Norwegian noise rock innovators Barren Womb have just shared a brand new single off their fifth full-length album titled Chemical Tardigrade, which is set to be released on digital and vinyl formats through Fucking North Pole Records/Blues For The Red Sun on February 16th, 2024.
Entitled ‘Bachelor Of Puppets’, you can hear it here:
“’Bachelor of Puppets’ came together through a swift writing process, mostly by jamming round this crude beat with definite husky tendencies,” says Barren Womb’s drummer/ vocalist Timo Silvola. “It became something we felt sure to be the envy of cavemen everywhere. The title came before the lyrics and they were written very much like a jam as well: late night with beers and a demo version blasting loud through our PA system, comparing notes and reading through the lyrics for Master of Puppets. ”The result became a sordid tale of a Chemical Tardigrade, a half-fictional dope fiend struggling to escape the stale grip of the bourgeoisie. Both being huge fans of The Mandalorian, yelling ‘this is the way’ as a chorus made for a perfect trashy Trailer Park Boys-esque punchline.”
AA
Barren Womb released their fourth album Lizard Lounge, a bombastic slab of modern noise rock in the vein of Daughters, Metz and Viagra Boys, to critical acclaim through Loyal Blood Records in 2020. They have played close to 300 shows in the US and Europe so far, sharing stages with among others Entombed A.D., Voivod, Conan, Nomeansno and Årabrot, and have played festivals like SXSW, by:Larm, Tallinn Music Week, Øya and Pstereo.
A Void, the Franco-English trio based in London are one hard-gigging, high-output unit. And for all of their grunge credentials – Camille Alexander is our contemporary hirsute Coutney Love with her raw, raging vocals and absolute lack of fucks given when it comes to adhering to societal norms of appropriate behaviour – they’re also a band whose focus seems to be on fun. And their main objective is to entertain themselves first and foremost, and the audience second. Not in a selfish way, but in a way that places creative freedom above any market or commercial considerations. These are reasons to love the band already.
I got quite excited about their second album, Dissociation, back in September of last year. A year on, I still return to it while I’m cooking on an evening, as I also do their debut, Awkward And Devastated. There’s a reason for this: A Void have a knack for great tunes, and following the grunge template, they’ve absolutely nailed that contrasting quiet, melodic verse / roaring explosion of a chorus. As a teen in the 90s, I was absolutely hooked on Nirvana and the grunge scene: I first encountered Hole playing ‘Teenage Whore’ on Snub TV and was blown away by the viscerality of it. Pearl Jam and Stone Temple Pilots didn’t give the same vibe, but some of these bands just spilled their guts in a way that we hadn’t seen and set a precedent. Many bands have done their best to emulate, but fee have succeeded. A Void are among the few, and the reason they possess that power is because they’re keeping it real and there’s no polish or pretence here.
So what’s this? Following their first new material in a year in the shape of ‘Save Yourself’, ‘Gutter’ is fairly subdued in relative terms: there’s no ear-splitting overdrive and shrieking catharsis on offer here. But what we get is a song that’s quintessential A Void. The guitars may be clean in the main, but they lurch from delicate picking to driving in a fraction of a moment. There is a breakout of big overdrive around the midpoint, and it’s a rush, and in this context, ‘Gutter’ is perhaps their most ambitious composition to date.
Volatility is A Void’s signature style, and ‘Gutter’ brings it. The angst may be a little more reined in, but don’t for a second think it’s an indication that they’re mellowing. This is 100% kick ass, and it’s almost guaranteed that the album will kick arse, and then some.
Have I lost the plot covering such commercial stuff as this? No, not at all, and besides, plot is overrated, and this is an interesting one. Having built up something of a following since emerging a few years ago, Luna Aura’s latest EP release coincides with her touring as support for Slipknot Frontman Corey Taylor on his solo tour. If on the face of it, it seems like a surprising choice for such a pop-orientated act to bag such a slot, however big on guitars they are, Corey’s ubiquitous media of late in promotion of his second solo album has seen him really pushing to emphasise the fact that he’s a multi-faceted, genre-fluid songwriter.
