Angine De Poitrine – Vol II

It’s time to tackle the band of the moment. Love em or hate em there’s no avoiding Angine De Poitrine at the moment. For me, that’s such a good thing.

You can laugh at the polka dots, the oversized heads and the absurd back story for about a minute but when they start playing, everyone’s jaw drops. What first looks like wacky theatre quickly gives way to the more startling truth that Klek de Poitrine and Khn de Poitrine are astonishing world class musicians. To make music this tight, this knotted and this physical is hard enough in ordinary clothes. To do it while sealed inside those cumbersome costumes makes the duo seem even more locked in, as if the restriction sharpens their concentration. Man, they might actually be aliens.

Plenty of bands can cause a stir with novelty and gimmicks. Very few can back it up with songs this strong. Their debut album Vol I announced Angine de Poitrine as a real force and I had a lot of time for it. Theres just no denying the sheer force of nature that is ‘Sherpa’. Though, for me, its best material sat heavily toward the front. Vol II sorts that out straight away. This is all killer, no filler. Every piece earns its place, every loop de doop has a point, and every turn opens another angle in the rhythm. Today where the plodding dad rock of Oasis is once again seeping into a younger generation, Angine de Poitrine feel like a breath of fresh air. They are true originals with real energy, real movement and real musical ability. You can hear a future in this album rather than a turgid rerun of the past.

I tried to get a quote from the band about what it was like moving from Vol I to Vol II with a growing online storm following them. They had this to say.

“Brr dooooooot frnnnnnk arrrrrrrrrrrrksss boffffff deeeeeeeeeeeeeee”

I jest of course, couldn’t resist. Let’s drop a long-awaited needle (man it took ages to able to get a copy on vinyl) and dive into their world.

‘Fabienk’ gets the album moving with a pulse that feels both strict and loose, which is one of this duo’s great strengths. Klek lays down a groove that keeps circling with machine like insistence, while Khn threads these bent, needling guitar lines across the top in shapes that never quite land where your ear expects. The loop does the anchoring, but the life of the track comes from the way the pair keep stretching against and around it. The main riff is super catchy but all these other little accents flicker in and out as well. The guitar seems to tease a hook, then twist it into another form before it settles. For all the odd timing in play, the thing that hits first is how much fun it is.

The central figure of ‘Mata Zyklek’ is one of the densest things they have written. It has that circular quality that makes you want one more pass, then another, then another, and Klek knows exactly how to feed that instinct without letting the groove sit still. How do they manage to perform at this speed? His drumming is all force and judgment. Every hit feels chosen. Khn answers with riffs galore as well as weird alien chants. It’s almost as if the guitar is speaking in its own language. What really sells the track is the duo’s command of dynamics. They know when drop in and out and seeing Khn perform his dance on the loop station at his feet makes you appreciate them even more. The costumes may make people smile, but this is the sort of playing that would stun you in the total darkness of a venue.

There is a wonky brightness to ‘Sarniezz’ that makes it one of the quickest rushes on the record. The groove has a spring in it, almost playful in the way it hops forward, yet the detail inside the arrangement is fierce. Klek keeps nudging the beat from different sides, giving the track a sense of imbalance without ever letting it tip over. Khn uses that footing to throw out one curling phrase after another, each one slightly warped, each one catchy in a way that sneaks up on you. This is where the duo’s humour and skill sit together most naturally. You hear the absurdity in the tones and the vocal noises, but you also hear musicians who know exactly what they’re doing.  

By the time ‘Utzp’ lands, Vol II is already flying, and this is the point where the record shows how many languages Angine de Poitrine can fold into their sound without losing themselves. There is a lopsided polka dance feel to the opening pattern, something you might hear on a Camper Van Beethoven track. But it’s not long before the piece grows sharper and more aggressive. Khn’s playing here is a marvel. He shifts from clipped melodic fragments to fast runs and stacked lines without losing the thread, while Klek keeps everything rooted with a beat that feels both heavy and agile. The false stops are handled brilliantly. Each return lands with more force, and the track builds and builds to a frenzy that should be impossible given how they’re dressed.

‘Yor Zarad’ has a tougher edge. The opening exchange between drums and string attack is so sharply timed that it feels almost visual. Once the main riff comes in, the track pushes forward with a lean, muscular swagger that gives the album one of its hardest blows. What I love here is the way Angine de Poitrine turn that complexity into energy you can dance to. Plenty of technically minded bands can leave you admiring the technique and forgetting the actual song. Klek and Khn never fall into that trap. ‘Yor Zarad’ hits with the directness of something you could throw yourself around a room to, even as its structure keeps mutating underneath. That balance between instinct and control is all over Vol II, and this track might be the clearest example of it.

‘Angor’ closes the record in a way that says a lot about how much the duo have grown. On Vol I, I always found the back half a little less packed with knockout moments than the opening stretch. Here, the closer feels fully worthy of what comes before it. This is something else altogether. More like some sci fi battle theme than the psyche wig outs we’ve heard so far. By the final minutes, you are hearing a band who understand exactly how to end a record like this. My god they left it all on the tape. It leaves Vol II sounding complete, not merely finished.

