Posts Tagged ‘Post Rock’

Watch: ‘Gerbera’ by MONO

Posted: 13 May 2026 in Recommended Streams and Videos, Singles and EPs
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Japanese post-rock legends MONO recently announced details on their new album Snowdrop set for release on 12th June via Temporary Residence. This is the band’s first album made with Brad Wood (Touché Amore, The Smashing Pumpkins), following the passing of longtime collaborator and friend, Steve Albini.

Taken from MONO’s 13th album Snowdrop, scheduled for release on 12th June 2026 (Temporary Residence), a new single ‘Gerbera’ is out now with an accompanying music video.

For Snowdrop, the band wishes to express their eternal gratitude to those precious people who have walked alongside them on their journey of life, by incorporating the messages imbued in flowers given to those who have passed into the song titles on the album.

MONO’s Statement:

“The language of flowers for the Gerbera is ‘faithful love’ and ‘cheerfulness’. The countless, precious memories I share with you will never be forgotten. I am so glad that I met you. Innocence, purity, joy, beauty—and I will never forget your smile.”

Yusaku Mitsuwaka, ‘Gerbera’ Director:

“During the shoot, the wind swayed the silver grass wildly, resonating with the band’s performance and blowing through as if it were music itself. Guided by the wind, the camera danced, and ‘Gerbera’ became a music video brimming with vitality. Even in today’s fractured world, the act of loving and being loved remains unchanging. I hope this wind reaches the heavens. I would like you to watch this while thinking of someone dear to you.”

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“Without exception, everyone will eventually depart this world and face the parting from their loved ones. Through this album, we wished to express our "eternal gratitude" to those precious people who walked alongside us on the journey of life. We believe this sentiment is the only thing capable of filling the void left in our hearts and easing the profound sorrow and pain of loss. Every flower carries its own unique language. For this album, we incorporated the messages imbued in flowers given to those who have passed into the titles of our songs. Our hope is that this album serves as a source of light and hope for those who have lost someone dear.” – MONO

When MONO recorded their previous album, OATH, with longtime production partner and friend, Steve Albini in 2023, they never fathomed that it would be the final studio album they made together. Albini tragically died the following year, and that loss left an incalculable void in the lives of not just everyone who ever knew Steve, but everyone with an attachment to any of the thousands of records he helped bring into world over the past four decades. He brought a clarity to the chaos, and a selfless sense of service to art and artists that was unrivalled. On both a personal and practical level, the loss left MONO faced with profound grief and uncertainty. Albini had become a fundamental part of MONO’s unmistakable sound, and the thought of replacing him was daunting, to say the least. Enter: Brad Wood(Touché Amoré, The Smashing Pumpkins).

Chosen for both his familiarity with MONO’s creative and technical working process – as well as his decades-long friendship with Steve Albini – Brad Wood entered Albini’s storied Electrical Audio studios in September 2025 to record what would become Snowdrop. Once again working with Chicago-based conductor and orchestral musical director, Chad McCullough, MONO enlisted a 10-piece orchestra as well as an 8-piece choir for the eight massive pieces that make up Snowdrop. With the band performing and Wood recording in the same hallowed space where most of MONO’s records had been made in their quarter-century history, the songs on Snowdrop carry an extra weight. Mixed by Wood at his Seagrass home studio in Los Angeles, the album is equally intimate and enveloping.

Where there could easily be a pall hanging over Snowdrop, there is instead an extraordinary air of gratitude. Rather than steep in heartache, there is a poignant appreciation for the resonance of life well-spent with a dear friend – and the yearning for what may come. Snowdrop is the sound of a band turning shock and sadness into hope and wonder – and finding renewed focus in the freedom of unknowing.

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Photo by Carlos Cruz courtesy of KEXP

Watch: Klimt 1918 – Dream Core

Posted: 17 March 2026 in Recommended Streams and Videos, Singles and EPs
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The heat is on: Rome’s skygazers KLIMT 1918 reveal the sun-drenched music video ‘Dream Core’ as the first advance single taken from the forthcoming new full-length Àmor. The beloved Italians’ fifth album has been chalked up for release on June 12, 2026.

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KLIMT 1918 comment: “The song ‘Dream Core’ revolves around resilience, strength, and the ability to overcome life’s adversities”, frontman Marco Soellner explains. “We dedicate this track to those who choose to love despite everything. To those who believe that a song can trigger the will to change. To those who feel like a storm about to break over a sun-scorched desert.”

The burning pulse of the sun’s nuclear fire scorching the desert. The smooth sliding of glistening skin over other skin in a throbbing rhythm. The swelling hum of motion in a mass of bodies. KLIMT 1918 capture many such fleeting moments in time and preserve them through cascading walls of sound and the elegant drone of guitars.

