Search:romantic songs

London-based four-piece Adult Jazz announce their first full-length album in a decade, So Sorry So Slow, out 26 April 2024 via Spare Thought. Alongside the announcement comes lovesick new single ‘Suffer One’ featuring Owen Pallett, a cautious excavation of self and sexuality, clambering across a gorgeously shapeshifting, filmic five-minutes.

Containing some of the band’s most abrasive but gentle, beautiful and melismatic work to date, So Sorry So Slow has many defining characteristics: romance, panic, devotion and remorse, threaded together by an intentionally laser-focused love. It’s deeply personal, bruised and candid in its expressions of tenderness, and deeply pained in its concurrent reflections of ecological regret. Across its hour-long runtime, a delicate, frenetic energy and glacial heaviness coexist, the band pitting those paces against one another. In their richly experimental timbre, dancing strings and fluttering falsettos prang against a bed of brass drones like a wounded bird.

“We started writing in 2017 and began recording in 2018,” says vocalist Harry Burgess. “We genuinely thought it might be finished in 2018! But things kept developing and, having resolutely not struck while the iron was hot, there was no real external push to rush things after that, so we just kept letting things shift and unfold until it felt right. Listening back to my voice notes it’s nice to notice that there are fragments of ideas from the whole period 2017-2023 which have shaped the record.”

Recorded in bursts at studios across London and in the band members’ flats, at Konk, on the Isle of Wight and in Sussex, So Sorry is unambiguous in its evolution. Sonically, there are sparks of the arrhythmic brightness that afforded the band’s critically acclaimed debut album Gist Is its cult adoration, for fans of Arthur Russell and Meredith Monk, but with a blossoming, melancholic darkness often overhead. Piano sprees and luscious string sections appear like low-hanging stars on a night-time drive, whilst plunging vocal distortions and humming brass loops resurrect heavy limbs in a bad dream.

“I usually have objects as kind of totems for ideas,” explains Burgess. “The album initially started out to do with performance… the totem was a head mic, one of the subtle skin-tone ones, discreet on the forehead of a West End star. A number of the first songs in their original forms were almost musical theatre piano ballads. I think that was really a device to write about my life as the ‘main character’ (pre internet-speak reframing): regrets about romance, relationships - unsustainable relationships with the self and others.”

“However, once we started writing, the ideas about unsustainable personal relationships, loving unevenly and heartbreak conflated with a more expressly ecological regret. Like contending with big feelings of loss, endings, beauty, desolation, and with how much joy the earth contains in it. Feeling so much gratitude bound up in waves of sadness. Maybe witnessing a slow-motion goodbye to all that, or its last gasps. I love the earth and the life it supports so much. I love how ecosystems fit together - even the brutal stuff. It may be basic to say, but now is the time to be laser focused on that love. I was thinking about human centrality on earth, us as the ‘main character’, the way that is served by faith and romanticism, and the subsequent disingenuous understandings of our position in the ecosystem, as only stewards somehow, rather than subjects. The totems at this point: a herald’s horn, lorry inner tubes, archaeological tools. I guess from doom, industry, history respectively.”

“Now I would say the record is about gripping. Totems being: crampons, rope, drips, desalination equipment, accruing various survival tech. I think gripping sums up both of the threads. There’s the emotionally correct clinging to the earth that is the substrate of everything we value, or the delusional clinging to our imagined dominant position. But also the practical, technological aspects of creating a sustainable relationship, of remaining here. Then I think of romance again.”

So Sorry So Slow comes out 26th April 2024 on Spare Thought, mixed by Fabian Prynn at 4AD Studios and mastered by Alex Wharton at Abbey Road.

Adult Jazz is Harry Burgess, Tim Slater, Steven Wells and Tom Howe.

Hana Vus "kontemplativer Indie-Pop fängt die Desillusionierung des jungen Erwachsenseins ein", schreibt der NME. Ihre neue LP Romanticism unterstreicht dieses Gefühl als ein Coming-of-Age-Werk, das die Vergänglichkeit der Jugend betrauert und nach einem Sinn sucht. Die in LA geborene Songwriterin macht seit der High School Musik und hat bereits ein Debütalbum und mehrere EPs mit glühenden, grüblerischen Hymnen voller Abstraktion und Emotionen veröffentlicht. Bei ihren früheren Arbeiten hat Vu immer wieder Feedback erhalten, aber für die Entwicklung von Romanticism hat sie sich von der Außenwelt abgeschirmt, um ihre eigene Vision zu bewahren. Das Ergebnis ist eine einheitliche Sammlung von Songs, die vor Tiefe und Intimität nur so strotzen. Die üppigen und lauten Songs erinnern sowohl an gitarrenlastigen Indie-Rock der späten Achtzigerjahre als auch an futuristisch anmutende Synthie-Bass-Schichten. Sie pulsieren vor Bedeutung und schütteln sich vor Verspieltheit, getragen von ihrer kraftvollen, sonoren Stimme und unterstrichen durch das von der Romantik inspirierte Artwork der Platte.

