Cerca:melody as truth

Memory is malleable. The day you met the person you love, what color shirt was she wearing? At precisely what angle did the sunlight strike his face? How exactly did they glow? These little details are precious, but the strange thing is, the more you cherish them, the more they change. Each recollection is another potential touch point where stories can shift—each replay degrades the truth. Reality's rough edges smooth, with time. Objectivity is a myth: cameras and recording devices all contort image and sound. There's no way to know exactly how things were. And yet we still tell the stories, to try to capture how things felt, even though the truth is always slipping through our fingers.

Lemon Quartet's second albumArts Festseems to unconsciously circle this thematic territory. Full of loose, yet lush repetition, it seems to function like memory—each dizzy melody recalling and rewriting what came before, subtly shaping each piece as time passes. Not that they seem especially concerned with the passage of time anyway. They space out, they work in the realm of feelings, scribbling melodious abstractions that feel familiar. Rich with compassion, harmony, and gestures toward ecstatic—if not objective—truth, it's full of the sort of pieces that demand you return to them, but sound a bit different each time, new details overtaking familiar comforts. Are you hearing them for the first time? Or just for the first time in a long time? Either way, drift away, and try to remember…

Phil Upchurch is the kind of guitarist who makes a strong point by what he chooses not to play. There are speedier chopsmeisters, players who undertake more daring intervallic leaps, those who navigate trickier lines, but it would be hard to imagine a more soulful guitarist than Upchurch. From his laidback phrasing on Nat Adderley's bluesy boogaloo "Jive Samba" to his buttery-smooth vocal inflections on Steely Dan's "Jack of Speed" and on the bluesy title track, Upchurch's understated approach on Tell the Truth! is more about pure feeling than technique. And yet he's holding in that department too, as he so capably demonstrates on Roland Vasquez's "Long Gone Bird" and on his own stunning arrangement of Paul Desmonds' "Take Five," done up in a similar fashion to his arrangement for that tune on George Benson's crossover smash hit from 1976, Breezin'. His unaccompanied rendition of "St. Louis Blues" is another guitaristic highlight, showcasing what Upchurch calls his stride guitar technique: incorporating bass, chords and melody lines simultaneously, a la Joe Pass. The prolific studio guitarist covers a lot of basses and blows his own horn in fine style on his Evidence debut.

New York painter and musician exploratory industrialist Tor Lundvall initially envisioned his 14th album, Beautiful Illusions, as an entirely instrumental affair, "inspired by memories of sitting in a church or cathedral watching the shifting sunlight through stained glass." Although he ultimately chose to wreath the majority of the tracks with hushed, poetic vocals, his original muse still resonates. These are certainly songs of shadowplay and vaulted skies, the quiet grandeur of dusk deepening on the horizon. Lundvall characterizes the lyrical subject matter, too, in ways both specific and surreal, exploring "the doubts, the anxieties and even the bleak fantasies the mind spirals into during moments of isolation, separation and distance." Tricks of the eye, mind, and ear, magnified by silence and the looming long winter. Shivering pulses and muted bass lines tread the twilight while icicle synths and wiry guitar map the melody until the voice enters, narrating oblique moods of essence and absence, tenderness and truth. Glimpses of dark humor flicker in the wordplay but the greater sonic landscape is one of falling leaves and failing light, small gestures rendered as revelation, cloaked in reverb and spatial fog. Lundvall's mastery of nuance and negative space continues to heighten, whispered brushstrokes of the invisible and the unsaid, what lies beneath and what lies beyond: "Behind the shields and false fronts is usually a sadness. The heartbreaking reflections of what might have been."

A travelogue that unites physical and inner space, a series of trance states rendered in vivid colour, a delirious portal into the ether.
Marlene Ribeiro’s first albumunder her own name is all of this and much more. Toquei No Sol is a fresh new chapter for this unique artist, by far the most melodic and transcendent outing yet for her hypnotic dreampop.

This is only the latest release in a long history of sonic experimentation for Marlene, which includes her previous work as Negra Branca across a series of releases on labels such as Tesla Tapes and Zamzam and a long period as a member of audial iconoclasts and Rocket mainstays GNOD, not to mention collaborations with the like of Valentina Magaletti and Thurston Moore.

Toquei No Sol is also a record with a very distinctive and potent sense of place, paradoxically despite having been woven together from recordings made in Ireland, Wales, Portugal, Madeira and Salford.
It’s genesis came via a visit to Marlene’s maternal grandmother Emilia, whose influence as well as the sounds of her kitchen in Portugal.
can be heard on the album’s first track ‘Quatro Palavras’.

“Emilia ended up getting excited about me being able to record things there and then and - total news to me - told me she used to sing a lot when she was younger to the point of getting offered studio time but refusing it as she was fearful of what that could imply in those times” relates Marlene “From that point I planned to include her in this record as sort of the chance she never had of getting her voice out there.”

Elsewhere, a disarmingly catchy and irresistible grace is married to
a utilitarian approach to sound and texture. The ritualistic “Sangue De Lua de Lobo” (first released on a Sofia records compilation Songs Of The Lunar Eclipse) contains random objects from Marlene’s then-garden in Ireland, whereas on the drifting, beatific ‘Forever’ the percussion tracks are constructed from the sounds of pots and pans in her own Salford kitchen.

Yet at all times her fleet-footed approach to melody rings through even as the tracks conjure visions of heat-hazes, meditative spaces and late-night epiphanies. Although listeners may hear echoes of the
loop-driven psychedelia of Panda Bear’s Person Pitch or the incantatory ululations of Pocahaunted in these beguiling soundscapes and magick-strewn mantras, the truth is that the aesthetic here is
very much Marlene’s alone.

