Archive for the ‘Reviews’ Category

melondruie – Sound of Rain

Posted: 28 June 2026 in Albums, Reviews
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,
0

Cruel Nature Records – 3rd July 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Despite our reputation, it’s not just us Brits who have a weather fixation, and the fact of the matter is, the weather has a baring on our daily lives, perhaps more than many of us even recognise – and that’s without considering the effects of weather events on the likes of transport and food production. On a primal, human level, weather conditions affect our moods, and even our health.

I myself recorded a longform piece, ‘January Can’t Last Forever’ from a bleak place in early 2023, when weeks of rain had caused widespread flooding locally, and a few particularly heavy downpours overwhelmed the guttering at the front of the house. Those weeks, in the darkest days of winter, felt like a lifetime, and it was all I could do to get through it by reminding myself that these things do pass, eventually. April and May of this year saw rain most days, too, although I’m writing this as sweat pours off me at the tail end of the second heatwave of 2026, during which a couple of brief thunderstorms have only contributed to ramping up the already suffocating levels of humidity.

As such, there’s a particular relatability, on a personal level, with the inspiration for melondruie’s Sound of Rain: the Seattleite’s latest work of minimalist ambient electronical was ‘made in the spring of 2025 during various rainy days’. As the liner notes explain, ‘The record frames rain as a calming, almost therapeutic force – masking the noise and tension of human life with a steady, immersive sonic wash’, with ‘a focus on texture, atmosphere, and subtle emotional resonance.’

There’s a certain playfulness about some of the compositions: ‘Washed Away’ bounces and ripples with something of a lightness, and the rhythmic nature of the notes interplay through patterns which shift gradually and with a liquid ease.

Despite the angry and negative connotations of titles like ‘Red Mist’ and ‘Destroyed Again’, the heavier, darker undercurrents of rumbling bass and wraith-like howls which resemble thin, chilling winds are counterbalanced by soft sounds which seem to connote the relief of shafts of light breaking through the cloud cover, or a vague hint of a rainbow. Consequently, and album which could have been rendered relentlessly bleak, gloomy, oppressive, is anything but.

On Sound of Rain, melondruie explores the interplay between gentle textures, with smooth, gliding drones interacting and interpolating with rippling, bubbling layers. ‘Falsehoods’, the final track, expands on this territory with the gush of a torrent to begin, gradually tapering from a current of sweeping tension towards something altogether calmer.

The rhythmic cadences of the pieces give them a sense of movement, of flow, even a kind of groove at times, which draws the listener in and holds the attention in a way which is rare – in my experience – for an ambient work. The conception and execution is inspired, and while the extent to which it evokes rainy days will vary according to one’s own experience and perception, Sound of Rain cannot fail to inspire reflection and contemplation.

AA

cover

Papillon De Nuit / The Tengu Taiko Drummers – The National Centre for Early Music, York, 26 June 2026

Posted: 27 June 2026 in Live, Reviews
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
0

Christopher Nosnibor

Stephen Kennedy has an outstanding sense of occasion. Having put on grand candlelight shows under the Gothic Moth banner in the Cemetery Chapel in York, there was no way the album launch for his latest project, Papillon De Nuit, was going to be some pub gig with a couple of local rock bands supporting. And so here we are in The National Centre for Early Music, a converted church with a high, twin-vaulted ceiling. It’s an appropriate setting in which to mark the release of Musetta, an ambitious album a year in the making involving a considerable number of collaborators. This also marks their first live performance, and features a necessarily expansive lineup, featuring ‘cello, piano, guitars, drums and percussion, soprano, orators and vocalist’.

It also happens to coincide with the hottest June day in history – the third consecutive record-breaker, no less, so it’s a relief to be seated and in an old church rather than standing in a sweaty bar – much as I love sweaty bars, the humidity of later has been such that we’d have had people passing out left, right, and centre in such a setting. It’s still plenty warm enough, thank you.

