thistle – It’s Nice to See You, Stranger EP

I first stumbled across thistle. after seeing a post about their extended vinyl release on my pal Coolverine Records Instagram feed (he’s well worth a follow if you love your vinyl). One click later, and I was standing right in the middle of their world which is a hazy, beautiful mess of fuzz, melancholy and sheer heaviness. Their It’s Nice to See You, Stranger EP had been out since July but within a few listens it was clear this wasn’t just another promising debut. This was the sound of a young band nailing their own strain of heavy gaze, full of heart and urgency, but without losing the scruffy, lo-fi edge that gives it all its charm.

The trio hail from Northampton and they’re very much a garage band in the truest sense. That detail matters here because you can hear the space they came from. Their sound fuses shoegaze haze with hardcore and punk grit, moving between beauty and noise with complete conviction. They’ve already caught the attention of just about everyone, Stereogum, The Line of Best Fit, Rolling Stone UK, and even the BBC airwaves via Steve Lamacq and Deb Grant. When you hear their music, you’ll get why. Cameron Godfrey, guitarist and lead singer, had this to say.

“We’re all super proud of all of the songs on this and it’s taken a lot for us to end up with the final project, with many obstacles on the way, as there are for many bands that have to balance their jobs, family life and mental health. I think the struggle shows in the music. Hopefully in a good way.”

Let’s hit play and get stuck in.

‘cobble/mud’ sets the tone straight away. It comes in snarling, with a wall of gritty distorted guitar yet there’s a delicious melody tucked just beneath the grime. It’s the sound of confusion, youth, and noise. There’s something cathartic about how it all empties out halfway through before returning all twisted and magnificent. For me, that’s exactly what makes it so addictive. It feels alive, unpolished and above all gloriously human.

Then comes ‘it’s nice to see you, stranger’, the title track and emotional core of the EP. It begins with that trademark heavy gaze pomp then settles back into grungy vein. The vocal melody is immensely hummable and hooky. When the heaviness returns in those in between passages its absolutely epic. Man, I can only imagine this is going to go off live!

‘fleur rouge’ opens with something dreamier, a kind of breath between the storms. There’s a delicate shoegaze shimmer under its surface, almost romantic, but still driven by that same raw fuzz that defines the record. It’s here that thistle. reveal just how versatile they are. Just listen to how they balance melody and aggression without tipping too far either way. The tones feel smeared and smudged, like watercolours in the rain.

Then ‘holy hill’ crashes through. Barely a minute and a half long, it burns fast and bright all jagged riffs and deadpan delivery. It feels like a live set crammed into ninety seconds, the kind of track that makes sense of their punk and hardcore roots. There’s that sense of DIY energy you can only get from a band who still record by pushing everything into the red just to see what happens. It’s the sound of three friends who live to play.

‘wishing coin’ closes the EP with something rawer and more open. The mix still growls, but deeper and guttural. Vocals and occasional screams cut through clearer; guitars veer from the chiming dreampop sounds to the all-out fuzz assault. It’s the perfect closer, touching on everything that makes this EP as great as it is.

It’s Nice to See You, Stranger captures that perfect collision of chaos and care. This is the sound of a young band throwing every ounce of themselves into the noise and somehow finding beauty in the wreckage. It feels both intimate and colossal, garage-born but stadium-ready in spirit. You can sense their hunger, that drive to make something real even when life pulls in every direction. For a debut, it’s astonishingly self-assured yet still wide open, like they’re already looking towards whatever comes next. Thistle. have arrived with something raw, loud and deeply human and I, for one, can’t wait to see where they go from here.

It’s Nice to See You, Stranger is out now on Venn Records. You can grab the five track EP digitally and on cassette and now you can get it on vinyl with five more bonus tracks. Head over to the thistle Bandcamp page to grab your copy.

You can follow thistle on social media here ….

Photo Credit

Briony Graham Rudd

Phantom Wave – Echoes Unknown

I know I’m always in for a treat when a release from Brighton’s Shore Dive Records hits my inbox. It’s even better when you find out after the fact. This is how Brooklyn’s Phantom Wave found their way to my ears. With Echoes Unknown, their third album and first for the aforementioned Shoredive Records, the trio of Ian Carpenter, Yanek Che and Rachel Fischer have found something bigger, brighter, and a little stranger. It feels like they’ve taken everything they learned from the past few years and decided to throw the doors wide open.

They recorded the album upstate at The Building in Marlboro, New York. Mixing came courtesy of Elliott Frazier from Ringo Deathstarr, and that choice makes sense the moment the first track hits. You can hear Elliott’s knack for depth and density all over these tracks. It’s a record that glows rather than burns, constantly shifting between propulsion and dreamlike textures. There’s something familiar in the DNA for sure. Y’know, the usual suspects (MBV, Ride, Lush, Slowdive, DIIV etc) but Phantom Wave never sound like a museum piece. They take those reference points and use them like brushstrokes rather than blueprints.

Let’s jump in a see what the band have painted for us.

