Search:day of reckoning

Zebulon's debut album "Come Day of Reckoning" delivers slow-burning doom with crushing riffs, dramatic vocals, and haunting melodies. The material explores themes of judgement and faith. Recorded in the winter of 2025. Zebula hails from Jæren, Norway.

ounded in 1992 by the larger than life, Scottish punk-rock poet laureate, Mr Paul McKenzie, this merry band of miscreants has spent more than three decades circumnavigating the globe to bring the McKenzies gospel to an ever-expanding throng of rebels, scallywags and ne'er do wells. There's not many bands that can boast of a 30+ year career as staggeringly adventurous, wildly tempestuous and utterly death-defying as The Real McKenzies. It would be a serious mistake to write them off as just another Celtic punk band (they’ve been around longer than the Dropkick Murphys after all). They are an unstoppable juggernaut of touring mayhem. A ferocious troupe of insanely talented minstrels, storytellers and entertainers melding traditional acoustic and electric instruments to create a sound like no other. Their list of accolades is long. From sharing the stage with the likes of NOFX, Rancid, Flogging Molly, Metallica and Shane McGowan to appearing in film, books and video games to early releases with the almighty Fat Wreck Chords, their legendary status only continues to grow. On Yer Bike is an absolute beast of an album. A newly revitalized and laser-focused Paul McKenzie has never sounded better and his longtime bandmates have never been tighter. Boasting thirteen epic tracks, including the Sawney Bean trilogy (a trio of songs about Scotland's most infamous cannibal highwayman), the songs rage across topics including but not limited to love, literacy, historical sagas, eating sardines with your mother and, of course, cannibalism. Soaring bagpipes, heart pounding percussion and ultra melodic shoutalong Celtic punk rock are the orders of the day and are delivered piping hot from one of the most respected and adored pioneers of the genre.

Since 2020, 12 Inch Lovers has embarked on an exhilarating journey, characterized by sold-out parties and samplers that have built a loyal fanbase. These samplers consistently find their way to collectors in search of contemporary classics. Samplers 7 & 8 once again constitute a collection of true classics, rare gems, and club tracks that have never before appeared on vinyl.

Sampler 8

Nigerian-born, London-based singer, songwriter, musician and producer Steven Bamidele presents his keenly anticipated sophomore album, 'THE CRASH!' – a sonically rich exploration of purpose, doubt and personal reckoning. Written against the backdrop of an ever-changing world, the album combines soul, rock, jazz, acoustic and electronic textures, along with daydream-esque storytelling for a thought-provoking journey in pursuit of something real in an age of hyper-curation and superficiality.
At its core, 'THE CRASH!' is a soulful meditation on the weight we place on relationships, the fundamental cost of growth, and the search for direction in an imperfect world. It's a deeply personal project, shaped by Steven's own journey through faith, disillusionment and self-discovery. Raised in a strictly Christian household, Steven's first crisis of belief came at 17, when he began questioning the very foundations of existence. As his faith unravelled, music became his new guiding force – a source of direction, discipline and identity. But as he turned 30, disillusionment crept in once again. The stark realities of the music industry, coupled with global uncertainty, reignited that same despondent weight he had battled in his youth.
"It was an intoxicating feeling when I was younger and had no responsibilities, to foolishly believe I was the first person in history who'd worked something out that no one else had. It gave me this twisted sense of power and was a big creative motivator. Where I'm at now, nihilism is debilitating, boring and unhelpful. I've worked to find a way to channel those feelings into this project. I'm really proud of it."– Steven Bamidele

Planning For Burial is the solo project of Thom Wasluck, emerging from Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is the long-awaited follow-up to 2017’s Below The House. If Below The House was about returning home, following in the footsteps of one’s father and joining a union, and leaving behind youth’s wild days, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy embraces what comes next—the weight of all years, the quiet shifts, the reckoning with what remains. This record is many things. It captures the slow drift of time, the unnoticed shifts in a loved one—the creeping changes in mental health, the quiet pull of addiction, the kind of grief that settles in the bones rather than announces itself.
At its core, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is about stepping into middle age and taking stock. It confronts the reality of living with the hand that’s been dealt and searching for meaning in what remains. It speaks to loss—the crushing weight of saying goodbye to a beloved 17-year old cat, the slow-motion grief of watching friends self-destruct, the inescapable passage of time as it bears down on aging parents and the self. But it also reflects the warmth of reconnection, the kind of love that never burns out but instead deepens. The feeling of picking up where things left off, untouched by the years in between.

While written over the course of two years, the recording process reflects a sense of immediacy. Rather than assembling songs piece by piece over time, the album took shape in singular, immersive sessions—less an act of construction, more an unveiling of something already waiting to take shape.
Rooted in a staunch DIY ethos, Wasluck handles every aspect of Planning For Burial project himself—recording the music, designing the artwork, and performing live as a one-man band. He books his own tours, ever and independent creative. This hands-on approach has led Planning For Burial to play hundreds of shows solidifying his place in the underground music scene. A defining moment came in 2018 when he performed at the Meltdown Festival in London, curated by Robert Smith of The Cure.

A Chicago legend who paved way in the underground with his Mr. Peabody record shop, the one and only, Mr. Mark Grusane steps up to L.I.E.S. with his "Angry Birds" lp. On this six tracker Grusane locks in and demonstrates an important facet of the Chicago sound that is often overlooked with a nod to the infamous "Reactor" sound pioneered by DJ RUSH. A rare style mostly shunned by jocks (and producers) on the modern floor, this record is full of straight up circle pit rx-7 programmed madness, chaos of the highest order...This is for the ones who know, the ones who have been obsessed, and the ones who need to know...this record sets it all off. Full on referee whistle chippin, neck snappers for those who dare to step into the real jackin zone. Hi octane, full swerve, blowing through red lights all nite long!

A personal record for Mike shaped by memory, places, and renewal. Walking the streets of his birthplace, St. Louis, Zito reconnects with the sounds, stories, and hard lessons that forged his signature blend of soul-driven blues and fearless storytelling. Thirteen years after Gone to Texas, this album feels like a defining moment, marking a new chapter for Mike, his family, and a life reclaimed in the city that started it all. The songs paint vivid snapshots of city life and personal reckoning, from late- night regret and self-awareness to raw portraits of neighbourhood survival and street-level truth. Tracks like "Downtown at Midnight" and "Grand Avenue" capture the grit, temptation, and consequences of the past with unflinching honesty, grounding the album in lived experience and emotional weight . Zito's writing is direct and cinematic, pairing tough reflection with compassion and hard-earned wisdom.

At its heart, Outside Or The Eastside is a celebration of second chances, an album dedicated to better days, family, friendship, love, and joy found in everyday moments. Life's unpredictable paths open doors you never expect, and for Mike Zito, this record embraces that truth with warmth, humour, and swagger. It's a record about choosing connection over chaos and moving forward with gratitude, purpose, and the volume turned up

The news arrives in tandem with the release of two powerful new singles, "The Toughening" and "The Softening", shared in recognition of World Mental Health week At its core, 'Everythinglessness' is a record about masculinity and the mental health crisis facing young men, a subject Wolfe has lived through and now gives voice to with unflinching honesty. Turning his own experiences of depression, anxiety and ADHD into something raw, intimate and cinematic, Wolfe invites listeners into a world where vulnerability is not weakness, but a form of survival. Written after a period of intense personal reckoning, including time spent in a mental health rehab facility in 2023, 'Everythinglessness' is Wolfe's most emotionally resonant work to date, an album that unpacks what it means to be a man in a society that often demands silence and stoicism instead of softness and support.

Wolfe's voice channels the emotional resonance of Justin Vernon of Bon Iver and Nick Cave, while his songwriting explores everything from grief and generational trauma to love, loss and survival. The singles have been getting loadsa positive press. Radio support includes interviews and live performance on BBC London, Times Radio & 5 Live. More to come. Album launch show in Hastings, followed by UK and Europe tour supporting Alice Merton.

