Buscar:tell faster than light

Born of Austin's underground musical melting pot; Glassing's 2017 debut album `Light and Death' erupted out of the famously genre-resistant scene. 35 minutes of harrowing blast beats, searing angular feedback and frontman/bassist Dustin Coffman's sandpaper screams that set out to redefine the idea of heavy music to better reflect increasingly heavy times. Two subsequent full-length releases, 2019's `Spotted Horse' and 2021's `Twin Dream', plus especially the band's last release, the eponymous two-track EP, `Dire and Sulk' paved way for the new longplayer. More discordant, more distorted and somehow even angrier than before `From the Other Side of the Mirror', Glassing prove that uncertain times call for decisive measures. Recorded across two years of intense fits and starts, affectionately nicknamed `Hell Weeks' by the band, `From the Other Side of the Mirror' is a metaphysical foray into the fractured, warped impressions of ourselves that exist only in the minds of others. Working again with producer Andrew Hernandez, who the band liken to a fourth member at this point, Glassing pushed themselves harder, faster and more punishing than ever before. As their first full-length release with Osment and their first release on Pelagic Records, `From the Other Side of the Mirror' became an opportunity for a new beginning, free of any pre-existing limitations or thresholds. As Coffman tells us, "This allowed us to forgo a lot of the convention and structure we've relied on in the past, the substitution was for raw expression. Kindred to the emotions that birthed it, this record is spirited, painful and unmethodical." There's an indescribable, beautiful rawness to this album that comes from Glassing throwing everything on the table in plain sight, rather than polishing ideas for the benefit of others until they're unrecognisable, perfect and fake. FFO Portrayal of Guilt, Neurosis, Converge, Botch, Pelican, Unsane, This Will Destroy You, Chat Pile, Old Man Gloom, Départe

Born of Austin's underground musical melting pot; Glassing's 2017 debut album `Light and Death' erupted out of the famously genre-resistant scene. 35 minutes of harrowing blast beats, searing angular feedback and frontman/bassist Dustin Coffman's sandpaper screams that set out to redefine the idea of heavy music to better reflect increasingly heavy times. Two subsequent full-length releases, 2019's `Spotted Horse' and 2021's `Twin Dream', plus especially the band's last release, the eponymous two-track EP, `Dire and Sulk' paved way for the new longplayer. More discordant, more distorted and somehow even angrier than before `From the Other Side of the Mirror', Glassing prove that uncertain times call for decisive measures. Recorded across two years of intense fits and starts, affectionately nicknamed `Hell Weeks' by the band, `From the Other Side of the Mirror' is a metaphysical foray into the fractured, warped impressions of ourselves that exist only in the minds of others. Working again with producer Andrew Hernandez, who the band liken to a fourth member at this point, Glassing pushed themselves harder, faster and more punishing than ever before. As their first full-length release with Osment and their first release on Pelagic Records, `From the Other Side of the Mirror' became an opportunity for a new beginning, free of any pre-existing limitations or thresholds. As Coffman tells us, "This allowed us to forgo a lot of the convention and structure we've relied on in the past, the substitution was for raw expression. Kindred to the emotions that birthed it, this record is spirited, painful and unmethodical." There's an indescribable, beautiful rawness to this album that comes from Glassing throwing everything on the table in plain sight, rather than polishing ideas for the benefit of others until they're unrecognisable, perfect and fake. FFO Portrayal of Guilt, Neurosis, Converge, Botch, Pelican, Unsane, This Will Destroy You, Chat Pile, Old Man Gloom, Départe

Nia Archives is the star at the forefront of the latest era of jungle. Since her emergence in 2020, her collagist soundscapes have helped bring the sound to a new generation of clubgoers (though fair warning: don’t call her a “revivalist” – she’s the first to point out that the scene never went away). So when it comes to talk of the 24-year-old producer, DJ, singer and songwriter’s much-anticipated debut album, the odds are you’re thinking of a full-length record of weightless jungle tracks with basslines so intense they’ll leave your ears ringing.

