Archive for the ‘Reviews’ Category

Flowers for Sophie: Doberwoman / Tiny Forehead / Courtesan / Machiner / Social Youth Cult / Westenra – The Fulford Arms, York, 15th August 2026

Posted: 16 August 2026 in Previews and Editorial, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Well, this certainly wasn’t the introduction I’d been plotting previously. And it’s almost certainly not the review anyone was expecting – least of all myself. But I started Aural Aggravation specifically to create a platform for more in-depth, essay-like pieces which ventured into topics around the music, rather than simply giving cut-and-dried star-rating reviews in a hundred and fifty words or fewer. Bucking the trend? That was essentially the point. And so here we are.

I’d had a great time. I’d seen some outstanding live music, and spent time with friends and acquaintances – and perfect strangers, and short dark ones – united in an appreciation of music and (sub)culture. I was walking home over the bridge less than ten minutes from my house – a busy spot at any time, even at night – in what’s generally considered the ‘nice’ end of York, holding a black plastic rose I’d been handed towards the end of the night, when suddenly my ear prick up: “carrying a rose an’ shit… is it an ‘ee?” Then, incredulously, “Yeah, it’s an ‘ee,”. A couple of drunk blokes are rasping loudly between themselves as they sit on the bridge in the dark. Yes, I’m an ‘ee. A fifty-year-old ‘ee, white, bald, and wearing a battered Stetson, just minding my own business. And yet, for some reason, they found it necessary to comment. Why?

In my head, I’m whispering ‘cunts, cunts, cunts’ to myself, but strangely enough, never once in all of my fifty years have I felt the need to pass comment, and certainly not to shout out some shit, at a random stranger. And yet, since the age of fifteen, when I ‘turned goth’, I’ve been subjected to street heckles – or, let’s call it what it is – verbal abuse by strangers for simply walking down the street. A lot of it comes in the form of unintelligible yells from passing white vans. The first I distinctly remember – perhaps being one of the first instances – was some bloke yelling out of a van, “St. John’s is that way!” I used to live just outside Lincoln, close to St John’s Hospital, which was at one time the largest mental institution in the country, before the Conservatives introduced ‘care in the community’ (a topic which is an essay in itself). I get a lot of people doing Michael Jackson impressions at me – because, y’know, he was a bald white bloke who wore a Stetson… ohhh. Of course. A hat and shades. I must be Michal fucking Jackson. Easy mistake to make.

But here are two things I feel I must note. The first is, that apart from the time some drunk female racegoers passed me making stage whispers of “It’s Pitbull!” (I wasn’t wearing my hat, and being a bald bloke in shades, hey, it must be Pitbull, because there are no other bald guys in shades in the summer), it’s always – ALWAYS – men. The second its that I simply cannot grasp the way people are seemingly incapable of having a thought without verbalising it, and at volume, even if not with the intention of intimidation or harassment. But seemingly the Catchphrase hook of ‘say what you see’ is a rule to live by for far too many boneheads.

Doberwoman, tonight’s first act, summarises this shit most succinctly, when she observes that prejudice is the product of fear (and perhaps self-hatred). Racism stems first and foremost from a fear which comes from a lack of understanding of other cultures. The most rabid homophobes seem to be mostly afraid of their own homosexual tendencies (take a moment to reflect on Andrew Tate’s absurd assertion that any man who sleeps with women is gay), and it’s clear that people who feel compelled to harass anyone who’s even vaguely alternative are likely scared because they simply can’t comprehend anything that isn’t their own tiny mainstream sphere, but more than that, they’re afraid because they see either an element of themselves, or the potential for them to become that thing, of crossing into that otherness.

Doberwoman, incidentally, is great, getting things going early doors (really early, as in 4pm early) with an energetic and entertaining set of lo-fi electropop with some strong feminist messaging. In a nutshell, she’s a one-woman Soft Cell. The vocals being up in the mix allows her powerful lyrics to be heard with clarity.

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Doberwoman

The strong messaging is a leading reason why we’re here, and it’s worth taking a moment to reflect on this, particularly in context of the experience I recounted of my walk home. I would say it didn’t bother me, since I’m largely immune to it after thirty-five years of it, and the grief I get is fairly low-level in the scheme of things. But of course, whatever my level of immunity, I did bother me. The guys griefing me will have forgotten they even saw me two minutes later. This isn’t about me, but then, in a way, it is. The Sophie Lancaster Foundation exists to educate on the importance of inclusivity, to stimulate conversations about prejudice, and to celebrate difference, and tonight’s event is a fundraiser for the foundation, which was founded after Sophie and her boyfriend were attacked by a gang of five boys in a park in 2007. Sophie lost her life as the result of this attack. The provocation? She dressed alternatively. Although Sophie was labelled a ‘goth’ by the media, this feels both misrepresentative, and reductive (and again, that’s probably another essay), but the thing I will say on this matter is that the goth subculture may have its fair share of posers and musical gatekeepers, but the general ethos of this broad subculture is to live and let live. You won’t find goths knifing one another or brawling in the streets – or at gigs.