I think I’ve been growing a newfound respect for him for this: he genuinely seems more about making the music that he enjoys than about being remotely cool, which is a far cry from the enigmatic masked presentation of Slipknot, where no-one ever knew who any of the members were for a long time. I always thought Slipknot were shit on every level, and I’d always suspected they were middle-aged record company execs donning boiler suits for some postmodern nu-metal equivalent of The KLF, only more calculatingly exploitative. I was wrong, but not completely off track. But it turns out Taylor’s had some high-profile feuds with the kind if people who warrant feuding with, although I digress. The promo rounds for CMF2 have been interesting, in that they show Taylor, aged 49, facing up to the fact that he’s staring directly at a point in life where his physical capacity is waning and frankly, he’s reached a point in his life where he doesn’t care about cool and just wants to do his thing. At 48, I find this far more relatable than an artist trying to remain relevant and be the voice of ‘youth’, like so many acts who emerged around the turn of the millennium, not least of all so many punk-pop acts who are old enough to be grandparents to their target audience. But also, credit due for giving a young, up-and-coming female artist the exposure instead of some predictable all-male band.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, half of Luna’s EP has already been unveiled as video singles, because that’s how it works now, but regardless, hearing all five songs in sequence is what this is about, and over the course of five songs, we get a sense of Luna’s range and what she’s about.
It’s hard to evaluate new music from new artists that resembles the new music by new artists that was emerging when I was at the same point in my own life. As a teen in the 90s, it didn’t only feel like the most exciting time in music ever, but it felt like our generation had something of its own and something that spoke both to and for us. This was our punk, our new wave, our new romantic. I may have been aware of and listening to new romantic and electropop as it emerged, but at the age of maybe eight or nine, I can’t claim it was for ‘me’. Grunge and the alternative music of 92-94… that was different. On the one hand it seems unusual that a generation behind should revisit and reclaim it. But after a wilderness spell of shit mass-produced r‘n’b and a truly dismal decade socially politically, and all the rest, it makes sense that this should once again reflect the zeitgeist.
But something has changed. There has been a shift. Not only has life in general got shitter, but technology and social media have changed everything. Attention spans have shrunk, and that’s a fact. When it comes to music, you’re got maybe ten, fifteen seconds to make an impression (although an article published earlier this year suggested it was as little as five seconds – but interestingly, the study showed listeners tended to like a song more if they listened to the whole thing first, rather than just being exposed to just a clip).
In this context, it’s obvious why ‘Money Bag’ is the first track and why it was the first single: it’s uptempo, guitar-driven and punky and blasts in, all fuzzy guitar, and arrives at the hook in under a minute. It’s a promising start. Savvy songwriting for attention-deprived times. The guitar is up-front, overdriven, gutsy. But the chorus goes for the bubblegum vacuous style, with an airy ‘woo-hoo’ at the fore. It’s popular right now, and it’s a winning formula, but it just gets on my tits because it feels like a lazy stab at a radio-friendly hit without actually writing a lyric. And it often seems to work. Well, for some people: not for me, really.
But after this obvious start that’s probably only weak in my view, the majority of the rest of the EP is pretty solid. ‘Lost in the Fiction’ is smoother but no less guitar-based, and with an overtly digital feel, it slots in comfortably alongside Garbage sonically and stylistically.
Blind? Bland would perhaps describe this derivative turn-of-the-millennium alt-rock bounce-along that’s Avril Lavigne and Natalie Imbruglia and Alanis Morrisette all rolled into one, which isn’t the worst thing, and it’s neatly crafted, but you can’t accuse Luna Aura of being predictable or one-trick. ‘Candy Coloured Daydream’ is an explosion, with a monster hook and killer chorus, and ‘Cut and Run’ closes in kick-ass style, with an opening riff that’s pure Nirvana before adding a 90s shuffling drum groove and more driving guitar. The Fiction EP is grunge for the 21st century – it’s perhaps more melodic, but it’s got attitude and you can mosh to it. And that’s more than reason enough to say yeah.
