Oubliette – all songs

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.

all songs is out now via The Funeral Party. You can check it out over on the Oubliette Bandcamp page.

You can follow Oubliette on social media here…

Primitive Ring – Primitive Ring

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.

Primitive Ring is out now via In The Red Records. You can check it out over on the Primitive Ring Bandcamp page.

You can follow Primitive Ring on social media here…

Sun Shines Cold – Light Fades Into Ruins

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.

Light Fades Into Ruins is out on June 25 via 1991 Recordings. You can check it out over on the Sun Shines Cold Bandcamp page.

You can follow Sun Shines Cold on social media here…

Peplo – For His Better Three Quarters – Single Review

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.

You can follow Peplo on social media here…

No Joy – Big Life, Big Leaf – Single Review

Regular readers will remember I came away from Bugland thinking No Joy had reached one of those rare points where the music could go almost anywhere. Jasamine White Gluz stretched the No Joy sound into stranger places on that record without losing the melodic edge that first drew so many of us in. It was a perfect balance of shoegaze, electronica and pop. Who knew she had more of that secret blend up her sleeve.

New single and title track of her new EP ‘Big Life, Big Leaf’ feels like a welcome next step. Released via Sonic Cathedral, the single brings Jasamine back together with Jorge Elbrecht, who has been part of the No Joy story before, and Angel Marcloid, also known as Fire Toolz, who produced Bugland. Speaking about the feeling behind the track, White Gluz says,

“I was exploring the boundless pain one feels when it is time to say goodbye to someone or something. To mourn is also to celebrate.”

That last line sits right at the heart of the EP. Let’s give the title track a spin.

‘Big Life, Big Leaf’ starts with that familiar No Joy sensation where the sound seems to glow. The opening has a glossy, almost unreal brightness to it, with the production giving the track a soft halo. The melody feels immediate, small electronic flickers appear and the drums push the song forward with a clean snap. The guitars are a big part of why the track works so well. Tara McLeod brings a crunchy heavy tone into the mix, and those guitar parts stop the song from becoming too airy. They cut through the brighter surface and give the track a bit of grit. The vocal performance is one of the strongest parts of the track for me. She sounds present, direct and up front which suits the lyric beautifully.

What I really like about ‘Big Life, Big Leaf’ is its energy. The track moves. It glows. It has bounce in the drums and shine in those electronic touches. As a piece connected to the Bugland period, the single makes a lot of sense. It shares that same curiosity about sound, with shoegaze, pop and electronic detail feeding into each other. It also feels a little more direct, as if the song has stepped out of the undergrowth with its colours showing. The title gives you a clue as well to be fair lol. With this one, No Joy turn over a new leaf and make it feel massive.

‘Big Life, Big Leaf’ is out now via Sonic Cathedral. You can check it out over on the No Joy Bandcamp page.

You can follow No Joy on social media here…

Thought Bubble – Dark Shapes EP

Nick Raybould is one of those people I always enjoy hearing from, partly because he has excellent timing and partly because he always has new music to share. He consistently reaches out to me way ahead of release date, usually with a new Thought Bubble record tucked under his arm and a gentle nudge in my direction. This time, life got in the way. I have been so busy that I am only getting to Dark Shapes now, which feels slightly ridiculous given that this EP contains, to these ears, the best Thought Bubble song to date. I have written about this band a few times now, and every release seems to arrive with a fresh angle on what Chris Cordwell, Peter Gelf and Nick Raybould can do together. Earlier this year, Who’s To Say felt like Thought Bubble getting some speed up, finding real confidence in this version of the band. Dark Shapes?Well, it just runs.

That is the thing about Thought Bubble. They are prolific, yes, and that can sometimes make you worry that ideas might start arriving faster than they can be shaped. With this lot, the opposite keeps happening. The records feel like they are talking to one another, with each new release picking up a thread from the last one and taking it somewhere slightly stranger. Who’s To Say had that broader, more reflective quality, with songs stretching out and letting modern life, frustration, memory and absurdity seep into the music. This EP sounds like a band levelling up because the writing feels sharper, the grooves hit harder, and the electronic and live elements now feel completely natural together. Thought Bubble have always had ideas. Here, those ideas arrive pinpoint precision.

I am going to call it early. Opening track ‘A Complicated Place’ is the finest thing Thought Bubble have released so far. There. I’ve said it.