By the end of Vol II, the real achievement becomes impossible to miss. Angine de Poitrine have taken the promise of the first record and stretched it across a full album with strength, purpose and a real clarity from start to finish. Every track brings its own shape, its own rhythm and its own strange kind of release, yet the whole thing still holds together as one complete statement. Klek and Khn can dress it all up in dots, masks and cosmic nonsense, though none of that would matter for a second without musicianship of this level. This album proves they are far more than a viral curiosity. All the gatekeeping commentary I’m seeing online “they’re fooling you” “You’re being had” holds zero water. They are making some people in the music world uncomfortable, and rightly so. They are one of the most original and thrilling bands making guitar music right now, arriving with ideas, energy and the kind of skill that leaves most revivalist rock looking tired on arrival. Vol II feels like the sound of a band fully realising their sound and to me it seems like they have so much more up their spotty sleeves

Vol II is out now on vinyl via Spectacles Bonzai. You can check it out over on the Angine de Poitrine Bandcamp page.

You can follow Angine de Poitrine on social media here…

Photo Credit

Constantin Monfilliette

deary – Birding

deary and me go back a ways. I’ve picked up every one of their releases on vinyl, right from that ‘Fairground single. I loved what they did on Sonic Cathedral, and when I played ‘Alfie’ on my DKFM Shoegaze Radio show last month it felt like that this London trio had found their sound and were ready for that all important debut album. Now it’s here via Bella Union. Birding feels like a real step forward. Rebecca “Dottie” Cockram, Ben Easton and Harry Catchpole sound completely at ease with themselves across these eleven songs, and that ease gives the record its strength. Cockram explains the choice of Birding as the album title.

“I got really into reading about birds and all these historical stories and poetry about them. You find these beautiful images of birds that represent hope, but they’re also animals. Some of them eat their own young. Some of them, like vultures and crows, are a sign of death to some people. They represent all these different elements, which I think sum up a lot of the album.”

The band sound at ease all the way through Birding. The haze and glow of the earlier releases are still present, but the writing feels firmer now and the themes reach further in. This is a record shaped by grief, self-reflection, care, innocence and the damage people do to each other and the world around them. Even with those heavy ideas at its core, it never loses its sense of beauty. Let’s drop the needle and I’ll tell you all about it.

‘Smile’ opens the album with, what I’d call, a gentle force. The first thing that strikes you is how much sharper the band sound here. The guitars have bite, the drums land with more weight, and Dottie pushes the vocal right to the front. The lyrics deal with violence against women and the fear and anger that comes with living alongside those headlines. The song carries urgency in every part of its arrangement. The words come quickly, almost breathlessly, giving the whole thing a hard emotional edge. It is a bold and beautiful way to begin.

After that intensity, ‘Seabird’ opens the space around the record. The beat gives it a subtle swing while the guitars spread out into something broader and more luminous. The Robin Guthrie influence is on show here to great effect. I loved this one as a single and it still feels huge in the album sequence. There is a real sense of soaring through the sky in the way it moves, yet it still holds onto the ache that sits underneath so much of Birding. That balance between uplift and sadness is one of deary’s strongest qualities, and ‘Seabird’ shows it beautifully.

With ‘Baby’s Breath’ the mood turns more intimate. The title suggests delicacy and the song does have that softness, but there is enough grit in the guitars and enough uncertainty in the tone to stop it from feeling too fragile. The result is a song that feels very close and very human, as though you are hearing someone think through difficult feelings in real time.

At just over two minutes, ‘Gypsophila’ works as a brief clearing of the air. It gives the album a moment to breathe without losing momentum. The soft and velvety textures they create here are luscious. It leaves behind a soft trace and keeps the flow of the album moving with real care.

‘Blue Ribbon’ blooms from the outro with a nod to the eighty’s synth pop sound. I’m a huge fan of the way they use the bass on this track. Pushing it forward in the main but pulling it back in those quieter passages for full effect. Dottie really gets to show her range here, from the breathy linking sections to the powerful and punctuated “I believed in you”. It’s a vivid demonstration of the journey this band have been on that they now find themselves producing songs of this calibre.

Then comes ‘Garden Of Eden’. This was a complete left turn the first time I heard it, Taking the lead more from Laura Marling than Liz Fraser. It’s an acoustic almost quintessentially English folk song. By all thoughts this shouldn’t work but, by god, it absolutely does. Its utterly beautiful and almost had me in tears first listen. I’d love to hear more of this from deary. Maybe a short folk ep in their future.

I was already fond of ‘Alma’ before hearing the full album, and it only grows in stature here. This is one of the warmest songs on Birding, with a melody that opens up in a way that feels almost cleansing. Dottie has described it as a song tied to growth and self-care, and that comes through in the music. There is a generosity to it, but also a sense of looking back at earlier versions of yourself with honesty and compassion. It leans closer to dream pop than some of the heavier moments here, yet it still feels completely in keeping with the rest of the record.

Placed after ‘Alma’, ‘No Sweeter Feeling’ gives the album one of its gentlest passages. The melody has an easy grace to it, and there is a softness in the vocal that feels deeply sincere. Built on a trip hop beat (Portishead anyone) what I like most is that the band never let that sweetness become sentimental. There is always something slightly shaded beneath the surface, which keeps the emotion believable and lets the song hold its shape.

By the time ‘Terra Fable’ arrives, Birding begins to turn inward again. There’s an almost all-consuming darkness in its atmosphere. The song takes its time, evolving slowly revealing its many textures. It feels like it could have come from one of those early Cocteau Twin albums but for its trip hop beat which is really pleasing to the ear when it arrives.