Limited edition silver vinyl anniversary reissue of the Magnetic Fields' classic 1999 rumination on, of course, love. Funny, smart, dark, memorable, and a lifetime's worth of listening. Stephin Merritt solidifies his songwriting genius on his "most ambitious and fully realized work". (AMG) This vinyl reissue is remastered for vinyl and beautifully packaged in a 10" slipcase box with three double gatefold sleeves and a 24 page booklet!

There are one million ways to approach love, one million ways to experience love, one million ways in which love shapes both the course of our lives and how we choose to navigate that course. On her second album, Bnny’s Jessica Viscius looks love square in its many eyes and describes, with self-awareness and humor, not only what she sees, but what it makes her feel. Deep romantic love, breathy lust, generous self-love—and their opposites, self-loathing, resentment, disappointment—all make appearances. Like a sheet being draped over a clothesline, channeling Mazzy Star and mimicking the soft, gauzy, fresh feeling of realizing you’re able to begin it all again with a new person. Recorded in Asheville at Drop of Sun and produced by Viscius alongside Alex Farrar (Wednesday, Indigo De Souza, Snail Mail), One Million Love Songs is Bnny’s revelatory second album. Out April 2024 on Fire Talk

There are one million ways to approach love, one million ways to experience love, one million ways in which love shapes both the course of our lives and how we choose to navigate that course. On her second album, Bnny’s Jessica Viscius looks love square in its many eyes and describes, with self-awareness and humor, not only what she sees, but what it makes her feel. Deep romantic love, breathy lust, generous self-love—and their opposites, self-loathing, resentment, disappointment—all make appearances. Like a sheet being draped over a clothesline, channeling Mazzy Star and mimicking the soft, gauzy, fresh feeling of realizing you’re able to begin it all again with a new person. Recorded in Asheville at Drop of Sun and produced by Viscius alongside Alex Farrar (Wednesday, Indigo De Souza, Snail Mail), One Million Love Songs is Bnny’s revelatory second album. Out April 2024 on Fire Talk

Synthesizers, Tape Recorders and Analog Machines come together into an enchanting atmospheric album reminis-cent of Eno´s, Jarre´s or Vangelis´ space-romantic compositions.
Resonance is the artistic alias of Javier Pérez Rodríguez, a Canary Islands based producer who began his musical activity in the late nineties, blending cinematic experimental music with dancefloor sounds. After releasing several club-focused releases in recent times, he now presents this new departure - a synth based album for a soundtrack to a non-existent film featuring dreamlike compositions, filled with long, immersive passages that effortlessly blend ele-ments of electronic, ambient, and progressive rock music.
'Valediction' is an ambient ode, an emotional missive departing from a personal and intimate space and expands it to the universe - the cosmos expressed through a lens of ideas and concepts that contrast with its compositional com-plexity. Through this work, the author bids farewell to a stage of his life whilst presenting a new born optimistic and mature vision of parting, naturally transitioning to another phase without collision - a romantic and optimistic escape towards the reality of a recent sensitive time, which may not have been better, but perhaps it was.
'Valediction' is Resonance's spontaneous yet conscious escape to the most endearing realms of his own inner uni-verse, subsequently projecting it outward, in a sharing statement to whoever is willing to listen.
All songs by Javier Pérez Rodríguez
Mastered by Resonance, supervised by Eddy Méndez
Artwork by Aristides Garcia
Released by Keroxen records, 2024

Advitam Aeternamour, Cléa Vincent's third album, will be released on 29 March 2024 by Midnight Special.

If the 90s gave us “French touch,” then the 2010s ushered in “French pop,” and it was in the midst of this revival that Cléa began her artistic journey. As early as the music video for

“Achète-le-moi” from her debut LP Retiens mon désir (2016), we witness the singer striking selfie-like poses with her French pop comrades (La Femme, Bertrand Burgalat), appearing pell-mell on screen in the form of their vinyl records. Since then, whether singing with Philippe Katerine or co-producing (and composing) Jeanne Balibar's D'ici là tout l'été (2023), Cléa Vincent has effortlessly carved out a niche for herself in the French pop scene. The advantage of being a “jack-of-all-trades” — Cléa is a writer, composer, and producer — is that her music casts a wide net. Both highly acclaimed in the indie circuit and “as seen on TV” (on Quotidien, among others), she has also enjoyed a stint as the host for web-TV show Sooo Pop, for which she regularly interviewed a plethora of French artists. Beyond France, the singer tours extensively. After a run of concerts in Europe, Asia, North and South America, it was her visit to Latin and Central America that inspired Tropi-cléa (2017-2020-2022). The three EPs bathed in a tropicalist glow do more than just dip their toes in the water; they mark a deep desire to escape in a post-lockdown world.