Following Doberwoman is Tiny Forehead. Their set could be summarised as ‘started weird, and then the guitarist removed his leg’. They’re a Nottingham six-piece who are visually discombobulating. None of them look like they belong to the same band, and the front man is wearing a chequered full-face balaclava he can’t see out of, which means he has some struggles with the mic stand. And the lack of a face is something I find quite disconcerting – it’s mostly surreal, but also taps into something deeper and more fearful. But he disarms those fears with some affable banter and some spectacularly awful jokes, which he hoots away to, and meanwhile, they serve up some solid 80s alternative rock, and the dual vocals work an absolute treat. They’re by absolutely no means goth in the conventional sense, but they have some songs about vampires, and their entire vibe is very much a celebration of non-norminess. They bring some tidy grooves, too. ‘Keep Dialling’ is a bit All About Eve, only with some trancy synths spun into the mix, while ‘Pogos Wood’ is more uptempo dream pop, and it’s during this that the guitarist removes his artificial leg and hops around at the finale. Zany, unpredictable, and with some solid tunes, they’re a lot of fun.

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Courtesan are the first truly goth-sounding act of the night: their second song sounds very like Skeletal Family’s ‘She Cries Alone’ in the guitar parts in the verse, and this is very much the space they occupy musically – northern goth circa 83/4. The third song is called Incubus Succubus, introduced as a song about ‘ghosts that shag’. Ignore the backwards baseball caps on the drummer and the bassist (who looks a bit like Fred Durst): these guys are proper early goth. New song ‘Sister Crow’ has heavy hints of mid-80s Damned. They close with a cover of Nancy Boy. It’s a bit stodgy, but goes down a storm, and deservedly so.

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Courtesan

This show is well-timed for Machiner, who released their album just over a week ago. The last time I saw them, we were sharing a bill in a cemetery chapel in York, and while tonight’s venue may be less dramatic, their brand of sweeping shoegaze is no less captivating. The drum machine is a little quiet to begin with, as is singer Paul’s guitar, but the mix is soon sorted, and they’re in the zone. The melancholic ‘The Sound of Disappearing’ lands mid-set, which is a heady blend of neo-prog and post rock, with hints of Oceansize, and Vessels but with a vocals. The slow-burning album opener, ‘Silent Running’ arrives as the penultimate song of the set, where dripping synths and layered guitar drift together. They definitely won themselves some new fans tonight.

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Machiner

It’s here that my notes start getting briefer; we’re four bands and four pints in, and it’s getting warm. But more than this, Social Youth Cult are nothing short of mind-blowing, and I find I’m completely gripped. The singer channels Peter Murphy and Ian Curtis in equal measures. Wearing high-waisted boot-cut jeans and a brocade shirt, he’s as white as a sheet and thin as a lath. He’s got the looks and the moves as well as the voice. And hell, yes, he’s got the voice, with all the brooding, the drama, the dynamics. He brings the theatrical, art rock style, and he absolutely fucking owns it. Peter Hook style basslines boom out atop soaring guitar parts, which often switch to a more scratchy, textural approach. At the back, there’s a minimal kit, from which emanates heavy, tom-led drumming. ‘The Lighthouse’ comes with hints of ‘Dark Entries’ and explosive energy. These guys need to sort a double-header tour with Mouth Ulcers as the ultimate new goth showcase. They are an absolute must-see.

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Social Youth Cult

Westenra are playing their latest album, Burn Me Once, in its entirety for the first time. This is a bold move. But they’re a bold band, and the album, as I observed in my review, is well-paced and nicely balanced, and as such, flows well in a live setting. Opener ‘Ghosts in the Machine’ highlights the busy bassline and Luci leaps around and comes on like Siouxsie with dance moves. Bassist Dominique is an imposing presence, but with heels which are practically stilts, Luci really dominates the stage, her voice even stronger as her presence. And despite struggling for breath and sputtering between songs due to the smoke from the previous acts, she doesn’t miss a note, and remains as energetic while performing throughout. Guitarist Karl could be reasonably as a generic goth guitarist, being middle-aged and sporting a hat, but that would be to severely diminish his understated contribution here.

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Westenra

The slower ‘Hold Me Close’ is epic and operatic, so hardly offers the kind of respite the mid-set slowie bands regain their breath during. In fact, this is a set which keeps the energy and high throughout, and it’s without doubt that this is the reason they’ve made swift progress in establishing their place on the scene. ‘Stuck in a Cage’ gets its first live airing, and rocks solidly, before ‘Regret’ brings even heftier riffage and thick, low-end bass tones.

The main set and the (self-imposed) pressure of performing the album out of the way, they get to cut by loose opening encore with ‘Trinity’, and they close with their gothed-up take on Iron Maiden’s ‘The Number of the Beast’.

