I was buzzing when Rebecca Dow reached out to tell me about her new project. Static Sounds Club readers will know her through Virgins, a band I have written about with real affection over the years. The Mountain begins a new chapter for Dow, joining her with Northern Irish producer and musician Darren Speers. Dow has described her studio partnership with Speers as “pure spiritual synchronicity”, a phrase that provides a useful way into the track. ‘Objects’ sounds guided by shared instinct, with the performance and production moving together from the opening moments. Speers understands the value of Dow’s voice and places it firmly at the emotional centre. Every production choice seems designed to support the mood around her. The arrangement is stunning, letting each section settle before the next part appears creating the sense of two musicians listening closely to one another and allowing the song to find its own voice.
As ‘Objects’ develops, you can understand why its early radio plays inspired comparisons with the opening of a film. The song establishes its emotional temperature before revealing where it intends to go. Speers gives the production a wide sense of space, using piano and strings. The atmosphere feels almost visual, encouraging your mind to place scenes alongside the music. Dow’s vocal presence provides the point your attention keeps returning to. Listeners familiar with Virgins will recognise the emotional conviction in her performance, though The Mountain gives her voice a whole new spacious musical setting. Speers responds by keeping the surrounding arrangement focused on tone and movement. The music grows around the vocal rather than competing with it, and the closeness of Dow’s delivery remains intact even as the song suggests a much larger setting. That balance gives ‘Objects’ intimacy and scale at the same time.
For a debut, ‘Objects’ feels settled in its intentions. The song feels born from genuine connection rather than a partnership assembled for convenience. Speers provides a setting where Dow can explore another side of her voice, while her performance gives his production a human centre. The Mountain is the very definition of collaboration, with both members contributing to the identity taking form around them.
‘Objects’ gives The Mountain a thoughtful beginning and leaves you curious about the possibilities ahead. This debut feels like the opening scene of a much larger story, and I am keen to hear where the pair take it from here. That connection gives ‘Objects’ a weight of its own, and it already feels worth holding onto.
‘Objects’ is out now. You can check it out on Spotify and YouTube.
I‘ve just come back from having a very strong word with myself. After looking back through the Static Sounds Club archives, it turns out I’ve never written about Sunstinger before. Let’s rectify that immediately.
Sunstinger are a Scottish five piece who have already released two amazing EP’s in Beyond the Frame and Worthless, not to mention a steady run of singles. The band are Taylor Wright, David McCulloch, Scott Gourlay and Bill Anderson now with brand new drummer Colm Boyle who joined at the start of 2026. My introduction to the band was their atmospheric single ‘Bonnies Kaleidoscope’ from their Beyond The Frame EP back in the summer of 2021. It had that heavy sound I want from my gaze and this was a band from Scotland too so I had to champion them on my DKFM Radio show,
They return to us now with a new single ‘Spare Me the Rapture’ which introduces this version of Sunstinger with a faster pulse and, dare I say it, an even heavier sound. It also opens the door to their forthcoming six track EP of the same name, the third chapter in a body of work that keeps growing more potent and more assured.
Things are noticeably different from the off. Sunstinger have really turned up the fuzz on this one. The first hook comes from the guitars. Short phrases answer one another across the mix, creating an immediate sense of movement before the rhythm section tightens its grip. Sunstinger have three guitarists, and that could easily crowd a song, yet each part earns its space. One line supplies the melodic thread, another thickens the edges with fuzz, while a third folds backwards through sheer atmosphere. You can follow those separate paths with each listen, then hear them lock together when the arrangement begins to expand. Wright meets the rising volume with one of his most direct vocal performances. It climbs through the guitars rather than disappearing beneath them. It gives the chorus a human focus and turns the song’s scale into something personal. The production keeps revealing small details around that central hook. Through headphones, you can hear the care given to separation. Through speakers, the full band launches at you as one large body of sound. Both approaches work because the song has a clear melodic core beneath the effects.
As the first glimpse of the forthcoming EP, ‘Spare Me the Rapture’ suggests Sunstinger are entering a period where scale and songwriting can rise together. When salvation feels distant, they turn up the volume and make a home in the rapture they already have.
‘Spare Me the Rapture’ is released on July 23. You can check it out over on the Sunstinger Bandcamp page. You can pre order the EP now over on the Sunstinger Big Cartel Page. If you’re quick you might be able to grab an exclusive bundle.
Seeing Eva Cord’s name attached to Foglights immediately caught my attention. I have followed The Cords from their formation, through their early releases and into last year’s self-titled debut album, watching their songs find a home with Skep Wax and Slumberland along the way. Whilst the band are already working on a second long player Eva has also found space for this new four song project with Archie Ingram, who records as Stone Anthem. Archie released his debut album Solux Rex through Glass Modern Records earlier in 2026, so Nous Deux brings together two artists who have each reached an important point in their own work.
Foglights draw from both sides of that partnership. Archie brings the thicker psychedelic tones associated with Stone Anthem, while Eva carries across the heartfelt indie pop instinct that has made The Cords such an easy band to love. There’s washed out guitar tones, steady melodies and lyrics built around emotional exposure. You can hear these two folk learning how their voices and ideas fit together, and that closeness gives the EP its character.
The first glimpse arrives with ‘The Rain Felt Kind’, released as a single today. It’s also the opener for the EP.
