhymes appear at unexpected points, and small verbal jokes continue to reveal themselves after umpteen plays. The guitars remain melodic beneath all that language, giving the song enough space to breathe while setting out the album’s fondness for disorder, detail and wit.

‘ASAP’ begins with a false start that sounds as though somebody is trying to tune into the song over a telephone. Once the band arrive properly, the American slacker references give way to Glasgow indie pop. There is a flash of Orange Juice in the playful performance and the wiry guitar work, fed through Homework’s habit of placing every part slightly off centre. The rhythm skips forward while the vocals sound ready to abandon the arrangement altogether. That feeling of possible collapse becomes part of the fun. Homework know exactly where the song is heading, even when they allow you to think they have misplaced the map.

The guitar playing on ‘Hedge Your Bets’ is a joy. Homework take a simple chord sequence and find countless ways to twist it, decorate it and send it scurrying around the vocal. A small guitar run leading into the chorus will become one of those details you start waiting for on every play. The stream of consciousness lyrics bring their own pleasures, moving quickly enough to keep your ear chasing each phrase.

Tenderness enters the album through ‘Some Kind of Magic’. The harmonies recall the open-hearted pop of Attic Lights, while the angular guitar lines bring Kiwi Jr. to mind. Homework move between acoustic warmth and a fuller indie rock charge, changing the weight of the arrangement without disturbing the central melody. That dynamic makes the song a neat representation of the album as a whole. Soft passages can turn loud within seconds, polished harmonies sit beside crooked chords, and every change feels connected to the emotion of the performance. It also shows how naturally sentiment sits within Homework’s stranger impulses.

‘Made’ returns to loose slacker rock and contains my favourite lyrical combination on the album: “Rated success at the sellers address, I hope I’m the guest at the roll call”. The line has rhythm, humour and the kind of phrasing that makes you wonder how anyone arrived at it. That playfulness runs through the arrangement too. Wonky guitar chords lean against a relaxed beat while the vocal threads its way between them. Homework make the song feel casual, yet every odd turn has purpose. The apparent looseness comes from four musicians who just …..get it.

The brief ‘Velcro’ arrives covered in distortion. Its rough surface suits the title, with the entire performance sounding as though it has been fired through damaged speakers. Imagine The Strokes growing up around Glasgow rehearsal rooms and pub venues, then condense that thought into a short, scruffy vignette. Its placement gives the album another sudden change of texture and proves that Homework can make a complete statement within a very small timespan.

A cleaner recording greets you on ‘Trivial’. The guitars chime with greater definition, while the bass shadows the vocal melody and gives the song a direct, easy to follow structure. Homework sound comfortable playing things relatively straight, allowing the tune to carry the performance without filling every available corner. That restraint also gives the guitar solo more impact when it arrives. It is concise, tuneful and placed exactly where the song needs an extra flash of colour. After the blown speaker abrasion of ‘Velcro’, this clarity feels especially satisfying.

‘Thread & Thistle’ slows the pulse through its half time drum entrance and laid-back vocal. The guitars retain the clean tone heard on ‘Trivial’, allowing the band to take their time and leave space around the notes. Homework gradually increase the intensity during the second half, leading towards a guitar solo that tears through the earlier calm. The song seems to pass from afternoon light into the darker hours within a few minutes. Its progression feels patient and natural, with the closing guitar work earning its scale through everything that came before it.

The title ‘Roadhouse’ may place Patrick Swayze in your mind, though Stephen Malkmus feels like the more useful reference once the song begins. Homework play with the loose confidence of Pavement while rooting the track firmly in Glasgow. You can imagine it spilling from a pub jukebox as conversations rise around it and glasses gather on nearby tables. Bright, forceful guitars lift the chorus sections, while the intervening passages sink into muddier tones. The chorus melody rises above it all before the band let the ending unravel in glorious fashion.

