Cerca:reckoning

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.

In a world hurtling towards new frontiers of horror on a daily basis, there’s precious little time for pause. For the self respecting artist, the only reasonable solution is psychic warfare. Such is the terrain of Petbrick on the titanic and transformative Liminal. Here on their second album the duo of Wayne Adams (Big Lad/Johnny Broke) and Iggor Cavalera (Sepultura/Cavalera Conspiracy/Soulwax) lays waste to all or any constrictions in its path, Blending a vast sonic landscape with a relentless compunction to break the pain barrier, Liminal is a dizzying exercise in overdrive which can take in industrial abrasions, pulverising rhythmic drive, acid-damaged freakery, cinematic tension and balladic gravitas in disarmingly coherent fashion. Other heads and personalities also came on board to add richness and intrigue to the onslaught - “I believe we got an amazing team of collaborators - from old school friends like Neurosis’ Steve Von Tilll and Converge’s Jacob Bannon to new school artists like Paula Rebbeledo from Rakta and New York doom rappers Lord Goat and Truck Jewelz” notes Iggor. This is an album birthed in difficult times and expressly engaged with raging against the dying of the light. As Iggor puts it “Liminal is an insane mirror of what being isolated feels like - madness through noise experimentations” An alchemical vision fit to both elevate the spirit and destroy everything in its path, ‘Liminal’ is the sound of Petbrick blasting their way through the boundaries of a fresh hell. Tracks: 01. Primer 02. Arboria 03. Pigeon Kick 04. Raijin 05. Lysergic Aura (Feat. Lord Goat & Truck Jewelz) 06. Damballa 07. Ayan 08. Grind You Dull (Feat. Jake Bannon) 09. Chemical Returns 10. Distorted Peace (Feat. Paula Rebellato) 11. Reckoning (Feat. Steve Von Till

In 2021, Los Angeles trio Gabriels arrived in a whirlwind with the loose-limbed vintage soul jam of ‘Love & Hate In A Different Time’, a song that could have dropped in almost any era. A stone-cold classic, it introduced a band so much more than just the sum of their supremely talented parts.

For the first time, ‘Love & Hate In A Different Time’ is now getting a special 7 Inch release with a previously unreleased live version of ‘Spanish Harlem’ recorded at BBC Maida Vale studios for a Gilles Peterson 6 Music session.

Just a handful of live shows deep, the spotlight swings and lands squarely on vocalist Jacob Lusk. A man who demands attention with a presence and voice of a gospel choir. That rich vocal swoops and soars through the pitches effortlessly matched by an on-stage persona that’s intensely likeable.

A bonafide star by anybody’s reckoning. Two acclaimed EPs deep and yet barely out of second gear, Gabriels have moved beyond mere promise to become one of 2022’s most essential new acts.

Press / PR:

“One of the most spectacular voices you will hear this year... Set to be 2022’s word-of-mouth hit” - The Guardian

“A sound that’s unlike anything else out there” – The Times

SOLD OUT every headline live show in 2021 and 2022 so far in seconds. Gabriels will also support Celeste on her sold out UK tour in the spring of 2022.

Love And Hate In A Different Time was playlisted at 6Music Arielle Free’s TOTW on Radio 1, other supporters included Annie Mac, Nick Grimshaw and Adele Roberts

Syncs with Reebok and Gucci campaigns

Breaking Act - Sunday Times Culture feature

Included in The Guardian’s 2022 Tips

NME Radar feature & NME 100: Essential Emerging Artists For 2022

KCRW’s 2021 Breakthrough Artist

Ones To Watch – The 25 Artists to Watch

As Spacemoth's Maryam Qudus was hard at work in her recording studio, synthesizers piled high, she found her mind in another place, hypnotized by the questions swirling inside her: “How could I ever face this world alone?” she wondered. “How long will I be able to stay in this place that I love?” Attempting to understand her position in the universe, the relationships that hold her together, and the climate crisis unfolding around her, she realized ruminating over these concerns was paradoxically taking her away from precious experiences. No Past No Future is the reckoning point between nostalgia and nihilism: the struggle to hang on to a moment as it warps in time.