‘The Rain Felt Kind’ begins at an unhurried pace, allowing its tremolo guitar to ripple through the spaces around the vocals. Each chord seems to quiver for a moment before the next one arrives, creating a soft frame for Eva and Archie’s voices. They sit close together in the mix, and the slight differences in their delivery give the melody warmth. I love the emotional suggestion of the title as well. Rain becomes a form of comfort, something gentle enough to soften the edges of a difficult moment. That idea runs through the performance, with the guitar maintaining its wavering pulse while the vocals keep the song grounded and personal.
A gentle organ enters on ‘I Don’t Know’ and immediately opens the sound. Its sustained notes sit behind chiming guitars, giving the arrangement an added lift while the rhythm keeps moving at an easy pace. The vocals come forward with greater directness here, and the straight up delivery suits a title built around uncertainty. I kept thinking of Teenage Fanclub’s ‘Guiding Star’, especially in the way the organ expands the song while leaving the melody clear.
My EP highlight arrives with ‘The Day the Light Stayed (Longer Than Us)’, where Foglights step into a brighter form of pop. Strummed acoustic guitar changes the texture straight away, giving the rhythm a more open feel and bringing a lighter touch to the recording. Then the backing voices arrive with those ba ba ba parts, and the whole song seems to smile. This is where Eva and Archie’s shared instinct for melody comes through most clearly. You can enjoy the pop pleasure of the arrangement while the words leave a quieter thought behind.
The organ returns for ‘A Brighter Kind of Almost’, closing the EP with its most spacious arrangement. Gentle acoustic strumming and close vocals hold the centre for much of the song, while circular keyboard tones move around them and widen the edges of the recording. The influence of Spectrum feels present in those electronic curls and soft flashes of sound. Archie’s psychedelic background comes through in the organ treatment, while Eva’s pop instinct keeps the melody near and approachable. As the final track, it carries a sense of unfinished possibility. They allow that uncertainty to remain part of the song, and the ending leaves you with the voices and the small movements around them.
Across four songs, Nous Deux introduces Foglights with a strong sense of who Eva Cord and Archie Ingram become when they write together. Their voices provide the emotional centre, and the arrangements surround them with tones that move between indie pop warmth and gentle psychedelia. For followers of The Cords, the EP shows Eva working with slower tempos, wider spaces and a softer vocal setting. For listeners who know Stone Anthem, these songs bring Archie’s denser ideas into a close and personal setting. The pair leave enough room for vulnerability, melody and curiosity to sit beside each other, giving every track its own character while holding the EP together as one cohesive listen. Foglights have made a debut that understands the strength of their two individual musical histories sharing the same stage. On Nous Deux, the brightest moments belong to the two of them.
Nous Deux is released on cassette on the 21st August via Skep Wax and Slumberland Records with pre orders open now. The single ‘The Rain Felt Kind’ out today. You can check it out over on the Foglights Bandcamp page.
A few years ago, Feeble Little Horse fell into my world with their debut album proper Hayday. I was obsessed immediately. That was followed by Girl with Fish which pushed their name well beyond the Pittsburgh DIY scene and introduced a wider audience to a group that could twist shoegaze, noise rock and indie pop into something truly unique. Since then, they have toured relentlessly, signed to Saddle Creek and continued refining a sound that refuses to sit inside any one genre. With founding member Ryan Walchonski now departed, Sebastian Kinsler, Lydia Slocum and Jake Kelley return as a trio on Bitknot. Rather than filling the gap, they use the opportunity to rethink how these songs are built. The guitars remain huge, the melodies remain irresistible, yet electronic textures now play an equal role in shaping the record. If Girl with Fish hinted at where Feeble Little Horse could head next, Bitknot arrives with a clear sense of purpose.
Let’s drop the needle and see where it takes us.
The opening moments of ‘Doorway’ throw you straight into that new direction. Feedback gives way to thick guitar chords before quickly giving way to a strange pause that leaves Lydia Slocum’s voice hanging in space. That stop start tension becomes one of the song’s greatest strengths. Jake Kelley’s drumming keeps everything tightly controlled while layers of distortion gradually creep back into the picture. Slocum sings with a conversational honesty that makes every lyric feel close enough to touch. By the closing seconds you already have a sense that this album intends to play with our expectations.
Barely giving you time to catch your breath, ‘Poison’ appears. The song packs an astonishing amount into such a short running time. Warbly synth and almost folk guitar play off each other puzzling and exciting in equal amounts. You can almost picture the band writing this one with the intention of squeezing every possible idea into the smallest available space. It feels restless, impatient and completely addictive. Every listen reveals another small production detail hidden beneath the surface.
That intensity melts into ‘Rewind’, one of the album’s brightest moments. The guitars loosen their grip while shimmering synth textures begin taking centre stage. Slocum’s vocal sits gently above the arrangement, delivering a melody that quietly lodges itself in your head long after the song finishes. You can hear the band’s affection for great pop music throughout the track. Every hook lands naturally while the surrounding electronics constantly shift shape, giving the song a playful quality that rewards repeated listens. To say this song is beautiful isn’t doing it justice.
By the time ‘Shady’ arrives the album is already refusing to stay in one lane. The guitars regain their warbly edge and the rhythm section pushes everything forward with a gentle shuffle. Kinsler has always known how to make guitars sounds that are strangely welcoming and that balance continues here. The hook arrives almost before you expect it, disappearing again just as quickly. That brevity becomes part of the appeal. The band leave you wanting another minute instead of stretching the idea beyond its natural life.