‘Alfie’ is undoubtedly the emotional centre of the record and it absolutely earns that role. Having played it on my radio show last month, I already knew it was special, but in the full sequence it lands even harder. Written around the loss of Ben’s family dog, the song grows far beyond that starting point into something much wider about grief, memory and the strange way love stays present after someone is gone. The running time gives deary space to let the emotion build slowly, and they use that space well. By the end it feels huge, with the band pushing everything outward until the song seems to open into the sky.

The title track, ‘Birding’, closes the album with a lovely sense of proportion. It does not try to outdo what came before it. Instead, it gathers the album’s ideas into one final moment of reflection. The themes of care, vulnerability and learning from what life has done to you all still sit here, but expressed with a light touch. It feels like the right ending for a record so concerned with paying attention, whether that is to nature, to memory, or to the softer parts of yourself.

Birding is an album that keeps in constant contact with the feelings that drove the band to write these songs. deary understand song shape, texture and emotional pacing at a very high level, and they know when to lift a lyric in the middle of all that beautiful noise. For those of us who have followed them from the Sonic Cathedral days to this Bella Union debut, there is something deeply satisfying in hearing them reach this point. Spend time with Birding and it keeps giving more back. That feels fitting for a record named after the act of really looking.

Birding is out now via Bella Union. You can check it out over on the deary Bandcamp page.

You can follow deary on social media here…

Thought Bubble – Who’s To Say?

Thought Bubble have become one of those acts I look forward to hearing from because they always seem to arrive with fresh ideas and a slightly different angle on their own sound. Back on A Made Up World I wrote about the trust at the heart of the trio and the way Peter Gelf’s arrival opened up a richer storytelling side to the band. That still feels true here, only Who’s To Say? pushes that further again. Chris Cordwell, Peter Gelf and Nick Raybould sound fully settled in this version of Thought Bubble now, confident enough to stretch a song well past the five minute mark and let each piece find its own pace. Coming out of Shropshire with a run of releases already behind them, including Universe Zero, Mostly True and last year’s A Made Up World, they have built a catalogue that keeps growing without circling the same idea twice.

That sense of progression is apparent on Who’s To Say because this album feels broader in scope and a touch more pointed in what it wants to talk about. Earlier Thought Bubble releases often invited you into strange little corners of memory and imagination. This one still does that, though now the world outside the window keeps pressing in. You hear it in the titles, you hear it in the tension between the electronics and the voice, and you hear it in the ever evolving arrangements.

‘Let The Light’ opens the album and it has a ceremonial quality, with Cordwell’s electronics setting a mood that feels searching and slightly uneasy before Gelf’s voice enters with warmth and gravity. What I like most here is the way the track keeps revealing new details. Little tones hover at the edge of your hearing. Raybould’s percussion gives the piece shape without ever pinning it down too tightly. You get a sense of movement and unease at once. As an opener it works beautifully because it sets out the album’s main idea early. This is music looking for something decent and steady in a world that feels increasingly frayed.

From there Thought Bubble turn to ‘Small Things And Sandwiches’, which may well be their most bonkers song title yet. It has wit before you even press play, though the song itself carries more bite than playfulness. The brighter opening gives you a false sense of comfort, then the track starts to roughen up around the edges. Gelf delivers the lines with a knowing weariness that suits the theme perfectly. Everyday life rubs up against public noise and empty spectacle. The electronics flash and grumble while the guitar textures add a wiry psychedelic tension. By the closing stretch the song feels gloriously frayed, as if the band are letting the whole thing tilt just enough to mirror the absurdity of the world it describes.

The album tightens its focus on ‘We Know Where This Leads’, and the title alone tells you plenty. This is one of the record’s sharpest pieces, both musically and thematically. The pulse underneath the song has a nervous insistence to it, as though it already knows the outcome and cannot stop moving toward it. Gelf’s vocal phrasing is especially good here. He sounds measured, almost resigned, which gives the song even more force. The electronics do a lot of quiet work in the background, sketching a cold frame around the melody. You can hear Thought Bubble’s gift for songwriting very clearly on this one. For all the textures and ideas in play, the song still lands in a direct way.

‘Lightfoot’ changes the temperature a little. After the pressure of the previous track, this one feels more reflective and oddly tender. The subject comes through with respect and curiosity, and the music follows suit. There is a brightness in some of the higher notes that gives the song an open quality, while the central electronic figure stays calm and grounded beneath it all. I found myself really taken with the way Thought Bubble handle the mood here. Gelf’s voice sits right in the middle of that, carrying the story with a quiet dignity. It gives the album an emotional hit at exactly the right moment.

Then comes ‘I’ll Buy Your Oranges’, which is where the record gets wonderfully odd in the best possible way. Thought Bubble have always been good at stepping sideways when you expect them to go straight on, and this track is a fine example of that instinct. There is something playful in its movement, something rooted in curiosity and character, yet it never tips into novelty. The melodies are sly and memorable, and the arrangement has that open ended experimental spirit that lets the band wander where they please while still keeping the song intact. You can hear why this trio works so well together.

‘Your Call’ lands with a grin and a grimace at the same time. It is one of the funniest songs here on the surface and one of the bleakest underneath. Anyone who has spent too long trapped in a call queue will feel this one in their bones. The repetition is the point. The sparseness is the point. The bass and percussion lock into a pattern that feels maddeningly circular, while the voice becomes part complaint, part deadpan observation. Thought Bubble are very smart in how they shape this track. They understand that the dull cruelty of modern systems doesn’t need melodrama. Instead, it needs pointed accuracy. This song has that. It catches the petty dehumanising nonsense of daily life with real precision and turns it into something darkly enjoyable.