The album kicks off with the title track ‘Echoes Unknown’ in a haze of sound that feels like standing at the edge of a city at night. You can almost hear the hum of neon. Carpenter’s vocals swim up from underneath, soft and distant, the guitars swirling around him. It’s got pace, power and delivers on the emotional level too. Great opener.

Then comes ‘Splashed’, which feels like stepping straight into daylight. The tribal drums hit a little harder, the reverb brightens, and there’s this rolling bassline that keeps you moving forward. You get the sense they’re pushing outwards, not looking back. There’s a distinct eighties glimmer on show in the verses which gets consumed by the crash of the choruses.

‘Hologrammer’ brings a more reflective mood, caught somewhere between dream pop and shoegaze. The guitars sound like mirrors turning in sunlight, shifting colours every few seconds. It’s hypnotic and strangely human. Incidentally this song works really well driving at night. It has that gloom with flashes of clarity every so often.

By the time we reach ‘Woozy’, everything clicks. This one already surfaced as a single, and it still lands like a gut punch. The build-up is slow, deliberate, teasing you before the full force hits. When Carpenter finally lets his voice tear through the mix it feels earned. Then comes that outro, guitars swirling in ever-widening circles, the song collapsing beautifully in on itself. It’s the kind of moment that makes you remember why you fell for this genre in the first place.

‘Breakaway’ is a real curveball. What sounds like some kind of saxophone guitar hybrid cracks through after a triumphant intro. It’s sonic tricks like this that really keeps you on your toes. The contrast between the grounded verses and the soaring choruses make this my album highlight. Those choruses only get more potent as the song goes on as well.

 It flows naturally into ‘Collider’, which lives up to its name with layered guitars smashing against one another in rhythmic waves, delay timed to perfection. The drums drive the whole thing, precise but alive, never static. You can feel them steering the maelstrom rather than containing it.

Then we hit ‘Wanton’, the weird heart of the record. This is where Elliott Frazier’s playful side comes out. He apparently wanted it to sound like “a creepy ice cream truck,” and that’s exactly what it does. Off-kilter percussion, eerie melodic flickers, and a rhythm that sounds like it’s swaying on its own axis. It shouldn’t work, but it really does. It’s unsettling and addictive in equal measure.

‘High Halcyon’ appears as a sort of come-down. There’s something almost Beach House-like in the way the melody unfolds, unhurried but radiant. Guitars sound more purposeful here. Driving with distortion rather than all out fuzz. It lends this track a cohesiveness in those choruses that lift it even higher.

Then ‘Memory Swerver’ arrives with its pop sensibilities on full display. The crystalline verses sound like something you’d hear on a Robin Guthrie production. Crisp, chiming yet full and rounded. Then the punchy chorus with its killer hook comes in and seeps it away, if only momentarily.

The album comes to a close with ‘Sirens’, tying everything together. It’s measured, deliberate, a long fade into abstraction. The guitars ring out like a far-off alarm you can’t quite locate, the bass pulsing like a heartbeat. It’s a really punchy way to wrap things up and it doesn’t resolve so much as dissolve, leaving you caught in the afterglow.

Phantom Wave call Echoes Unknown a dreamy way station, a resting point before moving on to other worlds, and that description fits. It feels like a pause to look back at what’s been built. All the noise, melody, and emotion, before drifting forward again. It’s their most complete statement yet, a record that balances scale with intimacy, density with light. Every listen reveals another texture hiding beneath the haze, another small human detail caught between the echoes.

Echoes Unknown is out now via Shoredive Records. You can pick it up on the Phantom Wave Bandcamp page and on vinyl from the Shore Dive Records Elasticstage page.

Follow Phantom Wave on social media here….

Ain’t – Long Short Round

I’ve been keeping a close eye on South London’s Ain’t for a while now. Their last two singles are sitting proudly in my 7-inch collection, and for good reason. Both 2024’s Oar / Teething and January’s Pirouette / Jude floored me with their authenticity and how gritty, melodic, and beautifully out of step with everything around it they were. Their new single ‘Long Short Round’ might just be the one that ties it all together.

Spanning just over six minutes, it’s a slow-unfolding, fuzz-soaked gem that finds the band sounding bolder and more expansive than ever. It pulls together everything that’s made their earlier work so addictive, that love of 90s guitar oddities, the post-punk grit, the shoegaze glaze, and lets it bloom into something richer and more cinematic.

The band, who are Hanna Baker Darch (Vocals), George Ellerby (Guitar/Vocals), Ed Randall (Guitar), Chapman Ho (Bass Guitar), and Joe Lockstone (Drums) have this to say about the track.

“Long Short Round is about doing little rituals that feel as if they’re doing something good, but they’re utterly pointless when it comes to getting what you’re hoping for.”

The opening stretch brims with distorted melody, guitars that shimmer and bite, and harmonised vocals that come together like the Ain’t we know and love. Then, somewhere around the midpoint, the song exhales. The noise clears, the tempo drifts, and suddenly Ain’t are walking through the echo of early-00s Midwest indie and we are firmly in slowcore territory. It really suits the bands dynamic, not to mention the vocals from both Baker Darch and Ellerby. Like an intimate conversation we’re overhearing they feel both hopeless and hopeful in equal measure. The stark contrast in guitars is powerful too, going from those swing for the bleacher’s riffs to the minimal pinched harmonics.