The Italian’s fifth album, Àmor, represents a climax of their acclaimed previous work into a most melancholic, sensual, and majestic collection of captivating music. Àmor was born out of silence, solitude and social distancing. Yet as a deliberate artistic counterpoint, KLIMT 1918 decided to have all their new songs revolve around carnality, ardour, physical contact between bodies, and the urgent, compelling feelings that keep people awake at night.

With Àmor, KLIMT 1918 also take another step in the steady evolution of their sound. The influences of avant-garde metal have been dwindling from the start while darkwave and alternative rock rapidly grew stronger in the music of the Italians. Post-rock plays a strong role in their latest development but instead of shyly narrowing their perspective down by gazing at their shoes, KLIMT 1918 dream with open eyes, looking up above the horizon and into the sky.

KLIMT 1918 emerged from the ashes of a metal band in 1999 when the brothers Marco and Paolo Soellner rather chose to take fresh inspiration from such acts as BAUHAUS, THE CURE, and JOY DIVISION. This was also indicated by their new band’s name, which alludes to the Austrian symbolist painter and Art Nouveau pioneer Gustav Klimt, who died in 1918 while the Great War was still raging. The debut album of the Romans, Undressed Momento, arrived in 2003 and its dark emotionality immediately garnered high praise from critics and fans alike all over Europe.

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Abrasive Trees – Carved Skull

Posted: 16 February 2026 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
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Argonauta Records – 13th February 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

A little over two years on from the short film, Mill Session, Abrasive Trees have made another leap in pairing with Argonauta Records, a label which specialises in stoner, doom, sludge, and post-metal, and have unveiled ‘Carved Skull’ as a taster for upcoming album Light Remaining.

At first glance, having been variously described as Post-Punk/Post-Rock/Post-Folk, Abrasive Trees are a strange fit for the label, but with this seven-and-a-half-minute epic, it makes sense.

The intro is a slow-build, with echoes of latter-day Swans in the insistent percussion, repetitive jangling guitar and wordless droning vocals which pave the way for a spectacular sustained crescendo which introduces the riff which provides the track’s recurrent motif, and it’s almost two minutes before we arrive at the lyrics, in which Matthew Rochford reflects on the times in which we find ourselves and yearns for something better – a return to, if not necessarily simpler times, then honesty and humanity.

Can we write a eulogy, for this current age?

And leave the lies behind

Our fears are carved upon our skull

Our pain marked on our skin

The undercurrents reach back into dark folk imagery, and this is mirrored in the sound, too. Sonically, it’s rich and layered, simultaneously weighty but uplifting – which is perhaps a foreshadwing of the album’s thematics as alluded to in the title Light Remaining, which implies looming darkness, and yet., still some light – light synonymous with hope. These are dark times. But we must have hope. Without hope, what do we have?

With ‘Carved Skull’, Abrasive Trees have conjured a big sound, as is befitting of a big tune, which is bold and impactful, and likely an indication of what’s to come.

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In A House Of Heartbeats – Divination of Dreams

Posted: 30 December 2025 in Albums, Reviews
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Ripcord Records – 16th January 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

What do we know about In A House Of Heartbeats? Personally, nothing, and I can’t be alone in that, so will draw on the band’s bio to provide some necessary insight by way of an introduction: ‘Emerging from the shadows of Essex’s underground scene, instrumental trio In A House Of Heartbeats have been quietly sculpting soundtracks for euphoric nightmares since 2022. Their music, steeped in atmosphere and cinematic tension, walks the line between dream and dread, an ever-shifting blend of post-rock, doom, goth, and shoegaze, filtered through inspirations that reach far beyond the musical world.

‘From arthouse cinema and silent film to folklore, myth, and the murky corners of the subconscious, the band construct deeply absorbing sonic “journeys” rather than conventional songs. It’s a style that encourages deep listening: passages unfold with deliberate patience, building from whispered ambience to tectonic weight, always leading the listener somewhere unexpected.’

They pack pretty much every musical aspect of their broad range into the album’s first track, the behemoth that is ‘In a Perpetual State of Wonder’. A hiss yields to a drone before a colossal riff and soaring lead guitar crash in on a surge of powerfully atmospheric post-metal portent… and that’s just the first minute and a half. Spindly gothy guitars weave spidery webs over rolling tribal beats before the next round of the riff. Towards the end, the pace picks up, and drags the listener headlong into a thrumming tremolo-driven blast that’s like a black metal My Bloody Valentine. I went for a seven-mile walk this morning, and it took me just over two hours but it was nowhere near as mentally and physically intense or exhausting as this eleven-minute blizzard of guitars.