By the time we reach ‘A Man Split In Two’, the album is ready to stretch out again and leave you with something larger and stranger. At just over eight minutes, the closing track feels like both a return and an expansion. We come back to the “Lightfoot” thread, though the tone now is more unsettled, more spectral. The vocals sit further back, almost swallowed at times by the electronic haze around them, which suits the subject beautifully. This is one of those Thought Bubble endings that does not tie everything up neatly. The sounds gather, hang in the air, and keep shifting shape until the song finally loosens its grip.

What stays with me about Who’s To Say? is how fully it commits to its own way of speaking. Thought Bubble never sound interested in easy hooks or neat little summaries of what they do. They trust atmospheres they create, repetition, and above all they trust the song. That trust has served them well before, though this album feels especially strong because it joins their experimental side to some pointed observations about modern life, frustration, memory and identity. It leaves you with plenty to think about, though more importantly it gives you seven richly drawn pieces of music that reward your attention every time you return. For a band this prolific, that level of consistency is seriously impressive. Who’s To Say? keeps asking questions long after it ends, and that is exactly why it says so much.

Who’s To Say is out now. You can check it out over on the Thought Bubble Bandcamp page.

You can follow Thought Bubble on social media here…

Photo Credit

Dan Raybould

Silk – Auralux – Single Premiere

A year ago or so, Silk arrived as one of those side projects that that I just got right away. If you’ve been following along here on Static Sounds Club, you’ll already know Michael Smyth first caught my attention through Virgins, a band I rated so highly I ended up naming them my album of the year in 2024. When Smyth first introduced Silk through the premiere of ‘Faze’, the project came through as denser, more inward and more consumed by volume than his previous work, while still holding tight to melody and emotional weight. That first taste felt like an opening statement. Since then each new release has added another piece to the picture, and now with ‘Auralux’ we’re hearing Silk stretch further again, with the full mini album waiting just ahead. Rest assured, I’ll be reviewing that in full very soon.

Smyth has spoken very clearly about what drives this project.

“There is no beauty in perfection, it feels fake and manufactured to me. I want the record to feel real, so this is the sound of visceral self expression.”

You can hear that instinct all through ‘Auralux’. This is music made by one person taking full control of the writing, playing and recording, and you feel that intimacy straight away. The song has scale, force and sheer physical heft, yet it still feels personal, as if every layer has been pushed into place by hand rather than polished into submission.

What strikes you first is the way the guitars arrive in numbers. They do not simply open the song, they spread across it. The opening seconds feel glazed in speckled light, with shimmering lines stacking over one another until the whole thing starts to glow. Then the pressure builds. The drums come in huge. The fuzz thickens. The whole track swells into something full bodied and physical. You feel the force of the arrangement in your chest it’s wild.

In the verses, the guitars and vocals seem to answer one another call and response style, each phrase met by another surge of texture or melody. It gives the song dynamics without making it feel restless. The vocal sits low in the mix, almost folded into the body of the track, which is how shoegazers do it. Makes you listen harder. Then the chorus opens up and Silk goes all in. Layers of fuzz pile upward, dreamy lead lines flash through the distortion, and the whole thing seems to billow around Smyth’s voice. It is a huge moment, but it never loses its sense of feeling.

You can hear the blood, sweat and tears in the production. This sort of music lives or dies on atmosphere, and Smyth knows exactly how much to give each part. The reverse reverbs and dense layers never feel decorative. They help shape the song’s emotional climate. The opening shimmer, the dense middle weight, the way the chorus seems to rise up in sheets, all of it serves the feeling of the track. You can hear why Silk has been building such strong momentum across the past year.

Silk continue to build something special here. ‘Auralux’ gives you shimmer, weight, grief, release and that glorious moment where melody and noise become inseparable. It feels like a song made with total belief in the emotional power of volume. You can hear that throughout. You can also hear the hurt in it. Most of all, you can hear Silk coming into focus through Auralux.

Auralux will be released via Blowtorch Records and Shoredive Records. You can check out the singles over on the Silk Bandcamp page.

You can follow Silk on social media here…

Wildernesses – Growth

I love me a band that blends genres, especially genres I’m passionate about. Enter Wildernesses. This band blend the crescendo dynamic of post rock with meaningful indie vocals and the wide-eyed glow of shoegaze. You can totally hear the years behind it. You can hear the losses, the work, the friendships and the patience. The album Growth benefits from that immensely. London has produced plenty of bands who know how to build their own atmosphere, yet Wildernesses bring something more human to the table. Their songs hold close to real lives and real memories, and that gives the whole album a sense of weight that never feels forced. With links to Late Night Fiction, We Never Learned To Live and Earth Moves, the band already carried strong musical histories into this project, but Growth feels like the moment those separate paths finally found a shared language.

The band are Phillip Morris (vocals, guitar), Sam Howe (guitar), Mark Portnoi (bass) and Ryan Browne (drums). You can hear their sense of shared purpose all over this record. The production gives the band plenty of room keeping everything grounded even when the songs reach for something bigger. Morris put it well when speaking about the album:

“Growth is the result of over two years of writing, refining and learning together as a band. The title reflects both life’s way of shaping us and our own journey as a group.”

Let’s dive in and see where in the wilderness we end up.

The opening cut ‘Sleepless’ sets the tone with real assurance. The guitars glow in the opening section. You can feel the late-night stillness in it, but also the agitation that sits underneath. When it opens up it does it gradually like its welcoming you in. It begins the album in a way that tunes your ear in the band first and foremost. It’s a glorious post rock number and it had me on first listen.