Anyone who caught my recent radio show will already know how much I enjoyed ‘Dior’. Hearing it again within the context of the full album only strengthens its impact. This is Feeble Little Horse writing one of their most immediate songs without sacrificing any of their personality. Beneath the riffs sits an uncomfortable look at envy, social comparison and the strange pressure that comes from constantly measuring yourself against carefully filtered online lives. Slocum delivers those feelings with humour and honesty, making the song feel deeply personal while remaining wonderfully catchy. The playful production touches, including the memorable censored moment, stop the heavier themes from becoming overwhelming. You find yourself singing along before fully appreciating what the lyrics are actually saying.
‘Paris’ acts almost like an interlude, although calling it filler would miss the point entirely. Its brief running time creates breathing room after the emotional rush of ‘Dior’. Strange electronic fragments, treated guitars and distant vocal textures pass through the mix like disconnected thoughts. This is another piece of their world building in music.
One of the most affecting moments arrives with ‘Cradle’. The arrangement slows just enough to allow every instrument room to shine. Slocum’s performance carries a quiet tenderness as the band explore grief and the difficult process of sitting with painful emotions rather than searching for an easy distraction. The guitars here don’t swell into thick walls of sound so they never overwhelm the vocal. Instead, they wrap themselves around it, allowing the emotional weight of the song to grow naturally. It feels reflective without becoming sentimental, offering one of the clearest examples of how much Feeble Little Horse have matured as songwriters. By this point you begin to realise that Bitknot is holding together remarkably well, each song feeding naturally into the next while steadily expanding the album’s central ideas.
As the second half begins, ‘Upside Down’ feels like somebody has plugged fresh circuitry into the album. This is pure synth pop through a feeble little horse kinda filter. The synths flicker around the edges while Kelley’s drums keep everything firmly grounded. The contrast between mechanical sounds, pitched up vocal parts and organic playing becomes one of the song’s greatest pleasures. The vocals glide across the top carrying equal measures of uncertainty and determination. Every element feels carefully placed, creating one of those songs that reveals another hidden layer every time you return to it.
That momentum feeds perfectly into ‘Guts’, a track that perfectly sums up what makes this band such an absorbing listen. The opening seconds introduce warped synth textures before thick guitars suddenly arrive to reclaim the spotlight. It would have been easy for those competing ideas to fight each other, yet the arrangement feels completely natural. Slocum continues examining uncomfortable emotions with striking openness, giving the song an emotional centre beneath all the sonic experimentation. You can hear how much confidence the trio now have in their own instincts. Every strange production choice earns its place.
There is something wonderfully restless about ‘Shopping’. The song takes the familiar habit of endlessly scrolling through carefully curated online lives and turns it into something deeply personal. Slocum’s lyrics paint vivid pictures of comparison, insecurity and wanting pieces of somebody else’s identity, while the band surround those feelings with some of the album’s biggest hooks. The synths create a tidal wave, the guitars roar with purpose, the rhythm section drives everything forward and yet the melody remains effortlessly memorable. It’s easy to understand why this has become one of the record’s defining moments. Few bands are writing about modern life with this level of honesty while still delivering songs that you immediately want to play again.
Everything reaches its conclusion with ‘DMT’, which takes its title from the album’s recurring themes of death, money and technology rather than psychedelia. The song grows steadily darker as layers of guitars, electronics and processed vocals collide with increasing intensity. Slocum sounds almost overwhelmed by the forces surrounding her while Kinsler and Kelley steadily tighten the screws behind her. The closing minutes become genuinely overwhelming in the best possible way, wrapping noise, melody and frustration into one final release of tension. It feels like the logical destination for everything that has come before, bringing together the album’s fascination with human connection, consumer culture and the uneasy relationship between our physical and online lives.
One of the qualities I admire most about Bitknot is how naturally it balances accessibility with experimentation. Every song contains a melody that lingers long after the album has finished, yet those hooks are constantly interrupted by strange textures, sudden edits and production ideas that keep you listening closely. The guitars still possess the fuzzy warmth that first drew so many people towards Feeble Little Horse, though they now share equal importance with synths, samples and electronic manipulation. Rather than feeling stitched together from different influences, everything serves the same emotional purpose. The record continually asks where genuine human connection still exists when so much of modern life takes place through screens, algorithms and endless consumption. Those questions never feel heavy handed because the songs themselves remain full of humour, vulnerability and genuine heart.
Having followed this band for the past few years, Bitknot feels like the point where every piece of the puzzle clicks into place. The trio have sharpened their songwriting without sanding away the rough edges that made them so appealing in the first place. They still sound playful. They still sound unpredictable. They simply understand their own identity with greater clarity than ever before. Whether you arrive here through shoegaze, indie rock, noise pop or pure curiosity, this is an album that rewards your attention from beginning to end. Every return uncovers another thread woven into the knot, making Bitknot a record well worth getting tangled up in.