“It’s all a big misty haze of nostalgia, playfulness, self-reflection and hopefulness” is what Marlene reckons herself. Yet Toquei No Sol
is also a transporting vision from an artist both returning to her roots
and looking out to new celestial horizons.

Yellow and black splatter

While frontman Tom Greenhouse’s off-kilter observations and bizarro anecdotes remain front and centre, this time round the band up their game with a more vigorous sound that keeps pace with Greenhouse’s wholly distinctive lyrical style. Greenhouse continues to revel in telling increasingly surreal short stories, rejoicing in the power of the deadpan one-liner and bedecking his songs with far-flung cultural references. But now the band employ a variety of techniques with improved pro- duction, from the impulsively bashed keyboards and jubilantly repetitive guitar stabs that have be- come their trademark, to flirtations with–heaven forbid!–melody, chord progressions and arrangements which elevate their tried-and-tested blueprint into a more exciting and cohesive whole.

Opener Musicians is the perfect embodiment of this conscious development. Here, Greenhouse re- counts a sarcastic tale of half-truths that see him galavanting around town trying to put a band to- gether. Sonically, it begins with a caustic callback to the group’s first EP Crap Cardboard Pet and its über-minimalist aesthetic. But by the end of the song a joyous festival of afrobeat-inspired in- struments including samba whistles, bongos and saxophones are added to the mix as the front- man, ironically, fails in his mission to recruit more players.

With Get Unjaded, the band have somehow conjured something close to pop, without abandoning the repetition and wit that’s relished by their early fans. I Lost My Head also adopts a jangle-pop sheen with a luscious synth melody, as the frontman ditches the spoken-word for a surly croon (his first known attempt at actual singing!) that provides a welcome breather from the onslaught of dense recantations that are the band’s bread-and-butter.

While the lyrics here are still often humorous and political, Greenhouse has also notably expanded his interests on this album to include a new host of topics. The influence of extraterrestrials, for ex- ample, infiltrates the subject matter frequently. On The UFOs, the mysterious protagonist Blinkus Booth’s isolationist lifestyle is apparently interrupted by the spectres of otherworldly visitors, while closer The Neoprene Ravine feels like an extract from a deep space rock opera. Here, jaunty and angular instruments pile-on as we are fed images of an interstellar Spinal Tap, the titular fictional band “The Neoprene Ravine” who are “the alien equivalent of the Velvet Underground” and include an alien Lou Reed yelping “too busy sucking on my little green ding dong!”.

Meanwhile, Hard Rock Potato is propelled by a vortex of keys and synths, a real noise-pop gem comprised of real guitar chords (!) and rock-orientated riffs. Here the stream-of-consciousness lyrics take shots at the sinister financial industry, and include one of the many top-tier one-liners on the album: “It’s not gambling if you’re wearing a tie (even if you’ve got no trousers on)”.

On Sod’s Toastie, The Cool Greenhouse have pushed their distinctive flavour of post-punk to the point of perfection – their incongruous riffs, alchemical instrumental chemistry, and irreverent spo- ken-word vocals are a delight throughout. Sod’s Toastie is hilarious at times, and at others just hilariously good – a not-so-difficult second album.

While frontman Tom Greenhouse’s off-kilter observations and bizarro anecdotes remain front and centre, this time round the band up their game with a more vigorous sound that keeps pace with Greenhouse’s wholly distinctive lyrical style. Greenhouse continues to revel in telling increasingly surreal short stories, rejoicing in the power of the deadpan one-liner and bedecking his songs with far-flung cultural references. But now the band employ a variety of techniques with improved pro- duction, from the impulsively bashed keyboards and jubilantly repetitive guitar stabs that have be- come their trademark, to flirtations with–heaven forbid!–melody, chord progressions and arrangements which elevate their tried-and-tested blueprint into a more exciting and cohesive whole.

Opener Musicians is the perfect embodiment of this conscious development. Here, Greenhouse re- counts a sarcastic tale of half-truths that see him galavanting around town trying to put a band to- gether. Sonically, it begins with a caustic callback to the group’s first EP Crap Cardboard Pet and its über-minimalist aesthetic. But by the end of the song a joyous festival of afrobeat-inspired in- struments including samba whistles, bongos and saxophones are added to the mix as the front- man, ironically, fails in his mission to recruit more players.

With Get Unjaded, the band have somehow conjured something close to pop, without abandoning the repetition and wit that’s relished by their early fans. I Lost My Head also adopts a jangle-pop sheen with a luscious synth melody, as the frontman ditches the spoken-word for a surly croon (his first known attempt at actual singing!) that provides a welcome breather from the onslaught of dense recantations that are the band’s bread-and-butter.

While the lyrics here are still often humorous and political, Greenhouse has also notably expanded his interests on this album to include a new host of topics. The influence of extraterrestrials, for ex- ample, infiltrates the subject matter frequently. On The UFOs, the mysterious protagonist Blinkus Booth’s isolationist lifestyle is apparently interrupted by the spectres of otherworldly visitors, while closer The Neoprene Ravine feels like an extract from a deep space rock opera. Here, jaunty and angular instruments pile-on as we are fed images of an interstellar Spinal Tap, the titular fictional band “The Neoprene Ravine” who are “the alien equivalent of the Velvet Underground” and include an alien Lou Reed yelping “too busy sucking on my little green ding dong!”.

Meanwhile, Hard Rock Potato is propelled by a vortex of keys and synths, a real noise-pop gem comprised of real guitar chords (!) and rock-orientated riffs. Here the stream-of-consciousness lyrics take shots at the sinister financial industry, and include one of the many top-tier one-liners on the album: “It’s not gambling if you’re wearing a tie (even if you’ve got no trousers on)”.

On Sod’s Toastie, The Cool Greenhouse have pushed their distinctive flavour of post-punk to the point of perfection – their incongruous riffs, alchemical instrumental chemistry, and irreverent spo- ken-word vocals are a delight throughout. Sod’s Toastie is hilarious at times, and at others just hilariously good – a not-so-difficult second album.