From there, ‘Happy Hollow’ naturally evolves out the echoes. There is a lonely inwardness to this one that feels very specific, as though the song is watching someone disappear into their own thoughts in real time. The arrangement has a gentleness to it, yet there is power in the guitars and in the way the vocals sit within the mix. I also want to “watch the X-Files all night” which helps lol.

By the time ‘[dread.]’ arrives, the energy is coming up. The title tells you plenty, but the band still leave space for the feeling to build in its own way. The song has a jittery, nervous energy as it whips along at pace. Only slowing for those expansive verses. I can imagine this one going off live.

‘English Darkness’ was already one of the key songs leading into the album, and hearing it in the context of the album flow only strengthens it. There is a haunted, regional quality to the song that gives it real identity. You can sense place all over it. Home, memory, mental strain and family history seem to sit together, uneasy bedfellows. The band never overplay those themes, rather they let the mood build through tone and pacing, and that restraint gives the song its force. It feels bruised, thoughtful and sharply observed.

One of the most striking titles on the record belongs to ‘Terrible Bloom’, and the song lives up to it. This is where desire and unease seem to wrap themselves around one another. The guitars feel fuller here, the emotional weather thickens, and the band lean into their more intimate sound without losing the largesse that has carried the album so far.

After that, ‘Maintenance’ brings a slightly different energy. There is wit in the writing here, but it comes with a tiredness that many listeners will recognise straight away. Small habits, private rituals and the strange business of keeping yourself going all sit inside the song. The band handle that idea with a lovely lightness of touch. The collage mask concept from the video makes sense once you hear the track in the wider context of the album.

Placed where it is, ‘Cassino’ works as a pause and a reflection. As another instrumental piece, it gives you a moment to think about what you’ve just heard while still adding to the emotional thread. The band don’t use it as filler track. Instead, it feels like a moment of family memory being held up to the light and turned over slowly. The textures are patient; the mood stays close. It is a smart piece of sequencing.

‘Four Hour Drive’ remains one of the strongest songs here, and it still cuts deep. Knowing it grew from a photograph of Morris’s father and grandfather gives it even greater weight. The drums drive this one. Setting the pace right from the outset. You can hear distance in it, but also duty, tenderness and the quiet pressure of inherited feeling. The arrangement is beautifully judged.

The album comes to a close with ‘Summertime, 1917’, and what a way to finish. Hidden love letters discovered during a house renovation already make for a remarkable point of origin, but the band treat that story with real care. It feels intimate and far away at the same time. Morris delivers the vocal with a sense of distance that suits the subject, while the band build around him with a patient hand. As a closer, it gathers together the album’s recurring concerns of grief, inheritance, care, memory and endurance in a way that feels full and deeply satisfying.

What stays with you after Growth ends is how fully Wildernesses commit to emotional detail. These songs are full of ordinary objects, family traces, small acts of survival and private reckonings, and that gives the record a rare honesty. The band understand scale as well as restraint. They know when to let a guitar ring out and when to leave room around a line. More importantly, they know how to make personal material feel open enough for your own memories to enter. That is what gives Growth its power. It feels rooted in grief and care, yet it keeps reaching toward connection. For a debut, that is some achievement. Wildernesses have made a record that keeps unfolding in your mind, and the title proves perfectly chosen because these songs keep growing for years to come.

Growth is out now via Floodlit Recordings. You can check it out over on the Wildernesses Bandcamp page.

You can follow Wildernesses on social media here…

Photo Credit

Joey Atchison

Studio Kosmische – Caramel

For me Studio Kosmische has always been a musical project built on curiosity and affection for sound. Dom Keen approaches music with the ears of someone who loves the past enough to keep asking fresh questions of it, and that makes this new 7 inch on Feral Child Recordings such a smart idea. ‘Caramel’ already carries real weight in kosmische history, first appearing on Cluster’s 1974 LP Zuckerzeit, where Hans Joachim Roedelius and Dieter Moebius gave it that playful, slightly off-centre charm which still feels so alive all these decades later. What Keen does here is take that source material and treat it with care while also letting his own instincts shape the mood. You can hear the respect for the original, though you can also hear someone enjoying the freedom that comes with pulling an old piece of music into a new setting.

On the A side, ‘Crème Caramel’ opens things with a light touch that suits the title beautifully. Keen leans into the sweetness already sitting inside the composition and brings out its soft edges with a warm, glowing tone that feels intimate on first listen. The arrangement has a gentle pulse to it, enough to keep the track moving while still giving the melodic details room to swirl around. What I really like here is the sense of balance. Nothing feels overworked. Each sound is placed with care, and that gives the piece a calm confidence. If you know the Cluster version, you will recognise its bones straight away, though Keen gives it a smoother surface and a modern sort of warmth.

Flip it over and ‘Salted Caramel’ gives the idea a sharper edge. The sweetness is still there, though now it is being pushed against something more savoury and a little more mischievous. Keen introduces more bite into the textures and that change in flavour makes this pairing work as a proper two-sided statement rather than a simple alternate take. The rhythm feels a touch firmer, the atmosphere a little less cosy, and the whole thing has more eery tension running through it. You start to hear how flexible the original composition really is. One side offers softness and glow, the other brings a faint tang and a drier character. That contrast gives the single its shape and will keep you coming back for another go round on the turntable.