Not only was there not a duff band on the bill, but everything about this was magnificent – even the cheesy compering. The alternative scene is effervescent, and abrim with exciting new acts. And the hassle on way home notwithstanding, it was as close to perfect as a night gets.

Miško Boba / Hella Bore / Tame the Savage / Onion Terror – Micklegate Social, York, 14th August 2026

Posted: 15 August 2026 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

A week ago, buying a ticket to see four metal bands for a tenner in a tiny basement venue seemed like a good idea. But then yet another heatwave happened, and arriving at the Mickelgate Social – something of a hipster bar just feet inside the city walls on what used to the York’s most notorious street for bars and nightclubs frequented by stag and hen dos and townies and other twats, which has gone rather more upmarket in recent years – damp and uncomfortable, I find myself questioning my sanity. The doors are 7:30, and I arrive some time after, but Tame The Savage are still soundchecking at 7:45 and Onion Terror are still to go. Provided I don’t collapse from heat exhaustion, I assume things can only improve. And, for the most part, they do.

Onion Terror are a duo: guitar, vocals, and drums and other backing off a phone. The guitarist is playing through a 5-watt practice amp that feeds back a lot, while the vocalist charges and leans and squats, alternately bellowing and growling, while sporting a pint balaclava. They clearly don’t intend to be taken seriously, but they are seriously good fun. Their eleven-minute set is a mash of all kinds of metal – primarily some mangled kind of grindcore, but with purposefully cheap-sounding drums and samples galore – consisting mostly vocal snippets about onions. It’s loud and it’s messy and makes for a great start to the night.

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Onion Terror

Tame the Savage trade in filthy punk, somewhat in the vein of Anti-Nowhere League. But what sets them apart from your meat-and-potatoes punk is the way the bass – played by the lead vocalist – carries the most weight, doing a lot of work on the upper half of the fretboard and the higher strings, and essentially playing it like a lead guitar, with a lot of mid and some distortion. But then, when he does drop to the lower octaves on the bottom strings, the impact is immense, a thick, rumbling groove melding with the hefty percussion. And the drummer looks like he’s having the time of his life.

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Tame the Save

Hella Bore’s bassist, wearing a facemask, baseball cap, and hoodie with the hood up – the dude must have been liquid inside that getup – approached me just before their set and requested no photos, so you’ll have to imagine him, and the singer, a stocky, shaven-headed guy with a waxed moustache, in a wifebeater and too-tight cutoff blue jeans shorts. Hmm. Perhaps this was why they didn’t want photos. The drummer, bearded and with plaited pigtails (when he removes the knitted balaclava with floppy rabbit ears) makes a nice addition to the visual. I’d like to report that they sound better than they look, and they do – although it’s marginal. It’s not that they can’t play: they evidently can. But what they play is like a Nu-metal Rage Against the Machine with Al Jorgensen’s vocals roaring over the top. The material is pretty leaden, the lyrics aren’t great and overall… It’s understandable why a large chunk of the audience take the opportunity to get some air during their set.

In contrast, Miško Boba have both their look and sound absolutely nailed, and just keep on getting better. They’re a cohesive unit, and each member brings something specific, but it’s in the way they come together which is where their strength lies. During the slow, slugging riff sections, they all bang heads in perfect union, the gut-churning five-string bass underpinning the twin guitar assault. At the back, Leviathan’s powerhouse drumming very much drives everything along, but it’s apparent that they all recognise that in Kanopa they have a formidable and compelling front woman. Visually, she’s impressive, a classic horror scene, a walking gorefest, appearing to have had her eyes torn out, and her arms are streaked with sanguine fluid. But this is nothing compared to the vocal performance, which is nothing short of spine-quivering, blood-curdling, demonic roar, a desperate purgatorial scream.

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Miško Boba

They just get heavier and more fierce as the set progresses, and seem to grow in confidence as well as intensity. The set may only feature seven songs, but it makes for a truly obliterative forty-five minutes, and any longer you’d probably feel your skull start to cave in. Tonight’s performance, which is pretty big on new material, is something else, and exemplifies why they deserve to be on a label, and to have PR pushing for their (inter)national exposure. This is a band who are taking black metal – and Lithuanian metal – to a place which warrants appreciation. If you want your metal black, you’ll find none more black than Miško Boba .

Dragged Up – Rapunzel

Posted: 13 August 2026 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
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Label Obscura (Canada) / Warped Tracks (Scotland) – 5th August 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

A couple of months ago (I’m putting it down to the successive heatwaves that the time seems to have simply evaporated this year), Dragged Up stopped off in York (on their way to Newcastle from Middlesbrough) to squeeze in a special set opening day two of a mini-festival. During their performance, we got a preview of what was then touted as being a future single in the form of ‘Rapunzel’.