Leatherette are, by their own description, “five shy guys who sometimes get off the stage and punch people,” a quintet whose car-crash of jagged noise, twisted love and dark, anguished melody has delivered a remarkable – and eminently combustible – debut album. The group are based in Bologna, but all hail from different towns in Italy. These five young men – singer/guitarist Michele, bassist Marco, drummer Francesco, guitarist Andrea and saxophonist Jacopo – are united by a profound need to make music, to express themselves naturally and honestly. The group bonded over wildly differing influences – everything from midwestern emo gods American Football, to Berlin-era Bowie, to James Chance & The Contortions, to rap and electronic music – to create a dense, passionate, articulate sound of their own. You can file them near fiery post-punk kindreds like Shame and Squid, or unhinged 90s noisers like Unwound or Hoover, or squalling No Wavers like James Chance, but the truth is there are few bands like Leatherette that walk this Earth. Their first full-length, Fiesta follows an EP, Mixed Waste, recorded during lockdown. The songs on Fiesta precede the Covid era, though the group spent the pandemic rewriting and overhauling their maiden batch of songs at leisure. The result is an astonishing and remarkable debut: poetic, caterwauling, broken and beautiful. The album title is “a reference to the bullfights in Pamplona,” the group say. It’s no empty metaphor. “Bullfight is a strange ritual,” they elaborate. “And we’re against bullfights, but they’re fascinating in an iconographic way. And also metaphorically, violence flows on both sides, but in a feastful way. It’s similar to a concert, really – you’re expressing violent things, in a physical way. And people react to that, which is wonderful, which is fantastic.”

Vessels promise an escape from responsibilities towards the landscape, they facilitate our avoidance of conscientiously feeling our attachment to the mainland. The visual nothingness of deep water and clean horizons fools the brain and delivers a treacherous feeling of independence.

We ignore the truths expressed by landscapes, so we mould them into urban projects for our strange desires. We clean up the irrationalities by which nature constructs itself. Then we look up to the skies, where the abstractions we have to draw in our minds should reside and inspire us.

We peer into the various shades of blue above the waters, the emptiness guarantees possibilities of our abstractions becoming realities. The apathetic stare into neat, straight horizons transforms our ancestral landscape into dirt and danger, when looking back to it.

To be on a ship under quarantine, is an upside down experience, for the promised escape has turned into a forced paralysis. The Lima flag (? - ? ?, in morse code), presented on the outer sleeve of this record, indirectly demands of all passengers to stay aboard and contemplate their escape from the land they now desire to return to.

These four piano pieces could be considered as a classical sonata (allegroadagio-scherzo-rondo). In a recital they are accompanied by four video pieces by artist Karl Van Welden. We picked the videos out of his extensive archive, choosing images intuitively while listening to the piano music. The theme of ships relating to quarantine thus came unannounced but of course, we were in the middle of the pandemic at the time.

Solastalgia was already waiting as a title for the new album before march 2020. I first came across the word in Underland, a book by Robert Macfarlane (2019). He defines the word as "The unhappiness of people whose landscapes are being transformed about them by forces beyond their control". These forces and this unhappiness are, I believe, what constitutes the modern human. Solastalgia, about the music We haven't found them yet, the words to talk to each other about the worrying signs of climate change. Feeling worried when walking on autumn leaves in the beginning of August should be completely normal. But how do we communicate about it? We don't want to be just the next hysterical doomer.

With this music I try to focus on the climate pain itself, gently inviting the listener to investigate their latent feelings of unease and growing concerns about the environment. As in real life, we circumvent the real issues because they are just too big, there are no words, no expressions yet.

This album tries, in four different attempts, to carve out a path towards communicating about a deeper pain that eventually will connect us all. My general method is to start with a comforting melody, full of fake nostalgia, which, after changing gear to autodestruct mode, morphs into a painful question mark.

The first part sets off with an idyllic melody, accompanied by repeated notes, as a far, muted echo of an alarm. The melody starts to explain itself painfully into a dissonant whirlwind in the high register, sounding not unlike Ravel's Gaspard de la Nuit bravura. In the second piece a warm Beatles like melody (And I love her) gets confronted with the weird hippie mantra of a later Lennon song War is over, if you want it. Sentences get reduced to syllables and result in lonely notes that crash and shiver under the burden of too much meaning. Like Shostakovich's latest work, the Sonata for viola and piano.

The descending melody of Bach's Erbarme dich, Mein Gott is echoed in the upper and lower voicings of the third piece, juxtaposed to a typical, threatening Ennio Morricone Western dotted rhythm accompaniment. This rhythm eventually evolves into citing the 1972 Captain Beefheart early ecological warning song Blabber and Smoke (there's a big pane/pain in your window, it's gonna hang you all,... dangle you all). Towards the middle of the piece, the music explodes and the three layers get dispersed all over the keyboard in a virtuosic maelstrom towards another painful question mark. The bitter answer is going back to business with a barely noticeable citation of the first notes of the RZA's Liquid Swords album.

The final piece is some kind of mantra, the same 7/4 pulse all throughout the piece. The dampers of all A's and B's on the keyboard are released by the middle pedal, thus sustaining an ever present resonance. Melodic cells alternate in shifting quantifications with small, bell like percussive cluster playing. While composing this piece an image crept up: walking out of the church on Sunday morning, tolling bells enthusiastically moderating the churchgoers' small talk in the local dialect. Apparently I have tried to evoke this kind of conversation, but injecting it with fictitious alarming conversation topics, the contemporary.