The doors open later than advertised, and seeing the amount of gear on stage – and the sheer size of those drums – it’s hardly surprising. Most bands travel by transit van, or even car. The Tengu Taiko Drummers have a removal van parked outside. Once we’re all in, the lights go down, and there is a hush of expectation. And we wait. It’s a good three suspenseful minutes before the ominous drone and trilling pipes begin to creep from the PA and finally, the drummers begin to appear. No wonder they’re starting behind time: the setup for The Tengu Taiko Drummers is mind-blowing. They filter onto the stage in masks and present a piece which offers a narrative alongside the striking visuals and the sonic impact of the barrage of percussion. The logistics of some eight musicians packed onto the stage, bounding and leaping and switching positions, plus changing the configuration of the numerous and large drums between pieces would be challenging any night, but with the heat and humidity it’s little short of an heroic feat. It’s an extremely physical performance, and the players aren’t so much glowing as aflame only halfway through. It’s clearly a battle for breath, but they power through to deliver a spectacular show.

DSC01846DSC01869DSC01857

The Tengu Taiko Drummers

Thank dog there’s a bar with some refrigerated beers: the interval affords a vital opportunity to replenish some fluids before Papillon Du Nuit make their highly anticipated stage debut. And they don’t disappoint. The plan, on paper, is simple: to play the album. But to bring a studio-based project to a live setting is a huge leap, and often, what works on tape doesn’t work so well live. But here, it all works spectacularly, and they sound as if they’ve been rehearsing for months – although the fact of the matter is quite different. Indeed, the fact is they’ve only rehearsed a couple of times, so it’s testament to the musical intuition and the high level of skill of the players that they come together so well. The sound, too, is fantastic. Clearly, the venue is set up for musical performances, but the sound engineer achieves magnificent clarity and separation between the instruments.

They open the set as the album begins, with the brooding ‘Jude’, Kennedy whispering ‘Is it dark or am I blind?’ ‘The Pilgrim’s Arc’ sees the drums leading the mix for the first time, paired chunky five-string bass break from Dominique, and showcasing them at their most expansive and ambitious, with its dual vocals, whereby Karen Amanda O’Brien’s voice provides a counterpoint to Shephen’s on this this sweeping epic of a song.

DSC01876DSC01890DSC01877

Pappilon du Nuit

Images of tombstones and lyrical themes of mortality and loss abound, and these are songs rich in poeticism and steeped in the most beautiful melancholy. ‘I’m in your head / so I’m not dead,’ Kennedy sings on ‘Sister, dear’, and it’s as if he’s speaking from the other side in the future tense. The effect is intensely moving, balancing the darkness of the inevitable with a rare positivity, without ever being cliché. In contrast with the reflective atmosphere, Kennedy is sporting – in addition to his trademark hat – some pretty bold trews, the black and white striped spandex giving more glam metal vibes than soul-bearing introspective gothic drama.

‘Amber’ is sparse and atmospheric, and with its marching boots introduction, its dark, gothy bass and snaking guitar, ‘Frozen Charlotte’ is a real highlight of the set, as it is on the album. It’s sweeping, majestic, grand, the sound crisp and clear and nailed tightly to some tense, metronomic drumming. Mika Rudawska’s brooding cello stands out in shaping its haunting atmosphere.

DSC01885DSC01913DSC01918

Bringing the The Tengu Taiko Drummers back for a collaborative rendition of ‘Ariadne’ makes for an incredible finale: Kennedy vacates the stage to stand in front as soprano vocalist Megan Richardson takes centre position, and he enthusiastically conducts this monumental performance.

Combining an album launch with a debut live outing was an ambitious project, to say the least – but it befits such an ambitious musical project – and not only did it not disappoint, but exceeded even the highest expectations. Nothing short of stunning.

Conflux Coldwell – Echolalia

Posted: 25 June 2026 in Albums, Reviews
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,
0

Bulletdodge – 26th June 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Since first presenting work under the Conflux Coldwell moniker in 2013, Leeds-based sound architect and explorer Michael C Coldwell has used this particular vehicle to venture forth through different environments of an external nature, often with field recordings providing an integral element. As such, while maintaining a focus on aspects of hauntology, Echolalia marks something departure in terms of its inspirations and themes, primarily in just how personal it is, particularly in comparison to his previous offering, Shadows and Simulacra which dug deep into the dark domains of AI and the absence of any human soul therein. This time, the explorations are focused very much on interior environments.