Keen has not chosen this piece at random. You can sense a real understanding of why ‘Caramel’ has endured and why it still speaks to musicians drawn to the kosmische sound. These reworks do exactly what a good reinterpretation should do. They send you back to the source with fresh ears while standing up on their own terms. For listeners already tuned into Roedelius, Moebius and that wider kosmische lineage, this will feel like a lovely nod. For anyone coming to the song for the first time, it works just as well as a small beautifully considered release that shows how much can be said in two short instrumental pieces.

Some singles are easy to admire once and file away. This one keeps you lingering over every last spoonful. Lip smacking good!

Caramel is out on Tuesday 31st March via Feral Child Recordings. You can check it out over on the Studio Kosmische Bandcamp page once it’s released.

You can follow Studio Kosmische on social media here…

Ringing – another cycle in the cosmic wash

My love affair with the bands of Julias War Recordings continues unabated with the sounds of Brooklyn’s Ringing. I swear to god this label has the midas touch.

Ringing are Colton Walker, Marcos Rocha and Josh Matthews, a trio who work in really immediate terms. Their debut album another cycle in the cosmic wash was recorded live in a single session back in 2024, and you can hear that immediacy in every track. Such was the haste at the time that Walker later removed the original lyrics after realising they were saying very little. What was left behind was a record that felt open, searching, and guided by sound rather than fixed meaning. Walker had this to say.

“The album reflects on the cyclical nature of recovery. Sometimes it’s easy to feel like you’re destined to repeat the same mistakes forever, but over time you start to recognize the pattern and learn how to navigate it. The important thing is to just keep going.”

Let’s keep going and dive headlong in to the spin cycle.

That sense of immediacy comes through straight away on ‘datamosh’, where smeared guitar tones blur into one another as the band settle into a loose, shifting groove. We teeter somewhere between shoegaze, grunge and slacker rock and it really works.

A more considered touch comes through on ‘pool 2’, where the guitars pace themselves with a stop start intent. I get big Sonic Youth vibes as the song evolves into its anti-melody phase. The drums and guitars settle into a mirrored thrashing rhythm before the song sputters out leaving us breathless.

If you caught my March DKFM Shoegaze Radio show you would’ve heard me spin ‘incandescent’. It plays with quiet loud quiet structure. It feels more accessible than some of the other tracks and is a great ‘in’ to the bands sound. The chugging guitar has ‘Coffee and TV’ vibes whilst simultaneously sounding nothing like it. This band really like to keep you on your toes.

On ‘rose/bud/thorn’ the band pull things back. Notes hang longer, the space between them becomes more noticeable. It creates a more reflective moment that has its own beauty. This is as close to a ballad you’re going to get from Ringing! Clocking in at over five minutes in run time the song takes its time and in doing so you find yourself getting more and more sucked in each time. Its my album highlight for sure.

We’re back in thrashy, scrappy territory with ‘familiar’. Right from the opening it feels like a track that will ignite the mosh pit. It’s not a long song by any means but it sure leaves its mark!

‘want2want2’ hits us with a doom-laden intro before mellowing out for the verses. That contrast is only further augmented by the textures used in those heavier passages. The bass is employing some kinda modulation that really thickens the sound up is a really pleasing way.

Unlike its predecessor ‘moria’ opens up all quiet and sneaky like. Then those guitar textures stretch outward, opening up the sound in a way that feels expansive. The rhythm section holds everything together without closing that space down. Another to the point number that doesn’t outstay its welcome.

With ‘straylight bleed’ the band lean further into fragmentation. Is it dreampop? Is it shoegaze? Is it Grunge? Yes is the answer. It’s all of that at oncw creating a restless feel that keeps you alert. It is one of the more abstract moments on the album, yet it still feels connected to the session as a whole.

A quieter intensity settles over ‘3am’. The band ease back and let small details come forward, each note carrying more weight as a result. It’s intimate without losing the sense of space that runs through the record. The rumbling bass never sounded more menacing.

By the time ‘delusion lake’ closes things out, Ringing seem content to let everything settle on its own terms. This sounds like a final track on an album if that makes sense. It feels like a culmination of all that’s come before. That ascending chord sequence really bringing that home.

Spending time with another cycle in the cosmic wash feels like stepping into a moment that was captured rather than carefully assembled. The live session approach gives it a real sense of presence. Each listen reveals small shifts in texture and interaction that are easy to miss the first time through. You come away with the sense that the cycle keeps turning, each pass through the wash bringing something new to the surface.

another cycle in the cosmic wash is out now on cassette via Julia’s War Recordings and on vinyl via Signal//Noise Records. You can check it out over on the Ringing Bandcamp page.

You can follow Ringing on social media here…

Cashier – The Weight EP

Cashier come straight out of Lafayette, Louisiana, where they have spent the last couple of years building their name the old-fashioned way, through singles that hit hard, live shows with giants of the modern guitar underground, and a sound that links grunge, shoegaze, post hardcore and alt rock without ever feeling pinned down by any one tag. Signing to Julia’s War Recordings (yes, I know, I know. I’m obsessed with this label) feels like a natural next step for them. It puts them among artists who understand how grit, melody and emotional force can coexist on the same record. What makes Cashiers The Weight EP stand apart is the directness at the centre of it all. Kylie Gaspard sings like every line has already sat in her chest for too long, while the band around her keep the songs tense, loud and sharply shaped. That band features on guitar Joseph Perillo, on bass guitar Austyn Wood and drummer Zachary Derouen.

Gaspard put it plainly when speaking about the title track.