Stormzone were formed in Northern Ireland in 2004 as a heavy metal band. In 2007 They released “Caught in the Act” on the Escape Music label, and it was met with critical acclaim. They have since released another 3 albums on different labels, all of which have firmly put them on the map. In more recent years the band have taken a heavier direction and attracting fans of the NWOBHM genre. Stormzone have played at many festivals including Sweden rock, Firefest and Wacken open air to name but a few, as well as playing many shows. They have also played as support to many big names, such as Saxon, Y & T, Stryper, Tesla and White Lion. They have always had a loyal following which continues to grow. Their debut “Caught in the Act” featured artwork by the Rodney Matthews art studio, who have worked with album covers by YES, Bob Catley, Magnum and many others. The distinctive style of art is a firm favourite with many, and it is with great pleasure that we announce that “Immortal Beloved” shall also enjoy such outstanding artwork. This latest Stormzone chapter boasts 13 tracks of classic heavy metal, and it will be a much anticipated release to start the new year..

Calling All Captains have built a reputation for turning personal struggle into explosive, emotionally charged punk rock. Blending post-hardcore grit with the melodic urgency of pop-punk and alt-rock, the Edmonton-based band delivers music that’s as volatile as it is vulnerable. Their upcoming EP, The Things That I’ve Lost (out January 9, 2026 via New Damage Records), is their most personal and sonically refined work to date. Recorded at The Audio Department in Edmonton, Alberta with longtime collaborator and producer Quinn Cyrankiewicz, the seven-track release features a standout co-write on “Blood for Blood” with world-acclaimed songwriter Tom Denney (A Day to Remember, Pierce the Veil, Neck Deep, etc.) Mastered by Stuart McKillop at Rain City Recorders, the EP explores burnout, grief, and the quiet collapse of identity; capturing a band reckoning with itself in real time: honest, raw, and entirely unfiltered. “This is the most personal release we’ve ever put out,” says Gauthier. “These songs came from a place of reflecting on everything we’ve been through, personally and as a band. It’s raw, but it’s real. And I think people will feel that.”

Metal Hall of Fame inductee, Blaze Bayley, releases a brand new studio album Entitled `Circle of Stone'. The album features guest vocalist Niklas Stalvind of Swedish metalheads Wolf, alongside a variety of additional vocal & instrumental contributors. Having started his career as a professional singer with Wolfsbane in 1984, Blaze went on to front Iron Maiden, touring worldwide and releasing two studio albums - `The X Factor' and `Virtual XI', both of which achieved top twenty status in many countries. During his time with Iron Maiden, Blaze co-wrote the single `Man on the Edge' (from `The X Factor' album), a top ten hit in the UK, as well as charting successfully across Europe. Following his exit from Iron Maiden he has pursued a solo career, beginning with his now legendary solo debut album `Silicon Messiah' in 2000, followed by a further eleven studio albums, including especially his sci-fi based `Infinite Entanglement' trilogy (released in consecutive years 2016-2018) and the critically-acclaimed `War Within Me' released in 2021. Starting in 2013 and exclusively since 2016, Blaze records and plays live with Manchester (UK) melodic metal band Absolva, featuring lead guitarist Christopher Appleton and his brother LukeAppleton who is formerly of American metalheads Iced Earth. This consistent line-up is completed by drummer Martin Mcnee and bassist Karl Schramm.

Planning For Burial is the solo project of Thom Wasluck, emerging from Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is the long-awaited follow-up to 2017’s Below The House. If Below The House was about returning home, following in the footsteps of one’s father and joining a union, and leaving behind youth’s wild days, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy embraces what comes next—the weight of all years, the quiet shifts, the reckoning with what remains. This record is many things. It captures the slow drift of time, the unnoticed shifts in a loved one—the creeping changes in mental health, the quiet pull of addiction, the kind of grief that settles in the bones rather than announces itself.
At its core, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is about stepping into middle age and taking stock. It confronts the reality of living with the hand that’s been dealt and searching for meaning in what remains. It speaks to loss—the crushing weight of saying goodbye to a beloved 17-year old cat, the slow-motion grief of watching friends self-destruct, the inescapable passage of time as it bears down on aging parents and the self. But it also reflects the warmth of reconnection, the kind of love that never burns out but instead deepens. The feeling of picking up where things left off, untouched by the years in between.

While written over the course of two years, the recording process reflects a sense of immediacy. Rather than assembling songs piece by piece over time, the album took shape in singular, immersive sessions—less an act of construction, more an unveiling of something already waiting to take shape.
Rooted in a staunch DIY ethos, Wasluck handles every aspect of Planning For Burial project himself—recording the music, designing the artwork, and performing live as a one-man band. He books his own tours, ever and independent creative. This hands-on approach has led Planning For Burial to play hundreds of shows solidifying his place in the underground music scene. A defining moment came in 2018 when he performed at the Meltdown Festival in London, curated by Robert Smith of The Cure.

Planning For Burial is the solo project of Thom Wasluck, emerging from Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is the long-awaited follow-up to 2017’s Below The House. If Below The House was about returning home, following in the footsteps of one’s father and joining a union, and leaving behind youth’s wild days, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy embraces what comes next—the weight of all years, the quiet shifts, the reckoning with what remains. This record is many things. It captures the slow drift of time, the unnoticed shifts in a loved one—the creeping changes in mental health, the quiet pull of addiction, the kind of grief that settles in the bones rather than announces itself.
At its core, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is about stepping into middle age and taking stock. It confronts the reality of living with the hand that’s been dealt and searching for meaning in what remains. It speaks to loss—the crushing weight of saying goodbye to a beloved 17-year old cat, the slow-motion grief of watching friends self-destruct, the inescapable passage of time as it bears down on aging parents and the self. But it also reflects the warmth of reconnection, the kind of love that never burns out but instead deepens. The feeling of picking up where things left off, untouched by the years in between.

While written over the course of two years, the recording process reflects a sense of immediacy. Rather than assembling songs piece by piece over time, the album took shape in singular, immersive sessions—less an act of construction, more an unveiling of something already waiting to take shape.
Rooted in a staunch DIY ethos, Wasluck handles every aspect of Planning For Burial project himself—recording the music, designing the artwork, and performing live as a one-man band. He books his own tours, ever and independent creative. This hands-on approach has led Planning For Burial to play hundreds of shows solidifying his place in the underground music scene. A defining moment came in 2018 when he performed at the Meltdown Festival in London, curated by Robert Smith of The Cure.

In 2005, Headphones arrived as a seismic shift in David Bazan's already formidable canon- a collection of synth-driven confessions that push the boundaries of narrative songwriting. Stripped down to its barest essentials, the album finds Bazan and collaborators Tim Walsh and Frank Lenz constructing an audaciously raw soundscape: no guitars, just synthesizers, live drums, and Bazan's unmistakable vocals. Twenty years later, it remains a masterwork of emotional excavation and geopolitical reckoning, as relevant today as the day it was released. This 20th Anniversary edition, remastered by Christopher Colbert at National Freedom (The Walkmen, Richard Swift, Pedro the Lion), is housed in a gatefold jacket with expanded artwork by Grammy-nominated designer Jesse LeDoux, plus liner notes by writer and Belmont University Associate Professor David Dark. The self-titled album threads a delicate needle, simultaneously personal and prophetic. Songs like "Major Cities" tackle the macrocosm of American imperialism with clarity and anger, while tracks like "I Never Wanted You" unearth the raw wounds of interpersonal defeat. These are stories of inner and outer collapse, of bullies (both personal and political) wreaking havoc, yet rendered with humanity. Even in its darkest moments, though, Headphones pulses with the hope that honesty might light a way forward if only we'll bear witness to the truth. On its twentieth anniversary, Headphones feels more vital than ever. For those who've lived with it since 2005, this reissue is a chance to revisit an old wound, to press on it and see what's healed and what still aches. For new listeners, it's a chance to sit with something audacious and true an album that invites us to reckon with the ways we fail each other-and the ways we might still be good. Twenty years on, Headphones remains a rare album that doesn't just speak to you, but asks you to listen harder. + PROJECT FROM DAVID BAZAN OF PEDRO THE LION + DELUXE 20TH-ANNIVESARY REMASTERED REISSUE WITH BONUS TRACKS + DELUXE FIRST PRESSING ON LIMITED EDITION OPAQUE YELLOW VINYL LIMITED TO 750 COPIES + EXPANDED GATEFOLD ARTWORK BY GRAMMY-NOMINATED ARTIST JESSE LEDOUX + LINER NOTES BY DAVID DARK + REMASTERED BY CHRISTOPHER COLBERT (THE WALKMEN, RICHARD SWIFT, PEDRO THE LION) + LP INCLUDES BONUS 7" ON BLACK VINYL WITH TWO BONUS TRACKS