But the reality of the Bradford-born, Leeds-raised artist’s first ever album – while very much replete with that exquisite jungle sound she does so well – is also doing something a little different. On the thrilling and freeing Silence Is Loud, Nia Archives is looking to make music for beyond the rave. As she explains: “I think music can be experienced in different ways, and there’s different kinds of music for different scenarios. Say you’re at a festival listening to music with thousands of other people, that can feel really uniting. But then you might listen to an album on your own in the bus, or in a taxi; and this project is definitely more a record to sit and listen to than a collection of club tracks.” Nia is intent that Silence Is Loud is taken in as a full body of work of something “more song-focussed, putting interesting sounds on jungle.” It means that this is a record which finds gloomy Britpop, warm Motown, soaring indie, a love for Kings of Leon’s Aha Shake Heartbreak, skittering IDM, Madchester, classic rock, old skool hardcore and more, woven and fused into her ragga and junglist tapestry, all layered with feeling, imbued with her songwriterly lyricism about loneliness, relationships, family, navigating her 20s, and the intense potential power of silence.

The vast sonic palette on Silence Is Loud comes down to Nia’s broad array of influences through her life. With her Jamaican heritage, Nia remembers hearing jungle as a child via her nana, as well as at Bradford Carnival, where she was drawn to the soundsystem culture, dancing carefree on the floats in the parade. The first album she ever bought was Rihanna’s debut, Music of the Sun, and she also went to Pentecostal church back then, and was obsessed with gospel. Aged 16, she moved to Manchester, where she didn’t really know anybody: and so, her solution to meeting people was going out. “Partying was a huge part of my life,” she says, “They used to do little freestyle cyphers at the house parties and I would join in – that’s kind of how I got into singing.” She had found music boring at school, but in meeting all these new people she became interested in making her own music as a hobby. “I was making boom-bap kind of stuff which I didn’t really like in the end,” she laughs, “My lyrics are quite deep, so on a hip-hop beat it all sounds really depressing. I wanted people to dance to my music.” And so she began experimenting with faster tempos alongside that melancholy songwriting, teaching herself how to make beats on Logic: “It’s all been a lot of trial and error, really.”

Nia went to study music in London, and was also interested in visual art, making collages and VHS: “Before the music, I was trying to make a visual archive of my life and the people around me,” she explains, “And then my music was like my diary, and a sonic archive, as well.” Hence, she paired the word “archives” with her middle name, Nia. To this day, in her spare time she’s working on pulling together a documentary on the global nature of the jungle scene.

Back on those first two EPs, Headz Gone West (2021) and Forbidden Feelingz (2022), she honed that junglist sound, painting it with new flecks of colour and vibrance. It was only after she started releasing work that she realised pursuing music could be a viable life path for her. The decision has been paying off ever since. Nia Archives placed third in the prestigious BBC Sound Poll for 2023, alongside garnering a nomination for the Brit Awards’ Rising Star prize, plus wins at the DJ Mag, NME, the MOBOs and Artist and Manager Awards. She has also toured the world – be it North America, Europe or Asia – and even opened a show in London as part of a little something called Beyoncé’s Renaissance World Tour. She’s renowned as a party-starter in her own right, too, with takeovers at Glastonbury, Warehouse Project and her own Bad Gyalz day event. She’s done official remixes for the likes of Jorja Smith, had a huge summer hit with her Yeah Yeah Yeahs rework ‘Off Wiv Ya Headz’, and worked with brands like Corteiz, Nike, Flannels, Burberry, FIFA and Apple. In just three years, it’s fair to say that Nia Archives has become a need-to-know name in dance music.