I Got quite excited by Hull’s Bedsit on hearing their last release. Perhaps the summary in their bio explains it, more or less, in pitching the band as being of interest to fans of Basement, Nothing, Yuck, Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins, and in next to no time, alongside my raving about them, they’ve come from nowhere (ok, Hull isn’t quite nowhere, but it works as a narrative) to airplay from Steve Lamaq and applause from Louder than War.
The joy of F.I.D.O. lies not only in its being a great tune, but from its gloriously lo-fi, crunchy sound. A twisty riff played almost tentatively by way of an intro is suddenly smacked along in a tidal wave of rhythm, bass, drums and it recreates the buzzing vibe of Dinosaur Jr on ‘Freak Scene’ or ‘Girl from Mars’ by Ash. It buzzes, it vibrates.
They’re pretty strident in their messaging here, and this is certainly no feel-good tune, as much as it’s a nihilistic howl that goes against the grain, and is certainly not a call of solidarity with their peers and contemporaries, It’s a shake, a slap, a sneer of derision that says ‘get a fucking grip!’
“F.I.D.O. is for the countless artists who labour to perfect their work, manifest their passions and achieve success, only to be left screaming into the void for years on end. It’s about the ridiculousness of dreams and the temptation of surrender. We’re made fools by our expectations of the music industry and the life of an artist, coaxed by visions of giants from a bygone era. The iconic rockstar is dead, or worse yet, duplicated posthumously in a vapid monetary mockery. It seems impossible nowadays for an independent artist to ever get heard, break out, be seen. When art is entwined with identity, emptiness can feel like death.
Why do we even try? Where does that spark come from, and is it at all worth trying to keep it alive? If an artist is neither seen nor heard, do they even make a sound?”
It’s a sentiment that not only do they fully espouse in their work, but one I can back to the absolute max. It’s not about the technicality, but the raw energy, and it’s right up and in your face, and then when the vocals come in against that welter of guitars, it’s absolutely fucking glorious. There are numerous references I just can’t call to mind, but there’s a dash of Therapy? and a pinch of Bilge Pump in there, and the refreshing thing about Bedsit is that while so many contemporary acts who bring that 90s vibe present sanitised, cleaned-up interpretations, Bedsit keep it raw, rough and ready – and in doing so properly capture the spirit of the era they’re so deeply rooted in.
F.I.D.O. is a massive, grungy monster. Driven by thick riffs and thumping percussion, the melodic and contrasting vocals land between Nirvana and MSP with aa hint of Fugazi as they melt grunge in a pot with post-punk and post-rock that maybe hits a spot in the region of Trail of Dead. But none of this really touches the rush and the squall.
The bottom line is that they’re bursting with energy, and they’re a band you can believe in. ‘F.I.D.O.’ kicks all ways, and the amount of ass-kicking they packing they pack into four minutes and twenty seconds is incredible.
The single comes backed with ‘Click Track’, a frenzied thrashing furry that’s pure and brimming with passion.
One of the things that really makes Cruel Nature stand out as a label is that you never know what they’re going to put out next. Many labels – and music fans – claim to be eclectic in their tastes, but such claims rarely hold up to scrutiny. Anything that involves a permutation of guitar, bass, drums and vocals isn’t ‘eclectic’. Cruel Nature are eclectic in the John Peel sense, spanning the full gamut of experimental rick and electronica with a fair amount of jazz on offer too.