Devotion to music has driven Qudus—a performer, composer, and producer based in the Bay Area—for as long as she can remember. At age twelve, she traded chores for guitar lessons; at sixteen, she took on after school jobs to pay for voice lessons. As a first-generation Afghan-American child of working-class immigrant parents, finding a place in music has been nothing short of a challenge for Qudus.

The bulk of performance on Spacemoth songs comes from Qudus herself, who favors vintage synths like the Yamaha CS-50 and Korg Polysix alongside fluttering tape manipulations; these create cosmic, lush soundbeds, drawing comparisons to beloved projects like Broadcast and Stereolab. On songs like “Waves Come Crashing,” a whirlwind of noise leads into darker, bass-heavy instrumentation as she confronts the inevitability of death: “These fears, they have taken our years,” she laments about the anxiety of mortality. On “Pipe and Pistol,” Qudus explores the experience of being an immigrant starting over in America. The song showcases punchy rhythms, reminiscent of Devo’s post-punk dynamism: “I see your face / my powers, they raise,” she sings with potency. Identifying cyclical habits inspired “Round In Loops,” which highlights patterns we endure in our lives and minds. “Boss is waiting / we run / love is fading / we run,” Qudus commands, encouraging escapism and a break to the cycle of mundanity.

Every track flows with Qudus’ low timbered vocals, in harmony with the watery, glowing synthesizers that anchor the album. The result is a record rich in intergalactic, avant-pop, radiating in astonishment at the vast, emotional landscape humans contain within ourselves, and in wonder at the preciousness of our time on earth.

Die Allgegenwärtigkeit des Todes inmitten des blühenden
Lebens und der Kreativität steht im Mittelpunkt von
SEVENTH STORM. Mike Gaspar, der fast 30 Jahre lang
den Rhythmus auf der wichtigsten portugiesischen
Metal-Galeere Moonspell vorgab, hat endlich ein neues
Ventil gefunden, um seine Liebe zum Heavy Metal, sein
kulturelles Erbe und seine Leidenschaft für ungezähmte,
wilde Musik zu zelebrieren, deren Wurzeln tief in das
Gewebe unserer Welt reichen. Hier hebt sich eine
hungrige Band empor, die ihre Seele für ihre Musik
gegeben hat. "Ich wollte ein Album schreiben, von dem
Fans aller Kulturen sagen können ?das ist für mich?",
meint er über den primären Antrieb, der hinter
"Maledictus" steht. "Mein Traum war es, etwas von
diesem unschuldigen Neunziger-Jahre-Touch
zurückzubringen und dabei traditionelle portugiesische
Musik mit Metal zu mischen." Mit Einflüssen, die von
Bathory über Samael, Tiamat, Paradise Lost, Fields of the
Nephilim, Cradle of Filth und Dead Can Dance bis hin zu
Van Halen oder Mötley Crüe reichen, machen sich
SEVENTH STORM gerade erst auf ihre Reise durch die
wilden und wundersamen Gewässer der Heavy
Metal-Geschichte. Und obwohl es kein Konzeptalbum ist,
wird "Maledictus" von einem starken Gefühl des
Schmerzes und der Wut zusammengehalten, gepaart mit
einer flackernden Hoffnung auf Vergebung für unser

Ben Harper’s new album, ‘Bloodline Maintenance’,
is a fearless and immensely soulful work, largely
inspired by the loss of a long time friend and the
lingering influence of a mercurial and charismatic
father.
 Never content to rest on his creative laurels,
Harper has continued to explore new sonic
territory. He has retained his signature lap steel
guitar but supercharged it through a coveted and
powerful Dumble amplifier, creating a far more
unruly tone.
 The album is both a political and personally
revealing work. It is soul music, but never a stylistic
tribute to some bygone era. The sound and words
are essential and undeniably timely. It is a powerful
musical reckoning.
 Ben plays guitar on Harry Styles’ new track,
‘Boyfriends’, and LeAnn Rimes’ ‘the only’. He is
opening for Harry Styles’ residency at The Forum
in LA throughout October and November.

Naomi Alligator is fed up. She’s sick of trying to make relationships work that have already run their course, and tired of sitting in a wintry apartment waiting for her life to kick into gear. On »Double Knot«, the modern folk singer/songwriter from Virginia attempts to unwind her life from all that is holding her back. In a way, it’s a coming-of-age record about shedding what no longer serves you and, ultimately, finding something like deliverance.