Frederik Croene (August '22)

A legendary indie audio artist blurring his lifelong attachments, from spontaneous composition (in the late 70's with John Zorn) to experimental rock (with Bongwater and other bands in the 80's) alongside his recent inquiries into the intricacies of ambient-folk songcraft (with his most recent solo LP, "And The Wind Blew It All Away"), Kramer continues to explore the possibilities of shaping naturally occuring aural landscapes into intoxicatingly affecting music. Sound and language - not just melody and ambient textures - has been his raw material for decades. He nowjuggles them more deftly than ever on his newest ambient opus. In the ten compositions that comprise this new LP, mournful at times yet mysteriouslylife-affirming and generous in their scope, Kramer sees films where there arenone, and composes his accompanying ambient soundtracks in a state of interrupted grace. Words, text, complete screenplays, character arcs, shooting scripts and storyboards swirl through his head as he puts his imagery to sound, and the results evoke a world in which moths, drawn to the bright flickering lightsof Cinema and the low humming lights of Dreams, in Kramer's own words, "...might never die". The LP's nature reveals an interior dialogue between musician and choice. Each piece represents Kramer's encounter with the blank canvas of silence that greets him as a composer. Embracing sounds as objects and instruments of Truth, the end result of his process is as much about what is absent and what has been removed or edited away than what is left in its wake as artifacts of emotion. These pieces are the Spring frost of lost imaginings, vanitas to broken connections, visions nearly unrecordable by the human eye. Kramer envisions a music that functions to stoptime, as an event that always plays in the present and never needs a past to give it a reference point. It is music that communicates in the most intimate way possible, as intricately and as deeply as the way it blossoms and shifts and evades categorizationwhen exposed to thin air. Drawn toward the light of a multitude of influences, we hear echoes of the feverishly frozen dreams of composers Morton Feldman, Terry Riley, Brian Eno and Arvo Part, melting alongside the surreal cinemas of David Lynch and The Brothers Quay, all parts converging to evoke a time and place that does not exist outside of the mind's eye of the listener. These ten works are fluid adventures in fathomless landscapes, emotions distilled and offered as a paintless painting without a physical home. Each individual composition is an offering to a future memory, a chalice to be filled with the listener's own reactions to them. As a whole, the ten pieces form an image of ten circling planets in an expanding galaxy that colors itself anew with each subsequent listen. Movement, grace, and Peace.

Debut full-length collaboration from Jack Burton and Rory Glacken (Tourist Kid)
Follows Jack Burton's solo LP on Analogue Attic and Tourist Kid's solo LP on Melody As Truth
Early support from Ben Fester, Best Effort/DJ Earl Grey, Biscuit (Good Morning Tapes), Brian Not Brian, Ewan Jansen, Kato, Merve, Sleep D & Wax'o Paradiso
Dentistry is the dual energies of Rory Glacken and Jack Burton, Boorloo originals now living in Naarm. The pair have previously released an EP, "Ribbons," on their own Deep Water label, and a track on its local showcase comp "Greenhouse Vol. I" at the end of 2021. This transmission is their debut full length offering, channeled through hometown beacon Good Company Records.

"LP1" was created in unusual conditions between September and December of 2020, when the duo's shared Northcote studio became a site of remote collaboration. One person would start working on a track and leave the session open for the other, with no overlap of physical space shared. Responding to an invitation from GCR to make a record, the initial impulse was to write dance music. But what dance floor were these incorporeal partners writing for?

The album takes a spectral approach to the dance space, wrapping up air in a strata of textural tech, pulsing dub house and fractal illbience. Drawing on dub production techniques, "LP1" combines the structure of an ambient record with intricate percussive elements. Results are both atmospheric and material, abstract and palpable: a synthesis which expresses sonic relations of surface and depth, with the correlating mirage of light and shadow.

At times tinkering methodically and others in mercurial lurch, there is an immediacy to this album that stems from the way it was produced, using a mixing desk and outboard gear to rich and living effect. When we listen, we commune with the artists in the heat of working out of an otherworldly space, and feel every tweak and and turn. "LP1" is a current which carries the substance of process in communicable form. Intuitive and moving, breathing, dancing.

Debut solo album from the former frontwoman of The Total Bettys. Olive Green colored vinyl, comes with Download Card. Recommend If You Like: Tancred, Adult Mom, Snail Mail, Soccer Mommy Maggie Gently is a San Francisco-based indie songwriter with a fondness for wild schemes and intimate gestures. Her identity as a queer woman is important to her and the community she creates and participates in. Maggie Gently’s music is melody-driven and heartfelt — a big-city indie rock fascination with an unmistakable emo accent. Her songs are about how making decisions for your own mental health can feel like a matter of survival. Peppermint peers around the edges of trauma for a new glimpse at what growth could look like. With songs about eternal questions of commitment and love and the terrifying possibility of being vulnerable and known, this album is about trusting something enough to let yourself get swept away. The nine songs that make up Peppermint reinforce empowering truths that can be hard to internalize or say out loud. As an artist, Maggie finds inspiration in Meg Hayertz’ “Make It, Mean It” tarot-focused guided meditations, lesbian romance novels, and the Enneagram, almost as much as fellow bands like Snail Mail, Lala Lala, and Clairo. “’Steady’ is a sun-kissed ode to rebirth, driven by sweet acoustic melodies and Maggie’s soaring serene harmonies. As steady drums and shimmering synths join the mix for the chorus, the track gains a sense of resolute hope, as if emerging from the dark of winter into the light of spring.”