As the bio sets out, ‘Dragged Up are an off-kilter psych-garage proto-punk band. Formed in Glasgow in late 2018 by Eva Gnatiuk (Las Mitras), with Simon Shaw (Trembling Bells) & the writer Lisa Jones. In 2019, Chas Lalli (Vom/Bad Aura) & Julian Dicken (The Cosmic Dead) joined. In 2022 Stephan Mors (The Owsley Sunshine) replaced Dicken on drum duty… Their debut mini-album "D/U" was released in 2020, show-casing their seamless cross-pollination of doom, psych, proto-punk, garage, and spoken word.’
They give a track-by-track summary of their latest offering, Hex Domestic (which does have connotations to my intertextual brain of a collision of The Fall and Pavement), and the track-by-track summary maintains this vibe:
‘Hex Domestic’, is their new E.P. consisting of:
Juvenile bone-throwing at the shut-in occultist (Hex Domestic)
Posthumous Pac-Mania (Fairytale in the Super Arcadia)
A lungful of mud, a hail of toads (Hurricane)
Peering out from the eiderdown, crawling back in again (Blaming the Weather)
So now you know what the songs are about… And you’ve seen the cover art, which is a black metal parody, the horned goat almost butting at Bathory… but how do they sound?
The title tracks comes on like The Fall circa 83, jangling guitars nearly in tune, merged with Sonic Youth. It’s slackedrist, it’s proto-grunge, it’s indie with edge and at the same time it’s loose and harks back to simpler times when bands could spend a day or two in a ‘studio’ which was no more than an 8-track in someone’s garage, cut a record, and get it played by John Peel.
‘Fairytale in the Super Arcadia’ is almost seven minutes long, and it sticks to the band formula and froths with budget distortion, plugging away at the same riff for it’s almost seven-minute duration without a moment’s respite.
The three-minute ‘Hurricane’ is necessarily explosive and blows everything away, and ‘Blaming the Weather’ maintains the meteorological theme as it guides the EP to a close.
Hex Domestic is wonky, lo-fi, the clean but ramshackle guitars and overlapping vocals defining the sound, its sound very much replicating that of the late 70s and early 80s. It’s budget and it’s boss.
Amphetamine Reptile Records – 16th July 2023 (CD, DL) / 23rd July 2023 (LP)
Christopher Nosnibor
The late 80s and early 90s were my time in terms of musical discovery. Door seemed to open door seemed to open door… and these were exciting times, too. There was a lot happening, and a lot of it was noisy. While endless column inches were given to Sub Pop – and not wrongly – two other labels stood out to me at this time: Touch and Go, and Amphetamine Reptile, the former home to the likes of Shellac, and Girls Against Boys, the latter, Cows, Helmet, Tar, Dwarves, and the mighty Melvins. It’s hard to overstate the importance of these labels at the time. But latterly, Sub Pop turned pop, releasing fay indie by Fleet Foxes, while cranking out reissues of the albums that put them on the map as the home of the ‘Seattle Sound’, and Touch and Go reduced its roster significantly few years after The Butthole Surfers hauled them to court over (lack of) contractual issues, releasing only a handful of more commercially-orientated artists in recent years.
And then there’s AmRep. They’ve kept on doing what they do. The label never put out masses of releases per year, and perhaps that’s been a factor in its sustainability, focusing on curation. That, and the fact that The Melvins’ output alone is enough to keep the label both busy and afloat. A label dedicated to alternative and noise rock, Mr.Phylzzz are right at home here.
Fat Chance, the third album from Mr.Phylzzz, and which swiftly follows its 2022 predecessor, Cancel Culture Club, promises a ‘a distinct tonal shift while staying true to the band’s signature style’ and ‘an unrelenting, dynamically charged experience, described by the band as their most straightforward and focused record yet.’
It was recorded at Electrical Audio studios, a fact which speaks for itself, and the tracks were laid in just four days. Having road-tested the material in advance, the recordings capture a big, dense live sound and a real sense of immediacy. And there is very much a sense not only of focus, but of purpose, which radiates from the songs, and the sound quality and production is much improved but with no loss of power. Squalling noise and cacophony has yielded to tight structures and slugging grooves.