With ‘Long Short Round’ Ain’t have once again upped their songwriting to another level, elevating their music and undoubtedly endearing themselves to a whole new audience. Everything they’ve hinted at across those earlier singles comes together here. It’s a song that malingers about your noggin, its quiet melodies and fuzzy beauty looping around your thoughts. If this is the direction they’re heading, we’re in for something really special.

‘Long Short Round’ is out now and is available via the Ain’t Bandcamp page.

You can follow Ain’t on social media here….

Total Wife – Come Back Down

Regular readers of the blog will know how much I love the releases emanating from Philly’s Julia’s War Recordings label. I seem to be writing a lot about em of late. Well, they’re at it again with yet another stellar release, this time from Total Wife.

Total Wife are the Nashville duo of Luna Kupper and Ash Richter, long-time friends and collaborators who have become a fixture of their city’s DIY underground. They record, mix, and design much of their own work, hosting basement shows in their self-styled space Ryman 2 and quietly building a world of noise, warmth, and strange beauty. Over the years they’ve toyed with different shades of shoegaze and electronica, but, from what I hear, Come Back Down is the point where it all converges. A lot of the ideas for this album came from that place when we find ourselves between sleep and lucidity. Kupper has this to say on that.

“This album is made from a single thought unfolding endlessly. I’m a psychological mixer. I’m trying to think of how someone’s experiencing the sound, versus getting stuck in trying to make all these different tones and using all this gear to make something sound a certain way,”

I really like the sound of that approach. Let’s hit play and see where it takes us.

‘In My Head’ opens the album like a dream you wake from halfway through. Guitars blur and bend, Richter’s voice hovers somewhere between consciousness and static, and the space between notes seems to stretch. It’s a disorienting beginning but also a tender one, setting the tone for the record’s gorgeous mix of intimacy and intensity.

‘Peaches’ on the other hand arrives in full bloom, bright and unpredictable, carrying the aftertaste of the storm that inspired it. There’s energy bursting from every corner, the drums clattering beneath wide swells of the most stunning glide guitar, the vocal lines flickering like lightning. It feels alive in that way only chaos can be, unsteady, ecstatic, impossible to hold.

Then comes the brief tone poem ‘Internetsupermagazine’, a thirty-second fever dream of broken code and digital overwhelm. It flickers past before you can grasp it, acting as a nervous twitch between worlds, a static bridge that collapses into the next rush of sound.

‘Naoisa’ bursts through that silence with sharp beats and a grinding edge. The rhythm feels mechanical but human, all pulse and friction. Underneath the glassy distortion there’s a warmth trying to escape, a strangeness that refuses to be buried. The song runs like it’s on a major adrenaline rush and ends just as suddenly, collapsing into itself. This is a real creative highpoint and has really endeared this band to me even more.

The tone shifts with ‘Second Spring’, softer, more reflective. It feels warm but distant, shimmering just beyond reach. Richter sounds almost weightless here, her voice carried by layers of reverb that never quite resolve. Like her voice is a string on the guitar that’s warping around our ears.  It’s a reminder that Total Wife can build beauty as confidently as they build noise.

By the time ‘Still Asleep’ drifts in, the album feels suspended in a dream of its own making. Written after the band’s first tour, it captures that blurred state between euphoria and exhaustion. “Thank the full moon, my heart is overflowing,” Richter sings before wondering, “Is there such a thing as too happy?” It’s the emotional core of the record. That sense that joy and anxiety are never far apart, just two sides of the same cosmic coin.

‘Chloe’ feels like the comedown, quiet and hazy, its melody drifting in soft motion. There’s light leaking through the distortion, a sense of calm acceptance after all that noise. This song reminds of what all good gaze should do. Hide a killer pop song in swathes of beautiful noise. I don’t know how many times I listened to this one in a row but you start to hear orchestras, alien spaceships, other worlds and that’s the skill. That’s what Total Wife excel at.

Then ‘Dead B’ hits with a wall of fuzz and feedback that threatens to flatten everything before it. It first lures you in with its lo-fi charm before erupting into that glorious noise. The drum n bass beats really work exceptionally well and add an extra something that pleases my ear no end. It’s raw, emotional and at the same time, strangely hopeful.

‘Ofersi3’ for me is the very definition of musical insanity.  Built from recycled sounds, it folds back on itself in hypnotic motion, looping until it feels like you’re breathing in rhythm with it. Its bit crushing intensity is both overwhelming and comforting as you surrender yourself to its bonkers energy.

Everything fades with ‘Make It Last’, a closing scene that feels like waking up in soft light. The distortion loosens and shakes your teeth, melodies unwind, and you’re left with a quiet ache that hums long after it ends. When that chorus hits, man, its pure elation. That ascending chord sequence hits me in the feels every time. It doesn’t conclude so much as drift away, still pulsing faintly somewhere in the distance. What a treat.