Million Voices Whisper ist das dritte Fantasy-Soloalbum (nach Man in Motion und Ashes & Dust) des
außergewöhnlichen Musikers und Songwriters Warren Haynes. Mit der Unterstützung eines All-Star-Kerns,
dem aus New Orleans stammenden Terence Higgins an den Drums, dem Organisten und Keyboarder John
Medeski, dem Mule-Bassisten Kevin Scott und dem genialen Gitarristen Derek Trucks, hat sich Haynes zu
seinem besten Werk inspirieren lassen: elf Originalsongs, die die Messlatte in einem Genre hoch legen, das
man durchaus als Modern Classic Rock bezeichnen könnte.
„These Changes“ (gemeinsam mit Trucks und TTB-Mitglied Mike Mattison geschrieben) und ‚Real, Real
Love‘ (gemeinsam mit Gregg Allman geschrieben, seine letzte Arbeit mit Haynes vor dessen frühem Tod
2017) sind absolute Highlights. Jamey Johnson und Lukas Nelson begleiten ihn bei „Day of Reckoning“,
einem Song, den er gemeinsam mit Lukas geschrieben hat. Allesamt eingängige, emotionale Kracher, die
von Warrens heiserer, soulgetränkter Stimme zum Leben erweckt werden.
Das Album wurde von Warren Haynes produziert. Er holte sich seinen Allman Brothers Bandkollegen
Derek Trucks als Co-Produzenten und Gitarristen für vier der Songs auf dem Album.

“Friends, they are my ticket out of this place I am in… feels like nothing more than a dirt bike vacation stop between Phoenix and San Diego.” Dirt Bike Vacation—for Worried Songs Records—explores the sonic world of the late amateur guitar player, Charles ‘Poppy Bob’ Walker, through a captivating set of instrumental songs made in the mid-1980s. Recorded on a single-track, Marantz field recorder, the project is a transportive document of Walker’s days spent as a meatpacking employee in Yuma, Arizona and the dailiness of that existence: driving to work, sitting in his backyard, walking around drunkenly, unwinding on the couch with a friend. These sketches, showing an experimental tendency, are surprisingly ahead of their time; some exhibit ad hoc tape delay (“Granite Bluffs,” “Goodbye YMCA”), while others make use of primitive overdubbing (“Continuation to Moon Doctor”). Not dissimilar to works such as Bruce Langhorne’s The Hired Hand soundtrack, Walker’s guitar playing is melodic, texturally rich and beautifully sober. On a musical tour from Nashville to Los Angeles, musician-archivist, Cameron Knowler, uncovered these songs from a series of dusty cassette tapes housed at a branch of the Yuma County Library. Originally tipped off by cryptic metadata entries found through an online finding aid, Knowler requested a sound sample and was immediately drawn in by their eerie, yet hopeful nature: “I didn’t care what they sounded like at first, but once I heard just a few seconds, I had to find out everything I could about Charles, who he was, and if he was still alive.” As it turns out, the two had miraculously crossed paths over 20 years prior when Cameron was a young boy accompanying his mother, a gem trader, on a biyearly sojourn to Quartzsite, a town 80 miles north of Yuma: “Charles, sitting down and smoking in a recliner, withdrawn, held what I now understand to be a mid-1990s Martin D-28 guitar. Unlike other old-timers, his instrument was sharply tuned and had a nice sound, even to my young and uncalibrated ears. Though his left hand showed signs of highly developed arthritis, his musical ideas were animated by a palpably deep understanding of fretboard anatomy, arrangement and harmony.” Sorting through the index cards associated with these tapes, Knowler was able to gain a detailed sense of most recording’s provenance, whereabouts and time: Walker’s Datsun pickup truck chugging along boiling hot Interstate 80, the Marine Corps Air Station parking lot, the Eastern Wetlands on the banks of the Colorado River, a fishing trip to Martinez Lake. Trying to reduce the amount of his own subjectivities coloring the work, Cameron constructed titles and track sequences by borrowing information gleaned from Charles’ handwritten notes: “I tried to organize everything by time of day, giving the listener the sense of how a Yuma day might sound and feel like, and each song title—even the record itself—is borrowed from his own words.” This proved no small task, as many notecards had to be deciphered and then coupled with their native tapes which needed extensive restoration treatments. The result is a project very much out of the blue, and one that is intensely personal to Knowler, having grown up in the same town under similar circumstances. “It feels like a part of my own journey as a guitarist reckoning with the defining marks of a gothic border town,” he remarks. “At the time I would’ve met Walker, I didn’t have much outside influence, but he has been in there all the while.” In their current form, the tracks combine to create a sonic journey that boldly contributes to the traditions of acoustic guitar soli, archival digs and field recordings all the same; most importantly, it is a creative document which shows a day-in-the-life of a man grappling with the human experience under a ubiquitous Yuma sun.

Chris Cohen was always a quiet kid. In fact, this introversion was one reason he began playing music as a toddler-to communicate without speaking, to identify with others without the direct representation of words. It has worked, too, with Cohen's terrific stint in the mighty Deerhoof and his own captivating art-rock act The Curtains, preceding production and session work for the likes of Weyes Blood, Kurt Vile, Le Ren, and Marina Allen. Somewhere along that long way, Cohen started writing lyrics. He found that, though it didn't come naturally, the process offered a new sense of self-discovery and reckoning, a way to see himself and the world from unexpected angles. His three twilit albums of casually complicated pop during the last decade radiated these epiphanies: handling family strife, navigating advancing age, and understanding social woes. But Cohen has never had as much to sing so directly as he does on Paint a Room, his first album in five years and his debut for Hardly Art. If Cohen's meanings have previously lurked inside the tessellated musical layers he built alone, they are newly clear and resonant here, animated and underscored for the first time by a band playing in real time. There is the endless miasma of state violence on the subversively melodious opener "Damage," the existential exhaustion of modernity on the horn-traced jangle "Laughing": this is Cohen communicating with friends not only through his deep understanding of groove, harmony, and hook but also with his listeners through songs that croon of our uneasy little era. On Paint a Room, Cohen's music feels like a warm spring breeze, easy to love and gentle to feel. But it's often carrying something heavy, as if blowing in from some unseen storm cloud. Paint a Room both reckons with reality and conjures an alternate one, where nighttime walks and a neighbor's wind chimes offer endless escapes for the imagination, space for the mind to roam. Sublime and sun-lit, these 10 songs consider dreamy new ways out of old predicaments, clearly stating the problem and dancing and singing their way somewhere new. Paint a Room features Jeff Parker contributing the fluttering horn arrangement on "Damage," and Parker collaborator Josh Johnson (who produced Meshell Ndegeocello's Grammy-Award-winning album The Omnichord Real Book) supplying flute, sax, and clarinet arrangements throughout the record.

"To celebrate the Grateful Dead's 15th anniversary in 1980, they did something extraordinary: they played a fifteen-show run in San Francisco, and an eight-show run in New York City, with the most exciting of these being an additional, acoustic 45 minute set to open every show, their first acoustic sets since 1970. These sets saw the reinterpretation of some classic Dead and solo songs, older traditional songs from the jugband days and the 1970 acoustic sets, and some new additions to the Dead's repertoire. Recorded to 32-track tape (two 16-track tape machines synced up), Reckoning is one of the greatest, most clear sounding live records the Dead ever produced. Featuring countless classics including “Cassidy”, “Bird Song”, “Monkey and the Engineer”, and “Ripple”. • Will be newly mastered by GRAMMY® Award-winning engineer David Glasser, Produced for release by the Dead’s Audio Archivist and Legacy Manager, David Lemieux"

Repress!

With a rare combination of powerful vocals, honest song writing and dynamic live performances, Izo FitzRoy's music is a unique and captivating blend of soul, gospel and blues.