And now, the world gets to hear the studio version, in all its five-minute glory, complete with some bold sax. While the accompanying video (a two-minute cut), courtesy of the band’s own Eva Gnatiuk (guitar and vocals) features a succession of folks dropping classic and influential albums and books like they’re nothing (I was particularly pained to see a copy of the Red Star issue of Suicide’s first album getting tossed, even though the cover looked a bit battered, rather less fussed about a Faces album getting the treatment, and wait! That’s Stuart Lee emerging from behind an Earl Scruggs LP!)

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Where was I? Oh yes. The music. ‘Rapunzel’ is a garage, punky romp of a tune, and the sax lends it a very (early) Psychedelic Furs / X-Ray Spex vibe (Germ-Free Adolescents also appears in the video). It may reference hair washing, but it’s bursting with lyrical tangents, and couldn’t be much further from the songs from Disney’s Tangled (a movie I’ve seen far too many time, on account of having celebration a daughter who was exactly the right age for Frozen and stuff when it was all the rage). But this ‘Rapunzel’ keeps on springing surprises: the ‘Dark Entries’ section that featured live remains intact around the three minute mark, and if the video seems to say ‘meh’ to influence, the music itself says otherwise, feeling like a n effervescent celebration of those predecessors, rather than a trashing. Regardless, the result is an uptempo, exuberant, scuzzy blast that’s bursting with energy and attitude. And it’s great.

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machiner – motion waves

Posted: 12 August 2026 in Albums, Reviews
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Butterfly Effect Records – 7th August 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

It’s always the north, isn’t it? Sure, The Cure and Bauhaus and Siouxsie all originated down south, but it’s always been the North of England that’s been the true heartland of all things dark and gritty, and, well, goth. Reading – somewhat belatedly – Lol Tolhurst’s roundly-lauded tome on the topic, one thing that shines through is his being struck by the north / south divide, and how places like Manchester in the late 70s displayed a far more pronounced level of deprivation. It is, indeed, grim up north, and the reason that Leeds was the true spawning ground of the goth scene in the early 80s is in many ways self-evident.

History has a habit of repeating itself, and for all the talk of the ‘Northern Powerhouse’ a few years back, it’s still grim up north, and there are numerous parallels to the late 70s and early 80s when it comes to life in England post-Brexit.

machiner list among their influences Nine Inch Nails, New Order and Depeche Mode, and state that their objective is to ‘transform emotional vulnerability into something expansive and cinematic’. And they’re from Hartlepool in County Durham. While for some, County Durham will likely connote the cathedral, the university, and cobbled streets of the city itself, but beyond this, the once industrial county, where mining was its primary source of employment, there is a very different, and far less idyllic picture. And its in this context that we come to machiner, a band who balance elegance and a sense of the epic in what one might call the classical sense, with the dinge and deprivation of much of the region.

Over the course of the eight songs on motion waves, machiner weave some deftly-crafted slices of expansive, dreamy alternative rock, the soaring guitars interlaced with layers of synth, and while the results are neither overtly dark or heavy, there are undercurrents of brooding tension. And what’s more, the melodic, cinematic nature of the music makes for an accessible vehicle for altogether bleaker lyrics. Take these lines from ‘ivory skies’, for example:

low life in the hall outside my door

and a girl cries in the bedroom just below

last night I heard her head crack off the wall

then a silence like I’ve never heard before

well this is England…this is now

And sadly, this is life now. By way of a brief detour, but for necessary context, it’s a grim statistic that instances of domestic violence spike when there is international football being played. Womensaid quote research which found that cases of domestic abuse increased by 38% when England lost a match and 26% when they won or drew. The response of the Reform party – who run Durham County Council – was to post a video cheering England on to prevent domestic violence. This is England, and this is now. And these are shit times.

The seven-minute ‘dark age’ is a magnificently poised, almost prog-leaning composition, and the piano-led ‘the sound of disappearing’ rolls past on a soft drift which is not only gentle, but truly pretty. And herein we arrive at the essence of machiner: as much as they detail the grimy, gritty realities, they’re looking towards escape routes and better futures. motion waves is the sound of a way out of a thorny thicket. ‘iceburn’ in particular soars skywards, and the easy ‘cast me in amber’ – which again extends to almost six and a half minutes – brings a strong New Order vibe, and pairs it with some nagging electronica laced with heavy hints of shoegaze: in short, it’s perhaps the ultimate assimilation of the elements which make up the textured sonic amalgamation of machiner’s dynamic style.

‘ever over’, which reminds very much of Oceansize, brings things to a strong and solid conclusion, and it makes for a dextrous conclusion to a magnificent album, one which brims with texture, dynamic energy, and a sense of movement. Bold… and beautiful.