It opens with out-there synth work that gets right under the skin in the first few seconds. Bright psychedelic shimmers curling around a rhythm that is just so tight. The beat has real groove to it, but the song still carries that odd Thought Bubble character where everything feels slightly sideways. You can get up and dance to it, you can sit and pick through all the small details, whatever you choose that main hook is taking up residence in your head for the rest of the day. Gelf’s vocal works beautifully here because he does not overplay it. He lets the melody do the work. I kept going back to this one before moving through the rest of the EP, which is always a good sign and a slight problem when you are meant to be reviewing the full thing. For a band that have already put plenty of good stuff out into the world, this one feels like a proper marker.

‘Enemies’ follows with guitarist Shaun Bailey joining Thought Bubble, and it brings a different kind of focus. Where ‘A Complicated Place’ beams out in bright pulses, ‘Enemies’ settles into a moodier groove and gives Gelf’s voice more room to carry the song. There is a poppier shape to it, especially in the way the chorus gives you something firmer to hold on to, but the track still has that steady krautrock movement underneath. What I really like here is the way the lyric seems to take the track somewhere darker while the rhythm keeps moving with a dancefloor in mind. Your foot wants to follow the groove, then the words start needling away at you.

By the time ‘Waiting On The Kill’ arrives, the band sound like they are having a wee grin to themselves. This is the most playful track on Dark Shapes, with an itchy glitchy electronic feel that made me think of an arcade machine developing its own personality after hours. The synth tones are bright and cheeky, the rhythm has a lovely swing and indeed spring in it, uch the whole arrangement feels like it is constantly twitching with ideas. Whilst the title gives it a darker edge, the track itself skips along with manic energy. It keeps adding little flashes and rhythmic nudges, enough to keep you smiling and slightly suspicious at the same time.

‘Forgotten Worlds’ is exactly the comedown the EP needs. After three tracks built around movement, pulse and that increasingly confident Thought Bubble bounce, the closing piece opens the space out and lets Gelf’s voice carry more of the emotional weight. I’ve said it before, there’s a Bowie like quality to his delivery, especially in the way the vocal sits with a little theatrical lift while the electronics stretch out. The sounds around the vocal feel calmer, more reflective, and the final stretch gives you time to come down from the brighter energy of the earlier tracks.

What I take from Dark Shapes is that this feels like the band have found their new MO. That might sound simple, but with Thought Bubble it feels like the real story. They have always had that mix of electronic curiosity, psychedelic instinct and lyrical oddness, but this EP makes those parts feel cleaner and more connected. ‘A Complicated Place’ is the big leap forward, and I would happily point anyone new to the band straight there. Around it, the other three tracks show different sides of the same growth. For a band who only released Who’s To Say earlier this year, this feels like a strong return rather than a quick follow up. Nick was right to send it early. I might be late getting to it, but Thought Bubble have arrived exactly where they need to. Dark Shapes finds them stepping out of the shadows with their sharpest shapes yet.

Dark Shapes 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

Velveteen – My Dreams Are Changing

Velveteen have been regulars on my turntable for a few years now. I had one of those proper fixations with Empty Crush when it came out in 2022. It had that mixture I always fall for, insane gazey guitars, vocals tucked into the noise, and songs with a nineties sheen. The band are back with their new EP My Dreams Are Changing and I’m getting ready to obsess again.

Lets’ rewind for minute in case this is a new band for you. Velveteen are Drew Younger on guitars and vocals, David Thomson on guitars, Patrick Malins on bass and James Nolan on drums and vocals. Across earlier releases Bluest Sunshine in 2020 and Empty Crush in 2022, they worked their way into a sound where shoegaze, noise rock, dream pop and post punk all shared the same grooves on their records. After a brief time away from the scene, they returned to the studio in last year and came back with My Dreams Are Changing, a six track EP. Written and recorded collectively by the band, it feels like a record made by four people who worship at the altar of gaze. Let’s drop the needle and soak in the beautiful noise.

The title track, ‘My Dreams Are Changing’, opens the EP with guitars that arrive with real impact. They do that glorious shoegaze thing where the chords seem to bloom and continue to evolve and grow, filling the room. The vocals sit deep in the mix, less a lead line above the band and more a figure half seen through moving distortion. As it should be. Malins keeps the low end steady, giving the song a spine while the guitars stretch outward. Nolan’s drumming has enough force to push through the haze without flattening the feeling around it. As an opener, it sets out the EP’s whole intent with confidence.