Album Promo feedback:

RADIO: 6Music Craig Charles Funk and Soul Show, KCRW (Garth Trinidad), NPR Radio, Robert Elms BBC Radio London live show and interview, Radio 1 (Holland), Jazz FM, Radio One Italy

Radio 1 Prague, Solar Radio, Radio Nova - Porto / Portugal, Kiss FM Ukraine, WCLK Atlanta 91.9 FM, KaneFm, Açik Radyo, WUTK-FM 90.3, WPRK 91.5 FM, Republic 100,3/Thessaloniki, eastside radio, THE MELTDOWN SHOW, Radio Z 95.8 Nuernberg, WBAI 99.5fm, WHCR 90.3 FM, Radio Kraków, Black Country Radio, Ibiza Sonica 95.2FM, Rado Tomek, Pioneer DJ Radio, Scanner FM, Juice FM

PRINT PRESS: Blues & Soul, Echoes, R2 Magazine, Music Republic, Blues In Britain, Uncut, Vents Magazine

ONLINE PRESS: Clash Magazine, DJBooth, Indie Shuffle, Eton Messy, La Belle Musique, Sound Control, Bear Toons, Monkeyboxing, elitemuzik, soulandjazz, Ok-Tho, Withguitars, The Listening Post, Rockstone Sessions, Backseat Mafia

Tuk Smith & The Restless Hearts is an American rock band from Nashville founded and fronted by former Biters leader Tuk Smith, originally from Atlanta, now living in Nashville. The band released their debut single "What Kinda Love" on January 10, 2020 and were also added as an opening act for The Stadium Tour with Def Leppard and Mötley Crüe on the same day. Then came the onset of Covid 19. “When the pandemic hit, it was like hitting the reset button on my music career” recalls Tuk, “everything got taken away…album campaign, stadium tour, record deal. The world was in lockdown, and the only way to escape was to throw myself into writing. My thoughts began exploring the past, and the inspiration for the songs just came in tidal waves.”
The new collection is a rock ‘n roll silver lining that came out of the solitude and reflection of the pandemic. Ballad Of A Misspent Youth is the new single (and subsequent album of the same name) released summer of 2022 on Tuk’s new record label MRG, through Virgin Music. Tuk explains, “I decided to make a rock and roll record for me and what I like because there was no label, there was no committee involved…just me and my stories. I wanted to create a setting and an authentic feeling about everything. I reunited with long-time friend Dan Dixon and recorded these songs in his garage studio, and there is a purity to the work that came from all the circumstances of that time.” Growing up as an outsider in rural Georgia, Tuk found solace in hardcore punk acts like Black Flag and The Exploited. From there, Smith branched out into exploring seventies New York bands like The Dead Boys and New York Dolls, which lead him across the sea where he embraced first-wave British acts like The Buzzcocks and the Clash. Smith wasn’t just a casual fan of these acts, he was obsessed with them and traced their lineage with fervent dedication. “I was always into the Clash growing up and Mick Jones’ favorite band was Mott The Hoople, so through the years I ended up developing a love of the first wave of British glam, power pop and things like that,” he explains. Soon Smith was forming his own acts, touring relentlessly and building a following with his high-energy live shows, including his tour of duty as lead singer for the Biters, who he fronted for nearly a decade. He offers “Then after being on the road for years, I had a reckoning about where I was at and the future ahead. …I realized the only way to achieve something meaningful was to be a good songwriter…that clicked. I went on a musical diet where I stripped the obscure stuff away, and I really started focusing on the greats. When I started clicking that it was just about the songs, things changed. I had already put my 10,000 hours in the van to play in the dive clubs, but then I put my 10,000 hours into figuring out how to write. I also started working with other songwriters. I humbled myself… it was an education, like going to school.” Tuk elaborates, “I wanted to kind of branch out musically and do different things, and I figured to go solo would be better. My manager actually suggested I call my new band “The Restless Hearts” and that's what he would call me all the time. It was the title of a Biters song that people loved and I’d seen a few restless hearts tattoos at our shows along the way… and so Tuk Smith & The Restless Hearts was born. I was in a period where I changed everything including the way I lived my daily life. I experimented with different ways to tap into positive/creative energy…it was an evolving overall process (and still is).” Tuk summarizes, “Things used to be about debauchery, and now they’re more about dedication. I mean, I was always driven, but I was sometimes focusing on the wrong things. Now I focus on the music and the craftsmanship of writing and producing and performing. “

Spanning more than two decades, Mike Kinsella's widely influential songwriting has steadily sharpened and evolved with each new chapter. In his solo vehicle as Owen (in addition to his roles along the way with American Football, Cap'n Jazz, the more recent LIES, and other collaborative ventures), Kinsella’s ability to seamlessly stitch jagged emotional currents into crushingly beautiful songs has remained at the forefront of his art. The Falls of Sioux, Mike Kinsella’s newest Owen full-length, represent a type of reinvention; feeling like the natural next step in Kinsella’s growth, both artistic and personal. The album perforates an established sound to explore unlikely musical ideas, while the songs document a time of moving through life-altering turmoil into brighter days. Heavy themes are turned over with a gentle hand, and Kinsella inhabits the deeper perspectives that come with hard-earned life experience. This contrast has become more distinct as Owen expanded from unassuming acoustic beginnings into more ornate production, reaching new levels of complexity and clarity by the release of 2020’s The Avalanche.

Jon Langford's been in more bands than you have digits and that's true even if you were born with a few extras! From his early days in Mekons, Delta 5, Three Johns and even Sisters Of Mercy (booted for not wearing black) to a veritable explosion of one-off recordings and performances with more names than we could ever hope to list in full. A Wikipedia description for this group, The Bright Shiners (described therein as 'circa 2022 through at least 2023, in Northern California') provides some sense of the complex taxonomy needed just to keep track of Jon's massive oeuvre. Happily, that's an understated description of a serious new outlet for his endless creativity, and The Bright Shiners' recording activities have produced a full album, Where It Really Starts, the first recording in a collaboration with Tamineh Gueramy, Alice Spencer, and Jon's frequent musical partner, John Szymanski. Jon's never sung or written better, and the sense that the band realised they were onto something great is palpable in an instant. Each song is a minimalistic jewel - there's nothing here that doesn't need to be - yet the album is unsparing of aptly astonishing adornment - wonderful harmonies, horns, mellotron, bowed guitar, piano. looped percussion and more), by our reckoning this is one of Jon's finest works of art and his best outfit outside The Mekons themselves Jon Langford & the Bright Shiners will tour mercilessly throughout 2024.

Swedish synth-pop phenomenon Kite's second 7 inch since signing with Dais in 2023 finds the duo of Nicklas Stenemo and Christian Hutchinson Berg swinging for new heights of romantic desolation and baroque grandeur. They describe the A Side, "Losing," as a "six-minute empty call for emotional response." Stately piano and anguished voice reverberate in a vaulted hall, before gradually building into a widescreen anthem of synths, drums, and soaring vocals decrying the steady deadening of life and love: "It's deadly quiet in your old heart / Are you there? / I see dark skies on the rise / And daylight shows no remorse / And I realize it is my life / But It's losing all meaning." Swedish dark music icons Anna von Hausswolff and Henric de la Cour join the chorus as the song cascades towards an ominous horizon. The B Side, "Glassy Eyes," showcases Kite's mastery of somber, sweeping balladry. Hushed church organ elevates and anchors Stenemo's devastated confessional, swaying between resilience and defeat. The band describes the song as a reckoning with "the privileged and existential anxiety of drifting through life dispassionately," contrasted with "the yearning to connect profoundly with others and a desire for experiences that stir the soul before facing one's final moments." Like a hymn, the emotion thickens as it deepens, approaching both darkness and divinity: "Deep as I go, nothing to find / Oh catatonia, I won't cry / Nothing can grow, everything dies / Behind my glassy eyes."