“As the title track of the EP, I wanted to tie the themes of all the songs together. In this song, we wanted to create something that honoured the influences that came before us. While staying true to having the guitar as the focal point, the lyrics make this a coming-of-age piece, trying to find where we fit in this life, and how we long for connection.”

That sense of connection runs right through The Weight. Let’s dive in and see if we can connect too.

The first thing that hits you on ‘A Curse I Know So Well’ is the sense of urgency. It comes charging in with a wiry guitar line that feels ready to buckle under its own tension, then the whole band snaps into place around it. Gaspard sounds vital but measured, never overplaying the emotion, which gives the track even more bite. Perillo’s guitar work adds that extra scrape and sting around the edges while the rhythm section keep the song taut underneath. You can hear traces of nineties guitar music in the bones of it, but Cashier bring their own edge to it.

That energy carries into ‘Like I Do’, though this one feels leaner and more pointed. The guitars feel less like a wall and more like interlocking lines, each one pushing at the next while the drums keep everything moving with real purpose. This is one of those tracks where the band’s melodic instincts really show themselves. Underneath the distortion and grain, there is a song with real shape to it, one that sticks in your head long after it ends.

By the time ‘Part From Me’ lands, Cashier sound fully settled into their own language. The opening guitars have a clipped urgency that immediately raises the pulse, but the thing that stays with you is how emotional the whole performance feels without turning theatrical. The vocals have an ache that cuts right through the centre of the mix. The band sound huge here, but they also sound disciplined. Every chord, notably here played off the beat, feels chosen with care, every shift in volume there for a reason. It gives the track a sense of momentum that mirrors the song’s emotional subject, that painful back and forth of a connection starting to split while some part of you still wants to hold it together.

Then ‘For I Never Knew You’ changes the script. After three songs built around motion and melody, this brief noise piece feels like a jagged interruption.

‘Same Mistakes’ follows it with a slower, heavier emotional swing. This is one of the EP’s most affecting moments because it feels exhausted in a very human way. The guitars still swell and bite, but there is more space in the arrangement, more room for the weight of the lyric to settle. You can feel the song wrestling with repetition, with the frustration of seeing yourself stuck in old patterns and still walking back into them. The band match that feeling beautifully. The performance stays measured, letting the mood build gradually until the whole thing feels like it might cave in on itself.

The title track closes the EP with a sense of hard-won clarity. ‘The Weight’ gathers together the themes Cashier have been circling all along and gives them their fullest expression. The guitars soar more openly here, sounding broad and bright even as the song keeps its feet planted in uncertainty. Derouen’s drumming gives it a firm backbone, while Wood’s bass holds everything together beneath the swirl. It’s a coming-of-age song in the truest sense, full of longing, confusion, self-knowledge and the uneasy acceptance that growing older means carrying things you cannot simply shrug off. It closes the record on a note that feels both open and heavy, which is exactly where Cashier thrive.

These songs deal with desire, insecurity, disconnection and the awkward pain of trying to work out where you belong. Cashier give those feelings a physical form. You hear it in the guitars grinding against each other, in the rhythm section driving everything forward, and in the way the melodies still find daylight inside all that force.

What makes The Weight such a strong debut is the way Cashier keep emotion and volume in balance. They never let the songs collapse into murk, and they never sand down the rough edges that give this EP its character. You come away feeling like you have heard a band who understand how to turn messy inner life into something tangible, something you can feel in your chest as much as hear through the speakers. For a first statement, this is strikingly assured. Cashier sound ready for bigger rooms and even bigger stages, yet they still hold onto that DIY core that gives the songs their honesty. The Weight leaves its mark because Cashier know that growing up, falling short and carrying on all come with their own weight.

The Weight is out now on CD and Cassette via Julia’s War Recordings. You can check it out over on the Cashier Bandcamp page.

You can follow Cashier on social media here…

Photo Credit

Olivia Perillo

Geography of the Moon – Stay Clear Stay Sharp

Geography of the Moon have a special place in my heart. I often feel I get to experience their travels vicariously through their music.  Let me rewind for those new to their sound.

Since forming after meeting in East London back in 2016, the Glasgow based Scottish, Italian, French duo have put in serious miles, playing more than 1,400 shows across Europe and Asia and building a body of work that already includes the SAY nominated album Fake Flowers Never Die, their second album Aberdeen Hiroshima and the widely praised EP The Unraveling. Largely influenced by bands from the 80s and the 90s, somewhere between psych rock, post punk, new wave and indie rock, they create their own brand of mashed up styles: Psychwave. It’s important to know all this when you come to their new single ‘Stay Clear Stay Sharp’ because this single feels like the product of all that lived experience.

The band have this to say.

“Inspired in part by the events in Nepal, the song is dedicated to friends who fought — and won. “Stay Clear Stay Sharp” encourages listeners to remain alert, to look closely at the world around them and to resist the pull of political despair. Beneath its understated tone, the song carries a simple message: stay aware, stay engaged, and keep working toward a fairer system.”

I think we can all get behind that message! Let’s hit play.

The first thing that gets you is the pulse. Andrea locks into that fast four to the floor pattern and keeps it taut, giving the song a sense of forward motion that mirrors the track’s lyrical intent. You can hear how it grew from a live setting where the room itself forced the band to simplify and trust repetition. That decision pays off here. The guitar keeps the whole thing moving with a wiry insistence while the drum machine gives it that clipped, mechanical push Geography of the Moon do so well. Over the top of it all, Virginia sings / orates with a measured calm that makes the message feel even more pointed. She never overplays it. She lets the lines sit in the track and do their work.