Listening to Come Back Down feels like being drawn into the subconscious of sound itself. Every track spills into the next, recycling emotion and noise until you lose sense of where it all began. It’s an album that proves heaviness doesn’t have to mean emptiness; it can be full of breath and tenderness too. Total Wife have built something recursive and radiant, an endless thought you can’t quite shake. One that keeps whispering, softly, to come back down.

Come Back Down is out now via Julia’s War Recordings. Make sure and follow the band on the Total Wife Bandcamp page.

You can follow Total Wife on social media here…

Imogen Heap – Aftercare / Speak For Yourself (20th Anniversary Remaster)

I still remember the first time I heard ‘Hide and Seek’, years ago, half-awake in front of the TV. That vocoder voice, that strange stillness that filled the room. It got under my skin in a way few songs ever have. For a long time, it lived on my old MP3 player, soundtracking journeys and my day to day life, and whenever it came on it carried me straight back to those carefree years.

So, when I heard that Imogen Heap was back with a new single called ‘Aftercare’, it stopped me in my tracks. The title alone feels like a big hug, and that’s exactly what the song delivers. It’s a moment of tenderness and self-reflection wrapped in futuristic shimmer. Imogen has always been ahead of the curve, and here she folds the digital into the deeply human once again. ‘Aftercare’ features her AI alter ego “Mogen”, a voice she’s trained through timbre transfer to echo her own but with ghostly nuance. The result is something both intimate and otherworldly. A duet between artist and algorithm, mother and machine.

The track forms the final part of a trilogy following ‘What Have You Done To Me?’ and ‘Noise’, completing a larger body of work that explores identity, connection, and the messy beauty of being human in a tech-saturated world. It’s a song that feels like it could only come from Imogen: entirely self-written, produced, and mixed, but also completely open to the future. There’s warmth in every note, like she’s still searching for the same truth she was chasing twenty years ago when Speak For Yourself first arrived.

And that brings us full circle. Speak For Yourself (20th Anniversary Remaster) is being reissued, marking two decades of a record that changed everything for independent artists. It’s now RIAA Platinum, with the singles ‘Hide and Seek’ Gold and ‘Headlock’ Platinum. What a legacy built by one woman who never waited for permission. The new edition arrives on heavyweight 180g double vinyl, remastered in stunning fidelity, and celebrates not just the music but Imogen reclaiming full control of her rights and catalogue.

As if that wasn’t forward-thinking enough, she’s also launched Auracles, a new platform empowering artists to own and protect their creative identity in the age of AI. It’s the kind of initiative that could only come from someone who’s spent her whole career bridging technology and emotion, art and autonomy.

For now, dive into ‘Aftercare’. It’s the sound of an artist still exploring what it means to be human, twenty years on and still light-years ahead.

Speak For Yourself (20th Anniversary Remaster) lands October 17 on Megaphonic Records. You can explore more about Auracles here.

Follow Imogen Heap on social media here…

Trillion – Feel Alright

I stumbled back into Trillion’s world when ‘Echoes of a Sunny Smile’ landed in my inbox ahead of my September DKFM show. Within seconds of that soft-focus swirl kicking in, I knew this was a band that hadn’t lost their magic. I ended up spinning it on air, that shimmering opening track somehow managed to sound both familiar and completely new.

It reminded me that it’s been a while, three years in fact, since I last wrote about Trillion here on Static Sounds Club. Trillion are a six-piece from Sydney Australia featuring Steve Hartley (guitar, vocals), Darren Barnes (bass), Sean Vella (drums), Pete Bridle (guitar), Tara Honeyman (synth, vocals) and Mark Gilder (guitar). Their last release So Soon Now blew me away back in 2023, a record I described as a love letter to the bands who came before them without ever straying into pastiche. Back then they were already masters of sculpting fuzz and melody into something cinematic. Now with a new album under their belts they’re back to blow our minds again.

Recorded over six months across several Sydney studios, Feel Alright is described by the band as “the age-old story of love, loss and moving on,” but there’s more to the story than that. Let’s hit play and see where the album takes us.

The album opens with ‘Echoes of a Sunny Smile’. This one is pure serotonin. Layers of fuzz stretch and shimmer like sunbeams through gauze, while those interwoven male–female vocals glow at the centre. It’s a potent opener and it delivers those driving gazey feels right from the off. Sure, you can feel that 90s lineage (Ride, MBV, Flyying Colours) but Trillion give it a pop sensibility that’s entirely their own. When the chorus hits your off flying.

‘Something (Like This)’ comes in like a headrush. The drums snap to life under a bed of churning glide guitar and pulsing bass. It’s that classic Trillion trick, intensity with elegance. The vocal interplay between Hartley and Honeyman really shines here, threading melody through a haze of noise. It’s both euphoric and melancholy, a love song that wraps you up in its yearning.

With a burst of energy and swagger in comes a ‘Night City’. Short, sharp, and buzzing with neon urgency, ‘Night City’ feels like the most playful thing they’ve done yet. It’s a fuzzed-out postcard from the after-hours, bass pulsing, guitars glowing, synths flickering like streetlights. I might be mistaken but I can sense a Stone Roses influence at play here which really suits the song.