Swedish synth-pop phenomenon Kite's second 7 inch since signing with Dais in 2023 finds the duo of Nicklas Stenemo and Christian Hutchinson Berg swinging for new heights of romantic desolation and baroque grandeur. They describe the A Side, "Losing," as a "six-minute empty call for emotional response." Stately piano and anguished voice reverberate in a vaulted hall, before gradually building into a widescreen anthem of synths, drums, and soaring vocals decrying the steady deadening of life and love: "It's deadly quiet in your old heart / Are you there? / I see dark skies on the rise / And daylight shows no remorse / And I realize it is my life / But It's losing all meaning." Swedish dark music icons Anna von Hausswolff and Henric de la Cour join the chorus as the song cascades towards an ominous horizon. The B Side, "Glassy Eyes," showcases Kite's mastery of somber, sweeping balladry. Hushed church organ elevates and anchors Stenemo's devastated confessional, swaying between resilience and defeat. The band describes the song as a reckoning with "the privileged and existential anxiety of drifting through life dispassionately," contrasted with "the yearning to connect profoundly with others and a desire for experiences that stir the soul before facing one's final moments." Like a hymn, the emotion thickens as it deepens, approaching both darkness and divinity: "Deep as I go, nothing to find / Oh catatonia, I won't cry / Nothing can grow, everything dies / Behind my glassy eyes."

Returning from a period of intense and concentrated seclusion in its purest form, WRISTMEETRAZOR make their return in 2024 with their upcoming third album, Degeneration. The US metalcore outfit’s latest full length will be released via Prosthetic Records on March 29. Following the release of their 2021 sophomore effort, Replica of a Strange Love, the WRISTMEETRAZOR’s line-up went through of metamorphosis with Justin Fornhof abdicating his role on bass in favour of lead vocals - bringing Elaine Dalton (bass) and Nate Billmyer (guitar) to the fold in the process. Extensive North American touring soon followed with stints on the road among the likes of Seeyouspacecowboy, Traitors, Eighteen Visions and festival appearances at Furnace Fest and Code Orange’s Code World, respectively. Having solidified and fine-tuned the strengths of their latest incarnation onstage, the newly upgraded quintet found themselves with a renewed focus leading into Degeneration’s gestation period. During this moment of rare quiet for the group, WRISTMEETRAZOR sought the production skills of Randy Lebeouf (The Acacia Strain, Dying Wish, Kublai Khan). Ushering themselves into near total isolation in the woods of New Jersey, the writing and recording process for Degeneration was one of acute solitude, only leaving the studio’s cabin three times during the 30 day lock-in between almost non-stop 12 hour recording sessions. Degeneration’s backdrop of self-imposed seclusion bore fruit as the album’s lyrical focus began to develop. Whilst there are still traces of WRISTMEETRAZOR’s established world of Nietzchian philosophy and twisted romanticism, Fornhof found himself gravitating towards themes of misanthropy, apoplexy, and moral, political and religious hypocrisy within society. With WRISTMEETRAZOR’s ire pointed outwards rather than inwards, societal degeneration is explored through allegorical tales of mechanical decline and system failure that pull together to reveal a larger picture of the band’s disdain for humankind’s more repulsive traits. Songs such as Turn On, Tune In, Drop Dead, DogdayGod and The Greatest Love Offering in the History of the World reference intentional exits from society and sordid real life stories of assassination, against deftly woven industrial and EBM influences with groove based nu-metal flourishes at the fore. Degeneration’s post-apocalyptic production values lend a cold and methodically calculated quality to WRISTMEETRAZOR’s new skin, without losing the visceral core of their identity. Seeking to ensure a fully realised aesthetic to represent the absurdity of seeking justice in an unjust world, the cover was put together by Philadelphia, PA visual artist Alex Eckman-Lawn (END, Dim Mak, Woe).

In der zweiten Hälfte des Jahres 2022 widmete Neal Morse seine kreativen Bemühungen der Erarbeitung einer neuen Rock Oper, nach der
erfolgreichen Veröffentlichung von "Jesus Christ the Exorcist". Die Inspiration floss und das Ergebnis ist eine fast zweistündige Musik, die die
Geschichte von Joseph, der für seinen bunten Mantel bekannt ist, durch die Brille des progressiven Rock in einem ganz eigenen Stil erzählt.
Anstatt beide Teile gleichzeitig als Doppelalbum zu präsentieren, entschied sich Neal dafür, die neue Oper in zwei separaten Bänden zu
veröffentlichen. Er war der Meinung, dass die Stärke sowohl der Musik als auch der Geschichte diesen Ansatz rechtfertigten, da jedes Album für sich
als Zeugnis seines inneren Wertes steht. "Der Träumer - Joseph: Part One" endet mit Joseph, der zu Unrecht eingekerkert wird. In "Die
Wiederherstellung - Joseph: Part Two" wird die biblische Erzählung fortgesetzt, in der beschrieben wird, wie Josephs Weisheit und Intelligenz ihn zum
Vizekönig von Ägypten und schließlich zur Wiedervereinigung seiner Familie führt. Erneut übernimmt Neal Morse die Rolle des Leadsängers, während
eine beeindruckende Reihe von Gastmusikern, darunter Ted Leonard (Spock's Beard, Pattern Seeking Animals), Matt Smith (Theocracy), Ross Jennings
(Haken) und Jake Livgren (Proto-Kaw, Kansas), sich ihm in diesem zweiten Kapitel anschliessen. Sie arbeiten mit Mitgliedern der Neal Morse Band
zusammen, wie Bill Hubauer und Eric Gillette, um nur einige zu nennen. Gemeinsam hauchen sie dieser bekannten Geschichte neues Leben und
Musik Leben ein, die verspricht, Progressive-Rock-Fans erneut zu begeistern.

Chain Of Flowers return with their lofty and long-simmering sophomore full-length, rich with reckonings, reverb, and redemption: Never Ending Space. Despite some of the songs dating back a few years, the record first began materialising in earnest during the pandemic, by which point most of the band had relocated from Cardiff to London.

Reunited and rejuvenated, they picked up where they left off, booking two multi-day sessions at Hackney hub Total Refreshment Centre with producer Jonah Falco. In this time they successfully channelled their kinetic chemistry into 10 full-blooded anthems of torn dreams, poetic delirium, and “hope stretched too far.” Musically, Never Ending Space skews notably more maximal than the group’s previous work, fleshed out with trumpets, saxophone, synth, percussion boxes, and spoken word. (Smith jokingly calls them The Chain Of Flowers Orchestra).

Yet the songs still swing and soar with a charged heart, ripe with hooks, drama and ragged melody. Opener “Fire (In The Heart Of Hearts)” stirs to life on a tide of wiry guitar and defiant horns, facing down the embers of love that still glow in the wake of pain: “Peace came tumbling like a shower of bricks / The mind twists slowly till everything fits.”

A tense energy ripples throughout – from the nocturnal rush of “Serving Purpose” and “Amphetamine Luck” to the bruised battle cries of “Torcalon” and “Old Human Material.” Outliers like “Praying Hands, Turtle Doves” hint at proggy possible futures, while instrumental vignette “Anomia” offers an intriguing glimpse at a lesser heard facet of the band: swaying, shadowy, subdued. The album’s title track is also its closing cut, a stomping, sparkling ode to “the wrong side of the night, where time goes to die.” Smith describes the scene: “Everyone’s talking, screaming, trauma bonding, but no one’s listening. Broken dialogue. Shouting over each other. You want to switch off, but everyone’s too fucked.” The guitars spiral and slide towards the oblivion of dawn, the chance to crash and do it all again.

Chain Of Flowers return with their lofty and long-simmering sophomore full-length, rich with reckonings, reverb, and redemption: Never Ending Space. Despite some of the songs dating back a few years, the record first began materialising in earnest during the pandemic, by which point most of the band had relocated from Cardiff to London.

Reunited and rejuvenated, they picked up where they left off, booking two multi-day sessions at Hackney hub Total Refreshment Centre with producer Jonah Falco. In this time they successfully channelled their kinetic chemistry into 10 full-blooded anthems of torn dreams, poetic delirium, and “hope stretched too far.” Musically, Never Ending Space skews notably more maximal than the group’s previous work, fleshed out with trumpets, saxophone, synth, percussion boxes, and spoken word. (Smith jokingly calls them The Chain Of Flowers Orchestra).