In between these projects emerged Cléa’s LP Nuits sans sommeil (2019). The album quickly became an instant classic and lives up to its name, since Clea never seems to stop — writing, composing, singing, or dancing. Mixed by Stephane ALF Briat, who has lent his magic touch to records by Phoenix, Bonnie Banane, Air, and Flavien Berger, Cléa Vincent's third LP Advitam Aeternamour proves once again that her music is in perpetual renewal. The artist takes risks both in her pursuit for innovative sounds and in the themes she tackles: coming out, incest, grief...and of course, she will always be a true romantic at heart; there’s no need to be ashamed of loving love. Cléa’s songs are full of “explicit lyrics,” but not in the typical sense: rather than ringing harsh and raw, her words are tinged with sweetness and melancholy, at the risk of shocking less sentimental listeners.

Written hand-in-hand with Raphaël Léger, her creative soulmate for the last ten years who also recorded and produced the album, Advitam Aeternamour features lyrics charged with Epinal and equinox imagery. On the poignantly sober title track, sudden flashes of light are padded by tinkling synthesizers swathed in the voices of an angelic choir, as also heard on “Nuit de Yalda.” Cléa offers a modern take on 90s house music (“C'est Ok”) and 2-step garage (“Free Demain”). Particularly influenced by The Beloved, she is not above dipping pop songs into the electronic melting pot to get them through the club door (“État Second,” where we “turn up the BPM”). And whether on “Shut down ma tête,” or “Douce Chavirée,” Cléa pushes the champagne cork down even further so that the party never stops. The bass gets louder, the rhythm intensifies — the melodies of these eternal hits are an invitation onto the dance floor, lit up by her smile.

As depicted in the soothing embrace that appears on the album artwork, the bright psychedelic hues are the perfect complement to her therapeutically inclined synthetic pop. Even if they tackle themes such as breakups, Cléa's songs, which are vitamin-packed and deep on the surface, are intended to heal and repair. “Se laisser partir,” with its light vocoder echoes, emulating the vocal shadow of a loved one, is an optimistic breakup song. Advitam Æternamour gives us life, from birth to grief — and in the middle, wild, beating passion. If her songs resonate with us, it's because Cléa speaks to us in her songs, as heard on the girl power anthem “Free demain,” where she addresses the listener as a friend (“put the pedal to the metal and you’ll take off for the stars”). When she shares the microphone with Jacques on “État Second,” enveloped by the sounds of unidentified musical objects, the complementary nature of the two artists is evident. The album is as much a tribute to the healing virtues of music as it is a self-portrait of Cléa inhabited by her art. Ad vitam æternam and with love.

Bruno Berle, the young songwriter and poet originally hailing from Maceió, the capital of Brazil’s Alagoas state, crafts songs that are simple, direct, and full of tender nuance. With his first album No Reino Dos Afetos (which translates to "In the Realm of Affections” and was released in 2022), Berle firmly established himself as a unique and important voice in the burgeoning scene of new Brazilian artists making a global impact, including peers like Ana Frango Elétrico, Tim Bernardes, Bala Desejo, Sessa and more. Now back with his second album, No Reino Dos Afetos 2, he stretches that further.

Bruno Berle’s music lives between two worlds – a traditional Brazilian folk talent steeped in history, and a contemporary, dreamy electronic pop; the result is songwriting that’s genre-bending, intentional, iconoclastic and consuming, spacious and sinewy and singular, a striking reflection of its composer while leaving space for the listener to settle in. The album follows Bruno’s relocation to São Paulo, and the songs are a reflection of his past and present. A rebuke of former categorizations of his work in Brazilian music scenes, and an idea of where his music can move, unfettered.

Berle’s music is purposeful in being a true portrait of himself, and a reflection of the music, art, and fashion scenes he personally moves through. Berle aims to provide an entrypoint for Black queer joy in his music, in his storytelling, in his presence and vision as a creative. For him, it feels subversive to be playing MPB laced with dubstep and lo-fi, a sort of intentional sacrilege, capturing a dialogue of modernity in traditional music.

Berle wrote most of the arrangements and co-produced his new album, Reino Dos Afetos 2 with longtime friend and musical partner Batata Boy, who is also from Maceió; the album was recorded in Rio de Janeiro, Maceió, and São Paulo, his new home, and picks up the conversation begun in 2022 on Berle’s debut album No Reino dos Afetos. Both records are the result of a nonlinear but coherent seven-year music creation process culminating in these albums, holding hands across space and time.