Knowing the song was shaped by what the band witnessed in Nepal in September 2025 gives it even more weight, yet the brilliance of the single lies in how lightly it wears that context. If this is the first taste of the next record, then the album already feels like one to keep very close on your radar.

For long time followers, there is plenty here that will feel familiar in the best possible way. For newer listeners, this feels like an ideal point of entry just ahead of the album announcement. Geography of the Moon sound alert, focused and fully in command of their own vital corner of post punk. On this evidence, the next release deserves your full attention, and for now the smartest move is simple enough: stay clear, stay sharp people!

‘Stay Clear Stay Sharp’ is out on 26 March 2026 via Home Hearing Records. You can check it out upon release over on the Geography of the Moon Bandcamp page.

You can follow Geography of the Moon on social media here…

a murphy- haunt

I’m a bit of a late-night writer. It’s when I can get complete peace and quiet to focus on the amazing music I’m sent. Last week though I was casually scrolling through my Instagram feed when I heard a song that stopped me in my tracks. I sat there soaking up the wee clip the reel allowed me to hear before diving off to Bandcamp to hear more. There was something in the tone, something in the way the artist played their acoustic guitar that spoke to me. The artist was a murphy and I ended up sending him a message there and then. My instinct told me this album was gonna be special. I love it when I’m right.

Andrew James Murphy has been here before under the name amateur theatre group, building a quiet following through radio plays and festival appearances. He said that project felt like a return to music after a long absence. This new album, haunt. feels like what comes after that return, when the reasons for writing start to become clearer and more personal. These songs come from a place of reflection shaped by loss, tied closely to Murphy realising he has now lived as long without his father as he did with him. That knowledge sits with you every listen, yet it never overwhelms the music. Instead, it’s your window into understanding the songs.

The album opens with ‘intro’, mere seconds long. It’s the sound of the artist picking up his guitar and settling down to play. We’re ready to begin

‘lune’ opens things up proper and brings us into his world. The melody sits gently against a soft bed of instrumentation that leans into that slowcore and contemporary folk crossover. His voice carries a quiet clarity, never forcing emotion yet allowing it to come through in a natural way. Everything is a careful choice here. The picking style of the guitar, the muted brass section that closes the song its all so minimal yet has maximum impact.

With ‘hymnal’ the mood light dims. There is a reflective quality to the arrangement that mirrors the lyrical themes. “Lord, leave a light on, just to help me in the dark” he implores and you immediately connect. You can hear the influence of artists like Nick Drake and Low in the pacing and the openness of the sound. It feels devotional in its own way, like a conversation that he’s been having internally for years and is only now being put into words. You cannot help but be moved by the heart on your sleeve honesty on show.

‘rushes’ shifts things slightly; the insistent strumming pattern grabs you immediately. This feels like something completely new yet you still know where you are and who you’re listening to. The atmospheric snare drum rattles lend the track an anxious energy that gives your ear another layer to uncover. I’m reminded of the band Caroline in the sparse construction that simultaneously feels rich and full. This is where you notice how carefully Murphy has structured the record. Each track builds on what came before without breaking the spell.

‘untitled #1’ arrives a fragment, almost like a memory captured mid thought. There is something powerful in that lack of definition. It allows you to place your own experiences into the space it creates. These shorter, more abstract pieces give you a moment to absorb what you have felt and just be.

‘veneer’ stands out as one of the more direct moments on the record. Knowing the context behind it adds another layer. Andrew says,

“‘veneer’ is about the struggle to keep going during the most difficult moments of grieving, and to eschew the temptation to join the person who is no longer there. The verses draw comparisons between myself and my father – in this case the person the album is essentially about – while the chorus refrain is a call for help in order to survive.”

Anyone who has ever grieved will recognise those complex emotions in ‘veneer’. It’s constant heartbeat of the strummed guitar, the doubled vocals like the father’s voice echoed in his son. This is powerful songwriting and is undoubtedly my album stand out moment.

‘untitled #2’ mirrors the earlier untitled piece, acting as another pause point. It feels like turning a page slowly, taking a moment before moving forward. These interludes really help in shaping the overall flow, giving you time to sit with what you’ve just heard and felt.

The title track ‘haunt’ closes the album and brings everything together. There is a sense of acceptance here, though not in a neat or resolved way. It’s honest. “There’s a haunt in my makeup (And I’ll never be at peace with you)” The arrangement remains beautifully warm and understated, allowing the emotional weight of the song to come through without distraction. The finish the song he even captures the sound of him putting his guitar down again, perfectly bookending the listening experience.  As a closing statement it couldn’t be more perfect.

What stays with me after soaking up haunt for a few days now is how gently it holds something so heavy. These songs earn your attention though meticulous songwriting and stunning performances. You end up feeling different lines landing in new ways depending on where your own head is at that moment. That, for me, is such a rare thing. It speaks to a record that will grow with you as time goes on. I feel like I’ve been trusted with something personal, something that took time to shape and even longer to understand. It also left me with a question sitting in the back of my mind. How do you carry loss while still moving forward? Murphy doesn’t try to answer it for us. He simply shares his side of it and that’s where we meet him. In that common space where we can call all recognise a part of our story in his.

haunt is out now on 10” lathe cut vinyl and cassette. You can check it out over on the a murphy Bandcamp page.

You can follow a murphy on social media here…