As the accompanying notes explain, ‘Echolalia explores the notion of internal “ghosts” — the lingering traces that inhabit the mind. Sparked by his daughter’s autism diagnosis earlier this year, and his sister’s AuDHD diagnosis the year before, Coldwell was prompted to reflect on his own neurodivergence. The result is a deeply personal and introspective work that interrogates how these experiences have shaped his creative process, his unique perception of the world, and his enduring fascination with machines and hauntology’.

Something I’ve noticed, quite acutely, in the last few years, is just how many people I know – particularly on social media, where I’ve evolved a substantial network of creatives in all types of media – are receiving diagnoses of autism, ADHD, and various other neurodivergences in adulthood. Many are in the fifty-plus demographic. And so many of them relay that so much makes sense with this information. It isn’t, then, that there’s more autism, more neurodivergence, but simply that we have finally got better at diagnosing it. There remains, however, some way to go in terms of accommodating it. But this observation has set me thinking of late, that, given the way creatively-minded individuals gravitate toward one another – taking my virtual social circle as an example – perhaps neurodiversity is directly correspondent with creativity? I’m merely touching the edge of a discussion here, nudging an idea out into world… but artists are renowned for being misfits, a bit weird, prone to many of the traits associated with neurodivergence, and it may explain why some people – neurotypical ones – are content with working the nine to five, watching some TV and then going to bed at 10pm, while the creatives can’t settle and feel unfulfilled, and are instead compelled to stay up till the small hours doing stuff.

The ten pieces on Echolalia are tense, intense, and hit the listener from all angles simultaneously. And in doing so, Coldwell not only captures, but replicates that sense of overstimulation, of excessive input.

‘Complex Machines’ arrives in a fizz and crackle of distortion, wibbling synths and a sampled voiceover from what sounds like an educational or instructive film about the use of computers in school, before disembodied voices drift over some ominous drones. The number 23 emerges from the reverberating haze. It has the hallmarks of being from the soundtrack to a sci-fi technodystopia, but the fact of the matter is that this is where we are. Our education system is in crisis, and kids are increasingly suffering from an ever-diminishing attention span on account of the ubiquitous bombardment of myriad media. This is magnified significantly for those with ADHD and AuDHD, whose brains are already crammed and overcrowded, who find simply existing in the world an overwhelming experience.

‘Homeworld’ may or may not be a reference to Harry Harrisons’s 1980 novel, the first instalment of the To the Stars trilogy, but skittery synths and muttery vocal loops combine to create a tension that isn’t resolved by the end of the piece, which instead gives way to the crackling static and stammering electronic primitivism of ‘Pattern Glare’, with its aural allusions to Throbbing Gristle and Suicide, and also its near-infinite reverb. It’s eerie, unsettling, and it makes you feel nervous. Well, it makes me feel nervous, anyway.

It’s true that I feel nervous often, but something about Echolalia is truly nail-biting. ‘Dysthtythmia’ – a condition which covers a broad spectrum of irregular heartbeats – returns to lifted segments of speech to round off the first side of physical release, and as neat as this feels in terms of closing a loop, it equally feels like revisiting a trigger point.

The second half of the album is yet harder to process, a collage of synths and voices layering ever faster and ever deeper and ever more complex in their combination, the flickering shimmer of ‘Five Wing Four’ being exemplary. There is simply too much to take I in at once, and Coldwell knows this, because this is the soundtrack to assimilation and processing. ‘Left hand, right eye…’ My wife used to get so angry when driving: it was my job to navigate and I would forever confuse left and right. Having a PhD in English bears no relation to my suffering LRC (Left–right confusion) which apparently affects nearly 10% of the male population. But what it does go to show is that brains are strange and unpredictable. And ‘strange and unpredictable’ is ultimately a fair summary of Echolalia, too.