“Tirolirole,” the first single from the record, was released at the end of 2023; sun-soaked rhythms and soft voice coat the song, the lilting refrain of “Tirolirole” throughout – hushed, gentle, but somehow almost tactile, a golden-hour moment unlocked in the mind. “Tirolirole” is a triumphant future classic about the temporality of a blossoming love, with Bruno’s stunning vocal soaring over melodies which ebb and flow like the waters on the Atlantic shore. Of the track, Berle explains: “Despite ‘Tirolirole’ being an expression that evokes my childhood, just like the light words about nature, the harmony, and the poetry are epic, carrying a great hope for love.”

In fact, the guiding theme of No Reino dos Afetos 2 is a relationship, unfolding in the arc of a weekend. It traverses the innocence of an early young love, how that can be formative, can stretch on to take new shapes, or shape you. The album happens at the genesis of meeting someone and falling for them, before the relationship is thrown into overdrive – set in a big city, against a backdrop of major life changes, rising energy, the sound of São Paulo.

Something transcendental emerges in “Dizer Adeus,” with an arrangement that echoes a gospel atmosphere (evangelical and Catholic environments were pivotal to Berle’s upbringing). On “É Só Você Chegar,” piano and flute gracefully intertwine, a dance, while “Quando Penso” skews sparser, the voice-and-guitar minimalism somehow cultivating an entirely different shape – somehow both cozy and melancholy, with the background sound of a rainy day. Coupled with the lo-fi aspects that shape much of the album’s personality in the vocals and the production, No Reino Dos Afetos 2 is meticulously elaborated by Berle’s sonic alchemy, like on the mid-album instrumental “Sonho,” which feels like floating. “It’s the apex. It’s when lovers are sleeping together,” Berle explains of the feeling he wanted to encapsulate in the song.

On “Love Comes Back” Berle interprets Arthur Russell, the late Iowa musician who only reached greater visibility after he died in 1992. “His way of making music is similar to mine,” Berle explains. “He sings in a more fragile way, has more of an experimental way of recording, letting ‘chance’ appear in the final work.”

Even so, Berle doesn’t want his music to be buried in sentimentality – and the purposefulness of his craft serves as a sort of north star. The production, the arrangements, his restraint and intentionality in crafting his songs feel just as vital as their emotional cores. His songwriting is amorphous, fluid, an encompassing genre-bending movement in-and-of-itself, quietly daring. The songs are often in conversation with other works – drinking in fountains as diverse as the filmmaking of Ingmar Bergman, the poetry of Walt Whitman, the rhythm of Djavan, and the painting of Maxwell Alexandre. Musically he weaves together a rich tapestry of Brazilian folk, UK 2-step garage/dub, trip hop and sun soaked west coast songwriters; something akin to the worlds of Milton Nascimento, Arthur Russell, James Blake, Feist, and Sade colliding into one. But even then No Reino Dos Afetos 2 floats separately, a romanticism driven by a simplicity and intimacy, an open-ended possibility, Berle’s singularity as an artist at the helm of the ship.

On the outskirts of Bratislava, in the pulsating shadows of a refinery's burning chimneys, on the plot of a family house, there stood a small shack. Initially, it housed trials in domestic mushroom growing. Later, after a makeshift acoustic touch-up - lining the walls with old cardboard egg cartons - it became a shelter for music. Sensitive, evocative, nostalgic, lo-fi music by a man named Cadillac Face.

Today we would probably use the term 'safe space', but back then it was (in Cadillac's words) kutica, a cubbyhole. He hid there from a world that ached. Here, Cadillac secretly smoked, sang, and composed. And tried not to go crazy from anxiety. He wrote music unlike anything during his time.

Here, he struggled. With sound (unable to adjust it to his liking), with instruments (which he couldn't bring himself to play), with the world (with which, understandably, he was at odds).

Cadillac Face was a man who didn't belong here.

He wrote and sang in English (in a post-socialist and early-capitalist Slovakia, when command of English was no matter of course); he also wrote in Slovak (blogs and diaries, which, due to a stream-of-consciousness and surrealist style, were as incomprehensible as they were immersive and intimate); gave advice to teenagers (to their quasi-banal questions on talking forums about relationships, life and adolescence, where they were often met with ridicule and mockery); he composed electronic and noise music (at a time when no one had a clue what the abbreviation DAW meant).

This Cadillac's compilation album is not aiming to compete with/replicate Noizy Days - a compilation of Cadillac's contributions to the project Noize Konspiracy. Underground compilations circulated through a local proto-social network. Borderline music without rules - open but often inaccessible. There, Cadillac contributed mostly with experimental-electronic compositions. Noizy Days was compiled by Ďuro Ďurček, one of the initiators of Noize Konspiracy. Both Ďuro and Cadillac have been dead for years.