Yet the songs still swing and soar with a charged heart, ripe with hooks, drama and ragged melody. Opener “Fire (In The Heart Of Hearts)” stirs to life on a tide of wiry guitar and defiant horns, facing down the embers of love that still glow in the wake of pain: “Peace came tumbling like a shower of bricks / The mind twists slowly till everything fits.”

A tense energy ripples throughout – from the nocturnal rush of “Serving Purpose” and “Amphetamine Luck” to the bruised battle cries of “Torcalon” and “Old Human Material.” Outliers like “Praying Hands, Turtle Doves” hint at proggy possible futures, while instrumental vignette “Anomia” offers an intriguing glimpse at a lesser heard facet of the band: swaying, shadowy, subdued. The album’s title track is also its closing cut, a stomping, sparkling ode to “the wrong side of the night, where time goes to die.” Smith describes the scene: “Everyone’s talking, screaming, trauma bonding, but no one’s listening. Broken dialogue. Shouting over each other. You want to switch off, but everyone’s too fucked.” The guitars spiral and slide towards the oblivion of dawn, the chance to crash and do it all again.

Richie Culver had been waiting his whole life to record I was born by the sea. His debut album immediately and messily inscribed the artist into the canon of outsider music and experimental electronics, serving both as an arresting statement of intent and a painful reckoning with the difficult path that lead up to it, stealing one last glance back at a place he always knew he had to escape. Between grim lamentations, faded memories and anxiety attacks, all told with searing honesty and disarming openness, I was born by the sea excavates a space for hope, finding Culver digging through Humberside silt to find a world weary optimism, the raw material from which his visual and sound art is shaped. For this collection of expansions and inversions, Culver invites a collection of kindred spirits, contemporary inspirations and old heroes to wade into the salt water of his formative years spent living for impromptu raves and afterparties, connecting vivid memories of his birth place of Withernsea to artists hailing from as nearby as Preston and Bridlington, further afield, from Manchester and London, Berlin and Paris, before returning back to Hull, to where it all began.

For some, responding to I was born by the sea means diving even deeper into the record’s furthest reaches. Space Afrika clear away the pummelling loops of noise from ‘It’s hard to get to know you,’ revealing a cool and cavernous expanse in its wake. Distant chatter, previously heard as though through thin, plasterboard walls, now echoes from outside the maddening claustrophobia of the original’s Sisyphean sonics, illuminated as a dense storm cloud suspended amidst a more open scene, washed clean by a lighter rain, allowing the tender heart of the track to beat clear. London producer MOBBS stretches out ‘Pigeon Flesh’ into an epic, 10-minute, cold-sweat spiral, strung-out tension wrung from disconnected phone tones twisted in unexpected directions, snatches of Culver’s voice turned inside-out and deep fried bass threatening to tip the track over into oblivion, the build-and-release of a nervous breakdown experienced in real time. In an act of subversive self-reflection, Morgane Polanski switches one kind of ennui for another in her adaption of ‘I was born by the sea,’ swapping the sea for the city, English seaside towns in January for summer evenings in Paris and flashing lighthouses and sparkling oil rigs for the Eiffel Tower and the traffic around L’Arc de Triomphe. Even Culver finds time to revisit ‘Dream About Yourself,’ a track taken from his EP Post Traumatic Fantasy, breathing new words into its glacial drift, the half-remembered testimony of a shut-in: Woke up in the evening / Pray for me / Don’t trust anyone / Pray for algorithm. Reframed in a more melancholy light, the track’s reverberant keys even more clearly evoke a mournful nostalgia, fresh pain felt in old wounds.

Others find a parallel universe in Culver’s visceral world building. Rainy Miller flips the script with a scorched, avant-drill rework of ‘Daytime TV’, threading puncturing hi-hats and queasy low-end surge through the track’s steady ambient cascade, invoking the irresistible Preston beat magic of Miller’s own essential debut album, Desquamation. Aho Ssan melts away the crystalline textures of ‘Love Like an Abscess’ with the ominous crackle of a nascent fire, building through swathes of organic Max/MSP squelch and brittle, nails-down-chalkboard scrape, swelling and metastasising the original to spill over Culver’s desperate hymn to corporeal desire, at once flesh and not. Teresa Winter transports us an hour up the coast from Withernsea to her native Bridlington, replacing the sea wall of synthesis on ‘Nervous Energy’ with muffled ASMR murk and fever dream whispers, transforming Culver’s unflinching observations into a haunting call-and-response, filling in the blanks with her own eerie utterances, a fleeting conversation with a ghost. In a touching victory lap, Fila Brazillia, eccentric stalwarts of beloved ‘90s trip hop imprint Pork Recordings, whose performances at Hull institution The Lamp convinced a young Culver of the necessity to make his mark on club culture, resurface for their first remix in 20 years. Steve Cobby and David McSherry lead a low-slung, heartfelt stroll back through a suite of tracks from I was born by the sea, tracing a full circle saunter from Culver’s origins to his current musical practice, the sounds of his present repurposed by the sound of his youth. In a gesture that reflects the emotional complexity of the project, Fila Brazillia find joy at the end of Culver’s troubled reflection, picking out an undeniable groove in the stasis of feeling trapped in your hometown. Underlining Hull’s vital musical legacy, from Baby Mammoth to Throbbing Gristle, Cobby and McSherry demonstrate that, though there are certainly storms, by the sea there is also sun and through the fog, if you listen, you can hear a singular sound, a sound now carried by Richie Culver.

Participant is a record label and creative studio run by William Markarian-Martin and Richie Culver

In the quiet surrounding the pandemic, Madeline Kenney made sonic sketches in the basement studio she shared with her then-partner. She arranged phrases that called her—the sharp knife of a synth cutting a path along a blooming arpeggio, drums stuttering firm and tight. Working this way, she amassed a collection of songs she had no particular aims for. Some formed her 2021 EP Summer Quarter, others languished.

But in 2022, Kenney’s partner left suddenly and without warning, plunging her into the solitary act of untangling what happened. In the wake of her ensuing depression, she revisited these songs and found in them something prescient. She’d already laid the foundation for A New Reality Mind.

That her relationship’s end came without warning is only half true, though. The warnings were in the feelings and fears that inspired Kenney’s critically-acclaimed third album, Sucker’s Lunch (2020), which was co-produced by Jenn Wasner (Flock of Dimes) and centered around the idea of flinging oneself freely into the seemingly-assured destruction of new love, come what may.

If sonically Sucker’s Lunch was letting yourself be pulled into the warm bath of a good story, A New Reality Mind reflects the harsh light of truth coming to break the spell. But as sobering as morning light can be, there’s brilliance to it, too. To see in the clarity of day is a gift. A revolution. Rather than reckoning with love lost, the songs on A New Reality Mind grapple with the self that chose to fall. “I guess I only needed to look twice / Reflected in my attitude, my constant compromise,” Kenney sings on “Red Emotion,” the musical landscape screeching and gasping around her observations of how she made herself small to keep the dream of love alive.

These notions of sight and vision pervade the record as Kenney stands before the infinity mirror of selves she’s been to preserve bonds in her life. On “I Drew a Line,” Kenney contends with the stories she’s told herself to keep plodding along, and the way those stories shape her perceived reality. She invokes John Berger’s Ways of Seeing—“Everything around the image is part of its meaning,” we hear him say. “Everything around it confirms and consolidates its meaning.” Here, Kenney isn’t interested in shaming herself for being carried away by the fantasies of the heart, but rather in investigating the unavoidably human propensity to do so. “I, like everyone else, am muddling through my most ordinary disaster of a life,” she acknowledges, a sentiment which reverberates through album opener “Plain Boring Disaster.” “I don’t need to start again,” she sings at the song’s close. “But I can change when it ends.” We may all be doomed to repetitive, ordinary heartbreaks, Kenney realizes, but at least we can cultivate a capacity to witness our missteps and build new realities for ourselves.

This is Kenney’s most expansive work, while also her most solitary. Produced and recorded alone in her basement, these songs are manifestations of what it feels like to be transformed by pain. Textures collide and collude; sonic ornaments emerge and dissipate capriciously; saxophones soar untamed, as on the 80s pop elegy to self-sacrifice, “Reality Mind”. These songs beg you to dance, then pull the rug out from under you once you’ve caught the beat, leaving you dizzy like the whiplash of love’s end.