But Nia is not interested in being one fixed thing. Building on the terrain from her third EP, Sunrise Bang Ur Head Against Tha Wall, the universe of Silence Is Loud is not totally unfamiliar territory; but it’s still emblematic of a bolder scope than we’ve heard from the artist before. Working with Ethan P. Flynn (the songwriter and producer known for his work with FKA twigs and David Byrne), the resulting record is an impressive feat of deftly-sculpted textures; sometimes big and euphoric, like the wobbly, lusty bass of ‘Forbidden Feelingz’, or elsewhere notably gentle and quiet – see: the gorgeous, surprisingly drumless ‘Silence Is Loud (Reprise)’, a heartfelt number that sits somewhere in the school of Adele. “I really sharpened my songwriting skill on this project,” Nia says, “I was really intentional about what I was writing about, and I really loved co-producing with Ethan. His process is so different to anyone I’ve worked with before, and he’s got a kind of DIY set-up like me.” Flynn’s flat overlooks the Barbican, adding that unquantifiable futurist urban quality that the area holds to the music. The pair enjoyed the collaborative process so much that the album was done within three and a half months.

Perhaps this is why Silence Is Loud maintains an exuberant immediacy while still being sleek and spacious, interspersed with flourishes of metallic beats, lush melody and topped with her sugary but powerful vocal, floating over it all. There is an intimacy to the record, perhaps in part due to Nia writing most of her lyrics while sitting in bed in her flat in Bow (once a bedroom producer, always a bedroom producer). You can hear it on the refrain for lead single ‘Crowded Roomz’, which finds rippling guitar lines cutting taut through the beats as Nia refrains: “I feel so lonely crowded rooms.” The song is an examination of life on tour, constantly surrounded by people, but not necessarily those she can be herself around; more than that, the track is exemplary in the category of sad bangers.

Silence Is Loud often finds itself in that push and pull between melancholy and euphoria. There’s a celebration of her unconditional love for her younger brother (the title track), a rumination of an evening with an Irish boy she met by Temple Bar (‘Cards On The Table), or a letter to herself on the light and airy ‘Unfinished Business’, even coming to terms with a lover having a past they haven’t quite processed yet (“nobody comes with a clean slate”). The latter was recorded the week after a music festival, and accordingly captures Nia’s vocal in its not quite healed, husky state.

Nia’s work is always a snapshot of where she’s at when she’s making it. This might not be the debut album you were expecting, but that’s what makes Silence Is Loud so special. Nia Archives has learned the rules of her sound, and is unafraid to break them, pushing jungle and herself into new, unchartered territories that, in turn, go some way to map the history of the greats of British dance music. More than that, it plants her firmly in that lineage.