On the opening track, “Seasick,” Naomi Alligator is already in the midst of a sort of awakening. Right off the bat, she sings, “I don’t know what’s happened to me / It’s like I turned 16 / It’s like I grew to be 6-feet tall.” This is the announcement of a wide-eyed artist coming out of hibernation and into their own. Still, Naomi’s vocals ache with guilt and longing, belying the track’s playful catchiness. Longing for what? Maybe attention from a crush, but mostly a sunnier place to call home.

Naomi Alligator began writing Double Knot while living in Philadelphia during the height of the pandemic and the deterioration of a longterm romance. “I scream: How’d the hell I end up here? / I’m 1-inch tall, it’s crystal clear,” she chants on “Neighborhood Freak,” returning to height and size as an emotional barometer. When asked though, Naomi rejects the notion that Double Knot is a breakup album, or autobiographical at all. Moreso, she says, it’s a personal reckoning in which, “the minute before you make a big decision, you tally up the reasons why you don’t want to do what you’re doing anymore.”

That desire to turn the page expands to the production of the album as well. Naomi Alligator generally houses her narratives in beds of minimal, home-tracked instrumentation—influenced by the stripped-down poeticism of Joan Baez and Liz Phair’s Girly-Sound tapes. Double Knot finds Naomi continuing to hone the winning combination of guitar and banjo she established on 2021’s Concession Stand Girl EP. For Double Knot though, Naomi wanted a fuller, more dynamic sound: more instruments, more harmonies, more layering, more, more, more. Inspired by the impressionistic melodies of Animal Collective and MGMT, Naomi peppers in computer-generated synths throughout the album, most notably on the song “Burn Out.” These electronic flourishes augment the more grounding string instruments, arriving somewhere more ethereal than Naomi’s earlier work while still maintaining her warm songwriting.

If anything, Double Knot is a reminder that you can always pack up your bags, try something new, and change your life. As for Naomi Alligator herself? She moved west, to California.

As the daughter of a blues musician, Chastity Brown was born with an
innate ability to channel complex circumstances into beautiful, uplifting
songs
But after surviving the isolation of the early pandemic and witnessing the global
racial reckoning that manifested itself in the riots mere blocks from her South
Minneapolis home, even she is surprised to hear the way her new album 'Sing To
The Walls' turned out. "It's a love album, in a way I didn't plan on," Chastity says.
Like so many artists who endured the uncertainty of the 2020 lockdown,
Chastity's instinct was to turn inward, at first out of self- preservation, and then
because the new songs kept coming and coming. Since finishing her last album,
2017's 'Silhouette Of Sirens', she estimates she's written nearly 100 new songs,
10 of which found their way onto 'Sing To The Walls'. Produced by Brady Blades,
'Sing To The Walls' is a sonically expansive album; it mines the roots of
Americana, folk, and soul music, but Chastity's stories are delivered in a style that
feels remarkably timely, modern, and forward-thinking. "I celebrate the emotional
richness in the tradition, but in my music I've committed myself to moving
forward and reflecting the experiences of those overlooked by tradition."
Chastity Brown has been praised by NPR, CMT, American Songwriter, the London
Times, Paste Magazine, and The Independent, among many others, and appeared
on the U.K.'s Later… with Jools Holland. She tours nationally and internationally,
having shared the stage and supported artists such as the Indigo Girls, Ani Di
Franco, Andrea Gibson, Jayhawks, The National, and Micheal Kiwanuka.

Renata Zeiguer's new album 'Picnic in the Dark' - her second full length
with Northern Spy - is a sonic dreamworld infused with magical realism
that tells an extremely personal narrative
It is a culmination of a lifetime of reckoning with her past and her unwavering
resolution to transcend inherited patterns and cycles that have held her back. Coproduced with Sam Griffin Owens (Sam Evian), the twelve songs lead a mystical
conversation between characters within her psyche that all center around this
process, which she whimsically likens to the ritual of having a picnic in the dark.
Integrating her child self into her adult life with immense compassion and
enlightenment, 'Picnic in the Dark' is not only an album of exploration but one of
transformation, healing and self- actualization, all through a courageous journey
towards that extremely uncomfortable yet fertile liminal space between
familiarity and uncertainty.