‘Salt’ gives the album room to settle. The guitars have a smooth, unhurried quality, with the merest hints of country twang appearing around their edges. Homework also reduce the lyrical density, leaving the instruments to take a larger share of the conversation. That choice suits the song. After several songs filled with rapid words and sharp changes, ‘Salt’ allows the melody and tone to lead the way.

Any suggestion that the album might be winding down disappears when ‘GVB’ comes charging through the door. Homework play with reckless energy, driving the song forward before abruptly dropping away. The pause lasts long enough to make you wonder what happened, then the entire band return with even greater force. The second verse is gloriously unruly, full of guitars and voices competing for space while the rhythm section keeps the song upright. Moments like this make me grateful Homework exist. They play indie rock as though every familiar convention offers another opportunity for mischief.

‘Ending Song’ closes the record and regularly performs the same duty during Homework’s live sets. It begins as a measured slow burner, giving the lyrics and guitars space to work alongside one another. The writing feels especially assured here, while the guitar figures continue changing around the vocal without distracting from it. The song carries the feeling of an ending that everyone would happily delay. When the line “I wish it wasn’t the end” arrives, it speaks for the band and anyone who has followed the record this far.

Bang Here If Stuck turns Homework’s live spontaneity into a debut album filled with wit, melody and unruly guitar playing. Pavement, Teenage Fanclub, The Vaselines and Urusei Yatsura provide useful reference points, while the personality running through these songs belongs entirely to Homework. Their sentimental side gives the noise warmth, and their fondness for odd lyrical turns keeps you returning to hear what you missed. Every play uncovers another guitar phrase, harmony or wee couplet hiding inside the commotion. If Homework ever find themselves stuck after a debut this good, they already know exactly where to bang.

Bang Here If Stuck is out September 25 via Meritorio Records. You can check it out over on the Homework Bandcamp page.

You can follow Homework on social media here…

Beans – Less Louder

Beans have been back on my stereo, and this time I’ve found myself paying particular attention to the singing. Having written about the band before, I was keen to hear where they would take their fourth album, Less Louder. The Geelong and Melbourne group, fronted by The Murlocs drummer Matt Blach, have returned to recordings made at his home in 2021, during the same period that produced 2024’s Boots N Cats. These songs have had a few years to themselves, and hearing them now gives us another perspective on that spell of writing. Blach’s garage studio was a place to keep making music during lockdown, with enough time to explore the softer, more reflective songs that form this record.

The full Beans line up contributes here, with Blach handling the writing and much of the singing, guitar and drums. Jack Kong adds guitar, Mitch Rice plays keys, Vincent Clementson supplies bass and Lachie McKiernan plays drums. Across the album, acoustic textures, piano and Rhodes sit comfortably alongside surf guitar and vocal harmonies, giving the songs an easy-going character. There’s a lot of affection for classic pop writing in these ten tracks, and I’ve enjoyed hearing Beans give those influences such a personal setting.

Blach offers a useful introduction to the feelings behind the music:

“There’s a change in feel to these songs, with more mellow tones. Lyrically, the songs are based around the time they were written. Some about love, some about loneliness, some about memories, some about sleeping or hiding away.”

That last part feels particularly appropriate for a record made at home during 2021. You can guess how this gentler musical setting would suit thoughts about company, solitude and the small comforts of familiar surroundings. Let’s drop the needle and hear for ourselves.

‘Resister’ gets things moving at a comfortable pace, with the relaxed rhythm establishing the album’s character immediately. There’s a pleasing looseness to its psychedelic pop; the sort of unhurried playing that makes me think of sitting outside as a summer evening cools. The guitar breaks are an early pleasure. Their simple phrases make such good use of the available space. Blach describes the song as being about the uncertainty of a new romance, and that gives its easy manner a little emotional complication. You can settle into the music while recognising that familiar mixture of pleasure and apprehension when somebody new enters your life.