Next up, ‘Cambion’, which first surfaced back in December 2024, is altogether more sedate, at least initially, with a chiming, almost folk-infused prog-flavoured intro creating a calmness before the inevitable storm which pounds in with a sustained post-rock crescendo before things get heavier… and heavier. The level of detail, the attention to texture and the frequent twists and turns make this feel like an entire album compressed into a single – albeit lengthy – track. Along the way, chunky bass rips and guitars chime and soar, and I find myself thinking I must be into the next track, but no.

The sample-laden post-rock drift of ‘Parasomniac’ (that would be someone who suffers from the effects of ‘a category of sleep disorders that involve abnormal movements, behaviours, emotions, perceptions, and dreams that occur while falling asleep, sleeping, between sleep stages, or during arousal from sleep’ (according to Wikipedia)) is reminiscent of Maybeshewill, and provides a welcome interlude between the epics before ‘Oneiromancy for Beginners’ lands with the gutsy punch of Andsoiwatchyoufromafar – surely one of the most remarkable and potent riff-driven acts to have emerged from the early noughties post-rock scene. This is a band bursting with ideas and bursting with energy.

The final two pieces, in combination, form a whole, as the Shakespeare-referencing titles suggest: ‘Drift into Sleep…’ bleeds into ‘…Perchance to Dream’, with its title casting a reference to Hamlet, to forge a twelve-minute opus that begins with a ticking clock and a sample from a guided meditation recording which is almost a carbon copy of a recording used for Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT). It’s likely uncomfortable for anyone who’s been through it, and I find myself squirming through the juxtaposition of soothing, flat vocals and churning noise, but suspect that’s part of the objective here. It’s disorientating and challenging, the second part conjuring atmospheric distortion and endless space with ambient tones and bold sonic washes, before slowly strolling towards an immaculate conclusion, defined by a smooth, swirling climax.

Divination of Dreams certainly delivers on the promise of ‘an ever-shifting blend of post-rock, doom, goth, and shoegaze, filtered through inspirations that reach far beyond the musical world’, and it would be impossible to deny that the end result more than achieves the ambition. Everything about Divination of Dreams is immense, from its ambition to its overwhelming listening experience. It simply covers so much ground – and does so with a rare confidence and finesse. It’s a rare beast, and a spectacular work.

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Photo: Charlie Hill

Vandampire – Hope Scars

Posted: 20 December 2025 in Albums, Reviews
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Ripcord Records – 31st October 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Every year this happens. My social media and every website, every mag, every paper is publishing its end of years round-ups. There’s the annual circular at work sent around a few friends for best / worst gigs of the year, most-listened to albums… and here I am, on 19th December, with at least one more gig to attend – which could as easily be a contender for the best, or the worst, or most surprising gig, or whatever – sifting through my inbox and discovering albums released in October still. Albums that might blow me away, at that.

How on earth did I miss an album pitched as ‘For fans of: Old Man Gloom, Cult of Luna, Kowloon Walled City, Big Business, Neurosis, Russian Circles, Torche, Pelican, Isis, Hey Colossus’? I mean, this is an instant grab! This is emblematic of a fairly modern issue, in that there is too much music. It’s not a complaint. But it is a fact that even the most devoted fan of even the most niche genre won’t have the vaguest hope of keeping up with all of the year’s releases in that field. It’s a double-edged sword: listeners are spoiled for choice, and it’s a boon time. There is always something new, and likely of an extremely high standard, whatever you’re after. If you’re a band, how do you get heard, when there are more albums released each week now than there was in the whole of 1988 or whenever? Being good, even being fucking awesome isn’t going to cut it. And hiring a PR – even a good one – doesn’t mean your release won’t languish in reviewers’ inboxes for a nearly three months – especially when reviewers are likely on the lookout for covering acts that will bring their blog hits: in other words, acts that already have some traction, moderate coverage… and so on.

Holy fuck. This… this is what some may call ‘the shit’. And it’s heavy. At this juncture, it’s perhaps unpacking the concept of ‘heavy’: the general perception of ‘heavy’ music seems to focus on distortion, overdrive, sounds associated broadly with metal. But weight and distortion are not necessarily synonymous.

Vandampire is a post-metal band from South West England who have been going since 2018, and they’ve very much learned the power of dynamic, and the strength of detail. They do hard-hitting riffs, but show a clear appreciation of the impact not only of clean, but of clang. Cited influences Neurosis and Kowloon Walled City are prime exponents of creating crushing weight and brutal, bludgeoning force with minimal distortion, and Vandampire have very much embraced their stylistic approach.