Kenn hat es wieder getan... Es würde Sinn machen, sein vorheriges Werk "Dancing with the Past" als das neue Anacrusis-Album zu bezeichnen und das nicht nur, weil das meiste darauf enthaltene Material mit der Absicht geschrieben wurde, ein Comeback zu feiern. Acht Jahre später meldet sich Mr. Nardi mit einem weiteren Epos zurück, das zwar eine Stunde kürzer ist als der Vorgänger, aber von der Qualität her "Trauma" atmet seinen Nacken. Die epische Länge beider Alben sollte den Hörer aber nicht zurückhalten, denn das hier ist wirklich fesselndes Material von Anfang bis Ende, dunkle Progressive/Thrash-Scheiben, die nichts von dem vermissen lassen, was das Repertoire von Anacrusis zu einem der beliebtesten in der Szene gemacht hat. "Trauma" ist dynamischer und ein bisschen weniger atmosphärisch, was an der geringeren Anzahl der Balladen liegt. Hier sind es nur drei, die sich jeweils einem bestimmten Segment zuwenden aus dem balladesken Bereich, ansonsten bestimmt eine brachiale Kombination aus Progressive und Thrash die Handlung, das schnellere Material pulverisiert, vielschichtige Thrasher voller voller inbrünstiger Tempowechsel und abrupter Stimmungswechsel. Das Herzstück des Albums ist die 11-minütige Odyssee "The Orphan", eine zusammenfassende Reise durch alle Ecken und Winkel des des Anacrusis-Katalogs, ein fesselndes Epos, wie es Anacrusis bzw. Nardi noch nie versucht haben.

Wir wollen glauben, dass die Anacrusis-Fans bereitwillig ins Nardi-Lager gewechselt sind, das in nicht allzu regelmäßiger Folge deftige Genüsse verspricht. Das ist auch gut so, solange er einen ganzen Vormittag füllen kann, wird er bei allen ganz oben auf der Liste stehen.

Für Fans von: Anacrusis, Nevermore, Atheist, Voivod, Forbidden, Control Denied

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."

The word that jumps to mind when hearing Deanna Petcoff's music for the first time is “yearning”. A whirlwind of emotions, her debut record To Hell With You, I Love You is a reckoning with the loss of a relationship, documenting the aggressive highs and deeply emotional lows that come from falling out of love.

Recorded in Toronto over the course of a year spent in-and-out of lockdowns, she was able to look more closely at the nuances and minutiae of relationships and examine the ways in which they can either grow or falter. She writes about her frustrating experiences as a24-year old woman finding her voice and identity while navigating a never changing world, exploring the ins and outs of love and heartbreak with a grace and quick wit that belies her year. Her rich, textured voice juxtaposes her soft imagery and her vulnerable and starkly honest lyrics welcome us into a world where even a fleeting moment of emotion can become its own monument.

Based in Toronto, ON, Petcoff shaped her own unique brand of beautiful and confessional indie rock through years of devotion to music, sharing stage with the likes of Molly Burch, Tokyo Police Club, The Nude Party and many more. She excels with heart-on-her-sleeve-emotive lyricism that showcases her strength as a songwriter and a vocalist, and on To Hell With You, I Love You, she wanted to present “the whirlwind of emotions you have when you’re grieving a relationship, which can feel like the death of a part of you or what you thought your life was going to look like.” It’s an album that ebbs and flows with a confidence and an assuredness as she tackles the highs and lows of falling in and out of love, and everything in between.

Dear is Pauwel's big step forward. His debut album on Unday (due April 2020) is a mature collection of songs about loss in all its different facets. Pauwel openly confronts his demons, without ever losing sight of the essence: rock-solid and captivating folk songs between hope and despair, comforting and disquieting at the same time. Dear turns out a record to cherish and completely disappear into.