Japan has an uncanny knacked of producing bands that not only nail the shoegaze sound but also evolve it too. kinoue64 is exactly that kind of band. This is my first time writing about the Hiroshima based project, so 大人になる, which translates as Becoming an Adult, becomes my doorway into a catalogue already full of fuzz, melody, Vocaloid culture and tender overload. Now I should kick off here by saying I know nothing about this band. It’s really hard to find out any info on who they are but from what I can gather this is a solo project with a long-varied history
Releases such as 空間、事情、時間、事象。, The Time Machine School, 半永久機関 and 日常消滅 show a project moving between shoegaze, indie rock, alternative rock and Mikgazer ideas, with Hatsune Miku and kinoue64’s own voice both forming part of the story. 大人になる lands as a concise eight track record that has had me in its spell since first listen. Let’s dive in because I’m dying to tell you all about it.
The opener shares its name with the album and it’s a real scene setter. The drums sound distorted and raw which gives the atmospheric synth and jangly guitars something to play off. Vocal wise its Miku style creating this weirdly wonky vibe that sucked me in immediately. Holding it all down is a killer melody and that’s the secret sauce. All the effected parts add the fairy dust on top to make it truly magical/
‘幸せ’, which I think means ‘Happiness’, is a bite sized aural treat. It distils the approach of the opener into this tasty little morsel. The tremolo synth part lifts the melody and gives your ear something new to fixate about.
‘才能’, translated as ‘Talent’, brings an indie sensibility into the room. The drums, now more real sounding, move with more insistence, the guitars pick out the melody and flare around the vocal. The vocal retains its weird pitched up Miku effect but it weirdly suits this more straightforward song. Well, as straightforward as a kinoue64 song can be.
At one minute and thirty-six seconds, ‘没’ feels like a thought that has been crossed out in thick pen. The title can be read as ‘Scrapped’ or ‘Rejected’, and I like ‘Scrapped’ in the context of this record because it has a blunt little sting to it. This is a game of two halves. One fast and frenetic and the other mellow and moody. How is it possible to be this musically generous in such a short span of time. Hats off from me.
‘工作’ carries the sense of ‘Making’ or ‘Construction’, and it arrives at exactly the right point in the album. After talent and rejection, we get the act of building again. The song feels assembled from scuffed pieces, with guitar lines layered around a rhythm section that keeps the whole thing shuffling along. The pop aesthetic is maintained and honed further with a chorus that really connects, maybe not verbally, due to my monolinguistic limitations, but the feeling is there, all warm and fuzzy.
By the time ‘捨てる’ arrives, the album takes off. The title means ‘To Throw Away’ or ‘Discard’ but this isn’t any throw away number. The guitars feel heavier and more textured. Vocally it’s still Miku but more up front and present if you get what I mean. Again, there’s a tangible warmth in the melody and vocal delivery that elevates this song into a stone-cold bop.
The most weirdly funny title here might be ‘まともになる’, which translates as ‘Becoming Normal’ or ‘Becoming Proper’. After everything the album has already put on the table, normality starts to sound like the strangest idea of all. The song has a more direct melodic shape, and there is a pop instinct running beneath it all that makes it one of the record’s most immediate moments. The guitars are cleaner here and pick out a gentle melody. The vocals really stretch out in the chorus sections lifting you up and sending you skywards.
The album ends with ‘ゴミ’, meaning ‘Rubbish’ or ‘Trash’, which feels like the only possible place to leave a record this tangled up in growing pains. It is a wonderfully blunt title, and kinoue64 gives it more emotional reach than you might expect. The guitars spread out with a weary glow and the drums keep the track grounded. The melody makes you feel like you are standing among all the things the previous songs tried to name. Happiness, talent, rejection, making, discarding, normality. By the closer, they have all become part of the same pile. What makes ‘ゴミ’ work is the way it treats rubbish as something human rather than merely ugly. These are the scraps left over from trying, failing, starting again and trying once more. As a final song, it leaves the album open ended in the right way,
By the end of 大人になる, kinoue64 has made a record that turns growing up into a series of small, noisy reckonings. I’m so glad I happened across this album. I can’t tell you how much joy I’ve had soaking up its many textures. For a first Static Sounds Club encounter with kinoue64, this feels like the right introduction: fuzzy, direct, strange, tuneful and full of feeling. I’m really going to enjoy exploring the back catalogue and I’ll be hoping that we get a vinyl release for this one.
I had the pleasure of heading along to The Old Hairdressers venue in Glasgow recently to catch Selkie performing live. If you’ve followed the blog for a while, you will already know her music. If not, allow me to introduce you. Selkie is a Scottish musician working through voice led ambient pop and electronic folk. With her debut EP inWaves arriving on 28 August 2026, new single ‘Gold’ feels like an important marker on the way there, a song that looks at repair, renewal and the decision to begin again with open eyes.
The idea behind ‘Gold’ comes from kintsugi, the Japanese practice of repairing what has broken with precious metal, leaving the joins visible rather than hidden. Selkie takes that idea and turns it into something intimate and musical, building the song around expressive vocals, electric guitar and glitch flecked production. Her amazing voice sits close, clear and full of feeling, while the production places tiny fractures around it. Little electronic details crackle and shift beneath the surface, giving the song a physical quality.
What I really like about ‘Gold’ is the way it keeps its scale controlled while still feeling wide open. The vocal layers give the song an almost devotional quality, with voices folding over one another in a way that feels otherworldly. The electric guitar brings a grounded ache to the piece, adding texture without overcrowding the vocal space. Around that, the glitchy production keeps catching your ear, little sparks of sound appearing and vanishing as the song reveals its extent. It gives the track an unusual character, sitting somewhere between folk song, ambient piece and electronic pop experiment.