Up next, we take a wee pause for ‘Coda’. A brief, blissful detour of a shoegaze meditation. It’s almost ambient in feel, like a soft inhale between heavier moments. The guitars shimmer and dissolve, leaving traces of melody hanging in the air.

‘Death Arrows’ delves in a The Jesus and Mary Chain influence. The beat has that Spector wall of sound thing going on and the guitars chime and echo around the track. Honeywell’s double tracked vocals are utterly sublime cutting through the mix like a scalpel. But it’s when everything erupts, they absolutely shine like a floodlight. This track hits like a thunderclap and is my album stand out track.

‘Find Some Time’ has a looseness to it, a kind of sighing relief in its flow. The cutting guitar tones nod to more to prime era Teenage Fanclub and early Lush. The space between the verses and chorus gives your ear this lovely dynamic to play with. I particularly like that the guitars aren’t too over the top distorted. It gives this song its own unique personality.

The album comes to a close with ‘Over Easy’ bringing everything full circle. The song lives in soft focus and it comes across heartfelt and utterly immersive. The guitars are both extreme glide guitar and muted jangly tones which again is a nice way to close out the album, rounding up the sounds they have explored over these seven tracks.

With Feel Alright, Trillion have stepped confidently into their own space. It’s still rooted in the classic gaze universe they clearly adore y’know, MBV, Ride, Blonde Redhead, Deafcult etc etc…, but there’s more colour, more lift, and a clearer emotional pulse running through it. Where So Soon Now felt like a statement of intent, Feel Alright is the sound of a band fully inhabiting their world. Trillion have managed to make a record that’s comforting and cathartic all at once. Fuzz and melody in perfect harmony. It’s the sort of album that makes you fall in love with shoegaze all over again. I know I have!

Feel Alright is out now via Trillion’s Bandcamp page. Head on over there and give them a like. You can also grab the album on vinyl.

You can follow Trillion on social media here…..

The Giraffe Told Me in My Dream — Velvet Distortion EP

The Giraffe Told Me in My Dream is a band name you’re unlikely to forget and so it has proven with their latest release, the Velvet Distortion EP. So, who are this enigmatic outfit? Good question. There’s little to no information on the band online only adding to that air of mystery that has already turned a whisper into cult admiration.

This Taiwanese shoegaze outfit first surfaced publicly with the Slowfall EP back in 2019, and since then they’ve existed in a sort of slow burn. quietly gathering attention in dream-pop and shoegaze circles for their gauzy textures and emotive pull. Velvet Distortion is their second EP and release to date. Over the last few weeks I’ve slowly been falling in love with both this band and the EP. Let me tell you why.

The EP opens with ‘Shallow’ surely a nod to the MBV influence in their sound. We hear a soft echo of guitar reverb, a voice that hovers at the brink of clarity, and an undercurrent of shimmering distortion that buzzes in the periphery. It doesn’t demand your attention; it invites you in. The intro seems delicate, but stretched just so your senses sharpen. This song immediately made me sit up and go, hang on, I think I’m about to hear so0mething really special.

Then ‘Glimpse’ sweeps in, longer and more expansive. It builds slowly, unfolding. Hazy vocals float atop washes of guitar shimmer. There are moments when the guitars are soft, almost forgiving, then in the chorus they swell, pressing forward like waves gathering momentum before they break. Midway through, there’s a passage where the instrumentation drops back, you’re left with voice and distant strumming, before the guitars erupt again. That section made the hair on my arms stand up. What a stunning song.

By the time ‘Blurry’ arrives, the EP has already softened you. This leans more into the dreampop sound. The title is apt: at times the guitars drift so far back in the mix they feel like a dream you almost forgot. The vocals take charge here and it’s a dual attack, male and female vocals trade licks in tandem, never slipping into harmony singing. It’s a neat trick that only makes this track stand out more from what has come before.

‘Before’ closes the EP with velvet gloved uppercut. It’s darker, braver, more restless. The song moves through shifts in loudness, sometimes intimate and hushed, sometimes all guitars flashing. In its closing stretch, the guitars surge, voices echo, and I felt like I was riding a wave cresting just as it washes over you. It ends, and you’re left suspended. What a way to close out the EP.

What Velvet Distortion leaves behind is less a collection of songs and more a lingering atmosphere. It feels like a dream you wake from slowly, each song a fragment that stays with you for hours after. Across its four tracks, The Giraffe Told Me in My Dream manage to say more with texture and tone than most bands do with entire albums. There’s a quiet confidence running through the EP, a sense of purpose beneath the haze, even as everything swirls in that gauzy shimmer the band are quickly becoming known for.

Velvet Distortion cements The Giraffe Told Me in My Dream as one of the most intriguing acts in the current shoegaze underground. They’ve managed to take familiar sounds and make them feel new again. When the last note fades, you realise the silence feels different now. The air has changed. And that, really, is the mark of something special. Now when I’m asked why I love shoegaze so much I need only show this EP.

Velvet Distortion is out now on CD via Shore Dive Records. Be sure to check out the bands Bandcamp to stream or buy.

You can follow The Giraffe Told Me in My Dream on social media here.

Automatic – Is It Now?