"bit by bit" is the first full-length release from Toronto-based singer-songwriter Evan J Cartwright. This self produced album from the go-to drummer/collaborator (The Weather Station, U.S. Girls, Brodie West) presents a highly singular songwriting vision that combines existential lyrics with masterful musicianship. Steeped in jazz melodicism, Cartwright’s trumpet-like phrasing mixed with contemporary composition presents an eclectic art song performed by an artist that could perhaps be best described as a post-modern Chet Baker. Deep poetic observations on love and time paint an affecting picture of an artist reflecting on life’s universal truths. Visual in nature, "bit by bit" places its audience within a world of musical leitmotifs extracted from field recordings of bells and birdsong. Collected during years of touring, these sounds evoke extant spaces beyond that which the music inhabits. The use of this source material in its unaltered form evokes the feeling of a technicolour European film at one moment and then, as the extrapolated melodies are meticulously translated into electronic tone bank sequences, a modernist setting the next. One carillon melody is used as the basis for a wealth of the album’s musical material before its origin is finally revealed by the chiming of bells in the last seconds of the album. The result is a fragment of space between the constructed world of the musical compositions and the candid world of documentation, inviting the listener to ponder whether those two worlds are distinct or whether the songs and music are not simply “field recordings” themselves. Throughout "bit by bit" Cartwright drops staggering revelations hiding in plain prose that often involve the contemplation of time. In I Don’t Know he states “if I only trusted time / then I would wish it all away” and nearing the album’s end he opens impossibly blue with the phrase “the impossible truth of time”, playfully inserting a pregnant pause before the word time. A drummer’s fixation, to be certain, the album’s recurring theme of time is eclipsed only by Cartwright’s contemplation of human relationships. Here he elaborates on some of the album’s subjects: “Many of the lyrics circle, and try to give a name to the illegible space between human beings. “i DON’t know” celebrates the fact that we will never truly understand what love is. Its message is one of assurance. It says that we can never really touch love, and that is ok. “and you’ve got nobuddy” refers to life’s great tragedy: that we are unable to read each others’ experiences, and in reaction to this, we separate ourselves.” The entirety of "bit by bit" is a continuous work. There is seldom a clear demarcation of where one piece ends and another begins and when this does occur, it is done crudely, as if someone is flipping through a series of broadcasted channels. At times words are sliced right out of their lines and replaced by pure tones. This is both a comical interpretation of censorship and a reminder that there are things in life that will forever remain unseen and illegible. In fact, this statement lies at the centre of the LP and although hidden beauty does reveal itself through repeated listenings, "bit by bit’s" eccentric world remains just out of reach — an imaginary second story room viewed from a crowded city street.

Across eight studio albums, DECAPITATED grew from the adolescent dream of teenagers from a small Central European town to one of the leaders of the metal genre. Each successive album further expands the band’s sound with genre-bending authenticity and integrity. As Metal Injection rightfully observed, “any self-respecting death metalhead knows the name well.”

DECAPITATED’s music is a weapon forged by four young men from a historic medieval-fortified town in Poland, which catapulted them to the top of a worldwide subculture. Like a rose in the devil’s garden, the DECAPITATED story builds triumph from tragedy. The gleeful grotesquery of extreme metal imagery and rifftastic bludgeoning beckons listeners to uncover broader truths.Upon the release of 2017’s Anticult, Metal Hammer declared DECAPITATED “a serious successor to the likes of Pantera and Lamb Of God – a band who can draw new legions into the metal world as its new champions.” Their diverse follow-up, 2022’s Cancer Culture, delivers on that promise.

Instantly recognizable devastation and deceptively sinister hooks abound. Freshly minted DECAPITATED anthems like “Last Supper,” “Hello Death,” “Just Cigarette,” “No Cure,” “Iconoclast,” and “Cancer Culture” shimmer with sonically sharp production and unrelenting bombast. There’s also a newly increased emphasis on melody, even venturing into darkly romantic territory. Wacław "Vogg" Kiełtyka (guitar), Rafał "Rasta" Piotrowski (vocals), Paweł Pasek (bass), and James Stewart (drums) are at the top of their game, delivering the goods at peak performance. Jinjer vocalist Tatiana Shmayluk and Machine Head frontman Robb Flynn make guest appearances.

Set on the descending plains of a mountain range amid a dense forest, Krosno boasts a 14th-century Gothic church, a Subcarpathian museum, and stunning artisan glassware. In this Polish town, teenage music student Wacław "Vogg" Kiełtyka discovered records from bands like Morbid Angel, Cannibal Corpse, Metallica, and Machine Head. The guitarist and his younger brother, drummer Witold “Vitek” Kiełtyka, cofounded DECAPITATED in 1996, inspired by a wide range of technical death, blackened thrash, and local heroes, like KAT and the world-renowned Vader. Death and black metal reigned supreme in the Polish scene of the 1990s, where Behemoth originated as well. In fact, a Vader song called “Decapitated Saints” inspired the band’s moniker.
The organic musical chemistry between the Kiełtykas was akin to the brotherly connectivity and vibe driving Pantera, Gojira, and the classic era of Sepultura. In 2006, Kerrang! praised the first three DECAPITATED albums - Winds of Creation (2000), Nihility (2002), and The Negation (2004) – as “superbly conceived and executed eruptions of technical brilliance and razor-sharp songwriting that turned these youthful Poles into one of the genre’s most widely respected bands.” That year’s Organic Hallucinosis further perfected Vogg’s penchant for blending extremity with catchy hooks.

The rule-breaking ferocity and invention of the first four albums reinvigorated death metal, as DECAPITATED inspired a new generation of bands who followed suit. Sadly, this era came to a shocking end in late 2007. While touring Russia, the band’s bus collided with a large truck near the border with Belarus. Both Vitak and then-singer Adrian “Covan” Kowanek sustained severe head injuries. Tragically, Vitak passed away in a Russian hospital a few days later. He was just 23.Vogg summoned the courage to continue, in honor of his brother and what they created, and returned with a new incarnation of DECAPITATED and the fiercely adventurous comeback album, Carnival is Forever (2011) featuring new vocalist Rafał "Rasta" Piotrowski. Blood Mantra (2014) introduced bassist, Paweł Pasek. Blabbermouth declared it “perhaps the most poised and gutsy” DECAPITATED album, adding “its courageous bends make it a turbulent but pleasurable ride.”