‘Shoot Me Down’ comes in with a sharper noise rock bite at the front of the song. The guitars feel more serrated here, less washed out and more intent on leaving marks. There is a wiry poppy early MBV quality in the way the guitar strings seem to counter the rhythm, as if the song is trying to shake itself loose while the drums keep it locked in and on target. The vocal is more prominent here and the song really benefits from it. The have a great ear for a pop song but still are able to swathe it in noise.

By the time ‘Another Somewhere’ arrives, the EP opens out into its longest piece, and the extra space suits them. It allows the band to really build that feeling of, oh I don’t know how to describe it. It’s that comfort you feel in the overwhelm, swathed in the wall of sound. I love the high-end trilling going on, reminds me of Pinkshinyultrablast in places. (High praise indeed). This is without doubt my stand out track and for that matter, one the best songs I’ve heard this year.

Up next ‘A Fool’s Paradise’ brings spoken word to the party. The guitars sound like a rushing waterfall. They absolutely pummel the senses. The gentleness of the poetry contrasts beautifully against it, like the light glinting on the spray. The bass has an almost metallic flavour at times which cuts through and gives your ear another texture to enjoy.

‘Unanswered’ sits in the aftermath of that rush and band turn to another influence. They reference Robin Guthries guitar and Simon Raymondes bass playing beautifully. It’s so great to hear that sound in a new setting. The vocal hook in this one is dynamite and grabs me every time. The closing section changes things up and leaves us wanting more.

The closing track, ‘Untitled 103’, gives very little away from its name, which makes it a neat ending for a record so concerned with buried feeling and shifting shapes. The guitars are thick enough to feel almost physical, yet little melodic fragments keep appearing through the crush. The drums give the piece a final sense of lift, while the bass keeps it from floating away into pure noise. It pulses along steadily almost like the band are floating out to sea from shore on gentle waves of distortion.

By the end of My Dreams Are Changing, I’m right back in that familiar Velveteen headspace and the whole thing makes me want to flip the record over as soon as it ends. Sure, this EP carries the DNA of Empty Crush, with those huge gazey guitars, buried vocals and nineties glow still firmly in place, yet there is a stronger sense of purpose running through these six songs. ‘Another Somewhere’ gives us the big centrepiece, ‘A Fool’s Paradise’ brings spoken word and beautiful sensory overload, and ‘Unanswered’ nods lovingly towards the dreamier end of the shoegaze family tree. Velveteen have returned with a record that feels physical, loud, strangely tender and completely ready to take over your turntable. I was getting ready to obsess again at the start of this EP, and by the end those dreams had changed into plans.

My Dreams Are Changing is out now on vinyl via Noon Records. You can check it out over on the Velveteen Bandcamp page.

You can follow Velveteen on social media here…

Marina Yozora – Snow Heat

Recently I had the pleasure of seeing Marina Yozora live in Glasgow. She was playing alongside Selkie, another artist who has already found a home in these pages, and the whole night had that rare hush you get when a room decides, all at once, to truly listen. Marina had the audience in the palm of her hand. Between songs she spoke with such warmth, care and natural storytelling instinct that the gig felt like hanging out with a friend.

That show stayed with me for a lot of reasons, but hearing ‘Snow Heat’ in that room was the moment that has kept circling back. I had written about Marina before, most recently through the soft emotional charge of ‘Daffodils’, and what struck me at The Old Hairdresser’s was how far she has travelled as a songwriter and performer.

For those new to her music Marina Yozora is a London based dream pop and shoegaze singer songwriter whose music carries the history of a life lived across several continents. Born in Japan, raised across Tokyo, Houston and Ho Chi Minh City, and now based in London, she brings that sense of emotional geography into her writing. Previous singles including ‘Watermelon Pink Blue Skies’, ‘Daffodils’ and ‘Touché’ have already brought support from a multitude of blogs and radio stations. She has performed in London, Glasgow, Leicester, Rome, Lisbon and Tokyo, with a sold-out Tokyo headline show and a sold-out London headline during Independent Venue Week 2026 marking clear steps in a growing international story.