I was an instant convert to the sound of Automatic when I stumbled across their 2019 debut album Signal. It had the vibe of a band with one foot in the future and the other stuck in a cracked piece of analogue tape. They came together in Los Angeles nine years ago, just three friends with instruments they were still figuring out how to play. That bare bones start gave them a raw honesty, but over the years they’ve carved a sharper edge. By the time of their sophomore release Excess in 2022, they had already built a reputation for minimalist post punk grooves that could soundtrack either a basement dance or a protest march. In the years since, the three members have scattered into new routines: Izzy Glaudini rescuing stray cats and obsessing over production tricks, Halle Saxon trading bad habits for botany classes, and Lola Dompé disappearing into the countryside with her horses. Life pulled them in different directions, yet Is It Now? finds them locked in like never before.

Glaudini was quite clear on what the band had to achieve.

“You have to get people moving. It’s harder and harder to enjoy a sense of escapism; it’s tinged with delusion. Action feels more rewarding.”

That’s the energy driving this third record so with that knowledge lets dive in.

The needle drops with ‘Black Box’, and it feels like being transported to a Haitian disco. The drums and bass hold down the groove while synth stabs and swirls float across the speakers. It’s only when the vocals come in that things pare back to give space to the smoke in Glaudini’s delivery. Her voice feels detached yet intimate whispering an uncomfortable truth across a crowded room. The bass and drums keep tugging at your body, urging movement, while the synths spark and scatter like broken neon. This track plays with pleasure and paranoia, the sense that you’re dancing in a place that might not be safe. You find yourself nodding along, caught between groove and suspicion, already primed for the world Automatic are about to unfold.

That rolls into ‘mq9’, which works like a Trojan horse. At first you’re carried along by the groove, bobbing bass, and those stabbing synth bursts. Then the realisation hits: it’s mimicking the sound of drone warfare. The track keeps you moving while planting a knot in your stomach. It’s clever, but it’s also sinister. You catch yourself dancing, shoulders loose, and then you remember what the title means. That’s when the unease sets in. The song makes complicity feel physical. Your body obeys the beat while your mind wrestles with the horror underneath. Automatic leave you stuck in that space, uncomfortable but still moving.

‘Mercury’ arrives like a trickster. Trip hop tempo, restless beat, and a cheeky menace that makes you want to lean in closer. The synth work is sublime. You can feel the results of Izzy’s studio obsession here. Vocals slide in like smoke, half-spoken, half-sung, their coolness masking something volatile beneath. There’s a playfulness in the way it builds and unravels, teasing you with moments of clarity before plunging back into murk. You catch fragments of melody, flashes of groove, but nothing settles for long. By the time the track winds down, you’re not sure if you’ve been seduced, unsettled, or both.

The mood lightens with ‘Lazy’, a chilled groove with an edge. There is a lightness to the verses then in the instrumental breaks in between, shadows creep in. The synth stabs have eerie overtones that pull the rug out from under you. The bass is warm and rounded, almost cosy, yet those synth stabs cut through like distant alarms. You think you’re settling into the most relaxed moment on the record, only for Automatic to twist the groove just enough to remind you the calm is temporary.

Then ‘Country Song’ is anything but. This ain’t no Nashville anthem, no siree. If anything, this track would feel at home on stage with Gary Numan. The bass locks into a cold, metallic throb while synths bend into strange, buzzing shapes. There’s nothing pastoral here, only a synthetic horizon that feels eerie and electric. Dompé’s drumming keeps it rigid, a tight frame that gives the whole thing a steely march. Vocals float above like signals from another planet, cool and detached, echoing through a chrome-tinted space. The result is hypnotic, almost clinical, but with a sly grin underneath. You can imagine the band having fun with this one, smirking as they twist the title into something alien.

The centrepiece comes with the title track, ‘Is It Now?’. It’s a frantic paced, sharp edged sonic assault. The bass is the star here dancing around the two notes of the song. The smooth synth pads providing that luscious contrast that makes this an Automatic classic. This song feels like a rush of energy that is both chaotic and tightly controlled. Worthy of the title track.

‘Don’t Wanna Dance’ is cheeky by name but impossible to resist. The pace is slowed right down, a hazy low-tempo drift where space is as important as sound. The bass pulses gently, almost lazy, while the drums flicker in and out with a stripped-back restraint. Synths hang in the air like distant echoes, soft and minimal, creating an atmosphere that feels half-dreamt. It’s sly, understated, and quietly hypnotic, the kind of track that has you swaying long after it’s finished.

Then comes ‘Smog Summer’. Disco shimmer at first glance, but this one holds a fire warning. Inspired by L.A.’s endless fight with climate disaster, it anchors its urgency to a bassline that won’t quit. You can hear Halle’s botany obsession sneaking into the lyrics, trying to coax hope from the ash. It makes you want to dance and panic at the same time.

‘The Prize’ drags the conversation into darker waters. Oil, politics, and power wrapped in a rhythm that lurches like a heavy engine. This is the record’s most confrontational moment. There’s an almost physical sense of tension here, a confrontation that doesn’t let you escape. You feel the anger in the grooves, the frustration in the pauses between notes. It’s the track that refuses to let you dance, demanding attention and reflection, leaving a trace of unease that lingers long after the final chord.