The accompanying music video, filmed by Ter Nam in the arid mountains of Chile, feels like a fitting visual chapter before inWaves arrives. Even without leaning too hard on the imagery, there is something in that setting that suits the song’s sense of exposure and renewal. You can check out the video below.
As the final step before the debut EP, ‘Gold’ gives you a strong sense of where Selkie is heading. The sound feels more defined, the emotional language feels more direct, and the production has an undeniable confidence. As a lead into inWaves, it makes the EP feel very close now, as though the tide is already moving in. Selkie lets the repaired lines show, and that is where ‘Gold’ finds its shine.
As a huge fan of Whirr, Nothing and the whole Philly shoegaze scene I was buzzed when I seen Nick Bassett and Brandon Setta named as the members of Oubliette on my socials feed. This side project gathers the project’s existing material into one place, with the earlier Big Spin EP material followed by the two tracks from two songs. I cursory listen through the tracks on Bandcamp sealed the deal for me and I was hooked. I don’t buy a lot of vinyl direct from the US these days due to the price of postage. That said I always make an exception for anything released through The Funeral Party. They just can’t put a foot wrong.
On this record creatively titled all songs Bassett handles the music, Setta handles the lyrics, and across these seven tracks they build something that sits in a shadowed space between shoegaze, electronica and the after-hours pulse of trip hop. Whilst the title of the album is simple and up front, these tracks have so much more going on. Let’s dive in and explore
‘away’ opens the record with a gentle sway. The electronic drums give the song its first real character, clipped and steady, with a machine pulse that leaves the guitars free to blur around the edges. The sound feels heavy even though its light as a feather. The sleepy vocals have enough room to sit half submerged in the mix. That really works against the beats. They feel nocturnal and the guitars only wrap us in a pillowy gauze. It sets the album’s emotional temperature right away. This is shoegaze with its eyes open at 2am, wired, tired and still staring at the ceiling.
‘held under’ takes that opening mood and relaxes into another shape. The drum sound has a cold snap to it, that contrasts beautifully with the warmth of the rest of the track. The guitar tone spreads wide, softening the edges of the rhythm without dulling its impact. The vocal delivery feels close to exhaustion, with lines that seem to come from the end of a conversation you have already had too many times. The song has a patient build. You keep waiting for the guitars to swallow everything, yet the beat keeps the track moving forward in small, controlled steps until it all just fades into a dream.
There’s a surge of energy as we enter ‘big spin’, a track that carries itself with a dazed, looping energy. The rhythm feels more grounded here, giving the song a slight sway beneath the haze. Deep in the dream you find you’re tapping your foot along. The guitars both pick out the melody with a deftness of touch whilst other guitars surge in a reverse reverb wash keeping time with the drums. There is a compact pop instinct tucked inside this one, even with the murky textures and bruised lyrical tone. Check out the false stop near the end. This is an absolute storming track.
Things become more contemplative again with ‘two futures’’. The electronic percussion keeps a strict pulse while the guitars smear across the sides of the track, giving the arrangement a sense of being held in suspension. The vocal has a wounded calm to it, which suits the lyric’s focus on waiting for a sign that may never arrive. There is a lovely ache in the way the melody rises, then seems to hesitate before giving too much away. You can hear the shoegaze DNA in the guitar tone, but the beat gives the song a different posture.
A chiming piano intro opens ‘dizzy forever’ next. This one takes its time, building around a tired pulse and textures that feel smeared across the top of the mix like streetlight through half closed eyes. As the track opens out, the guitars gain more presence without ever breaking the song’s mood of contemplation. It is the most patient piece here, and it rewards your equally patient listening by letting the emotional detail come through slowly.
Following that, fuzz free glide guitar ushers in ‘after life’. The guys wear their shoegaze colours proudly on this one. I love how they bring a gentle ballad and apply the beautiful noise to it. For me that’s where music is at its most exciting. Where styles, genres and moods meet and melt together. The vocal is given plenty room which really lets the performance shine with its gentle ache. It’s over before you realise it which for me is always the sign of a great song.
Closing with ‘high flyer’ gives all songs one last lift while keeping the record’s low-lit mood intact. The acoustic guitar sound feels a touch brighter which helps fill the gap left by having no drums on this one. As a final track, it avoids a grand closing gesture and chooses something more fitting: a final look upward from a place that still feels heavy underfoot.
Taken together, all songs works because the seven tracks share a private language. Not at all heavy shoegaze guitars, electronic drum patterns, trip hop shadows and plain-spoken lyrical ache all sit close together, creating a record that feels enclosed but never static. The songs are long enough to stay sharp, yet each one leaves behind a distinct emotional mark. The production gives the project its character, with programmed rhythm and guitar haze woven together seamlessly. Oubliette have made a small catalogue feel complete here. Every piece earns its place, and the title ends up feeling plain in the best way: Oubliette have given us all songs, and each one deserves to be remembered.
Primitive Ring was a new name to me but on my first listen there was something familiar about their sound I couldn’t put my finger on. Of course, it was the mighty Bert Hoover who regular readers will know via Hooveriii, the band that makes colourful, fun and raucous psych rock. Primitive Ring gives him another outlet built around three players who sound as if they were fated to end up in the same room. Hoover takes bass and vocals, Charles Moothart of Fuzz, GOGGS and Ty Segall’s orbit brings guitar and vocals, while Jon Modaff sits behind the kit with that loose, heavy handed confidence you need in a trio like this. Their self-titled debut, Primitive Ring, arrives via In The Red Records after a run of seven-inch singles across Greenway, In The Red, Reverberation Appreciation Society and Fuzz Club, and you can hear that in the grooves of this record. It feels like it’s been fully tested in a live setting.