With her new single ‘Snow Heat’, Yozora moves into a fuller shoegaze shape. It marks a clear expansion of her sound. She describes the song in her own words with real care.

“This is a very powerful song, both lyrically and sonically. It was a song inspired by a flashback memory I had when I met someone briefly and felt something strong that I cannot word well. It lingered in me like an illusion. The song is about a strong feeling I flashed back to, rather than a story. And I wanted listeners to first experience that tension in their own way, without too much visual direction.”

That idea of a flashback sits right at the centre of ‘Snow Heat’. The track opens with the feeling of something already half remembered. The guitars do not rush towards you. They gather around the voice, thick with reverb, carrying a cold brightness that fits the title perfectly. As the full band arrangement takes hold, ‘Snow Heat’ becomes more than a memory piece. The drums give it pulse and forward motion, while the bass brings a grounded heaviness beneath the shimmer. That pairing is key to why the song works so well. The top end glows and blurs, but underneath it there is a strong body to the sound. The guitars have that reverb-soaked wash you want from shoegaze, but they also carry melodic intent. They do not simply fill the space. They shape the feeling of the track, rising around the vocal like something remembered too vividly to ignore.

There are planned alternate versions going to be released which is an inspired way to let the song keep changing shape. A stripped back solo rendition, an acoustic version, and a string session with violin and cello should all draw different details from the composition. You can already hear how well ‘Snow Heat’ will translate across those settings. Beneath the shoegaze weight, there is a strong song at the centre. That was clear in Glasgow too. Even in a live room, surrounded by the particular charge of a shared evening, the track had bones, heart and atmosphere in equal measure.

‘Snow Heat’ feels like an important step for Yozora. It gives her music more scale while keeping the emotional intimacy that made her earlier releases connect. It also confirms what that Glasgow gig made plain. Marina is a rare kind of performer, someone who can speak to a room with humour and openness, then turn that same room silent with a song. This single carries that same gift. It lets a brief connection become something larger, stranger and more lasting. Some memories fade politely. ‘Snow Heat’ glows through the frost.

‘Snow Heat’ is out now. You can check it out over on the Marina Yozora Bandcamp page.

You can follow Marina Yozora on social media here…

Photo Credit

Léa VB

thistle. – Backflip EP

It doesn’t seem that long since I was first discovering the sonic attack of thistle. I had heard them via a pal over on the ‘gram, clicked through to it’s nice to see you, stranger, and very quickly ended up in that glorious mess of fuzz, grunge scuff and heavy gaze weight. Now they return with Backflip and it feels like the next page of the same slightly battered notebook.

If thistle is a new name to you, let me get you caught up. The band are Cameron Godfrey, Carey Judwyn Rushton and Lewis O’Grady. Based in Northampton they met in school and have been getting their sound out there via home recording, full time work, life stuff, and that very particular young band madness. Their sound has drawn comparisons with shoegaze, indie rock, hardcore, Pavement, Polachek, Ovlov, DIIV and a whole load of noise loving oddness. Backflip sounds like a band still moving and finding their sound among the noise.

Let’s drop the needle and explore this new EP.

‘pieces’ opens the EP with impact. The guitars arrive with grit under the fingernails, all rough edges and pressure, while the rhythm section gives the whole thing a restless forward shove. They utilise the loud quite loud dynamic really well here. With acoustic guitar deployed on verses to give that contrast. It’s a hooky number for sure but is still off kilter enough to keep you paying attention. You can check this track out on my June DKFM Shoegaze Radio Show.

‘pylon’ tightens the frame and lets the band’s angular side come forward. You can hear the live band brain at work here, with the parts locking together in a way that suggests they have recorded this one live in one take. The vocal tone carries that familiar mix of bruised melody and deadpan nerve, while the drums keep the track snapping at your heels. It feels compact, wired, and full of little jolts.

The tiny title piece ‘backflip in slow motion’ sits right in the middle of the EP like a strange little memory fragment. It could’ve been a throwaway in less interesting hands, but not these guys. These wee nuggets I love.

Previous single ‘tied’ comes in with the feeling of a song that has been wound up too tightly and released at exactly the right moment. The frantic clarity is refreshing, with guitars pushing against the vocal line and the drums driving the whole thing on relentlessly. I’ve loved this one since I was lucky enough to grab a copy on seven-inch. It’s the perfect punk gaze single and will have you coming back for repeated listens.