‘Pontiac Grand-Am’ brings blistering slabs of guitar and pumping drums, driven by a wild energy, and it’s one hell of a way to start an album. With Clinton Jacob’s yelping vocal style, I’m reminded of Electric Six and Pulled Apart by Horses, although it’s the latter they clearly bear the closer overall sonic resemblance. But the difference is that this mad, manic chaos of noise is created by just two guys instead of a full band. And this is a mad, manic noise that takes no breathers. The majority of the songs are two-and-a-half to three-and-a-half minutes long and are defined by absolutely piledriving riffs.
‘Maybe’ takes what starts out sounding like a fairly standard Nirvana-inspired riff and then chops it into a jarring, stuttering churn. The first six songs are crammed into sixteen eye-popping minutes without a second’s let-up, and it leaves you panting, your heart palpating.
And then there’s the obligatory long song to bring the curtain down, and the seven-minute ‘Pick Scrape’ delivers what it says on the tin, an experimental instrumental with a pick scape that builds through a series of crashing crescendos, something that’s somewhere between no-wave and avant-garde jazz, and one hundred percent racket.
If stylistically, Fat Chance has its roots in grunge and the noise rock sound of the 90s, it’s also an extremely contemporary album, and not just on account of duos being very much en vogue (although as likely a fashion borne out of practicality and necessity in terms of logistics and finances in this direst period of capitalism yet, which finds the artist at the bottom of the pile when it comes to making their work pay). Sonically, and in terms of its delivery, and its all-out, in-yer-face attack, Fat Chance is an album of the now – and it’s a blinder.
Thirty-five years is a long time. Not jus in cat or dog years, but in human years, too. For many, it’s half a lifespan. Perhaps it’s not so long in the scheme of the existence of the planet or cosmos, but that’s a timespan incomprehensible to most people, for whom the time from lunch till dinner feels like an eternity. But here Oxbow are, marking thirty-five years of existence.
A defining feature of their work has always been its diversity, and Love’s Holiday showcases that in abundance. The three songs released ahead of the album couldn’t have been much more different from one another, from the grainy, pained, and soulful ‘1000 Hours’ to the brooding, contemplative ‘Lovely Murk’ (both concerned with death and dying) via the full-throttle energised grunge-driven poke of ‘Icy White & Crystalline’.
How representative are they of the album? Entirely. Love’s Holiday has range, both sonic and emotional, and Robinson’s lyrics are dense and multi-facteted, and read like poetry. At first you’re struck between the eyes, but them you chew on them, because there’s more than mere impact, with smart wordplay running throughout, and they’ve visual, evocative, charged.
It screeches in with the sinewy discordant noise rock of ‘Dead Aherad’, Eugene S. Robinson hollering hard against scratchy guitar and tetchy drumming – and then, seemingly out of nowhere, everything locks together and brings a melodic chorus that’s somewhere between grunge and prog, landing in what you might call 90s alt-rock territory. Or you might not, but I’d challenge anyone to define it more specifically.
The raw, seething ‘Icy White and Crystalline’ drives in before ‘Lovely Murk’ and ‘1000 Hours’ follow one another in succession, changing the mood, pace, and dynamic of things. This piece of sequencing works well, as the intensity of the opening brace is enough to leave you gasping for breath and experiencing palpitation. Kristine Hayter’s Lingua Ignota choir vocals on the former fill the song with a white light, with something of a Gospel feel, in keeping with the song’s theme of death and ascension, after which ‘1000 Hours’ balances darkness with light.
A choral surge and rolling piano provide the backdrop to ‘All Gone’, and Robinson showcases his vocal versatility to stunning effect; first, a cracked, Bukowski-like drawl, before breaking into barrelling delivery more akin to Tom waits, and then switching to a hushed, intimate croon. The song bristles with tension and oozes soul.