AA

Conflux Coldwell 2026

Puce Moment – O.R.G.II

Posted: 24 June 2026 in Albums, Reviews
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,
0

Odd Doo – 12th June 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

There is something uniquely compelling about the sound of a pipe organ. I’m clearly not alone in this, as there have been many non-religious works which have explored the use of the instrument, ranging from ribcage-rattling drone to the tired groaning wheeze of dilapidated organs in dire need of restoration. Because organs tend to be installed – often designed and built specifically to work with the acoustics of the space – they can’t readily be transported elsewhere, and equally, they each have their own individual sounds, however nuanced the differences may be to the average ear.

After four subsequent albums, O.R.G.II finds Puce Moment – the musical and visual project of Nico Devos and Pénélope Michel, whose choice of name references a short film from 1949 – revisit the inspirations for their 2019 album O.R.G. It was recorded at Saint Joseph Church Armentières, France – a truly remarkable building, with, it would appear, a quite spectacular pipe organ.

They describe the album as ‘an immersive musical work that brings the traditional pipe organ into dialogue with electronic and drone compositions, unfolding within a liminal soundscape — a space of transition and encounter orchestrated by Puce Moment’.

And so it is that they present five compositions constructed around quivering, slow-moving drones which are tonally rich, warm and organic. And immersive they are, indeed. The album begins with the ten-and-a-half-minute ‘Simoon’, which was aired with an accompanying video last month. It’s incredibly textured and nuanced, but to extract those textures and nuances requires a degree of attention. In our overloading, hyperaccelerated, technologically-driven times, where the average attention span is barely three seconds, the idea of sitting down and paying attention to prolonged hums might sound untenable, but the fact is that spending time with the lights down, or off, and the phone in another room while simply feeling the textures, the subtle interplay between the layers and waves is nothing short of a revelation.

The individual pieces melt together – which seems appropriate, given that I’m writing this in the middle of a punishing heatwave, and I feel as if my entire body is slowly melting. ‘Pavna’ pulsates in a way which resonates with my own palpating internal organs… and as if in protest, my laptop crashes and I lose three hundred words of my review in progress. But I’m too sapped to panic, and perhaps more pertinently, I’m feeling too zen thanks to the soporific nature of the cinematic dronescape in which I find myself.

The nine-and-a-half-minute ‘Ruach’ rumbles almost subliminally at first, before transitioning into a rippling wave reminiscent of a combination of Kraftwerk and Tangerine Dream, a trilling waltz with a distinctly retro feel, which bleeds into the fourteen-and-a-half-minute ‘Ilma’, a piece which truly encapsulates the layering and detail of the album.

AA

Puce Moment1_©Puce Moment(1)

The Pixel Rain – Last

Posted: 23 June 2026 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,
0

18th June 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

‘Death is following us’, Áron Siegler warns at the start of, and throughout ‘Last’, the new single from Southeast London act The Pixel Rain. Hungarian-born songwriter and project founder Siegler has spent the last three years evolving a sound which draws on industrial rock, post punk, synth-pop and electronic music, and now, in the run-up to the release of the debut album, A Sense of Danger, set for a September release, they serve up a tune that pitches the guitar up in the mix.

Of the song, Siegler says, “‘Last’ was born from my scorn for modern-day authority figures as I was picturing a world that these kinds of people are gonna leave behind. The song has a specific meaning for me as a Hungarian person but I always try to write lyrics universally, encouraging the audience to find their own stories in my songs”.

The timing of the release couldn’t be better, landing just a few short days before the resignation of UK Prime Minister Sir Kier Starmer, after less than two years in the position. The media – online, in print, and on TV – is frothing with speculation, of course, while much is also being made of his legacy. It’s remarkable how a leader so insipid could be so divisive – but certainly, under his leadership, the government has done no favours to the trans community, migrants, or those with disabilities, or civil liberties in general, particularly when it comes to protesting the genocide in Gaza, which he still maintains is simply Israel defending itself. What kind of world is he leaving behind? What of his predecessors, and what – just what? – of Trump?

Death is indeed following us – and it’s stalking us digitally, through social media, through AI. One might be forgiven for feeling paranoid.