‘mean eye’ delves into their Sonic Youth influence and kit fair suits them. The guitars feel more needling here, less like a wall of sound and more like something picking away at the edge of your attention. The rhythm section gives it a wiry bounce, which brings that Pavement leaning indie thread closer to the front without sanding down the heavier instinct’s underneath. It’s the slacker vocal approach that really pays dividends. This is a band happy to experiment.

By the time ‘city, name’ arrives, Backflip has already shown you a lot of different angles, and the closing track pulls those angles into something that feels more reflective. This is a fun new direction for them. The almost dreampop verses soon evolve from the punctuating bass and guitar harmonics into the sonic sweep of wild guitars and doomy bass. The length and breadth of this band’s creativity is amazing.

Backflip feels like another step forward from a band who sounded ready to grow the last time I wrote about them. It keeps the heavy gaze weight, the low fidelity grit, the hardcore aftertaste and the indie rock wonk, then folds them into a shorter, stranger, more concentrated set of songs. What I like most is that thistle. still sound like three friends who are totally on the same page as each other. You can hear the scrapes, the odd turns, the sudden flashes of melody, and the refusal to make everything too neat. For a band this young, they already understand that the rough parts can carry just as much feeling as the pretty parts. Backflip lands with both feet on the floor, then immediately looks tempted to try the move again.

Backflip is out now via Rex Recs. You can check it out over on the thistle. Bandcamp page.

You can follow thistle. on social media here

Photo Credit

Lisa Ooijevaar

Slift – Fantasia

When I first wrote about Slift, I was still trying to make sense of how three people could make that insane sound. A friend had pointed me towards their KEXP session from Trans Musicales in Rennes, and from there I fell headlong into their back catalogue. By the time Ilion arrived, I was already waiting to see how far Jean Fossat, Rémi Fossat and Canek Flores could stretch their heavy psych universe. That record felt enormous. It asked for time, patience and a decent set of speakers. It was Slift operating at full mythic scale, with riffs, saxophone, electronics, doom weight and space rock excess all pulling together until you felt slightly rearranged by the end of it. Now comes Fantasia, the band’s new album, and it feels like a fascinating next move. Slift have kept the force, the imagination and the sense of cosmic threat, but this time the songs are leaner, sharper and more direct in their intent.

That change in shape makes sense when you look at where the band are standing in 2026. Jean and Rémi Fossat are brothers, while Canek Flores has been with them since their school days, making this a trio with ten years of shared instinct behind them. You can hear that history in the way they move as one unit. Fantasia was built differently from the long form sprawl of Ilion, with Jean bringing clearer song ideas into the rehearsal room before the band took them into the studio to record. There is still plenty here for those of us who want Slift to open a hole in the ceiling, but the playing now feels clipped, driven and aimed at something real. The record is also shaped by Jorge Luis Borges, political unease, false idols, xenophobia, corruption and the belief that people can still rise against the systems pressing down on them. Jean Fossat gives that belief its clearest spark on the opening track when he sings of finding “a fire for your soul.” That line feels like the key to the whole album.

‘Fantasia’ opens the record with Slift doing what Slift do best, making the first few seconds feel like the beginning of a transmission from somewhere beyond the edge of the map. A low throb starts to gather, the synths flicker around the edges, then the band begin to build with patience and bite. Jeans vocal still has that edge and his guitar has that familiar scorched quality, Rémi’s bass is thick and restless, and Flores keeps the whole thing moving with a sense of control that keeps the heavier passages from spilling everywhere. This sounds like the theme song for a dystopian sci fi movie and it carries a clear message. The world is burning; people are frightened and Slift are asking what kind of force we can still summon together. What an opener.

‘Corrupted Sky’ tightens the grip almost immediately. The rhythm section comes in with a hard, almost post punk pulse, while the synths bring a colder colour to the track. There is a sense of movement here that feels very different from the longer waves of Ilion. This one drives through the streets of the imagined town at speed, past figures of power and suspicion, past people who have learned to look at strangers as threats. Rémi’s bass gives the track its engine, growling with enough grit to keep the guitars from lifting too far away from the ground. Jean’s guitar solo then tears through the middle with a real chase scene quality. It swerves, climbs, burns and keeps moving forward. Slift still sound like a band with space rock in their bloodstream, but ‘Corrupted Sky’ proves they can compress that scale into something more urgent without losing their identity.