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Light of Eternity / Dollface Reunion – The Crescent, York, 9th August 2026

Posted: 11 August 2026 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Just over a year ago, York had the fortune to host the first ever live show of Light of Eternity, the new band led – from the back – by drumming titan Paul Ferguson, founding member of Killing Joke, who can also boast Warrior Soul and Murder Inc on his resumé. And now, we also have the honour of being the end point of this year’s UK tour. Only a few days ago, they played the legendary punk festival that is Rebellion, and since that first performance in front of around 150 people, they’ve toured as the support for Ministry, too. We’ll come to just how much they’ve evolved since that debut shortly.

It’s not exactly rammed tonight, particularly early doors – and they are early doors, being at 6:30 and the first act on at 7 – probably because a fair few are still at Rebellion and Bloodstock only finished last night, and consequently, Dollface Reunion start their set to a very sparsely populated room. If they’re disappointed by this, they don’t show it. Having caught them in Leeds supporting Spear of Destiny in May my enthusiasm for seeing them again so soon was only middling. I was beginning to have flashbacks to the two to three-month spell in 2000 / 2001 when I saw Sona Fariq supporting pretty much every fucking band I went to see, not least of all twice in a week when I saw The Sisters of Mercy in Glasgow and then Nottingham. And they were abysmal every single fucking time. It turns out that I simply hadn’t been in the mood for Dollface Reunion when I saw them last time, and they likely suffered from having been squeezed on as late additions before Cheeks, who were nothing short of a revelation.

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Dollface Reunion

Reassessing them tonight, I appreciated them a whole lot more. As the name suggests, they’re a reunited version of 90s alt rock act Dollface, and as such, their set is largely culled from their sole album release, 1995’s Giant. Their third song, ‘Rockstars’, which was a single back in ’94, bears a lead guitar line reminiscent of The Cult, and they most definitely rock. ‘Spaceship’ is announced as ‘a song about a spaceship’, and late on, ‘Metropolis’ storms home as a stomper that sit between New Model Army and The Levellers. Only much better than The Levellers.

On the eve of this brief tour, Light of Eternity announced the addition of James OZ Bowey on bass. This means that Fred Schreck no longer has to multitask with covering bass and vocal duties, and it does make a difference, not least of all visually. Instead of being rooted to the spot (not that there was space to move at The Fulford Arms: Ferguson’s kit pretty much occupied the whole stage), he’s got the freedom to move, not just about the stage, but with arm gestures – he’s actually pretty expressive on that front – making for a much more visual performance overall. I’d even go s far as to say that, liberated from the bass, he’s quite a compelling front man.

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Light of Eternity

Bowey has found his groove straight away, and they are so tight, his thick bass sound underpinning Pauly Williams’ thick, churning riffs. The guitar sound is bright but dense. Predictably, the drumming is immense. And casting my mind back to that first show, Ferguson started the set a little loose, proving that even the most seasoned musicians sometimes need some time to bed into something new. This time around… everything is nailed down tight form the first beat. All the rehearsals in the world are no substitute for time spent on stage, and the benefit of the road miles these guys have put in this last year is evident from the off. It’s true that the Killing Joke comparisons will forever stay with them, not just on account of Ferguson, but Williams’ taut, compressed guitar sound – but Schreck’s vocals d bring something different, and the chug and churn is often closer to the sound of Murder Inc., and this is nowhere more perfectly evidenced than on ‘Worlds Collide’.

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Light of Eternity

And to top it, they’ve managed to write some new material, too. Last time around, they played the twelve songs they had – the two EPs and a further EP’s worth – and were done. Tonight, we get new material, and launching the final third of the twelve song set, new song ‘Sycophant’ rocks particularly hard and they really seem to step thing up from hereon in.

The set list still only shows twelve songs, though, and expectations for an encore are slim – but they do indeed return, and kick off a three-song encore with a throbbing rendition of ‘Dark Hope’. They slow things with the atmospheric ‘Nebula’, and the fact that there are such solid cuts from the first two EPs that they can keep in reserve from a main set that fills an hour and a quarter is in itself impressive. They conclude with ‘Explode’ – which still sounds like a blend of Ministry’s ‘N.W.O’ and Therapy? circa 1994, in the best possible way – to my ears. It kicks ass, too.

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Light of Eternity

Having seen Killing Joke in venues closer to 2,000 in capacity, and Murder Inc supporting The Sisters of Mercy at Birmingham NEC (a show which is featured on the second disc of the reissue of their eponymous album, under the title Locate, Subvert, Terminate), to witness this band at such close proximity – The Crescent has a capacity of 350) is nothing short of mind-blowing, and while writing up my (painfully sparse) notes, I learn that there are people in the audience who have travelled from Sweden for this. it’s not hard to understand why. These guys are living legends – but despite a major-league support slot, playing 1,500 capacity spaces, they’re still building things up from the bottom in grassroots venues. This is positively heroic. And as for tonight’s set… there simply aren’t enough superlatives.