Cancer Culture sounds brilliant, modern, and tasty. “There is no place for any fake, plastic, bullshit drum machine or anything like that,” Vogg insists. “It’s all organic, pure, and clear, showing the true face of the band. Vogg and company entrusted the Cancer Culture mix to David Castillo at Sweden’s Fascination Street Studios / Studio Gröndahl (Sepultura, Carcass, Opeth, Katatonia), and legendary American producer Ted Jensen (Metallica, Slipknot, Pantera, Machine Head, Korn).
The devoted supporters who traveled to see DECAPITATED on international tours with the likes of Lamb Of God, Meshuggah, Soulfly, Fear Factory, and Suffocation over the years will recognize the ever-present pummeling backbone. Longtime fans and newcomers alike will connect to the variety of atmospheric depth throughout Cancer Culture’s ten boundlessly energetic and creative tracks.
“If you told me 25 years ago, in my neighborhood in the South of Poland, that I would be in Machine Head, sharing riffs with Robb Flynn,” Vogg marvels. “It’s simply incredible. It means that everything is possible in your life. That gives me the faith to believe that I can achieve even more in my career. The dreams we have when we are kids, things we can barely imagine, can happen.” Flynn contributes a hauntingly beautiful vocal to the Cancer Culture track “Iconoclast.” “Clean vocal singing is a really new thing in DECAPITATED,” Vogg notes. “It’s really unique and amazing.”

Driven by Vogg’s passion and integrity, the dual emphasis on creative invention and technical prowess maintains DECAPITATED’s stature as genre-leaders in 2022 and beyond. The band’s supporters continually demonstrate confidence and absolute certainty DECAPITATED will deliver.

Camille Bertault and David Helbock are two of the most jawdroppingly talented members of the cohort of European jazz
musicians currently in their mid-Thirties. Their journeys in improvised
music are always adventurous, playful and exciting.
 She is the rising star of French vocal jazz. He, Austrian-born, is one
of the most fascinating pianists on the scene. Their personalities
appear to be polar opposites, yet Bertault’s livewire humour and
Helbock’s calm self-assuredness only appear different on the surface.
When it comes to the musical choices they make, they are
emphatically on the same page. Each is astonishingly versatile, with
an innate sense of dramaturgy. This voice / piano duo reaches
unbelievable levels of inventiveness here on ‘Playground’.
 “We both love Egberto Gismonti and Hermeto Pascoal, Björk and
Monk,” Helbock explains. “We also wanted a classical piece.” The
duo found the initial repertoire to explore and to spread their musical
wings with relative ease. Bertault’s vocal artistry is hers and hers
alone. Her voice is a magnificent instrument to carry a melody,
whether at breakneck speed and with devastating precision or at
pindrop volume. Helbock’s creativity, as he exploits all the sound
possibilities of the grand piano, is completely ‘sui generis’ as well. He
dampens the piano strings, he plays directly on them, he uses the
piano case as a percussion instrument, he makes use of electronics.
And ‘Playground’ is the first time he has worked with loops.
 His accompaniment therefore has an almost orchestral scale and
depth, a jewel case for this scintillating and very special voice. The
pair have written seven new numbers for the album: we hear the
whimsical blues of ‘Lonely Supamen’, the mysterious ‘Fabelwesen’,
the chanson-esque ‘Aide-moi’ and the ethereal-melancholic ‘Bizarre’.
 ‘Playground’ is a kaleidoscope of sounds and emotions which
invigorates, excites - and will always surprise. The craft and
technique may be breath taking, but neither musician ever forgets the
essential: “It’s not about showing strength or virtuosity, but about
expressing the truth of the moment,” says Camille Bertault. And that
is what she and David Helbock have delivered with each and every
track.

Across eight studio albums, DECAPITATED grew from the adolescent dream of teenagers from a small Central European town to one of the leaders of the metal genre. Each successive album further expands the band’s sound with genre-bending authenticity and integrity. As Metal Injection rightfully observed, “any self-respecting death metalhead knows the name well.”

DECAPITATED’s music is a weapon forged by four young men from a historic medieval-fortified town in Poland, which catapulted them to the top of a worldwide subculture. Like a rose in the devil’s garden, the DECAPITATED story builds triumph from tragedy. The gleeful grotesquery of extreme metal imagery and rifftastic bludgeoning beckons listeners to uncover broader truths.Upon the release of 2017’s Anticult, Metal Hammer declared DECAPITATED “a serious successor to the likes of Pantera and Lamb Of God – a band who can draw new legions into the metal world as its new champions.” Their diverse follow-up, 2022’s Cancer Culture, delivers on that promise.

Instantly recognizable devastation and deceptively sinister hooks abound. Freshly minted DECAPITATED anthems like “Last Supper,” “Hello Death,” “Just Cigarette,” “No Cure,” “Iconoclast,” and “Cancer Culture” shimmer with sonically sharp production and unrelenting bombast. There’s also a newly increased emphasis on melody, even venturing into darkly romantic territory. Wacław "Vogg" Kiełtyka (guitar), Rafał "Rasta" Piotrowski (vocals), Paweł Pasek (bass), and James Stewart (drums) are at the top of their game, delivering the goods at peak performance. Jinjer vocalist Tatiana Shmayluk and Machine Head frontman Robb Flynn make guest appearances.