There’s another switch of instrumental arrangement on ‘The Night the Room Started Burning’, with acoustic guitar entering the mix, and things taking a tense post-punk, almost gothy twist. But again, the choral backing adds a haunting dimension to the song, and it’s incredibly powerful. Pushing on with the stylistic collisions that they absolutely own and utilise to optimal effect, ‘The Second Talk’ melds no-wave noise with country-coloured slide guitar, before ‘Gunwhale’ takes leave by the grandest, most theatrical means possible, before slowing to a grinding drone.
If the overall mood of Love’s Holiday is reflective, introspective, there’s so much detail among it all that it’s hard to unpack even after several listens. Herein lies its greatest strength: it’s not an album which conforms to a genre, but an album which serves as a vehicle to convey, not one thing, but a whole spectrum of complexities. Love’s Holiday is not easy to process, but it’s an eye-opening artistic achievement that thirty-five years in, Oxbow are absolutely at the top of their game.
Jason Blackmore (Molly McGuire) and Mario Quintero (Spotlights) have combined forces with their new band known as SISTERS.
The duo’s new single "Through The Cracks" appears on the upcoming album Leecheater, which will be released August 25th on Spartan Records.
Listen here:
Blackmore says, “’Through The Cracks’ was actually a last minute song. I came up with the riffs for the song the morning of the day before I was flying home from our second recording session. Mario had come down to the studio that morning and I showed him the riffs. While he went upstairs to get coffee, I threw together the structure and then we just recorded it. I walked around the block to come up with the verse lyrics and melodies. We recorded my vocals after we recorded the music and while I was doing my vocals Mario came up with the chorus lyrics and melody. We slapped some vocals on the bridge and did a couple guitar overdubs and voila. Basically it’s a song about a person having a midlife crisis. Or that’s how I perceive it at least.”
The album, Leecheater, is a tour-de-force of heavy, atmospheric rock. Featuring powerful, distorted guitar riffs, driving rhythms, and Jason Blackmore’s distinctive vocals, Leecheater is a gripping and immersive listening experience that showcases the band’s ability to create big sonic soundscapes that push the boundaries of modern rock.
With its lush production and dynamic arrangements, Leecheater is a must-listen for fans of heavy, atmospheric music and is sure to cement Sisters’ place as one of the most exciting and innovative bands in the contemporary rock scene.
From the very opening bars, you get a sense of expanse, of importance. A certain flexing, you might say. But is this real, or is it bombast and posturing? Is this, as the title suggests, a false haven musically, or is it a work which explores darkness. Can we trust Vorder? Can we trust anyone?
They emerged from the Swedish underground hardcore scene of the 90s, with the band coming together before the turn of the millennium, albeit with a different rhythm section. According to their bio, ‘What started conceptually over 20 years ago as a straight path towards a better life with a socio-political agenda has during the years evolved into a realm of survivalism in an ever-increasing nihilistic environment.’
This does very much feel like a fair summary of the last two decades: whatever optimism – or fear – the new millennium brought, I don’t think even Nostradamus could have predicted the global lurch to the right and the warzone that the Internet has become. And these are simply the tip of the iceberg. Recent history, and the present, is not littered with atrocities: it is one, continuous atrocity. Simply getting through a day in the world in which we find ourselves feels like a major achievement. And with False Haven, Vorder have navigated this brutal terrain with an album that’s textured, contemplative, and monumentally forceful.
Opener ‘Introspective’ is a mammoth cut, with an epic build and a super-spacious production. The weight of the riffage drops just over the minute mark and it slams in on the same grand scale as Amenra, and the strangled, strained, rasping vocal, low in the mix, are also in the same vein. There may be a certain level of grandeur and elevation to this, but it soon becomes clear that this isn’t mere theatre: this is heavy, expansive music born out of sincerity.