The production of ‘Last’ forges a sonic density which encapsulates that inescapable tension. The band cite The Jesus and Mary Chain and The Horrors as sonic inspirations in addition to their usual electronic touchstones, and it may allude vaguely to Automatic in form, but I’d say it lands more in the domain of Interpol intersecting with Depeche Mode – although that’s by no means a bad thing. The guitars are mixed quite smooth and soaring, and the song is imbued with an anthemic feel, while propelled by an insistent beat, and the chorus is prominent and dominant. If the rest of the album matches this standard of songwriting, it’s destined for success.

AA

The Pixel Rain (Áron Siegler) by Evelina Klimova (Landscape 02) web

Áron Siegler by Evelina Kloimova

That Hidden Promise – Lifeform

Posted: 22 June 2026 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,
0

5th June 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

There’s a lot of music out there now. Eighteen months ago, it circulated in the news that there is now more music released daily than there was during the entirety of 1989. The research was conducted by MiDiA Research, and while I’ve not delved enough to uncover precisely how they reached the comparative volumes – there were DIY vinyl and cassette releases happening in 1989, and, while by no means commonplace, CD-R arrived on the market around 1988, arguably representing a significant step in the journey towards artists taking hold of the means of production for their work. Granted, these things are small-scale releases, but then so are the majority of those being released now: the point of the report is that artists no longer need management or a label or any of the more historical industry mechanisms to release their music, and now they have the potential for global reach.

‘It’s Breaking the Industry!’ was how Headphonesty reported the news. Well, fuck the industry. The industry are the main reason artists choose the DIY route – and not necessarily because they can’t get signed, but because they don’t want their production and sound and release schedule to be dictated, or to be bottom of the pile when it comes to the cut of the earnings from their work. ‘The Industry’ has changed, but while Spotify et al have been major players in terms of direct-to-platform releases by artists, they’re still very much industry in the sense that the last ones to get paid in their colossal operation are those who create the content.

Swerving the art vs content issue so soon after only last night’s piece, I would say out concern and sympathy should be with the artists and the listeners. Listeners are simply swamped, and artists risk sinking in an ocean of noise without reaching a fraction of the audience they deserve. And the algorithms do not help, which is why I personally take recommendations from people I know and trust, be they friends or trusted PR folks. Even then, there’s some sifting involved, and what’s more, it’s so easy to feel overwhelmed, or to simply switch off and let all this music congeal into a sonic wallpaper that provides a backdrop while you’re doomscrolling social media and news sites, wondering if the world will end tomorrow, or piling shit you don’t need into your basket on Amazon.

But sometimes, something will leap out from the hum and make you prick up your ears. And ‘Lifeform’ is one of those songs.

It’s That Hidden Promise’s first release in three years. The subject matter is weighty – and relatable – enough, an exposition of how we’re all part of the machine, cogs in the wheels of capitalism, with not just every hour of your waking life controlled by work (or the punitive benefits system if you don’t have work for whatever reason, including disability) but even how your waking / sleep patterns are not a matter of choice. Think that’s an exaggeration? How many times have you heard ‘I can’t come out tonight / stay out late because I’ve got work in the morning’? That is nothing short of total control, and the first verse is on point:

You’re not seeing, or thinking, just doing,

As a lifeform

Taking orders, cos that’s what you do,

Just a lifeform

Getting drained by the lies of the state,

Good little lifeform

Pushed around like atoms in the Hydron,

Cos you’ve just got to do what the system dictates

But what made me prick up my ears initially with ‘Lifeform’ was the delivery. It’s got a very strong 80s vibe, but it’s crossed with an early 90s indie feel – bright, choppy guitars and crisp drum machine dominate the mix, and the guitars layer up with some busy lead work. In places I’m reminded of Carter USM, but there’s more swagger and more groove, and the energy here is kinda sneery without being Oasis, with maybe more a feel of the early days of The Cooper Temple Clause. It’s also motorik, insistent, and catchy. And it’s 100% DIY.