But in the propulsive power of A New Reality Mind, there’s also acceptance, self-forgiveness, and a willingness to move forward into life, with all its ways of making a sucker of you. “That way of living, I’m over it,” Kenney declares of the habits that hold her back on “Superficial Conversation”. “I do not need to be reminded of what I did,” she assures, the song opening wide and beaming, like a smile expanding to taste a new breath of air.

BABY BLUE VINYL

"Workin' all day, trying to forget about the old me." Like most of us, Martin Frawley is busy trying to work himself out. He lives alongside the long shadow of his late dad, musician and songwriter Maurice Frawley, a cultural icon of the Australian underground and collaborator of Paul Kelly, Tex Perkins and Mick Thomas. Most of Martin's 20s were spent writing and playing songs in locally beloved Melbourne band Twerps - a collection of pals who were on the forefront of the city's jangle pop renaissance. A few albums, US tours and band rotations under its belt, Twerps split up in 2018 and Martin turned his compass towards a solo project. His first album, Undone at 31 (2019), was a bit of a reckoning; a wild ride through the wreckage of both a band and longterm romantic break up. His new album The Wannabe is a personal, cheeky and, at times, self-depreiciating collection of songs unpacking the reality of finding his way as an adult without his dad around, and ultimately falling back in love with life, music and someone new. Martin and his band - friends Dan Luscombe (The Drones), Steph Hughes (Boomgates, Dick Diver), Nik Imfeld (Tyrannaman) and Dan Kelly - had heaps of fun recording The Wannabe in Melbourne. The title track is a particularly spicy take on an entertainment industry that seems to give more shits about marketing than music. The album is a bit of an emotional tour, from anger and derision, through to comedy, through to deep and honest love. It's positive with a lot of sadness. Not unlike Martin himself. As well as the guitar, Martin had some fun playing the piano on this record. The technical term is `multiinstrumentalist' but Martin's more of a musical explorer of sorts. No one is exactly sure how these things work - if Martin was born into music or if it was born into him, but it doesn't really matter. Music is what he loves. It's what he does. It's not about the industry or about success - not anymore. It's about the freedom of creating songs on his own terms, and trying to let go of the feeling he has something to prove: to his dad, to his critics, and to himself. And while he's not sure he'll ever fully shake that feeling, he's at least relaxing and having a bit of fun doing it. Like his dad, Martin has a reputation as a `musician's musician'. He hosts a pretty sporadic podcast Dive For Your Memory, where he has fast and loose chats with musicians while doing a deep dive into their musical inspirations and canon. He and his fiancé Lauren also make wine under the label El'More Wines, named after the farm and small town where his dad grew up. It's all come a bit full circle, really.

In his South London flat, James Howard gestures apologetically at the mess of books, lined A4 paper and stationary at his desk. “I butcher poetry for a living,” he explains, “It isn’t a pretty job, but someone has to do it.” This being 2022, every emerging musician needs a side-hustle to keep the house warm. In the daytime, our host writes study guides to help teachers teach poetry to pupils who would rather be elsewhere. “I make sure the poems are clinically dead by the time they reach the schools.”
An explanation punctuated by a mildly contrite shrug makes you want to lean forward and remind Howard about some of the stuff other people are doing for a living. And, more to the point, aren’t doing. Which brings us to the real matter at hand. For Howard, foregrounding his own songs hasn’t always come naturally. An enthusiastic collaborator, he made two well-received albums with his previous band Blue House and played with the likes of Rozi Plain, Alabaster dePlume and his wife Dana Gavanski, as well as running his own music night with Sam Tyler in London, Incredible Society. It’s important to mention these creative hook-ups because Howard feels that, in one way or another, they all helped to give form and shape to the lilting lunar lullabies that would ultimately comprise his ravishing solo debut Peek-A-Boo. 

With I was born by the sea, Richie Culver brings to a close a period of intense introspection and emotional reckoning with a debut album that serves as both an optimistic statement of intent and a final glance back at the painful places it explores. Following recent work with Blackhaine and Pavel Milyakov, I was born by the sea picks up where Culver’s EP for Italian label Superpang, Post Traumatic Fantasy, leaves off, painting an unabashed portrait of contemporary malaise, detailing a life lived behind closed doors, pinned under the crushing weight of austerity, sapped of the strength to do anything other than gaze out to sea and all the grey possibilities it represents. Where Post Traumatic Fantasy saw Culver returning to his hometown of Hull after a period spent entangled in London’s relentless sprawl, his first full length project reaches further back to his formative years working in a caravan factory and going to raves in and among Hull’s outskirts. Unspooling like a fever dream, I was born by the sea is the anxious clutter of a racing mind spoken clearly, a stark reflection on how it feels to have too many ideas and too much time to act on them.

Though unquestionably a snapshot of a time of significant difficulty, Culver reflects on this period with tender empathy and pitch-black humour, stitching together unflinching observations from England’s neglected corners, ‘there’s more mobility scooter repair shops and bookies than there are bookshops,’ and devastating vignettes of everyday struggle, ‘tears on the tin foil’, with surreal depictions of industrial grit, ‘skimming stones in a small pond by the slaughterhouse’. His DIY approach to production stretches the rough sinew that connects these fragments of memory, a process he describes as using a paired back collection of synths and drum machines to the best of his ability, ‘but to the least of their capabilities,’ wringing out visceral sound with self-taught urgency. During the album’s most impressionistic passages it’s as though Culver has transposed past internal turmoil into powerfully resonant noise, the Sisyphean sonics of ‘Create A Lifestyle Around Your Problems’, which evokes in its concrète clatter and MRI machine barrage the sound of making the same mistake again and again, or the stuttered jumble of ‘Its Hard To Get To Know You,’ its garbled vocal modulation and frayed edges of distortion channeling the paranoia of somebody listening to muffled voices through thin plaster, climbing the walls of their bedroom with the curtains closed, a nervous breakdown in stereo.

In counterpoint to this glides the ever-present spirit of the dance floor, which haunts the record from the moment it is invoked in its first few seconds. Opening onto a sea wall of bright synthesis, the stuttering vocals and bass tone chops of ‘Nervous Energy’ dump us directly into post rave ecstasy, the echoing cry of a voice amplified by loudspeaker carrying the loose energy and surge of crowds moving in darkness. The incessant, dead phone line beep of ‘Pigeon Flesh’ builds to a pulse that suddenly swells into an anxious technoid surge, shapeshifting at lysergic speed into head shrinking audio hallucinations, a descent into the void of the present via machine music hypnosis. Even ‘Its Hard To Get To Know You’ summons the ego death drive of hardcore techno within its scorched textures, flickering indiscernibly between attritional noise and frazzled hardware stomp. Paying homage to both the parties of his youth and a countless succession of Sundays spent offering himself up within Berghain’s hallowed architecture, Culver’s experiments in addressing his formative relationship with rave provide an energetic glimpse at where he might take his sound next.

Between spikes of propulsive energy and grim mood pieces Culver returns to suspended passages of aching, glacial drift, the cold swell of the North Sea, accompanied by some of his heaviest testimonials. The gauzy ebb of ‘Daytime TV,’ its tumbling loops reminiscent of boats bobbing off a distant shore, sees the artist at his most checked out, slumped in front of his television, seven days a week. ‘I used to dream of doing something,’ he admits, ‘anything to get out of this town.’ ‘Love Like An Abscess’ pairs swirling currents of ambient shimmer with violent images of baseball bats lying next to beds and blood-stained mattresses, next to which Culver pleads in a desperate mumble, ‘let our love grow, like a broken abscess.’ Yet it’s with the album’s final word and title track that Culver reveals a glimmer of cautious optimism, a parting gesture of exposition and closure. ‘I knew I had to get away,’ he asserts, ‘so I did and I never looked back.’ What follows builds from a low throb, the flutter of a tiny heartbeat, to a resonant glow, embellished with unfurling synthetic burbles, oil rigs sparkling in the distance, golden light spilling across the sea. In reckoning with the place he had to escape, Richie Culver is now free to look towards the promise of something new, something hopeful.