Set on the descending plains of a mountain range amid a dense forest, Krosno boasts a 14th-century Gothic church, a Subcarpathian museum, and stunning artisan glassware. In this Polish town, teenage music student Wacław "Vogg" Kiełtyka discovered records from bands like Morbid Angel, Cannibal Corpse, Metallica, and Machine Head. The guitarist and his younger brother, drummer Witold “Vitek” Kiełtyka, cofounded DECAPITATED in 1996, inspired by a wide range of technical death, blackened thrash, and local heroes, like KAT and the world-renowned Vader. Death and black metal reigned supreme in the Polish scene of the 1990s, where Behemoth originated as well. In fact, a Vader song called “Decapitated Saints” inspired the band’s moniker.
The organic musical chemistry between the Kiełtykas was akin to the brotherly connectivity and vibe driving Pantera, Gojira, and the classic era of Sepultura. In 2006, Kerrang! praised the first three DECAPITATED albums - Winds of Creation (2000), Nihility (2002), and The Negation (2004) – as “superbly conceived and executed eruptions of technical brilliance and razor-sharp songwriting that turned these youthful Poles into one of the genre’s most widely respected bands.” That year’s Organic Hallucinosis further perfected Vogg’s penchant for blending extremity with catchy hooks.

The rule-breaking ferocity and invention of the first four albums reinvigorated death metal, as DECAPITATED inspired a new generation of bands who followed suit. Sadly, this era came to a shocking end in late 2007. While touring Russia, the band’s bus collided with a large truck near the border with Belarus. Both Vitak and then-singer Adrian “Covan” Kowanek sustained severe head injuries. Tragically, Vitak passed away in a Russian hospital a few days later. He was just 23.Vogg summoned the courage to continue, in honor of his brother and what they created, and returned with a new incarnation of DECAPITATED and the fiercely adventurous comeback album, Carnival is Forever (2011) featuring new vocalist Rafał "Rasta" Piotrowski. Blood Mantra (2014) introduced bassist, Paweł Pasek. Blabbermouth declared it “perhaps the most poised and gutsy” DECAPITATED album, adding “its courageous bends make it a turbulent but pleasurable ride.”

Cancer Culture sounds brilliant, modern, and tasty. “There is no place for any fake, plastic, bullshit drum machine or anything like that,” Vogg insists. “It’s all organic, pure, and clear, showing the true face of the band. Vogg and company entrusted the Cancer Culture mix to David Castillo at Sweden’s Fascination Street Studios / Studio Gröndahl (Sepultura, Carcass, Opeth, Katatonia), and legendary American producer Ted Jensen (Metallica, Slipknot, Pantera, Machine Head, Korn).
The devoted supporters who traveled to see DECAPITATED on international tours with the likes of Lamb Of God, Meshuggah, Soulfly, Fear Factory, and Suffocation over the years will recognize the ever-present pummeling backbone. Longtime fans and newcomers alike will connect to the variety of atmospheric depth throughout Cancer Culture’s ten boundlessly energetic and creative tracks.
“If you told me 25 years ago, in my neighborhood in the South of Poland, that I would be in Machine Head, sharing riffs with Robb Flynn,” Vogg marvels. “It’s simply incredible. It means that everything is possible in your life. That gives me the faith to believe that I can achieve even more in my career. The dreams we have when we are kids, things we can barely imagine, can happen.” Flynn contributes a hauntingly beautiful vocal to the Cancer Culture track “Iconoclast.” “Clean vocal singing is a really new thing in DECAPITATED,” Vogg notes. “It’s really unique and amazing.”

Driven by Vogg’s passion and integrity, the dual emphasis on creative invention and technical prowess maintains DECAPITATED’s stature as genre-leaders in 2022 and beyond. The band’s supporters continually demonstrate confidence and absolute certainty DECAPITATED will deliver.

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."

 With their new album, If I Never Know You Like This Again, SOAK has
finally shaken the hangover of their starry debut ‘Before We Forgot How
To Dream’, and the pressures that came with it, hiding in the wings of
their ambitious follow up album, ‘Grim Town’.
 Having come up through BBC Introducing at the tender age of 15, before
signing to Rough Trade Records, as well as winning the RTE Choice
Music Prize and The Northern Irish Music Prize, in addition to being the
youngest ever Mercury Prize nominee, SOAK has again and again been
described as “the voice of a generation.”
 Showing, from a young age, an intensely artistic awareness of the poetry
of memory, Bridie Monds-Watson, aka SOAK, would incessantly
photograph and video everything, documenting and organising the
material so it was always there for them to revisit. “I always want to
remember exactly how I felt at a certain moment.” Now, at 25, SOAK’s
third album, ‘If I Never Know You Like This Again', is naturally made up
of what Bridie intimately calls ‘song-memories’.
 Working closely with Tommy McLaughlin (Villagers), with whom Bridie
has been collaborating with since the age of 15, and armed with
influences from Pavement to Radiohead to Broken Social Scene, they
wrote most of the album together before recording it with the rest of the
band in Attica Studios, Donegal.
 Throughout the album SOAK pushes and pulls at melodies, but never
milks their brilliance. Bridie masterfully glides their vocal melody slightly
off-kilter above excitable compressed high hats and flourishing guitar
lines. With the new direction of a grungier, more lo-fi production, the
swooning guitars are given a contemporary pop edge, reflected in the
rich and robust musicality of songs like ‘Bleach’, ‘Last July’ and ‘Pretzel’.
 There’s a constant pulsating beat at the album’s centre, propelling it
towards a kind of dewy happiness, like the end credits of a 90s comingof-age film. Bridie’s lyrics move through the songs almost as effortlessly
and they sing them, and the songs when read, read like poetry.
 With this album Bridie is, as the title suggests, freezing time in the
pursuit of truth: capturing their life into existence. In the world of ‘If I
Never Know You Like This Again’, a life is lived only because it's
remembered.

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."