Shortly after Pauwel finished his previous EP, his mother passed away. A few weeks later, Europe went into lockdown for a second time. Pauwel wanted to cope with this turbulent episode on his debut on Unday Records, but the isolation during the pandemic only cast more doubts. During the darkest winter months, the 31-year-old songwriter realized that loss comes in many guises: lovers come to leave, suddenly leave or turn out to have become strangers. "Dear" is the account of this dark period in Pauwel's life. A reckoning with all the bad that happened to him and his peers. It is also a bridge to whatever comes next, a hopeful glance at the future.

On 'Dear', Pauwel expands his musical universe considerably, without losing his characteristic melancholy and distinctive voice. With the help of musicians Sander Smeets, Koen De Gendt and David Broeders - his new backing band - the rough folk diamonds were polished into mature songs. The stunning voice of Catherine Smet (aka Bluai) serves as a comforting echo on a handful of songs.
"Dear" was recorded at three different locations by producer Bert Vliegen (Whispering Sons, Sophia). The opening track "Murderer" and the haunting "Bones" were created in a hut in Walcourt. The bulk of the record was recorded during an intense week at the GAM Studio in Waimes. While the TV news showed apocalyptic images of the floods in the province of Liège around the clock, Pauwel and his band finished the songs. Rich, spacy arrangements ("Lazy"), rambling country-rockers ("Deer" & "Sister") or a tearful one-taker on Fender Rhodes ("Mother"): during this session "Dear" finally came together.

Birthed in the bohemian enclave and epicentre of strange vibrations that is Calderdale in West Yorkshire, Hexen Valley’s story began in summer 2021 when a new formation of Gnod came together in a co-op house at the 200-year-old Nutclough Tavern. As always, the line-up of the collective shifted and morphed to fit circumstances, and soon they embarked on intensive jamming that was eventually captured by Sam Greenwood in Hebden Bridge Underground studios. Inspiration struck not only from the chemistry of the four musicians in this confined room but all around - the band’s Paddy Shine cites the likes of shop noticeboard messages and pub conversations in Hebden as lyrical sparks; channeling by his reckoning the ‘valley fever’ that exists somewhere in the chasms and contrasts between the amazing light and vivacity of the valley summit and the comparative darkness of the towns below. Meanwhile, musical shapes were making themselves known seemingly of their own volition, from ‘Still Running’, which takes shape across a sonic hinterland between Daydream Nation-style kineticism and sludged-out aggression to ‘Bad Apple’ - an entirely spontaneous piece of potent and angular post-punk intensity. Perhaps most surprisingly of all, Lou Reed’s tour-bus favourite ‘Waves Of Fear’ is hammered out with fearsome gusto into a salvo of first-take catharsis and alchemy, fit to transcend all or any oppressive atmospheres that surround.Hexen Valley is the sound of a band whose fearsome intensity is only matched by their evolutionary drive. It’s Gnod at full power, and it’s a haunted place you might struggle to leave

Birthed in the bohemian enclave and epicentre of strange vibrations that is Calderdale in West Yorkshire, Hexen Valley’s story began in summer 2021 when a new formation of Gnod came together in a co-op house at the 200-year-old Nutclough Tavern. As always, the line-up of the collective shifted and morphed to fit circumstances, and soon they embarked on intensive jamming that was eventually captured by Sam Greenwood in Hebden Bridge Underground studios. Inspiration struck not only from the chemistry of the four musicians in this confined room but all around - the band’s Paddy Shine cites the likes of shop noticeboard messages and pub conversations in Hebden as lyrical sparks; channeling by his reckoning the ‘valley fever’ that exists somewhere in the chasms and contrasts between the amazing light and vivacity of the valley summit and the comparative darkness of the towns below. Meanwhile, musical shapes were making themselves known seemingly of their own volition, from ‘Still Running’, which takes shape across a sonic hinterland between Daydream Nation-style kineticism and sludged-out aggression to ‘Bad Apple’ - an entirely spontaneous piece of potent and angular post-punk intensity. Perhaps most surprisingly of all, Lou Reed’s tour-bus favourite ‘Waves Of Fear’ is hammered out with fearsome gusto into a salvo of first-take catharsis and alchemy, fit to transcend all or any oppressive atmospheres that surround.Hexen Valley is the sound of a band whose fearsome intensity is only matched by their evolutionary drive. It’s Gnod at full power, and it’s a haunted place you might struggle to leave