This recommendation was brought to you not by an algorithm, but by a real living person who sifts through dozens of releases a day. No need to thank me…

AA

That Hidden Promise Promo1

Gravity Machine – Ally The Truth

Posted: 21 June 2026 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
1

18th June 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

The other day, my daughter came home from school complaining – not for the first time – about her English class, in which she’d been given ten minutes to come up with an idea for a story, and to plan the opening two paragraphs, and then perhaps another twenty to write the aforementioned paragraphs. She makes the same complaint about art and music lessons. “They expect us to write a song, with chords and a melody in fifteen minutes,” she moans. “Doing creative stuff just doesn’t work like that, Dad. How do they not know this?” She’s absolutely right. This is essentially where the distinction lies between making content and creating art, and artists all have different methods and work at different rates, often even between different projects. Sometimes, the thing just flows and – boom! It’s there. Other times, however, something just doesn’t quite click, and all the fiddling in the world doesn’t do it.

Ally The Truth, the new single from Devon-based alternative rock band Gravity Machine is, as they put it, ‘a track with a long gestation’. In fact, it began life in 2020, the same year they released their debut album, Red. There have been a few single releases since then, but it’s only now that they finally unveil this ‘epic tale of a relationship moving from curiosity to joining to fighting to resolution before finally hitting the universal truth of love and connection.’ That’s clearly the description of a work of art rather than mere content, and so it is that ‘Ally the Truth’ is epic in every sense, and not only in terms of its seven-minute duration.

It builds from an elongated drone with clattering drums reverberating in the distance, with a value lick of New Age vibes creeping around the edges before, suddenly, the song itself bursts in from nowhere, and we find ourselves in the midst of a sweeping amalgamation of alt-rock, psychedelia, and folk – a bit All About Eve, but also (yes, this is a bit of an obscure one, even for fans of 90s alt rock) a bit Eight Story Window (which is one way of saying, you should probably explore their album, too). It’s airy, atmospheric… and there are layers, and layers, and stages and stages – and with each segment, they step things up, until just a couple of minutes in, we’re being spun through a sandstorm of kaleidoscopic rock, before, later – much later – we find ourselves being escorted, gently, back down from the summit of the crescendo on a rippling piano and a chorus of voices. Such is the drama and dynamic of the song that it’s easy to lose the thread of the narrative – which means that you just have to go back and explore it all again. What a chore!

It’s not hard to grasp why this song took so long to reach its final version: ambitious would be an understatement. It’s compelling, immersive, atmospheric, exciting, and there is just so much happening. And all of it’s good.

AA

LandscapePhoto_Credit_Adriana Banari

Photo: Adriana Banari

A Void / Mango in Euphoria / Hitlist – Wharf Chambers, Leeds, 19th June 2026

Posted: 21 June 2026 in Live, Reviews
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,
0

Christopher Nosnibor

The phrase ‘local band’ still carries negative connotations, despite the fact that practically every band is local to somewhere. Of course, the main criticism when it comes to the application of the term ‘local’ is the implicit issue of their failure to travel further afield to grow their audience. Historically, it carried with it the notion that the band weren’t good enough to get gigs elsewhere. Concurrent with, and somewhat contradictory to, this – and I suppose we’re largely going back to the music press of the 80s and 90s – was the London-centric nature of coverage of live music. Occasionally bands from, say, Manchester, Sheffield, or Leeds would get a rare look-in, but it’s not hard to see why bands who wanted to ‘make it’ would move to London. The north was perceived as quaint, parochial, and peripheral, and largely of less consequence.

It’s quite the paradox that many bands could cultivate a career without ever travelling outside the M25. No-one ever beefed that bands who never, or rarely, played outside London were just ‘local’ bands. Then again, to an extent, it’s a question of scale. It’s possible to play in London four times in a week and still not reach all of the potential fanbase. The same can’t be said of somewhere like, say, Lincoln, or Stoke, or even Nottingham. In this context, it’s understandable why smaller London-based bands don’t feel the need to travel further afield much or often, particularly in the current economic climate, when the cost of fuel alone is likely to outstrip the proceeds of door takings and merch sales, without considering sustenance and accommodation.

As such, we’re incredibly privileged to receive two – two – London-based, French-derived bands hitting Leeds together. Both have been on my wishlist for a while, having followed both online for some years now. The last time A Void played Leeds was 2021, and although they ventured north to play York earlier this year, following the departure of the latest in their ‘rotating cast’ of drummers, they played an acoustic set, and superb as it was, it wasn’t the full-throttle grunge blast I’d spent so long yearning for. And now co-founding bassist Aaron Hartmann has departed (as in left, not died), meaning they’re showcasing a brand new – ‘temporary’ – lineup. Which feels a bit harsh, but we’ll come to all of this presently.