Having initially met more than a decade ago at a local community radio station, sometimes doing guest slots on each other’s live, improvised noise shows, Cormac Culkeen and Dave Grenon knew they had a mutual interest in working with sonic textures. They listened to each other’s bands for a handful of years, and in 2017, “made good on a threat” that they’d been making for quite a long time: to start a band. At Cormac’s gentle but clear urging—declaring that they’d gone ahead and booked a space in which to record a video—the two wrote their first song, “Sebaldus,” an ambitious 12-minute trip, which also serves as the fireworks finale to their self-titled debut album. With surges of pathos that smooth out into something more soothing in turn, Cormac goes: “The hunter, you’ve seen him / The archer, his arrows are strong / And hunger, you’ve known her / I know the winter is long.” The track is as much about enduring a Canadian winter as it is about the eponymous 8th century hermit, shot through with sublimated desire. As Cormac put it, Joyful Joyful’s songs are “a little bit outside of time.” But while the lyrics beg close, oblique reading unto themselves, there’s also a distinct sense that they’re only one of many more ways that the duo shapes sound. Cormac, whose voice is like a sea with irregular tides, lights up about an idea in traditional sean-nós Irish music that songs already exist and are out there; it’s up to the singer to become the conduit. This belief in music as something to be channelled, and something more than sound, resonates with the singer’s fundamentalist religious past. To paraphrase: lots of group singing, harmonies, no instrumentation, totally unmediated, no priest, congregational—not choral, not a performance, not about talent, the spirit moves through people. “Of course that informs how I think about singing,” Cormac says. So, when they were exiled from the church because of their queerness, they took the music with them, dislocating it from its dogmatic bounds but not from its transcendent potential. This record might be thought of, then, as a kind of queering of sacred, devotional traditions—or at the very least, a space where all of these things can be held at once. Perhaps perceivable by some as contradictions, these intersecting influences create the conditions for an incredibly singular sound. Dave is steady and exploratory in his handling of this multiplicity, arranging sounds as they’re revealed, corralling them, coaxing them into form. “Because Dave is there,” Cormac says, “I get to sing three times higher, and three times lower, and faster, and backwards, and all of these sounds! That are there. They’re all there.” When asked about early musical memories, Cormac recalled an immediate fascination with harmony: from demanding that the first person they ever heard singing it explain what they were doing, to always (still, to this day) singing in harmony with their twin sister around the house, to being part of a children’s choir that sang soprano in Handel’s Messiah—not realizing until they entered the room with all the other ranges that their learned melody was but one part of the whole. Just as tellingly, Dave reflects on his early attraction to “abstraction and becoming abstract,” describing childhood afternoons messing with microphone and speaker feedback loops, producing long, enduring sounds with almost undetectable variations. In a way unique to the coalescing of these two listeners, notions of harmony are central to their output. Dave samples field recordings, old keyboards and synths, and vocal drones, running the live singing through four or five parallel effects chains, sampling and treating everything again in the moment. “Another way to put it is that Cormac’s voice comes into the board and then comes back out shifted, delayed, and shattered; Cormac and I hear it, live with it, and respond,” Dave says. This work is contingent not only on a deep intuition (neither of them read sheet music) of polyphony and due proportion (something St Thomas Aquinas famously listed as an attribute of beauty) but also on their connection to each other and ability to read subtle cues. Dave says they’d hold each other’s hands while performing if it was more convenient to do so, riffing on something else Cormac mentioned about traditional Irish singing: that someone would always hold the singer’s hand, for fear that without a tether to the ground they might find themselves utterly lost, unsure how to return. Joyful Joyful doesn’t shy away from offering such experiences of departure; they’re willing to unsettle their audiences because they themselves are unsettled. Their shared penchant for spooky, heavy music, and self-described “omnivorous” listening practices equip them with an array of sonic concepts that support this effort; Diamanda Galás, The Rankin Family, Pan Sonic, Pauline Oliveros, Keith Fullerton Whitman, Yma Sumac, and Catholic hymnody were just a few that came up. Observing their audience gives them insight about the effect of each song—something they considered while arranging the album. Its arc is marked by soft, sometimes sudden oscillations between cacophony and euphony, day and night (listen for insects), and from sexual, visceral entanglements to more ephemeral, celestial ones. Front to back, it arouses expansion, unraveling. Of lightning, Vicki Kirby writes: “quite curious initiation rites precede these electrical encounters. An intriguing communication, a sort of stuttering chatter between the ground and the sky, appears to anticipate the actual stroke.” By all accounts, something similar seems to happen at Joyful Joyful shows, between those on the stage and those off it, between what’s earthly and what’s beyond. “A lightning bolt is not a straightforward resolution of the buildup of a charge difference between the earth and a cloud … there is, as it were, some kind of nonlocal communication effected between the two,” writes Karen Barad, extrapolating on Kirby’s thought. Cormac acknowledges that while they and Dave play a role in this mysterious charge that comes about, they’re not solely responsible. However ineffable it may be, it’s undoubtedly a form of communion—and a sensuously shocking one at that

Empty surrounds all of me. It’s a poignant line from the third album by Blackwater Holylight that encapsulates the search for self when suddenly everything has changed. There’s a theme of processing vast personal trauma throughout Silence/Motion that eloquently — both lyrically and musically — and simultaneously embodies the crushing emptiness, sorrow, strength and rebuilding of recovering from personal devastation.

“There was so much grief both in the world and interpersonally during the process of creating Silence/Motion,” says vocalist/bassist Allison “Sunny” Faris. “The four of us gave one another more space to be ourselves, to experiment with each other’s ideas and to be gentle with one another more than we ever have before. So, we knew this tenderness would manifest in extremely honest arrangements, and I think that you can hear that throughout the record.”