Songs For The Trees is a selection from Cadillac's songwriting. The most intimate of his intimate recordings. Cadillac at his most fragile, brittle, and quiet. The most romantic, the most tormented, the most painful and direct of his songs I know.

Cadillac became an anthropomorphic grotesque tree. Neither broadleaf nor conifer. Or perhaps it's a candle slowly incinerating – bored, sad, playing the guitar. A tragicomedy. Sometimes it kindles what it doesn't mean to, and it can't put itself out. Or can it?

The eagerly awaited debut album from the London-based four-piece * At the forefront of the new generation of Black British guitar music with Big Joanie and Bob Vylan * Supporting Slowdive on their UK tour in February * Singles playlisted by BBC Radio 6 Music, Spotify and others Whitelands are Etienne, Jagun, Vanessa and Michael and they are ostensibly a shoegaze band ever since Etienne stumbled across Slowdive's KEXP session in his recommended videos on YouTube a few years ago. However, they come at the resurgent, Gen Z-soundtracking genre from a refreshingly different angle thanks to their mishmash of musical backgrounds. There's also the fact that their line-up is fully PoC in what is traditionally seen as a predominantly white genre. "There's an underlying narrative that it's OK for white men to be romantic, sensitive, emotional and make dreamy music and, by contrast, young Black men should be making angry music," says Vanessa. "We've all grown up with these stereotypes and therefore I think people are mystified when they see Whitelands." "I consume a lot of media," says Etienne of his wide range of influences. "Videogames, music, news, paintings, manga, animations and film are my go-to, especially anime. There is this drive to want to understand and feel the whole weight of an expression. So, the songs are based on other songs, pictures, aesthetics, 'vibes', an emotion someone else felt. Fundamentally, you are what you eat." As a result of this diet, the lyrics are stunning, dealing with everything from unbalanced relationships and vulnerability to depression, being diagnosed with ADHD and, on the new single 'Tell Me About It' (featuring vocals by Dottie from the band's Sonic Cathedral labelmates deary), trying to navigate love following that diagnosis. The album is bookended by two poetically political songs - 'Setting Sun' and 'Now Here's The Weather' - that deal with imperialism, racism and performative ignorance. "We've experienced tokenism, micro-behaviours, envy and resentment," concludes Vanessa. "So we feel we have to continually prove ourselves. We know we're making a positive impact, but I want Whitelands to really break some barriers."

Delphine Dora is a prolific composer, improviser and musician who has released on a plethora of labels including Recital, Morc, Sloow Tapes, Feeding Tube, Okraïna and more, and ‘Le Grand Passage’ is her Modern Love debut, a stunning set of songs for piano and voice, recorded in one take without overdubs or edits.

In an act of pure expression, Delphine Dora recorded the 8 songs of ‘The Great Passage’ in a single take, succumbing to a whirlwind of inspiration that transported her beyond the material world. Baroque paradigms bleed into fragile, introspective mantras, expressed through a made up language of existential yearning and channeled through piano and voice. It’s music that caresses the sublime, made without any premeditation.

Delphine was nearing the end of a three-day prepared piano residency when an technician stepped in to tune her grand piano for her final performance. He removed the objects from the strings and fixed the pitch, leaving Dora with a freshly tuned instrument. Mesmerised by its new sound, she proceeded to switch on her recorder and pour out her soul, channeling, in her own words, "something greater than myself".

The result is some of the most unusual but elevated material the prolific composer, improviser and multi-instrumentalist has ever recorded, rooted in a deep understanding of European musical history but willing to push at its boundaries, questioning the earthly logic of life and death, asceticism and impiety. Glistening imperfections lash 'The Great Passage' to the physical world, but Dora - seemingly possessed as she quivers in a fictional dialect - lets her fantasies intensify her spirit, lifting the music towards the heavens. It's not sacred music, per se, but it is unashamedly mystical.

On the luxurious, languid opening, Dora dissolves eerily familiar romantic piano motifs into an attentive ceremony, singing with charged emotion. Her words aren't really decipherable, but their resonance vibrates beyond language; it's striking to hear how confident she is in vulnerability. She lets the piano wrap into her voice, connecting us directly to a unique mode of emotional expression by urging us - the listener - to project our own meaning onto her abstracted words.

Dora refers to the act of improvisation itself as a way to indicate "the fragility of being”, and as her words blur in and out of focus, dipping from a hoarse croak to a choking wail, she places herself at the very edge of musical formality, questioning strictures put in place to suffocate self-expression. Her music has often been labeled "outsider", but here she sounds intimate and interconnected, more self-consciously candid than anything traditional might have allowed. She conjures affecting, plainspoken poetry, like a bedside diary written in a hypnagogic, delirious state: a stream-of-unconsciousness, channelling the beyond.