Bug Facer – Nuclear Bounty Hunter / Beggar’s Last Words

Posted: 10 August 2026 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
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Warren Records – 7th July 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

I’ve written extensively on the topic of formats before, and having grown up in the 80s and 90s when the physical single was still a dominant format – in particular the 7” single, which could be purchased cheaply (and with wide availability on the high street from not just Our Price and HMV, but also Woolworths and WH Smith) for a quid or two, the whole experience of the A-side and B-side, or a double-A-side is scored into my psyche. Most digital singles now only contain one track, and while I get it, it’s just not the same – and nor is paying a tenner or more for a lathe-cut limited edition of twenty. It feels as if the market has split in directions which are diametric opposites, and neither is particularly satisfying.

The latest release from Hull’s Bug Facer manages a satisfactory compromise, in the current economic climate: a digital single release with two tracks for four quid. Because another thing that’s largely been forgotten is that the cost of production of a physical release is not all of the cost involved – in fact it’s only a fraction. A studio, an engineer, a producer, all cost. Rehearsal space. PR. And so on. All of these things are expenses involved in being a band and recording and releasing music. This is the reason that Spotify sickens me, and the culture whereby people believe music should be free blows my mind. Home taping didn’t kill music. Illegal sharing via Napster and Soulseek didn’t kill music. Legitimate corporate-driven platforms, however, really fucked things, especially for smaller artists. The industry co-conspired, and didn’t so much shoot itself in the foot as hug a landmine.

Imagine being buzzed about starting a new band and getting your music out there, and then the few hundred streams you get after some heavy plugging and a PR scoring a review or two and maybe a couple of radio plays, to receive absolutely nothing, while your fraction of a penny that actually goes to the artists rather than the platform has been dripped into the pool that’s divvied out between Ed Sheeran, Coldplay, and U2. So yes, £4 for a digital release in 2026 is probably fair – especially when it’s a proper two-song single which replicates the 7” experience of the A-side and B-side, and especially when both songs are killer.

And here, both songs are indeed killer. ‘Nuclear Bounty Hunter’ stars slow, with a tense build-up and an intimation of a riff, squirming its way to a thick, gnarly riff that’s halfway between raging punk and sludgy noise. Sling the Melvins together with Slaughter and the Dogs and you’re in the right domain. It’s heavy, hefty, rabid, and gloriously messy.

‘Beggar’s Last Words’ is an entirely different proposition: it’s nearly seven minutes long for a start, and sashays in with soft instrumentation over a waltz-time beat. It’s kinda hazy, kinda droney, deeply psychedelic, and very much of an experimental bent. In short, it couldn’t be more contrasting. The vocals, when they finally arrive, are heavily treated, warped, and woozy, and are half-submerged among the ever-rising cacophony which is building, and almost out of nowhere, we’re four minutes in and find ourselves in the midst of a sonic maelstrom. After this crescendo of chaos, everything gradually winds down, wheezing, wasted, to a slow fade.

The fact that this release showcases two vastly divergent styles is a strength. It’s a release that shows a band willing to take risks, to challenge themselves – and their listeners. It’s so easy – and tempting – for artists to create a template early in their careers and say with them. It works, the band and any PR they might have gets to tout them as X or Y, everyone knows what they’re going to get, they find their niche, find their audience, however small, until boredom sets in and / or fashion changes. It takes a different kind of band to eschew genre limitations, and particularly to go this far out on a limb with a single release. Bug Facer are that different kind of band, and their continued evolution is a joy to observe.

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The Sunken Land – sunstead

Posted: 8 August 2026 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
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19th July 2026

The Sunken Land – the musical vehicle for David Martin, York-based solo purveyor of ‘bedsit doomgaze’ – makes a fairly swift follow-up to The Woods at Dusk three-track EP, released in May, with a more expansive five tracker in the form of ‘sunstead’. There are no notes beyond the credits, meaning the music is left – or allowed – to speak for itself.

‘horizon fires’ makes for a strong start, and continues Martin’s assimilation of current and local geography events and events by way of inspiration. There have been countless wildfires around the UK in the last couple of months, many of which have failed to make national or even regional news. One can assume that this is largely on account that their number has made reporting impossible, meaning that only significant fires in national parks or those close to nuclear plants have warranted that level of coverage. But in and around York, there have been fires lit – intentionally – on an almost daily basis, in playparks and on local moorland, with one potentially endangering cattle and threatening to make its way toward a branch of Lidl to the south-west of the city. The entire country – and, indeed, most of mainland Europe, too – is a tinderbox, gripped by drought during one of – if not the –most prolonged hot / dry spells since records began. And people – mostly teens – are starting fires for fun. It’s a terrifying and bewildering state of affairs, and seeing smoke on the horizon is disconcerting. This first track layers soaring post-rock lead guitar lines over thick, distorted chords. At times – again – reminiscent of latter-day Earth, it’s a composition which explores tonal and textural contrasts, and builds tension as it does so.