The album’s uneasy atmosphere deepens next with ‘The Village’. This is where Fantasia starts to feel like a place with rules, rituals and people watching from behind closed doors. The immigrant is treated as a threat, and the music mirrors that suspicion beautifully. The guitars have a clenched feel, the drums keep circling the track’s nervous energy, and the vocal sits inside the noise like someone trying to push back against a crowd that has already made up its mind. There are still flashes of prog complexity in the way the parts interlock, but the song never feels showy. Slift use those twists to create unease rather than to prove how many ideas they can fit into one track. By the closing stretch, the whole thing feels like a warning shouted across a town square as the sky starts to darken.

There is a swagger to ‘A Storm of Wings’ that makes it one of the album’s most immediate moments. The riff has a physical snap to it, almost like a heavy festival chant dragged through fuzz and smoke. Then the band start adding layers of weight until the track becomes a full body surge. Flores is brilliant here, giving the song both swing and force, while Rémi’s bass keeps leaning into the groove with real bite. Jean’s vocal feels more defiant than desperate. The references sitting behind the song may reach toward jazz and literature, but what comes through in the speakers is the sense of a crowd beginning to move together. After the fear and suspicion of ‘The Village’, this feels like the first sign that something larger is coming. You can almost hear doors opening.

‘Orbis Tertius’ sends the album into stranger territory. The title reaches back to Borges, and the music carries that sense of a reality being rewritten by the people who control the story. The drums begin with a ritual feel, the bass sits low and tense, and the guitars rise in sheets of heat. Slift have always understood repetition as a living thing. They can sit inside a pattern and keep making it change through pressure, tone and attack. That is exactly what happens here. The track seems to keep turning the same object over in its hands, finding a different surface each time. The people inside Fantasia are beginning to see that the version of the world they have been given is built on fear, habit and obedience.

Then ‘Waiting Man’ arrives and gives the record its most vulnerable turn. After all that force, it is striking to hear Slift leave more room around the voice. The song has the weight of a psychedelic ballad, with a slow burn feel that lets the emotional centre come forward. Jean sings, “I waited for love, waited my time,” and the line lands with a plain sadness that feels new for this band. His voice sounds worn, human and close to breaking in places. The guitars still glow at the edges, and the low end still has that Sabbath rooted heaviness, but the track is built around a realisation. It is the point where the narrator understands that the world he trusted has failed him. On an album full of scale and political charge, this is the moment that feels most intimate.

‘The Day of Execution’ pulls the record back into motion with a heavier charge. If ‘Waiting Man’ is the breath before the decision, this track is the decision itself. The guitars coil and lash out, the drums push forward with real force, and Rémi’s bass sounds like it is dragging sparks from the floor. The difference is in the shape. The song keeps its focus. It does not wander off into the far distance. It keeps returning to the core feeling of confrontation, as though the whole album has been moving towards a point where fear gives way to action.

‘Secret Mirror’ closes Fantasia with a wide, reflective sweep. The synths open the space beautifully, creating a sense of standing in the aftermath of something heavy and looking around at what has changed. Slift allow this track to build with patience, letting the atmosphere gather before the heavier passages arrive. Jean’s guitar feels less like a weapon here and more like a searching light. Flores keeps the movement steady, while Rémi adds low end weight without crowding the arrangement. It is a brilliant closer because it avoids easy comfort. The album has spent its time asking how people respond to corruption, fear, control and cruelty, and ‘Secret Mirror’ leaves the question facing back at you. What do you see when the noise settles? What have you accepted? What are you ready to resist?

Fantasia is a thrilling continuation of the Slift story because it answers Ilion without trying to repeat it. The last record opened up vast mythic spaces and asked you to give yourself over to the trip. This one brings the danger closer to home. It still has the riffs, the synth glow, the thunderous rhythm section and the sense that Slift are capable of making a room feel too small for the sound inside it. It also has a clearer human pulse. These songs are about people trapped inside broken systems, people remembering their own strength, and people finding the courage to push back together. Slift remain sonic explorers, but on Fantasia they have aimed the telescope back at the world we are living in, and the view is fierce, strange and worth facing. Will you stand?

Fantasia is out June 5th via Sub Pop. You can check it out over on the Slift Bandcamp page.

You can follow Slift on social media here…