The album sounds like three musicians reaching for the simple pleasure of playing loud together, then finding stranger turns inside that simplicity. It has the heft of heavy psych, the nerve of garage rock and the big boned swing of old power trio records, yet it stays rooted in the present because the playing feels hungry rather than nostalgic. Let’s drop the needle and dive in.
‘Fire And Brimstone’ gets the job of opening the gate with guitar lines bubbling around the drums before the whole thing locks into a blues-stained psych rock charge. The vocals give it a strange theatrical lift, especially against the thickness of the riffing. The violins that punctate sections add another sonic flavour. This song was built to make an entrance; the sort of opener that tells you the band has arrived and they ain’t taking no prisoners.
Keeping things growling along next is ‘The Last Goldmine’. The low end sits right at the front, giving the guitars a platform to snarl, chatter and cut through without losing the body of the song. Hoover’s bass has a lovely stubborn quality here, sitting deep in the mix while still leading the charge. The drums do a lot of the heavy lifting, with Modaff making the song feel live without letting it spill out of frame. There is a clear sense of a trio listening to one another, each player leaving just enough room for the next jab, fill or vocal line to make its mark.
By the time ‘Lies From The Other Side’ comes in, the album is well into its stride. This is where Primitive Ring hit the accelerator, with the guitars moving in tight little coils while the rhythm section keeps the pressure high. The vocal delivery has a sneer running through it, yet the track remains song focused. This track has that wired single energy, the sort of tune that makes sense on stage because every part of it feels built to send the mosh pit into overdrive.
‘Paid’ brings a funkier stomp. The guitar tone sounds thick and dry, with enough bite around the edges to keep it from becoming too clean. There is a nice heaviness in the riffs that punctuate the chorus sections and the way the band lets the rhythm hang for a split second before the next hit arrives is proper cool. We hear a sprinkle of Hammond organ for the first time too. This is where the album narrows its eyes, moving from the cosmic sparks of the opener into something earthier and more direct.
‘Sold A Lie’ pairs that directness with one of the record’s sharper rhythmic drives. The song sounds like it is constantly leaping and lurching forward, helped by a bass part that refuses to sit still and guitar lines that keep you on your toes. Pervading it all is a tense, slightly paranoid feel, as if the title has seeped into the arrangement itself. The track takes that three-piece dynamic and pushes it to its limits.
‘Heads Will Roll’ arrives with the kind of title that practically demands a volume knob set to eleven, and Primitive Ring oblige. This one has the pace and muscle of a band who know exactly how to set a crowd alight. The beat feels urgent, the guitar work has a serrated edge, and the vocal sits right in the middle of it with a grin you can hear. It is one of the album’s clearest shots of heavy psych rock pleasure, all forward motion and sharp corners. Primitive Ring hit the riff, push it hard and let the trio chemistry do the talking.
‘Call Me What You Please’ gives the record a little more mischief. The guitar moves with a restless quality, travelling up and down the neck as if Moothart is arguing with himself. That little flicker of character gives the song a playful edge, especially against the dirtier swing of the rhythm section. The vocal feels loose in the best way, with enough attitude to sell the title while still serving the song. Every instrument sounds slightly scuffed, and that roughness suits the band beautifully.
Up next ‘Griefsong’ is my favourite moment on the record, and it earns that place by changing the emotional temperature without stepping outside the album’s world. It has Hoover’s fingerprints all over it. That guitar harmony riffage, the walking bass and melodic vocal all point to him as its creator. That said, for me its Moothart who is the hero of the hour here. He really makes his guitar talk, weep and wail where needed and it’s just mind blowing to listen to.
‘The Callous Man’ stretches out and gives the album its biggest room to breathe. It begins with Hoover’s rolling bass and Modaff’s loose, jazzy movement around the kit, and that opening is a gift because it lets the groove gather itself before the guitars start throwing sparks. The vocals feel shadowy, the riffing grows heavier with each pass, and when the guitar solo arrives it has that wild flash. Lyrically, the song circles a dark figure, someone manipulative and dangerous, and the music gives that idea a proper body. You can almost see him standing at the edge of the room, smiling while the band tightens the screws.
‘Our Oblivion’ moves into a different shade again, opening the door to Zep-tinged acoustic guitar, keys and lighter percussion while keeping the album’s sense of weight intact. The arrangement feels careful, it builds sure, but Primitive Ring let it build slowly, keeping the song grounded in mood and texture rather than chasing a massive release. That restraint gives ‘Our Oblivion’ a strange beauty. After the heavier tracks before it, this one feels like the smoke clearing just enough to see what’s next.
What’s next is the end. ‘Golden’ closes the album by returning to a song from the band’s first run of seven-inch releases and giving it a fuller life. The strings and piano bring a warmer glow to the track, while the band keep enough rough edge in the performance to stop it feeling too polished. It has a lovely end of night feeling. As a closer, it brings the album back to the idea of a band still becoming itself. It feels settled, generous and aware of where Primitive Ring might head next.