Curiously, considering the dark times in which it was created, this is the band’s most melodic and catchy music so far. Blackwater Holylight, as the name suggests, is all about contrasts: It’s a fluid convergence of sound that’s heavy, psychedelic, melodic, terrifying and beautiful all at once. And, Silence/Motion finds the band honing those contrasts, letting ideas and moods fully develop from song to song, rather than filling every song with a full range of their capabilities. It allows the band to go fully prog-rock here, and simply stay hushed and intimate there. There’s a new confidence to the band in how seamlessly they wield their stylistic amalgam.

“Writing this album was extraordinarily difficult emotionally, however it did come to fruition fairly quickly,” Faris says. “In the past, the theme of vulnerability has always been a big player and it definitely showed up full force while writing this album.”

Blackwater Holylight recorded the album as a four piece: Faris on vocals and guitar (on “Silence/Motion”, “MDIII”, “Around You” and “Every Corner”) and bass for the remainder, Sarah McKenna on synths, Mikayla Mayhew on guitar (and bass when Faris plays guitar) and drummer Eliese Dorsay. New second guitarist Erika Osterhout will perform the songs with them live. For Silence/Motion the band chose to work with a producer for the first time, bringing in A.L.N. (of Mizmor, Hell) to produce, along with recording engineer Dylan White — who also helmed their previous album Veils of Winter (2019) — at Odessa Recording Studio in Portland, OR. Guest vocals on album opener “Delusional” are by Bryan Funck (Thou.) Mike Paparo (Inter Arma) and A.LN. (Mizmor, Hell) lend guest vocals to album closer “Every Corner.”

Silence/Motion opens softly with interwoven folky single note guitars over an ominous sounding drone for the first minute, akin to moments from Pink Floyd’s Echoes. Suddenly an irresistibly head-nodding, groovy droptuned riff kicks in with the drums and it’s a full on blackened rocker with soaring synths and Funck’s witchy whispers over the top. “Who The Hell,” the track quoted above, takes proceedings into a Krautrock direction, centered around McKenna’s arpeggiated synth loop and Dorsay’s tom-tom triplets, while 16-note guitar strums add tension as Faris wearily sings, “So tell me who the hell would want to live this way — so afraid/ To feel this void, to dwell in it… I can’t describe this pain I wear/ It suffocates and you left it here.” It’s an incredibly powerful 6 minutes. The title track delivers the 1-2-3 punch of the album’s brilliant opening trilogy. It starts with lightly plucked acoustic guitar, plaintive piano chords and Faris’ voice gliding so softly it sounds more like a Mellotron. The song builds slowly toward crescendo, led by a swinging tom pattern, that abruptly switches back to a heavier version of the opening melody.“Silence/Motion” is about digesting and healing from sexual assault. As Faris explains, “It is an ode to the juxtaposition of feeling paralyzingly blank and and like your entire life is moving through you simultaneously.” Elsewhere, Black Metal guitars collide with dreamlike melodies. “Around You” brandishes a hopeful, hummable synth melody and shimmering shoegaze guitars like throwing down a gauntlet. In the end, it becomes undeniably clear just how completely into their own Blackwater Holylight has come.

“The analogy is that with our first record (Blackwater Holylight, 2018) we were getting into to the car and buckling up,” Faris says. “The second (Veils of Winter, 2019) we were turning the car on, and with this third we have kicked into drive toward our destination. Our destination is a bit mysterious and has the ability to change from day to day, but we’re on our way.”

Empty surrounds all of me. It’s a poignant line from the third album by Blackwater Holylight that encapsulates the search for self when suddenly everything has changed. There’s a theme of processing vast personal trauma throughout Silence/Motion that eloquently — both lyrically and musically — and simultaneously embodies the crushing emptiness, sorrow, strength and rebuilding of recovering from personal devastation.

“There was so much grief both in the world and interpersonally during the process of creating Silence/Motion,” says vocalist/bassist Allison “Sunny” Faris. “The four of us gave one another more space to be ourselves, to experiment with each other’s ideas and to be gentle with one another more than we ever have before. So, we knew this tenderness would manifest in extremely honest arrangements, and I think that you can hear that throughout the record.”