The album title connects to a book dedicated to French philosopher and activist Simone Weil, who famously pored over global religions to ascertain spiritual truths. To Weil, meditation was a passage to access mystical experience, or a bridge between humanity and divinity. In Dora's hands, this idea is a corridor between herself and the listener, a liminal place where she's able to address feelings without making anything explicit. The title, of course, also refers to life, its impermanence, finitude, and fragility, presenting the complex, multi-dimensionality of being through one of the most undiluted, unbridled set of songs imaginable.

Empires rise and fall every day in the human heart, and riding these cycles--stories with no beginning or end, only transformation--churns us through the reckless, ridiculous, rueful, redemptive. A founding member of Lake Street Dive and writer of some of their most enduring songs, Iowa-born and Brooklyn-based Bridget Kearney is known for writing smart, unexpected lyrics and melodies built for a heart-baring dance or an introspective drive. Kearney writes music as if filtered through a camera lens. Her stories, steeped in nostalgia and joy, construct a bittersweet framework around the memories that make us human, and shape who we are. As the absurdity of life abounds, Kearney can hold these fragile snapshots and rolling reruns with evident notes of levity, and compassion for a past self. On her new album Comeback Kid, produced by Dan Molad (Lucius, Buck Meek), there are reminders to cherish the moments that make up the collage of what we see in the mirror, but to also plant our feet firmly in the present, for those are the times that will come to form the future. The tracks hop through time, from the relentless, obsessive romanticization of the past, to unrestrained lust for a different future, all inherit the spirit of resilience needed for any move forward, whether it's to dive back in, walk away, or wrestle with the memory itself. In moments, our Comeback Kid wishes to encase a night in amber to revive it at will, like the old man in Jurassic Park, but ultimately is hip to the bittersweet truth that it will never be the same when you return. Kearney began making Comeback Kid back in 2021, in between her work with Lake Street Dive, and a new position as a songwriting teacher at Princeton University. During the process of Comeback Kid, Kearney took inspiration from her Princeton students, as well as her peers when she embarked on a song-a-day workshop. As she found herself surrounded by the thoughts and processes of others, she was able to pinpoint what it is about songwriting that she truly cherishes: namely, the textures and flourishes that come to form the mood of each creation. Comeback Kid is soaked in vintage synths, Kearney's soughing vocals and delicate-yet-driving percussion that ushers in a bright and serene tenor. "If you're driving, baby I wanna go," she soothes on opener "If You're Driving," welcoming us to the LP with windows down, eyes closed, air rushing through our fingers. It's a celebration of staying in the moment, of saying "yes," even though you know it won't last forever. With references to real psychological games, like Rorschach tests and the phenomenon of Ironic Process Theory, they help build the theme of the mind bending nature of obsession, memory, and perspective. Just like the acrobatic brain games we play in relationships, Kearney plays with language and references, with multiple meanings of "comebacks and coming back," and nods that run the gamut from Samuel Barber's mid-20th century masterpiece Adagio for Strings to Jerry Seinfeld's late-20th century masterpiece Seinfeld. The single "Security Camera" captures the carefree liminal space of reminiscence, as Kearney collects those significant, special moments of a past love. There is no animosity or even sorrow here but rather a warm, propulsive rush of gratitude and awe. "You have these really wonderful, blissful times in your life that are fleeting," she explains. "It's an attempt to keep loving the moments in your past, to carry them with you." These moments are carried with care throughout Comeback Kid, but with an eye on the farcicality of simply existing. Kearney is both sincere and silly, somber yet spirited, expertly gathering the iridescent spectrum of what it means to be alive.

Guests are Jessica Higgins and Matthew Walkerdine of Glasgow, UK, both formerly of the bands Vital Idles and Mordwaffe. They have been closely tied with DIY music, art and publishing for over a decade. Using (amateur) electronics, singing, speaking and field recording they make songs which blend the rhythms of popular music and contemporary approaches to collage, sampling, improvisation and repetition. As inspired by film and art as they are the legacies of twee underground and avant garde experimentalism, their loose, domestically twinged compositions explore feelings, atmospheres and moments which are hard to articulate and the quite literal notion of being a “guest”.

“I wish I was special” is their debut record, and with it a chance taken to explore terrain not previously covered by their other groups. The ideology of DIY practice appears integral to these eleven compositions, side-stepping virtuosity in favour of instinct and impression, unafraid to press unknown buttons and walk head first into mistake, finding inspiration where convention might not otherwise allow one to tread. The results are confoundingly fresh, sharp-of-mind, and unusually intimate. There’s an obvious intelligence at play here, and no little humour of course, but crucially there’s also a sense of the personal, a first-thought/best-thought (auto)didacticism that celebrates shared understanding and implicit trust. What, ultimately, we might view as the fearlessness in radically being yourself around another. It’s an approach that draws some comparison with the private musings of Flaming Tunes, Idea Fire Company’s domestic electronics, or perhaps even Annea Lockwood’s framing of emotional connection within avant garde structures. More so, Guests represent a compelling continuation of DIY post-punk experimentation that values intuition over prowess, and with it guides the listener into unexpected spaces that somehow comfort as much as they challenge.




d Arrangements, as in Making Them [VIDEO]

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

This is The Wreckery album that never was but always should have been!