A little bounce arrives with ‘My Room’, whose rhythm gives the album a more playful step. The surf guitar is central to its appeal, bringing a bright tone that suits the movement of the song beautifully. Brian Wilson comes to mind here, particularly in the way the music combines a light mood with such a clear affection for melody. There’s something very satisfying about hearing guitar parts that encourage you to follow the tune as closely as the beat. Beans keep both working together, and the track feels sociable and welcoming as a result.

By ‘Remember’, the guitars have become so expressive that I almost want to answer them. Their phrasing has a conversational quality, each little turn suggesting its own response to the music around it. My reference point shifts towards The Beatles here, with the bass making a particularly persuasive case for that comparison. There’s a McCartney quality to the way it participates in the melody, giving you another line to follow beneath the guitars. Listen to that relationship and you can hear why the arrangement feels so full of character. The bass has personality, the guitars have personality, and their interaction gives the song its charm.

The drummer makes quite an entrance on ‘Calm’. Those opening hits have enough presence to make you sit up, and I did have a wee laugh at how enthusiastically the percussion introduces a song with that title. Once the ballad gets going, its waltz rhythm establishes a tender, gently swaying feel. The guitar riff works particularly well alongside the vocal melody, giving the singing a companion phrase that you start listening for as the song continues. It’s one of those songs where following a small instrumental detail makes the whole thing more rewarding.

‘Dweller’ caught my ear immediately through the combination of swinging drums and clipped guitar chords. There’s a satisfying bite to those guitar attacks, especially when you hear how neatly they work against the movement of the percussion. The rhythm gives the song a little swagger, and the lower vocal register introduces another colour to the album. Having spent the opening tracks enjoying their melodic brightness, I liked hearing the voice settle into this deeper range. Beans get plenty of variety from these changes in emphasis, with the drums, guitar and singing each helping to establish a distinct mood.

I’m probably an easy audience for a song called ‘Smile’, because smile happens to be my favourite word. Even so, this one earned its title. Beans return to a Beatles flavoured approach, drawing on the playful side of their pop writing, and the song has a cheerful eccentricity that I thoroughly enjoyed. There’s a sense of musicians having fun with the material and allowing that enjoyment into the performance. You can hear how naturally this lighter moment belongs among the album’s more reflective songs. It gives the sequence a welcome bit of humour, and by this point the band have made their fondness for a good tune abundantly clear. I was smiling along quite happily.

The arrangement becomes spare on ‘Blueprints’, with minimal guitar and straightforward bass and drums giving the vocal plenty of space. This is where the album’s emphasis on singing becomes particularly rewarding. With so few instrumental details competing for your attention, you can spend time with the melody and the delivery, hearing how much feeling the performance brings to the song. Each part has a clear purpose, and the voice benefits from the room around it. Beans make a persuasive case here for the pleasure of a simple arrangement performed with real love.

Then ‘Corny Love’ arrives, and this is the one I’ll be recommending first. The Beach Boys influence is especially audible in those generous harmonies, which give the track a nostalgic warmth and make the singing feel wonderfully expansive. The chorus is the album’s emotional high point for me. Those rising voices bring such yearning to the melody, and I found myself wanting to hear that passage again as soon as it had finished. Beans give the familiar harmony style a sincerity that makes the song feel close and personal. You can appreciate the musical reference while being completely involved in the performance itself. I love what the vocals achieve here, especially after ‘Blueprints’ has already encouraged us to listen closely to the singing. This is my favourite on the record by some distance.

‘Simplify’ introduces a production feel that places it slightly apart from the surrounding songs. The surf guitar remains part of the musical vocabulary, though its use feels more contemporary, and the instrumental choices bring a different character to the recording. Following the strong classic pop associations of the preceding tracks, this change gives your ears something fresh to consider. I found it interesting hearing the band’s melodic instincts carry through a different production approach.