First up, and early doors, Hitlist deliver punchy punky alt-rock songs with solid choruses and strong hooks – and some flamboyant slap bass breaks. They have some really nice melodic guitar parts woven into the songs, and play with confidence. Their set is well-considered, and they get harder and faster towards the end. The drummer moans loudly between songs, as if he’s in serious pain or perturbation. It is absolutely fucking boiling mind. And it only gets hotter as the night progresses.

DSC01647DSC01630

Hitlist

Mango in Euphoria are pure class from the very start, and they’re straight in with some big glammy grooves. The new, all-female five-piece lineup is sounding fantastic (the high tom being louder than the rest of the drums notwithstanding, but that’s pedantry on my part) – tight, together, with a bright, metallic guitar sound and the synths adding no small dynamic variation. They’re also fully committed to the image, too – none more so than Mango herself in her strikingly slinky getup, and nothing you may have seen in terms of footage on the Internet fully conveys the wild force of nature she is on stage. Throwing poses galore and chucking herself about all over, you’d think this was a 1,500 capacity arena rather than a 150-capacity indie venue with a worryingly bouncy stage. It’s quite the show, alright.

‘5th Year’ is a straight up power ballad. The set flies in the blink of an eye. ‘Lovestruck’ lands as the penultimate song, and it’s epic – the atmospherics and sultry beats of the studio version switched up to chunky, rockin’ dark pop beast before they close with ‘Hollywood’, and they slay it.

DSC01734DSC01702DSC01670

Mango in Euphoria

A Void power in with a swift one-two of ‘One of a Kind’ and ‘Sick as a Dog’ from their last album, Dissociated. Next up, the first of the new songs is particularly hard and driving, reminiscent in parts of Solar Race, only with some straight up metal riffery. It’s apparent just how much the songwriting – and musical capabilities – of the band have evolved since 2018’s Awkward and Devastated. New drummer Mave is a hard hitter, while bassist Lauren lunges towards the crowd and plays with total commitment. And the rapport and banter between the three is a joy. There’s also some remarkably candid chat, and we learn that the album-in-progress since 2023 has been recorded no fewer than three times due to lineup changes whereby new members have brought something different to the songs.

DSC01767

DSC01825DSC01834

A Void

They’re all absolutely melting up there, and Camille laments her choice of a velour tracksuit-type getup which is likely the clothing equivalent of a portable sauna. Because this is A Void, there are elements of chaos throughout – Camille upends her pedal board several times, and the drum kit and stool require constant adjustment, and there’s always a sense that anything could happen at any moment. But they manage to keep it together to the end, closing an hour-long set with a boisterous rendition of ‘Stepping on Snails’, and in typical form, Camille celebrates by lying on her back and waving her legs in the air. I’d have responded in kind if I wasn’t encumbered by a pint and a camera and being of an age where I’d likely struggle to get up again. That said, the number of older blokes in the room – I’m talking 60+, rather than 50+ – is somewhat strange, but bands don’t choose their audiences, and there are also a lot of women under thirty here, too. But I digress as my brain slowly melts and I find myself transitioning to a liquid form… this was one of those crazy, sticky, intense summer gigs that stand out, and those of us who were there will be telling people about it in years to come.

Noir Addiction – Money For The Honey

Posted: 20 June 2026 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
Tags: , , , , , , , ,
0

19th June 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

If you couldn’t guess by the name, one look at these guys and you know that there’s some industrial action in the mix. This Italian trio describe themselves as ‘dark alt. rock’ and as blending ‘alternative rock, darkwave and industrial influences with a strong focus on songcraft and melody’. And as the tiles of previous releases, which include ‘Decadent Desire’ and ‘Lust of the Flesh’, they have something of a penchant for the seamy and the lascivious.

A year on from their debut single, ‘Chemical Bride’, they serve up single number six.