By the time ‘PlayBoi’ hits, there’s a swagger in the air. It’s all cheek, with Lola’s beat bouncing like a rubber ball. There’s a a definite parallel to the production work on the Nice as Fuck album here. Given they share a producer in Loren Humphrey it’s no wonder. The drums snap with a loose, playful energy and Halle’s bassline keeps it tight but playful, circling around the rhythm. Synths flicker in the gaps, adding sly flourishes that feel both stylish and slightly absurd. You can almost hear the band grinning as they play it out.

Closer ‘Terminal’ turns almost motorik. Its unrelenting and unapologetic in its intensity. The beat locks in and refuses to budge, a steady thrum that feels like being carried down a highway with no exits. Halle’s bass is relentless, circling a single idea until it becomes hypnotic. This is a finale that trades euphoria for endurance. By the time it winds down, you’re left with the sensation of being propelled forward long after the music stops, still caught in its endless motion.

Is It Now? is a record that toys with your senses as much as it moves your body. From the first pulse of ‘Black Box’ you’re pulled into a world where grooves feel irresistible but always edged with unease. The band lure you into motion, only to undercut the pleasure with paranoia, satire, or stark commentary. Automatic thrive on contradictions like joy and dread, groove and grit, satire and sincerity. The experience isn’t about escaping the world outside but moving through it with sharper eyes and restless feet. You dance, you question, you sweat, you think. That’s the genius of this record. Is it now? With Automatic, it always is.

Is It Now? is out now via Stones Throw Records. Follow the band on the Automatic Bandcamp page.

You can follow Automatic on social media here…

Marina Yozora – Touché

Regular readers of the blog will remember Marina Yozora. To date she has two incredible singles under her belt in the shape of ‘Watermelon Pink Blue Skies’ and ‘Daffodils’. She wites songs that breathe until they feel like they’re floating. That approach has already earned her a place in the current wave of new dream pop voices worth watching, but with new single ‘Touché’ she’s opening a new chapter.

Born in Tokyo, raised across America and Vietnam, and now based in London, Marina carries a world’s worth of memory into her writing. You can hear that third culture background in the way her music blends spaces and moods that don’t often meet. She’s already sold out shows in Tokyo, started drawing a dedicated following in London and Glasgow, and is now set to bring her live presence to Manchester, Rome and Lisbon.

Marina tells the story of how ‘Touché’ came into being like this.

“I wrote this song early morning around 5am in my bedroom, so pretty that the sunlight poured through the little corners of the curtains. There are two stories behind this song: one, is that for that few minutes of this song, I felt like I had to say good bye to someone I haven’t met yet. Almost like I was feeling myself in another time dimension.”

“The second story, is that I was up all night, practicing for my headline show in Tokyo, which I sold out too. It was my last show before moving to London as an artist. And within this transition, knowing that I was loved by these fans and friends, was just grateful. I’m always surrounded by warm people who trust me and my visions. This song Touché is my reply to their love.”

Let’s dive in and hear that for ourselves.

The track begins in a hush, her guitar gently reverbed, like first light slipping into a dark room. Her voice glides in soft, rounded, as if it’s being carried by the early morning sun. There’s a tenderness that feels immediate, like you’ve stumbled upon something private and are being invited to stay for a while. As the layers build, synths from Amelia J Smith (AMILLS) swell underneath, subtle but glowing, adding warmth without stealing space. A bassline anchors things, grounding her drifting melody lines. You can almost see the dust particles dancing in the sunlight of that 5am room. Each note seems suspended in air, held just long enough to catch you before it slips away.

Listening to Touché you can feel Marina balancing nostalgia with forward motion. There’s the shadow of Tokyo and her sold-out show there, the excitement of her London chapter, the small community of fans who keep showing up. All of it folded into three minutes and change that feels both fragile and unbreakable.

She has already given us flowers with Daffodils. Now with Touché she’s given us something even closer; a whispered reply, a love letter sung out loud.

Touché is out October 5th. Make sure and follow her on the Marina Yozora Bandcamp page.

You can follow Marina Yozora on social media here…

Joyer – On The Other End of the Line

Regular readers of the blog will know that Philly based label, Julia’s War Recordings, are on a bit of a hot streak right now. Everything they touch seems to turn to gold so when they pop a new album into my inbox you know I’m going to sit up and take notice.

Joyer are brothers Nick and Shane Sullivan who started the project on the east coast, shifting between cities, floors, and basements, carrying their restless energy into every recording. They’ve cut their teeth on support slots with Horse Jumper of Love, Wishy, and villagerrr, and in 2024 gave us Night Songs, a record that glowed with fuzz and shadow. Now they’ve returned with On The Other End of the Line, a collection of songs shaped by distance, distance from home, distance from each other, distance from stability. It’s their most ambitious record yet, cut over eight days in Chicago with Slow Pulp’s Henry Stoehr helping steer the sound.

“Distance has an uncanny ability to clarify feelings. It can offer an invigorating reset, reaffirming your capacity for love and renewing your sense of self. But if you surrender to its wisdom, you may not always like what it reveals.”