Acoustic guitar and piano bring us to ‘Bed Man Walking’, with the gentle sound of running water adding a lovely detail to the setting. The arrangement suits the closing position beautifully. You can hear the two instruments working alongside each other, supporting a vocal melody whose grace gives the song its emotional centre. There’s an intimacy to this combination that feels especially appropriate after learning where and when the recordings began. I enjoyed how naturally the album arrives at this quieter final moment.

Less Louder has left me with a real appreciation for the range of pleasures Beans find in these gentler songs. The guitar exchanges on ‘Remember’, the rhythmic enthusiasm of ‘Calm’ and the chorus of ‘Corny Love’ each offer a different reason to return. Across the record, thoughts of romance, loneliness and home have a musical setting full of warmth and personality. There’s room for a laugh, room for reflection and plenty of room for the voices to make their presence felt. Give it an afternoon of your own and see which melody stays with you. In my case, Less Louder has become a very good reason to listen a little longer.

Less Louder is out now via Fuzz Club. You can check it out over on the Beans Bandcamp page.

You can follow Beans on social media here…

Rebecca Dow (feat David Sloan) – War Against Emptiness

You may have heard ‘War Against Emptiness’ on my September DKFM show. It’s their follow up single to the brilliant ‘Beneath You’. Their first single together carried the familiarity of two musicians who had spent years working alongside one another in Belfast shoegaze band Virgins. It also gave them the freedom to discover what their partnership could become following the group’s conclusion earlier this year. That connection sounds even stronger here. Dow and Sloan appear more assured in their shared musical language, with the guitars gaining weight and Dow exploring a more restless vocal style.

Speaking about the single, Dow and Sloan explain the struggle at its centre.

“‘War Against Emptiness’ is about being trapped inside silence and distance, and the exhausting fight to keep reaching for something real and be granted the right to be ourselves truly unmasked and flawed.”

“The song moves through loneliness, uncertainty and the fear of fading out completely, but the chorus is a refusal to lie down and disappear. It’s about standing in the wreckage of that void and fighting to remain present.”

A guitar riff announces ‘War Against Emptiness’ with real self-possession. It enters with a loose swing in its stride, setting a tougher tone before the full density of Sloan’s arrangement gathers around it. There is confidence in the way the guitar occupies the opening seconds. That confidence also places the single firmly within the current strength of Irish guitar music, where bands and artists continue to find fresh ways of working with volume, melody and texture. Each part thickens the atmosphere while the original riff keeps the song moving and growing.

Dow responds to that scale by taking a serpentine route through the melody. Her vocal curls around the guitar rather than following its movements directly, bringing an uneasy feeling to the verses. Her control remains central to the performance. She knows when to remain close to the microphone and when to widen her delivery, allowing the tension to increase without releasing it too early. The unease in Dow’s voice suits lyrics concerned with silence, disconnection and the fear of gradually disappearing. You can hear the effort involved in remaining present, especially when her delivery begins to rise through the thicker guitar layers. Sloan gives her plenty to respond to. Feedback gathers at the edges, glide guitar bends the background out of alignment and the fuzz becomes dense enough to make the song feel enclosed. At the same time, the arrangement possesses an enormous sense of scale. That combination gives the track its emotional heart. Sloan builds a setting capable of carrying a huge vocal performance, and Dow answers with one of her strongest to date.

‘War Against Emptiness’ finds Rebecca Dow and David Sloan growing into their identity as a duo. The shared instincts developed during their past projects remain present, while this collaboration gives them room to follow heavier guitar tones and more exposed writing. Sloan’s layered production places tension in every corner of the track, and Dow delivers a vocal performance filled with unease, resolve and control. Together, they have written a song about remaining visible when isolation threatens to erase you. Give it the volume it deserves. With ‘War Against Emptiness’, Dow and Sloan ensure emptiness never gets the final word.

‘War Against Emptiness’ is out on 11 September 2026. You can check it out across all major digital platforms.