Primitive Ring works because it understands the thrill of three people making a great deal of noise just for the hell of it. The album has riffs you can feel in your chest, drums that keep the room moving, bass lines that act like a second lead voice and vocals that carry just the right amount of bite. It also has more range than the first blast might suggest, with ‘Griefsong’, ‘The Callous Man’, ‘Our Oblivion’ and ‘Golden’ giving the second half a richer emotional weight. For a debut, it already feels lived in. For a new band made from seasoned players, it feels fresh enough to make you want to follow wherever they go next. By the end, Primitive Ring feels less like a first statement and more like the sound of three players who instinctively know each other inside and out.
One thing I Love about writing music blogs is when you get to write about a band a few times and you get to experience their development as songwriters and musicians. So it is with Sun Shines Cold. Multi instrumentalists Brian Jordan and Colan Miles have been playing and recording music together for over 20 years. In that time, they have crafted a world of glacial, almost mountainous relief where the music is equal parts emotion and impact. I absolutely loved their debut album Echoes of a Former Life which given it was their debut tackled subject matter from the boy’s pasts. I remember commenting that I felt it was a work of gothic grandeur, a dark companion to take you to places you’re too scared to go alone. I also noted the optimism that burned brightly amongst the darkness in almost every track. With influences including Slowdive, The Cure, Ride, Mogwai, Spacemen 3, Spiritualized, and Interpol that made sense to me.
Now that band return with their second long player Light Fades Into Ruins. This double album turns its attention to more recent years, current situations and the bands lived experience. Miles had this to say.
“What started as 8 tracks turned to 13 as we wrote about our lives over more recent years. While Echoes of a Former Life covered our more distant past Light Fades Into Ruins covers our more recent past and current life situations.”
Sun Shines Cold are drawing from shoegaze, post rock, post punk, psych, darkwave and dreampop here. The album never feels like a list of reference points though. It feels like two musicians using a shared language they have built over years, then letting those sounds carry real events, regrets, affection, loss and the ache of looking back at something before it disappears from view. Let’s drop the needle and dive in.
We open with the first half of the records composite title. It’s a short instrumental piece that sets the mood for what’s to come. It’s a slow burner that gradually adds its different parts like the darkness swallows the land at dusk.
‘Winters End’ is up next. It’s a very sure-footed single that is positioned exactly where it belongs on the record. As the final taste before the album launch, it folds shoegaze, post punk, psych and 80s goth colours into something reflective and emotionally direct. The guitars have a cool glare to them; the rhythm section moves with purpose but it’s that chorus that lifts everything to the next level. This is what I was talking about at the start. I remember hearing this prior to it being released and having a wee smile to myself. I knew then that this was going to be a special album.
There is a different kind of ache running through ‘Wait My Time’. The lyrics circle waiting, longing and emotional endurance. Drums absolutely power through this one while the guitars widen around the vocal, giving the words room to sit in the middle of the mix. Images of returning, leaving and eyes that keep drawing someone back add to the sense of a relationship caught inside repeated cycles. I love the textures in the one. Icy but hopeful.
‘Everything Has Changed’ begins as a more straightforward number. Vocals hold the course straight up the middle while the synths and guitars howl like the wind on an open moor. The subtle climb of the chorus feels like it’s about to take off but the band are masters at restraint and they pull us back in again with the deftest of touches. This shows how Sun Shines Cold know that sometimes it’s just about the mood you create without the need for any theatrical flourishes.
‘All I Need’ is one of the album’s most openly affecting moments. The song holds onto the idea of another person as a source of brightness during dark days. Sounding like a lost track from The Cure’s Disintegration this one floored me first listen. How they’ve managed to nail the balance between heart breaking pain and soaring euphoria is beyond me. This one is set to become a fan favourite and should secure them many more as word gets out.
‘Where I Lie’ pulls the album inward again. You can hear the post punk side of the band in the clipped movement underneath, while the shoegaze textures soften the harder edges just enough. Speaking of which the guitars here both have that bright chime as well as voluminous, canyon size reverb going on which massively pleases my ears.
Moving on to ‘Last Sunset’ next you’ll have noticed that the album has already given us several versions of endings, and this one feels especially visual. The title suggests a final view of something before darkness takes over, and the song carries that sense of watching closely. The arrangement has a slow burn quality, with guitars spreading in warm layers while the rhythm section acts as the heartbeat. The best moments are when the guitars create an aural glow that feels fragile and very deliberate. You can almost see the colour leaving the sky.
‘Into Ruins’ acts like a turning point. If ‘Light Fades’ opened the record with the first loss of brightness, this track, the second half of the composite album title, brings you to the place where that loss has left its mark. The music is tonnes heavier in tone, with a darker pulse and a sense of motion that pulls the listener deeper into the record’s second half. The guitars have a many layered texture to them, and the keys add a cold, cinematic edge without taking over. This is where the post rock side of Sun Shines Cold becomes especially useful. The track feels built from fragments that have settled into place after something has broken. Powerful stuff.
A softer uncertainty sits at the heart of ‘A Feeling Unknown’. The lyrics move through walking alone, holding hands, unspoken words and connections that fade, and the song turns those images into one of the album’s most searching pieces. The vocal delivery feels exposed, with the arrangement wrapping around it in slow layers of guitar and keys. There is a real ache in the distance between what is said and what remains unsaid. That distance gives the song its power. Sun Shines Cold never rush the listener toward meaning. They let the uncertainty linger and the result is a track that feels intimate without spelling out every answer.