‘Beyond the Horizon of Life’ begins with a slow, picked intro, brimming with atmosphere and reminiscent of Fields of the Nephilim but of course, equally, Neurosis. The surge of power that bursts is an explosive release of tension, a rush. ‘The Few Remaining Lights’ is an eight-and-a-half minute epic that delves dark and deep and with segments of clean vocals that radiate emotion – and the more delicate passages mean that the raging torrents which follow have even greater impact.
The title track, slap in the middle of the set, is also the album’s shortest, and it’s a thick, chugging sinister slow thrash chug – but there’s some melodic lead guitar work that lifts it, and it’s nuanced work that’s not the commonplace fretwanking. The detail of the compositions is something which really stands out across the album’s six tracks. There are many segments woven together, but there’s a flow to each of them, meaning that each song feels like there’s a sense of progression, of evolution, rather than chopping and changing and packing in switches for the sake of unnecessarily showing off technical skills as so many metal acts are prone to. In this way, there is a sense that each song is a journey.
This is nowhere more apparent than on the final track, the ten-and-a-half-minute ‘Come Undone’ – which most certainly is not a cover of the Duran Duran single. They really take their time over this one, drawing out the most tension with a slow, solo picked guitar intro which paves the way for a monumental riff-fest, which – in an unexpected twist – transitions from being another Neurosis-style cruncher to something altogether more a kind of post-metal/grunge crossover.
As it tapers out, the silence gives pause to reflect: it’s not an easy album to process, because while it does sit broadly in the post-metal bracket, there’s a lot more going on, and it’s done in such a way as to seem natural in the transitions, when on paper, it shouldn’t always work. But why not? It’s music: there are no limits. Music may have become a commodity, because capitalism has conquered all, but at the heart of it, music can, when it’s not being used as sonic wallpaper or for marketing or cheap entertainment, be an outlet, and a medium by which it’s possible to articulate something beyond words. And this is what I get from False Haven: the sense that Vorder are a band compelled to create to have an outlet, and they don’t care whether it conforms to one genre or another. They truly do not give a fuck. False Haven is an album which had to be made, rather than being an album they thought they should make. And that’s what makes it such a powerful work, and as real as it gets.
Love Ghost is an enigmatic Los Angeles-based group that has been making waves for some time with genre-bending music that is informed by both Seattle tradition and Soundcloud-era fearlessness. Frontman Finnegan Bell began playing guitar and singing at the age of eleven, soon opening SoundCloud and YouTube accounts to upload his own music and videos. He began playing acoustic shows in 2014 and subsequently founded Love Ghost.
As a quartet, Love Ghost have toured extensively, playing shows in major cities all over the world, while they have earned plaudits from US publications such as Rolling Stone, Alternative Press, American Songwriter and New Noise for their music that has included collaborations with artists from countries that include Mexico, Spain, Turkey, UK, Colombia, Germany and Russia.
They are now adding to that list of territories with ‘Payback’, a first single from a forthcoming album made with Swedish musician and producer Tim Skold. Best known for his work with Shotgun Messiah, KMFDM, Marilyn Manson and as a solo artist, Skold has recently been working as part of the duo Not My God (with Nero Bellum) and has also just toured with Front Line Assembly.
“I met Tim at the Viper Room [in LA] on Halloween night, after which everything magically fell into place,” explains Bell. “We had a few meetings and recorded ‘Payback’ in my band’s studio. Having just come out of a difficult relationship, I wanted to make a song about revenge, redemption and love gone astray. When I was writing the lyrics, Tim had some very interesting tips and production choices that really brought the song to life. SKOLD is a legend and I’m super grateful and excited to release this song and for everyone to hear it.”
Skold adds that “Love Ghost has a super natural flow to writing and performing so it’s pretty easy for me join in, step up and keep the action going. You don’t run into talent like this every day so it was obviously an opportunity I wanted to act on immediately. I’ve been around the block a few times, but I’m very excited about this collaboration and look forward to digging deeper into the full length album.”
Aural Aggravation 