'Songs From Planet Earth' is Deux Furieuses' third full length album, the second with Xtra Mile Recordings. Written and recorded during the last two turbulent years, Songs From Planet Earth is a beating heart signal out from this world as we fall spinning into a vortex of pandemic, isolation, avoidable deaths, political corruption, personal mourning and ultimately survival. The album documents the journey from the city to the countryside like refugees in search of sanctuary. 'Bring Down The Government' jumps on the fuzz box to demand a reckoning for all the lives. Deux Furieuses are currently members of Brix Smith (from The Fall) band, playing guitar and drums. They are touring across the UK supporting PiL throughout June; Kendal Calling, Loud Women Festival appearances and further headline and support shows in November and December.

Sometimes a band grows so exponentially from one record to the next, it’s almost jarring. Hell Fire has already established themselves as the preeminent masters of a new hybrid breed of Bay Area thrash and NWOBHM in just a few short years, but their fourth album Reckoning is the type of ascendance that truly sets a band apart.

Reckoning is their Master of Puppets, their Number of The Beast, their Defenders Of The Faith. From the very first notes of the album opening title track, you can feel a vital new energy and inspiration to their music. To say Hell Fire used the recent global downtime to dig within and fully refine their sound would be an understatement. It truly is a reckoning.

“This album is every aspect of our band amplified to its maximum potential,” says singer/guitarist Jake Nunn. “This is the record we've always wanted to make, and it feels like we're just getting started,” guitarist Tony Campos adds. “We wanted to push ourselves musically and capture some of our frustrations, anger, loneliness, and rage over being locked inside and dealing with life during a global pandemic in the days when no one really knew how to navigate,” says drummer Mike Smith.

With no touring on the horizon in 2020, the band hunkered down and recorded nearly a full album in preproduction home demos. “I set up a little studio in my garage to record guitar, bass, and vocal tracks,” Campos says. “While Mike bought an electronic drum set and we demoed every song so we were more prepared going into the studio.” Each of them found themselves practicing more on their own and ironing out every last detail and nuance before finally being able to once again play in a room together.

The band’s heightened professionalism also brings in guest bassist Matt Freeman (of Rancid and Operation Ivy fame) on the album after original bassist Herman Bandala departed the band amicably during the initial writing process. New bassist Kai Sun joined Hell Fire in Fall 2021. Reckoning was recorded and mixed at Atomic Studios in Oakland, CA with Chris Dugan.

The title track kicks things off with a slight nod to the layered melodies of acoustic and harmonized guitars of Metallica’s “Battery” before the band rips into its signature galloping guitar picks, soaring harmonies and blistering rhythms. It’s an anthem and a gauntlet thrown down with Nunn’s shimmering screams and guttural howls while dueling guitar solos and Smith’s relentless double bass drum shuffle bring home the point that Hell Fire is born anew. “Medieval Cowboys” hearkens to the epic attack of Iron Maiden’s Powerslave with glistening melodies and complexly interwoven musical shifts that showcase exactly how tight and precise the band has become. “Addicted To Violence” is blistering thrash and “Thrill Of The Chase” soars with rich harmonies while both songs lyrically reflect hard truths the band faced in isolation. The lush acoustic based ballad “A Dying Moon” shows the band effortlessly stretching out in new directions. “It Ends Tonight” is an epic anthem served as a mission statement to the band’s return wherein arpeggiated riffs, squealing pinch harmonics, group chant vocals and Smith’s octopus-armed beats will have legions raising their fists in the air in salute.

“It’s somehow the heaviest and most melodic work we’ve done, and I’m proud of the discipline it took,” Nunn says. “It’s a wild thing.”

Nashville, TN based songwriter Michaela Anne returns with her new
album Oh To Be That Free, the follow up to her 2019 Yep Roc debut
Desert Dove
The record was produced by Michaela and Aaron Shafer- Haiss. 'I wrote this
collection of songs as a simultaneous reckoning and healing," says Michaela
Anne. "They came after a period in my life of self sabotage and unraveling by my
own doing. But during the making of this record, life altering experiences
occurred and a deeper layer of meaning for these songs appeared. Between the
time we started to record and the very final mastering, I conceived, grew and
birthed my first child. In the middle of this pregnancy, and the middle of making
this record, my mother suffered a devastating and debilitating hemorrhagic
stroke. These songs became healers for me as though I had written them for my
future self."

The second LP by California rock n roll unit SPICE expands their palette of damaged anthems and addiction poetics with a more bristling, visceral sound, distilled from years in the trenches of bands, break-ups, and breakdowns. Singer Ross Farrar explains their chemistry succinctly: "We all got in a room and this is what came out." Viv is named for a precursor project of bassist Cody Sullivan and violinist Victoria Skudlarek, but also alludes to broader notions of vividness, sonic, visual, and otherwise. Engineered by Jack Shirley and mixed/mastered by Sam Pura in Oakland, the mix achieves that rare balance of every element being elevated but distinct, with voices, strings, and drums each given space to blaze parallel paths. Opener "Recovery" captures SPICE at their stormy, weathered best, booming drums and East Bay riffs skidding out in a rockslide of rapture, regret, and bruised melody ("You sacrifice perfect days to laugh through the night / you have to get out of bed / and it's hard / and it's hard / it's so hard to admit"), peaking in Ian Simpson's poignant single-note vibrato guitar solo; Farrar agrees: "The guitar says what we cannot." Other tracks embrace the group's shredded pop potential ("Any Day Now," "Dining Out," "Live Scene") and their speedway ripper mode ("Threnody"), with detours into oblique instrumentals ("Melody Drive") and orchestral balladeering ("Ashes In The Birdbath"). But what unites and ignites these songs across different energies and arrangements is their specific sense of emotion. Rawness refined into reckonings, approaching truth, born of cold mornings, bad luck, and too many wrong turns. Waking up where you're not supposed to be, living a life you don't recognize. The album ends with no end to its narrative, still fighting, still slipping. Farrar calls "Climbing Down The Ladder" a "relapse song - telling people you're okay but you're still fucking up." Heartbeat drums march under heartbroken guitars in an elegant downward spiral of defeat, delusion, and desperate hope, dreamed more than believed: "I said it was the last time / but I was up so high / 100 miles / 1000 miles / no me in sight / I saw into the next life / I wasn't dead / I felt so vivid in the next life."

The second LP by California rock n roll unit SPICE expands their palette of damaged anthems and addiction poetics with a more bristling, visceral sound, distilled from years in the trenches of bands, break-ups, and breakdowns. Singer Ross Farrar explains their chemistry succinctly: "We all got in a room and this is what came out." Viv is named for a precursor project of bassist Cody Sullivan and violinist Victoria Skudlarek, but also alludes to broader notions of vividness, sonic, visual, and otherwise. Engineered by Jack Shirley and mixed/mastered by Sam Pura in Oakland, the mix achieves that rare balance of every element being elevated but distinct, with voices, strings, and drums each given space to blaze parallel paths. Opener "Recovery" captures SPICE at their stormy, weathered best, booming drums and East Bay riffs skidding out in a rockslide of rapture, regret, and bruised melody ("You sacrifice perfect days to laugh through the night / you have to get out of bed / and it's hard / and it's hard / it's so hard to admit"), peaking in Ian Simpson's poignant single-note vibrato guitar solo; Farrar agrees: "The guitar says what we cannot." Other tracks embrace the group's shredded pop potential ("Any Day Now," "Dining Out," "Live Scene") and their speedway ripper mode ("Threnody"), with detours into oblique instrumentals ("Melody Drive") and orchestral balladeering ("Ashes In The Birdbath"). But what unites and ignites these songs across different energies and arrangements is their specific sense of emotion. Rawness refined into reckonings, approaching truth, born of cold mornings, bad luck, and too many wrong turns. Waking up where you're not supposed to be, living a life you don't recognize. The album ends with no end to its narrative, still fighting, still slipping. Farrar calls "Climbing Down The Ladder" a "relapse song - telling people you're okay but you're still fucking up." Heartbeat drums march under heartbroken guitars in an elegant downward spiral of defeat, delusion, and desperate hope, dreamed more than believed: "I said it was the last time / but I was up so high / 100 miles / 1000 miles / no me in sight / I saw into the next life / I wasn't dead / I felt so vivid in the next life."