At the crest of the Australian post punk era, The Wreckery played atmospheric rock with film-noir swagger and renegade attitude, carving a loyal following. Critics quickly positioned them as successors to a darkly exciting avant-garde Melbourne tradition previously marked out by The Birthday Party.

Early recordings for Rampant Records (1985-87) showcased The Wreckery's fusion of swamp blues and noir-jazz, delivered with a deadpan, reckless, and romantic cut (check out the 'Ruling Energy' video!). Creative tensions saw the band implode as they were reaching their peak with the Laying Down Law album (Citadel Records, 1988). Yet another great and dangerous rock 'n' roll band who became a danger to themselves.

35 years later, the new album Fake is Forever delivers on unfulfilled promises, revealing The Wreckery on fire like never before. The DNA is still there – the signature sound of Charles Todd's baritone sax; the scathing lyrics and vocals of Hugo Race; the distorted angular guitars of Clayton-Jones; the eclecticism of multi-instrumentalist Robin Casinader; Nick Barker and former Plays With Marionettes drummer Frank Trobbiani fuse as the solid engine room of this iconic group. All the original edge with a new maturity and control.

The songs still emanate from the deep, dark end of the musical gene pool. The sarcastic, provocative lyrics of 'Smack Me Down', 'Get A Name' and 'Young People'; the musical fury of 'Stole it from Alpha Ray' and 'Evil Eye', the romantic melodrama of 'The Devil in You' and 'Whistle Clean', the deranged rock of 'Dragonfly' and 'Garbage Juice' – The Wreckery's range is as vast as it is ferocious. Whereas the band in the 80's were brash and angry this record finds the band conjuring quiet menace, sensual, intoxicating.

Hugo Race – vocals, guitars, keys

Ed Clayton-Jones - guitar, piano, synth, Mellotron, slide guitar , Solina string synth

Nick Barker – bass guitar and backing vocals

Charles Todd - the saxophones

Robin Casinader - Hammond organ, mellotron, mandolin and violin
Frank Trobbiani - the drums and percussion

Recorded by Andrew 'Idge' Hehir at Soundpark Studios, Melbourne
Mixed by Hugo Race at Helixed
Mastered by Toto Strapporava at 3Faders Studio, Buenos Aires
Published by Peermusic

This is The Wreckery album that never was but always should have been!

At the crest of the Australian post punk era, The Wreckery played atmospheric rock with film-noir swagger and renegade attitude, carving a loyal following. Critics quickly positioned them as successors to a darkly exciting avant-garde Melbourne tradition previously marked out by The Birthday Party.

Early recordings for Rampant Records (1985-87) showcased The Wreckery's fusion of swamp blues and noir-jazz, delivered with a deadpan, reckless, and romantic cut (check out the 'Ruling Energy' video!). Creative tensions saw the band implode as they were reaching their peak with the Laying Down Law album (Citadel Records, 1988). Yet another great and dangerous rock 'n' roll band who became a danger to themselves.

35 years later, the new album Fake is Forever delivers on unfulfilled promises, revealing The Wreckery on fire like never before. The DNA is still there – the signature sound of Charles Todd's baritone sax; the scathing lyrics and vocals of Hugo Race; the distorted angular guitars of Clayton-Jones; the eclecticism of multi-instrumentalist Robin Casinader; Nick Barker and former Plays With Marionettes drummer Frank Trobbiani fuse as the solid engine room of this iconic group. All the original edge with a new maturity and control.

The songs still emanate from the deep, dark end of the musical gene pool. The sarcastic, provocative lyrics of 'Smack Me Down', 'Get A Name' and 'Young People'; the musical fury of 'Stole it from Alpha Ray' and 'Evil Eye', the romantic melodrama of 'The Devil in You' and 'Whistle Clean', the deranged rock of 'Dragonfly' and 'Garbage Juice' – The Wreckery's range is as vast as it is ferocious. Whereas the band in the 80's were brash and angry this record finds the band conjuring quiet menace, sensual, intoxicating.