‘tupla vs. egregore’ plunges straight into the heavy drone territory, the mesh of distortion and slow pace reminiscent to some extent of Sunn O))), but with strolling bass and some extended soloing that feel more as if it belongs in the domain of prog, it combines a host of disparate elements in quite unexpected ways – almost as unexpected as the abrupt ending. At just over fine minutes long, it’s by no means a short piece, but the impression is that it would have worked quite nicely extending over a full stretch of twenty minutes or so. The same is true of the six-minute title track, which swoops and soars and is all the while driven by a serrated drone of overdriven chords which hang for an eternity.

‘swedish death cleaning’ springs quite the surprise with a thudding riff that screams Mötörhead, which is in turn overlayed with the most flamboyant fretwork we’ve yet heard from The Sunken Land. It’s certainly the most raucous, and full-on rock piece in his catalogue, and unexpected as it is, it’s also well executed, and adheres to his principles of lo-fi recording and an absence of percussion, meaning it doesn’t feel entirely incongruous.

Across the EPs five cuts, sunstead demonstrates a marked expansion of The Sunken Land’s sound, and if the last of these, ‘noctilucence’ returns to more familiar territory, the overall feel of this set is one of greater confidence, and a determination to explore wider territory, and as such, marks the fulfilment of the promise of the works which preceded it. Given his rate of output – and evolution – the next six months could prove to be very interesting indeed.

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tejploopare – gråkråka

Posted: 7 August 2026 in Albums, Reviews
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Dret Skivor – 7th August 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

How do I know it’s Bandcamp Friday? Is it because I’ve received in the region of fifty emails by midday for new releases? Well, yes, there is that. But ultimately, it’s the fact that there’s a new release on Swedish microlabel dret skivor. This month’s is a radio-friendly unit shifter available to download and as a CD in a limited edition of two copies.

With uncharacteristically voluble notes accompanying it, we find the work described as ‘A chance meeting between winged and un-winged and captured hooded crow monologue.’ It would be impossible not to infer some element of reference to the 1979 debut album by Nurse With Wound, Chance Meeting on a Dissecting Table of a Sewing Machine and an Umbrella, which in turn was taken from Lautréamont’s The Songs of Maldoror, a work which sits within the broader oeuvre of Surrealism. All of this serves to present a comprehensible intertext given what dret skivor and its artists are all about – which, to boil it down to less academic terms, is ‘weird shit’.

Tejploopare add, ‘We thank our avian masters for the source material and Remo de Vico for his programming skills in creating the time-stretcher Loom that has been used in the creation of this piece’.

But if you’re expecting birdsong, or even something inspired by Hitchcock’s The Birds, think again. Gråkråka is just one fifteen-minute track which, regardless of its source material, manifests as one extended echo-heavy swirling drone, as much akin to the sound of a giant millstone grinding against another from the depths of a huge cavern, or the sound of a million bats taking flight from a cave with the audio slowed by maybe three hundred percent. Admittedly, I’ve never really listened to crows in conversation, and was unaware – or had forgotten – that they have the capacity to mimic the sounds of other birds, animals, and machinery’, according to learnbirdwatching.com. While the veracity of this is debatable, it is understood and accepted that crows are capable of advanced and highly sophisticated communication, using a range of techniques.

But let’s suspend disbelief for a moment and take on face value that gråkråka is simply the sound of crows, manipulated to a greater or lesser extent to forge a churning, whirring, multi-textural sonic experience. It’s not a drone per se, so much as a rumbling eddy, an endless whistle, and a slow grind, all at once, and these all shift around in tone and the level to which they sit to the fore over the track’s duration. At times, the upper buzzes and hums, the higher frequency fizz, makes my inner ears itchy, and make me feel a palpable relief that I don’t suffer tinnitus, but am coming to the opinion that perhaps a certain level of hearing loss may not be such a bad thing for the avoidance of sonic torture at certain frequencies. If only I hadn’t been so bloody sensible wearing earplugs to gigs this last twenty years, eh?

Gråkråka is not a work of harsh noise: it’s not even overtly noisy. But it is one of those aural explorations which is designed to inflict discomfort. And in that, it succeeds. By the mid-point, it’s attained a quire specific level of torturousness, and while it does pull back from this for a time, what replaces that scouring blast is a quivering ominous rumble, which again swells and replicates the sensation of some unseen fear growing closer: put another way, it’s the soundtrack to a nightmare, to a horror without words or boldly manifestation, simply a psychological attack which goes on, and on, twisting to a trebly roar akin to a demon rasping suicidal ideations into your ear during the final five minutes.

It’s not actually a criticism when I express the view that gråkråka feels like a long fifteen minutes. It’s not intended to be one of those soft ambient drifts where half an hour simply evaporates. Quite the opposite: this is an album that’s raison d’aitre is to seed discomfort and make you squirm from beginning to end. And it does.