‘I Watched You Fall’ brings a sharper emotional edge. The title alone carries the weight of witnessing someone else’s collapse, and the track feels haunted by that helplessness. The rhythm section gives the song a slow, firm movement, while the guitars create a wide grey space around the vocal. The synths pierce through with a hopeful optimism that counterbalances it all. The chorus has a real darkwave vibe through that melody and how the synths are used.
‘Betrayal’ carries one of the album’s bluntest titles, and the music has the weight to match it. The track sits with emotional rupture rather than turn it into a quick burst of anger. The bass line gives the song a firm centre, and the guitars sound darker, thicker and more confrontational than they do on some of the surrounding tracks. The vocal feels controlled, which makes the hurt feel sharper. This track has a very spacious production and sounds amazing on my speakers.
The album moves into a more hollowed out space with ‘Lost Again’. After the damage of ‘Betrayal’, this title feels painfully apt, as though the record is now dealing with the aftermath, the disorientation that follows. The song has a worn-down beauty to it, with guitars that seem to stretch across the arrangement while the rhythm section keeps everything moving forward. There is a dreampop softness in places, but the emotional tone stays heavy.
‘No Way Back’ gives the album a fitting final chapter. Across the record, Sun Shines Cold have moved through fading light, winter’s end, waiting, change, need, ruin, uncertainty, falling, betrayal and being lost. This closing track sounds like an acceptance of consequence. The title has a finality to it, and the arrangement seems to understand that finality without overplaying it. The guitars stretch wide; the bass holds the whole thing up and the keys add a final wash of colour around the edges. For a double album built around recent life, memory and emotional fallout, we’ve ended with glimmer of hope on the horizon.
Taken as a whole, Light Fades Into Ruins feels like a big step forward. Jordan and Miles use familiar ingredients from shoegaze, post rock, post punk, psych, darkwave and dreampop, then turn them towards something personal and direct. The album has ambitious scale, with 13 tracks spread across a double release, but it also has the intimacy of a late conversation between people who have known each other for years. Sun Shines Cold have made an album about recent life as it is felt after the fact, when the brightness has lowered and the remains start speaking back. By the end, the light has faded, and the ruins have plenty to say.
Peplo have been promising us new music, a debut album no less for ages now, so new single ‘For His Better Three Quarters’ arrives with a flurry of confetti and popping of corks from me. The Glasgow based indie pop quartet have been building toward their debut album We’re Not Getting Out of Here for a good while now, and they’re ready to let us have a listen.
The band are Mark Hinds on drums, Daniel Young on bass, Cit Lennox on vocals and Iain O’Donnell on guitar, with Cit and Iain forming the songwriting partnership at the centre of the group. With airplay already coming through BBC Radio 6 Music, BBC Introducing on BBC Radio Scotland, BBC Radio nan Gàidheal, Amazing Radio and beyond, plus past appearances at Celtic Connections, Hidden Door and ButeFest, Peplo are arriving at this album campaign with a fair bit of groundwork already behind them. I first discovered the band as they played a support slot in Glasgow’s infamous 13th Note. I hadn’t heard anything like them and was immediately drawn to that, uniqueness for want of a better word. So, what have they been up to since then. O’Donnell fills us in.
“We are entirely DIY and we’ve self-financed our debut album We’re Not Getting Out of Here. We’ll drop the album with vinyl and CD towards the end of 2026 after a series of single releases. We’ve been recording, mixing, and mastering this record for a few years now – so to finally be in a position where we are happy with the end result, and in a position to release it, is probably our biggest success to date.”
Recorded at Chem19 Studios by Jamie Savage and mastered by Paul Savage, the single comes with a strong Scottish studio lineage behind it, with names linked to The Twilight Sad, King Creosote, Belle and Sebastian, Mogwai and Arab Strap sitting close to the recording process. You can sense why Peplo would want that level of care around the first single from a record they have lived with for years.
The title has that peculiar Peplo charm too. ‘For His Better Three Quarters’ has a conversational oddness to it, the kind of phrase that makes you want to hit play. It suggests affection, imbalance, loyalty and a quiet joke shared at close range. The song opens with a slow build, giving the guitars room to glow before the rhythm section starts to tighten its grip. O’Donnell’s guitar has a glossy, dreamy tone that sits beautifully against the steadier weight of Daniel Young’s bass and Mark Hinds’ drums. When that chorus arrives, the song lifts with real confidence. Lennox sings with force and feeling, and their Scots accent cuts clean through the arrangement in a way that gives the song its emotional identity. The vocal does a lot of the heavy work here. It brings warmth, bite and a sense of lived experience, while the guitars open out around it with a sheen that suits the song’s indie pop heart. You catch little flourishes tucked into the sides, the kind of bright, literate melodic touches that bring Aztec Camera in their prime to mind.
As the first step toward, We’re Not Getting Out of Here, ‘For His Better Three Quarters’ does exactly what a strong lead single should do. It gives you the band’s sense of humour, their independence, their melodic instinct and their belief in the album waiting behind it. Peplo have clearly taken the long route to this point, and that suits them. The song feels considered, personal and ready to be heard. If the album follows through on the promise here, Peplo may already have given us the better three quarters of the story.
‘For His Better Three Quarters’ is out now. You can check it out now on the Peplo Bandcamp page.
Static Sounds Club 