That’s the frame Joyer work within here. They’re looking for connection, so lets drop the needle and get connected.

The record begins with ‘I Know Your Secret’. It’s woozy, paranoid, and utterly gripping, born from Nick’s unsettling dreams in Shane’s childhood bedroom. Guitars jar between fuzzed out bliss and metallic, janky, jangling chords. It simultaneously tickles that slowcore and gaze part of me. The vocals sit close, almost whisper-like. What makes it work is that tension between comfort and unease. The chords crash, then hang in the air, leaving you suspended, waiting for whatever comes next. This is a bold and accomplished opener.

Then comes ‘Cure’, the song that gives the album its name. It leans more into laid back slacker rock territory with a melody Malkmus would kill for. The guitars tumble loose and warm and there’s a casualness to it that feels almost accidental, but the hook is razor sharp. Shane’s vocal folds into the chords, half sigh, half shrug, like he’s letting the words drift rather than forcing them out. I’m  really into this one.

‘Creases’ appears all at once guitars at ten gliding across the speakers. The riff is midwestern but the delivery is all their own. It has that wide-open feel, like a motorway stretching out in front of you, but instead of cruising, the song keeps tripping on its own shoelaces in the best way. The drums tumble and scatter, never quite settling into an easy groove, which gives the track its off-kilter charm. It’s nostalgia with teeth, and it cuts deeper the louder you play it.

‘Glare of the Beer Can’ feels brighter on the surface, with twang seeping into the guitars, but there’s melancholy baked into its bones. The shimmer in the chords could soundtrack a hazy summer afternoon, but the vocal delivery undercuts it with a heaviness that lingers. The pastoral touches make it one of the most distinct tracks here, pulling away from shoegaze grit into something closer to folk, but never fully letting go of the noise.

Then everything sharpens with ‘Spell’. This feels like a sister track musically to ‘I Know Your Secret’ but the tone here is sharper. More defined somehow. The guitars are falling over each other in the most glorious way, scrapping and sparking like loose wires. The vocal mostly tracks the guitar melody, and that mirroring effect gives the track a hypnotic pull, as though the voice is tethered to the strings and dragged along for the ride.

The midpoint arrives with ‘Something to Prove’. The song takes its time pulling to its focus which is really clever. Listening to the song emerge form the chaos is a revelation. At first, it’s all squall and static, like a band throwing paint at the walls just to see what sticks. Then, almost slyly, the groove locks in, and you realise all that noise was pointing somewhere. By the time the chorus arrives it feels earned, like they’ve fought their way through the mess to land on something undeniable. It’s messy and obsessive, but also strangely triumphant.

‘Favorite’ pushes further into that energy, a spidery rocker with itchy guitars and explosive bursts. It’s messy in the best way, that kind of chaos you only get when a band is willing to stretch their songs until they break. The chorus doesn’t so much arrive as detonate, guitars and vocals tearing open space all at once. What’s special is that even inside the racket, there’s a hook in that chorus that digs in deep. You hum it hours later, almost surprised it stuck given how ragged the delivery feels.

‘At the Movies’ reins things back. It’s a breather, a softer track that whilst it loses none of the wonky intensity of the previous tracks it chills things out. The guitars shimmer with a loose, hazy quality. Vocals arrive hushed, conversational almost, like leaning over to whisper during a film. What I love here is the balance. It’s gentle without tipping into sentimentality, still carrying that off-kilter edge that marks the whole record.

‘Test’ follows with sharper teeth again. Fickle rhythms keep it constantly shifting, and the guitars come in jagged. It’s one of the most immediate cuts here, and live it’ll tear the roof down. The riffs snarl and scrape, and when they lock together it’s like sparks going off. Vocals ride the chaos with a deadpan delivery that only makes the explosions feel bigger. This is Joyer at their most celebratory.

Everything closes with ‘Tell Me’, and it lands perfectly. Nick sings, “I give up and I try. But I know I’ll be alright. When I walk down to your door.  It can’t hurt me anymore.” It’s vulnerable, raw, and hopeful all at once. That plea for connection cuts deep, the desire to be known by someone else in a way that feels simple yet overwhelming. The song circles back to the theme of distance, showing us that even when separation gnaws, the act of reaching out is its own kind of cure.

On The Other End of the Line is such an immersive listen. Guitars swing between jagged and melodic, sometimes colliding, sometimes weaving together, always demanding your full attention. Each track opens a different door. The sequencing makes the album less a straight line and more a ride, where every shift feels deliberate and takes you off somewhere new. By the time the final track fades, you’re left with the sense of having been inside something unpredictable but oddly cohesive. It’s a record that plays with your expectations, always moving just slightly to the left of where you think it’s going. Listening through once is satisfying, but the pull to go again is strong especially when each spin reveals something you missed. You never quite know what you’ll hear when you pick up, but it’s always worth answering when Joyer is the band is on the other end of the line.

On The Other End of the Line is out now via Julia’s War Recordings. Follow the band on the Joyer Bandcamp page.

You can follow Joyer on social media here…

Photo Credits

Eve Alpert