Front man Sonny Lanegan explains that “‘Money for the Honey’ is about the things we chase when we know they probably won’t give us what we’re looking for. There’s desire in it, there’s attraction, but there’s also that feeling of searching for something more. The song plays with those contradictions and leaves room for people to find their own meaning in it… The phrase ‘Love me for the money, taste me for the honey’ became a kind of centerpiece for the song. It’s playful on the surface, but it also hints at the different reasons people connect with each other and the expectations we bring into relationships.”

There’s a strange interconnection in western culture with sex and money, and the notion that an abundance of the former has an allure and appeal that begets an abundance of the latter seemingly isn’t entirely without foundation. It’s a fucked-up world, but that’s capitalism for ya. Then there’s the sex and death equation… And Noir Addiction bask and revel in all of this, and never more so with the sleaze-grind industrial-tinged glam-groove of ‘Money For The Honey’. In some respects, it calls to mind latter day PIG, in its combining of pulsating synths, thumping beats and an unashamedly big chorus – all of which is a strong positive – and delivered with the swagger of Depeche Mode at their most overtly stadium.

The dark is very much the undercurrent rather than the main focus, instead pushing up the hookline ‘All I wanna do is make you think that I could kill it’. Well, they’re certainly killing it here.

AA

Photo_by_Valerio_Fanelli_03

Photo by Valerio Fanelli

Picastro – Double On Time

Posted: 18 June 2026 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
Tags: , , , , , , ,
0

12th June 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Picastro may not have the swiftest workrate – it’s been three years since their last release, the single ‘Earthseed’ / ‘Tacitus’ and four and a half since their EP of cover versions, I’ve Never Met a Stranger. But they’ve maintained a steady flow for the best part of three decades now, evolving through manifold permutations and carving time out for creative endeavours among the usual obstacles which face most adults, including, but no limited to, day-jobs and simply life itself.

At their (slow) core has always been Liz Hysen, vocalist, composer, and multi-instrumentalist, and this time around she’s joined by longstanding contributor Tim Condon (synth, acoustic guitar, electric guitar, bass, harmonium, piano) and Alex Fournier (double bass). Together, they’ve created a set of songs which – recorded primarily in their homes – conjures a weirdy, warping, lo-fi ethereality. ‘Fell the Family Tree’, centred around a stuttering discordant piano loop, laced with tremulous strings, is stark and revels in the perversely awkward nature of the way in which the elements rub against one another. ‘Remember who you are my son,’ Hysen croons, her meandering vocal swerving around a melody rather than holding one, in a way that’s haunting, the way sing-song tunes sung off-key in thrillers and horror movies are employed as a way of alluding to emotional disturbance, or being psychologically unsettled. I’m not actually sure it happens so much in real life, but the effect is unnerving.

‘Chance Striker’ is droney and foggy, and drags a deep weight, low and slow, and in this context, the skipping lightness of ‘Ring Description’, which clocks in at exactly just two minutes sounds and feels like a different band entirely. With a soaring vocal delivery which has a certain jazziness to it, the pulsing keyboards almost lean into a kind of groove. To describe it as ‘fun’ might be a bit of a stretch, but these things are relative, and it happens to land bang in the middle of an EP that, while moving, emotionally powerful, and inventive, is by no means designed with entertainment in mind.

Pairing acoustic guitar with strings and extraneous clanking and noise, ‘Move Fast, Break’ is a mournful folk song at its heart – but it’s a challenging listen, and not only because all the elements appear to be battling against one another to play different tunes. Hysen sounds emotionally hollowed out, before dragging herself through the moody piano murk of ‘Believer End’ with a tense, breathy performance.

Nothing about Double On Time is comfortable or easy: it leaves you feeling somewhat stricken – somewhat lost for words, and short on breath. It may be superficially simple in its instrumental arrangements, but the extent to which Picastro explore dissonant tunings and atonality is affecting. It feels wrong. And it’s this wrongness which is very much its strength, in that is hauls the listener from whatever comfort zone they might be lounging in, and into a space that forces them to look directly at scenes they might find hard to process. In doing so, Picastro give us true art.

AA

a0485695570_10

Older Entries