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Dymna Lotva – Vyraj

Posted: 5 August 2026 in Albums, Reviews
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Prophecy Productions – 7th August 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Earlier this year, we received news that Belarus metal band Dymna Lotva were in some bother when some of their music videos were declared by a court in their home country to constitute ‘extremist materials’. As vocalist Katsiaryna “Nokt Aeon” Mankevich explained at the time, “This means that fans from our home country, who liked, reposted or commented on these videos in the past are now facing a real risk to disappear into a prison. The rule of law does not apply in Belarus. Just one like under a video that has only now been designated as ‘extremist material’ might mean time in jail”.

Having fled the country, they’ve continued to work, and work hard, and are now unveiling their fourth full-length album to the world, following a succession of killer singles, including ‘The Boat of Despair’ , featuring Aaron Stainthorpe, formerly of My Dying Bride.

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And now, on the eve of the new album’s release, Mankevich has been charged with ‘extremist activity’, ‘financing terrorism’, and three more criminal charges in her home country. The Investigative Committee of the Sovietsky District of Minsk officially opened a case against Mankevich, who lives in exile in Poland, in June. She has now been summoned to appear in the Minsk City Court for a hearing on August 14th.

Mankevich explains how this has come about, and remains defiant, writing ‘It is clearly connected to my participation in protests against the regime and to my support for Ukraine. To me, it feels even somewhat flattering that this regime is still keeping an eye on us six years after the protests and five years after I was forced to leave Belarus. This confirms that I am on the right path and also provides me with a strong motivation to keep going. Please do not worry about me. Poland has granted me international protection status because of such political persecution. As a result of this trial, Belarus could seize all my properties still remaining in the country. Well, spending my money on creating music turned out to be a great idea after all. And to the Investigative Committee of the Sovietsky District of Minsk I say: Kiss my extremist ass!’

Some say that politics has no place in music or the arts. Those people are ignoramuses. Even as far back as Shakespeare, art has been the vehicle by which political commentary – and dissent – has been disseminated, often via coded or allegorical means. And this context is essential in understanding the band, what they stand for, and why. And, within this context, the arrival of Vyraj is an achievement which is nothing short of phenomenal.

Dymna Lotva are staunch in their rebellious, dissident stance: as their bio states, ‘their name means “Swamp in Smoke”, which relates to the atrocities surrounding the burned villages of Paliessie, which has endured bloody massacres and brutal conflict in the past. Their lyrics are often based on Belarusian tales filled with accounts of sorrow gleaned from historical archives, folklore, and new horrors that are committed in their home country at the present’.

Black metal is clearly an appropriate medium for all of this, but they describe Vyraj as ‘a musical kaleidoscope’, a work which pushes far in myriad stylistic directions, and it’s not an album built around protest and anger, but an exploration of what they call ‘Belarusian ethno-astronomy,’ explaining that ‘in Slavonic legends, the starry sky is associated both with the afterlife and with journeys, which becomes closely intertwined with the musicians’ personal experience of forced emigration’.

The album itself delivers on everything it promises, and more. The first track, ‘Zory’ begins gently before sliding into an almost Swans-like hypnotic groove, before finally the black metal blast powers in. But there’s a twist: the demonic howls and thunderous drums are paired with a sense of expanse that offers hints of prog bombast and symphonic glory. incredibly, it not only works, but is a complete rush.

‘Veha’, which clocks in at over seven minutes, is a multi-faceted epic in every sense, with some dainty chiming notes offering a melodic delicacy which contrasts significantly with the blistering guitars and throat-ripping vocals, finally yielding to a softer closing passage which borders on the ambient.

The aforementioned ‘The Boat of Despair’, which bears one of only two titles in English, is a definite standout, not least of all because it represents such a stylistic shift, introducing hunts of post-metal alongside hints of Amenra, and offers so much emotional depth.

It’s the range and dynamics of Vyraj which make it such a gripping listen, as you find yourself wondering what the next twist or turn will be, and amidst the flaming fury, there are moments or transcendental beauty which are truly elevating. There are still plenty of rabid, raving black metal blastout passages on offer here, and when they go all out, Dymna Lotva really do go all out with face-melting ferocity. But ‘Niamah Darohi’, with its sweeping operatic vocal contrasting with a hellish howl, a rolling piano paired with shuddering rapidfire kick drum is exemplary of the album’s immense range and the remarkable vision when it comes not only to the songwriting, but its execution.

The closer, the eight-minute ‘Return My Coffin Home’ is the very definition of ‘epic’, and reminds us that this may be the only way they will ever return home, at least as long as the current regime is in place. That they have produced such a remarkably detailed, intricate, and impactful work against all the odds is testament to the artistic spirit. Long may it continue to represent the instinct for survival. Whatever happens next, with Vyraj, Dymna Lotva have determined their legacy as innovators within the sphere of black metal.

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