If you’re looking for a raw, sugary blast of distorted pop, look no further than
‘Weird Nightmare’. The debut album from METZ guitarist and vocalist Alex
Edkins contains all of his main band’s bite with an unexpected, yet totally
satisfying, sweetness. Imagine The Amps covering Big Star, or the gloriously
hissy miniature epics of classic-era Guided by Voices combined with the
bombast of ‘Copper Blue’- era Sugar - just tons of red-line distortion cut with the
type of tunecraft that thrills the moment it hits your ears.
 These ten songs showcase a new side of Edkins’ already-established
songwriting, but even though the bulk of ‘Weird Nightmare’ was recorded during
the COVID-19 pandemic, some of its tunes date back to 2013 in demo form.
“Hooks and melody have always been a big part of my writing, but they really
became the main focus this time” he explains. “It was about doing what felt
natural.”
 To be clear: Weird Nightmare is not a ‘pandemic album’, but an album - some of
which had been gestating for quite a while - that just so happened to be recorded
during the pandemic. “I had always planned on finishing these songs, but being
unable to tour with METZ, and forced to lock down, really gave me a push.” After
days spent homeschooling his son, Edkins would drive to the METZ rehearsal
room and tinker deep into the night on these songs’ deceptively simple structures
and rich, static-laden textures. “It was a godsend for me,” he states about the
creative process. “The hours would disappear and I would get lost in the music
and record. It was a beautiful escape.”
 ‘Weird Nightmare’ is, in its own way, a study in extremes: Edkins’ melodic
instincts and penchant for dissonance are both turned up to the max throughout,
the latter reflecting not only the barn-burning tendencies of METZ, but Alex’s own
sonic predilections. “It doesn’t sound right to my ears until it’s pushed over the
edge.” He also cites other artists who are masterful at mixing the sublime and the
punishing - Kim Deal and Scout Niblett among them - as influences on his own
songwriting. “My favorite songs are the simple ones,” he explains. “I’ve never
been attracted to virtuosity or technicality. Certain songs have the power to lift
your spirits like nothing else can. I wanted to create that type of song.”
 A few guests pitch in on Weird Nightmare: Canadian alt-pop genius Chad
VanGaalen adds his unmistakable touch to the ever-escalating ‘Oh No’, while
Alicia Bognanno of Bully lends her distinctive pipes to the thrashing ‘Wrecked’, a
collaboration that effectively saved the song. “I almost didn’t put it on the album
because I thought it was missing something,” Edkins explains. “I sent it to Alicia
and she lifted it way up.”
 And taking risks and reaching out of Edkins’ comfort zone was the name of the
game when it came to making ‘Weird Nightmare’. “I found myself doing new
things I didn’t have the guts to do before, recording everything by myself and
trusting all of my musical instincts,” he states. “I think when music manifests
quickly, a certain amount of honesty automatically comes along with it. When it is
a purely instinctual creation, there is no opportunity to obscure the truth.”
 Loser Edition LP pressed on Coke Bottle Green transparent vinyl.

If you’re looking for a raw, sugary blast of distorted pop, look no further than
‘Weird Nightmare’. The debut album from METZ guitarist and vocalist Alex
Edkins contains all of his main band’s bite with an unexpected, yet totally
satisfying, sweetness. Imagine The Amps covering Big Star, or the gloriously
hissy miniature epics of classic-era Guided by Voices combined with the
bombast of ‘Copper Blue’- era Sugar - just tons of red-line distortion cut with the
type of tunecraft that thrills the moment it hits your ears.
 These ten songs showcase a new side of Edkins’ already-established
songwriting, but even though the bulk of ‘Weird Nightmare’ was recorded during
the COVID-19 pandemic, some of its tunes date back to 2013 in demo form.
“Hooks and melody have always been a big part of my writing, but they really
became the main focus this time” he explains. “It was about doing what felt
natural.”
 To be clear: Weird Nightmare is not a ‘pandemic album’, but an album - some of
which had been gestating for quite a while - that just so happened to be recorded
during the pandemic. “I had always planned on finishing these songs, but being
unable to tour with METZ, and forced to lock down, really gave me a push.” After
days spent homeschooling his son, Edkins would drive to the METZ rehearsal
room and tinker deep into the night on these songs’ deceptively simple structures
and rich, static-laden textures. “It was a godsend for me,” he states about the
creative process. “The hours would disappear and I would get lost in the music
and record. It was a beautiful escape.”
 ‘Weird Nightmare’ is, in its own way, a study in extremes: Edkins’ melodic
instincts and penchant for dissonance are both turned up to the max throughout,
the latter reflecting not only the barn-burning tendencies of METZ, but Alex’s own
sonic predilections. “It doesn’t sound right to my ears until it’s pushed over the
edge.” He also cites other artists who are masterful at mixing the sublime and the
punishing - Kim Deal and Scout Niblett among them - as influences on his own
songwriting. “My favorite songs are the simple ones,” he explains. “I’ve never
been attracted to virtuosity or technicality. Certain songs have the power to lift
your spirits like nothing else can. I wanted to create that type of song.”
 A few guests pitch in on Weird Nightmare: Canadian alt-pop genius Chad
VanGaalen adds his unmistakable touch to the ever-escalating ‘Oh No’, while
Alicia Bognanno of Bully lends her distinctive pipes to the thrashing ‘Wrecked’, a
collaboration that effectively saved the song. “I almost didn’t put it on the album
because I thought it was missing something,” Edkins explains. “I sent it to Alicia
and she lifted it way up.”
 And taking risks and reaching out of Edkins’ comfort zone was the name of the
game when it came to making ‘Weird Nightmare’. “I found myself doing new
things I didn’t have the guts to do before, recording everything by myself and
trusting all of my musical instincts,” he states. “I think when music manifests
quickly, a certain amount of honesty automatically comes along with it. When it is
a purely instinctual creation, there is no opportunity to obscure the truth.”
 Loser Edition LP pressed on Coke Bottle Green transparent vinyl.