Curiously, considering the dark times in which it was created, this is the band’s most melodic and catchy music so far. Blackwater Holylight, as the name suggests, is all about contrasts: It’s a fluid convergence of sound that’s heavy, psychedelic, melodic, terrifying and beautiful all at once. And, Silence/Motion finds the band honing those contrasts, letting ideas and moods fully develop from song to song, rather than filling every song with a full range of their capabilities. It allows the band to go fully prog-rock here, and simply stay hushed and intimate there. There’s a new confidence to the band in how seamlessly they wield their stylistic amalgam.

“Writing this album was extraordinarily difficult emotionally, however it did come to fruition fairly quickly,” Faris says. “In the past, the theme of vulnerability has always been a big player and it definitely showed up full force while writing this album.”

Blackwater Holylight recorded the album as a four piece: Faris on vocals and guitar (on “Silence/Motion”, “MDIII”, “Around You” and “Every Corner”) and bass for the remainder, Sarah McKenna on synths, Mikayla Mayhew on guitar (and bass when Faris plays guitar) and drummer Eliese Dorsay. New second guitarist Erika Osterhout will perform the songs with them live. For Silence/Motion the band chose to work with a producer for the first time, bringing in A.L.N. (of Mizmor, Hell) to produce, along with recording engineer Dylan White — who also helmed their previous album Veils of Winter (2019) — at Odessa Recording Studio in Portland, OR. Guest vocals on album opener “Delusional” are by Bryan Funck (Thou.) Mike Paparo (Inter Arma) and A.LN. (Mizmor, Hell) lend guest vocals to album closer “Every Corner.”

Silence/Motion opens softly with interwoven folky single note guitars over an ominous sounding drone for the first minute, akin to moments from Pink Floyd’s Echoes. Suddenly an irresistibly head-nodding, groovy droptuned riff kicks in with the drums and it’s a full on blackened rocker with soaring synths and Funck’s witchy whispers over the top. “Who The Hell,” the track quoted above, takes proceedings into a Krautrock direction, centered around McKenna’s arpeggiated synth loop and Dorsay’s tom-tom triplets, while 16-note guitar strums add tension as Faris wearily sings, “So tell me who the hell would want to live this way — so afraid/ To feel this void, to dwell in it… I can’t describe this pain I wear/ It suffocates and you left it here.” It’s an incredibly powerful 6 minutes. The title track delivers the 1-2-3 punch of the album’s brilliant opening trilogy. It starts with lightly plucked acoustic guitar, plaintive piano chords and Faris’ voice gliding so softly it sounds more like a Mellotron. The song builds slowly toward crescendo, led by a swinging tom pattern, that abruptly switches back to a heavier version of the opening melody.“Silence/Motion” is about digesting and healing from sexual assault. As Faris explains, “It is an ode to the juxtaposition of feeling paralyzingly blank and and like your entire life is moving through you simultaneously.” Elsewhere, Black Metal guitars collide with dreamlike melodies. “Around You” brandishes a hopeful, hummable synth melody and shimmering shoegaze guitars like throwing down a gauntlet. In the end, it becomes undeniably clear just how completely into their own Blackwater Holylight has come.

“The analogy is that with our first record (Blackwater Holylight, 2018) we were getting into to the car and buckling up,” Faris says. “The second (Veils of Winter, 2019) we were turning the car on, and with this third we have kicked into drive toward our destination. Our destination is a bit mysterious and has the ability to change from day to day, but we’re on our way.”

READ CAREFULLY Blistering hardcore punk meets visceral drum and bass. Blastbeats, breakbeats, amen beats and kickdrums. A pure and perfect clash of styles and cultures, born from the same fiercely DIY, anti-authoritarian spirit that has shaped extreme music throughout the decades. This one goes from faster-than-the-speed-of-light-drums with screeching, feedbacking guitars to stomping 220 bpm dancefloor smashers on the flip of a coin.

Five tracks, two guitars, one bass guitar, one drumset, a fuckload of beats and synths. If this sounds too good to be true, that's because it is. We don't know what to tell you, this has never been done before.

For fans of: Minor Threat, Negative Approach, oldschool Amen infused Drum & Bass