Hugo Race – vocals, guitars, keys

Ed Clayton-Jones - guitar, piano, synth, Mellotron, slide guitar , Solina string synth

Nick Barker – bass guitar and backing vocals

Charles Todd - the saxophones

Robin Casinader - Hammond organ, mellotron, mandolin and violin
Frank Trobbiani - the drums and percussion

Recorded by Andrew 'Idge' Hehir at Soundpark Studios, Melbourne
Mixed by Hugo Race at Helixed
Mastered by Toto Strapporava at 3Faders Studio, Buenos Aires
Published by Peermusic

One of the most respected British bands in the mid 80's post punk era, Sad Lovers & Giants played highly atmospheric music made of melancholic melodies and epic guitar riffs. An overtly romantic attitude that slowly developed towards an even more open (pop) sound approach. Originally released in 1987 on Midnight records »Mirror Test«, the band's third studio effort, arrived as the fruit of an updated line up and a clear step in such direction. A very harmonious collection of songs, some of which are still recognized among the best in the band's entire catalog.

The eagerly awaited debut album from the London-based four-piece * At the forefront of the new generation of Black British guitar music with Big Joanie and Bob Vylan * Supporting Slowdive on their UK tour in February * Singles playlisted by BBC Radio 6 Music, Spotify and others Whitelands are Etienne, Jagun, Vanessa and Michael and they are ostensibly a shoegaze band ever since Etienne stumbled across Slowdive's KEXP session in his recommended videos on YouTube a few years ago. However, they come at the resurgent, Gen Z-soundtracking genre from a refreshingly different angle thanks to their mishmash of musical backgrounds. There's also the fact that their line-up is fully PoC in what is traditionally seen as a predominantly white genre. "There's an underlying narrative that it's OK for white men to be romantic, sensitive, emotional and make dreamy music and, by contrast, young Black men should be making angry music," says Vanessa. "We've all grown up with these stereotypes and therefore I think people are mystified when they see Whitelands." "I consume a lot of media," says Etienne of his wide range of influences. "Videogames, music, news, paintings, manga, animations and film are my go-to, especially anime. There is this drive to want to understand and feel the whole weight of an expression. So, the songs are based on other songs, pictures, aesthetics, 'vibes', an emotion someone else felt. Fundamentally, you are what you eat." As a result of this diet, the lyrics are stunning, dealing with everything from unbalanced relationships and vulnerability to depression, being diagnosed with ADHD and, on the new single 'Tell Me About It' (featuring vocals by Dottie from the band's Sonic Cathedral labelmates deary), trying to navigate love following that diagnosis. The album is bookended by two poetically political songs - 'Setting Sun' and 'Now Here's The Weather' - that deal with imperialism, racism and performative ignorance. "We've experienced tokenism, micro-behaviours, envy and resentment," concludes Vanessa. "So we feel we have to continually prove ourselves. We know we're making a positive impact, but I want Whitelands to really break some barriers."

Elvis Presley was not only the first but also the greatest star of the rock’n’roll era. His energetic, genre-blurring recordings have retained their appeal for more than half a century, and will do so forever. Elvis has often been criticised for the movies he made, particularly later in his Hollywood career where they became formulaic, and he was often typecast in romantic musical dramas. However, the quality of his music is not in question, and after his 1956 cinematic debut featuring the title song Love Me Tender, Loving You followed in 1957. The latter film featured some great rock’n’roll songs, but most notably the sentimental love song Have I Told You Lately That I Love You? Almost seven decades later, the music of his early years, some of the greatest rock’n’roll love songs ever produced, still stands as his monument.

A Colourful Storm begins 2024 with a luxurious suite of daydreaming introspection courtesy of Unchained, the longstanding solo project of Nathaniel Davis who was last seen on vinyl in the final Blackest Ever Black release. Recorded at home between 2020 and 2023, Gabbeh is the latest expression of Davis's guitar-based instrumental musings and represents a stylistic evolution of his self-released noise tapes and CD-Rs into romantic, bossa nova-influenced melody-making. He wrote the tracks sporadically, with minimal instrumentation and intervention. Electric guitar, bass improvisations and rhythms from an old drum machine are layered and given new life, the space between them softly breathing with minutiae of the everyday: the buzz of cicadas, the passing of cars, the whistling of passersby. The psychogeography of Grenoble, Davis' home since 2018, played a conscious role in the weaving of Gabbeh's fabric: "I think certain songs reflect, in ways, Grenoble's natural surroundings. 'Drac' is named after the river that flows from the mountains down to the city… 'Dru' is the name of a well-known peak near Chamonix". Opener 'Largo' sets the mood, its primitive samba rhythm concealed by a cloud of saudade. The bebop sensibility follows suit, the tension between its angular picks and percussive shuffle a wondrous balancing act, while the intoxicating sway of 'Rambler' is perhaps the most poignant expression of longing and loss we've heard in recent years. Highly recommended for fans of Durutti Column, Maurice Feebank, Toninho Horta.