The title track is exemplary. It’s low-tempo, hard-crushing, doom-weight, and starts out menacing but relatively quiet, bar the thunderous percussion… and then it hits. Hard. It’s not outright metal, but it hits like a slow punch to the gut as the cacophony rages. And it’s LOUD and it’s raging, but it’s not all that big on distortion. I find the clean or moderately overdriven guitar sound in a heavy context hits hard in many respects, and the arrival of ‘Ultralow’ is nausea-inducing. This is loud and heavy on every level, with chugging guitar and bass that grinds slow and dingy it’s almost enough to make you shit your pants. But in its finale, it offers near-transcendence, a magnificent and majestic soaring climax that is nothing short of skyward. ‘Ultralow’ hits as a bludgeoning blast of fury, and the sinewy guitars, grinding bass and blankly nihilistic vocal leans heavily on the style and sound of Kowloon Walled City. I should be annoyed by this level of stylistic appropriation, but then they lunge into a low, grinding riff and… it’s clear they’ve got something as the song disappears intro a squall of feedback. ‘A Promise Main’ rages equally hard, blending elements of post-rock and post-metal, with soaring guitars and an obliterative rhythm section, not to mention some gut-churning chug and howling vocals to forge a monster cut that, in places, invites positive comparisons to Amenra.

When they do pair it back as on ‘In Ascension’, the vibes border on expansive ambience, with some rich textures and rippling melodic elements which contrast with the majority of the album. ‘I Will Miss Everything I Forgot’ is an achingly evocative acoustic-led track which sounds like nothing else on the album and demonstrates their range extends far beyond anguish and rage.

It’s clear that they’ve made optimal use of the recently-added second guitarist here. Hope Scars is richly textured, and there’s some magical musical interplay on display here. They bring all of this together on the colossal twelve-minute closer, ‘Let Ruin End Here’, a piece which is nothing short of devastating in impact, while at the same time offering intimations of a spiritual journey. And it is ALL the riff. It’s nothing short of monumental.

I don’t do end-of-year lists for numerous reasons, and if I did, I’d have missed this. This would have likely been a strong top twenty contender if I was going to make a list though: and since I’ve posted over three hundred reviews this year, that speaks of its quality. Yeah: this is one killer album, alright.

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Dawnwalker – The Between

Posted: 26 November 2025 in Albums, Reviews
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Room312 – 24th October 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

You know you’re in ‘epic’ territory when an album contains just two tracks (or one, depending on the edition). With a running time of thirty-two minutes, The Between is inching into the bracket of monster works that includes Earth 2, Sleep’s Dopesmoker, or much of Sunn O)))’s output – or Swans for that matter – but still. What they promise is ‘a long-form suite of experimental metal that runs the gamut of their whole discography’, described by the band as “a guided meditation through death and dying”, which ‘takes liberal doses of ancient Eastern philosophies on life and death and pairs them with a modern existential despair.’

And so it is that the vinyl release features the half-hour long ‘The Between’ split across two sides, while the digital version features the track unbroken, and paired with a ‘bonus’ track in the form of ‘Remember Death’, which has a running time of over twenty minutes. In short, this is an absolute fucking behemoth.

And it doesn’t stop there: this material was recorded with a twelve-piece lineup. Yes, you read that right. Said lineup features contributions from Oli Genn-Bash (Codex Serafini) on saxophone, virtuosic guitar solos from Alexander Brown (Infected Dead), sound design by new recruit Jack D’Arcy and notably, the return of Dane Cross (Sacred Son) on vocals. No wonder they pitch it as ‘Dawnwalker’s most ambitious work yet.’

I feel a degree of preparation is required for this experience. Candles are lit, whisky is poured. And I’ve brought the bottle up to my office because I suspect that I’ll be needing a refill before the album’s over, and I don’t feel like breaking the spell by pausing it and heading downstairs.

‘The Between’ begins with a bell chime. It rings on… and on… hushed spoken word and hovering tones conjure a rich atmosphere. There’s a magical mysticism about it, as well as a slow-build as rolling cymbals swell and drones hang, thickening the air. Over time, the instrumentation shifts, and doomy folk transitions towards post-rock, then towards cinematic progressive soundscapes. Four minutes in, it goes large… and there’s no looking back from here. It twists and turns, and takes myriad unexpected paths, with a sudden lurch into sludgy guttural metal. With dark, growly noise sharing space with huge progginess, and the riffs lurching this way and that, there’s a schizophrenic feel which begins to take hold after about five minutes. Nine minutes in, a wild solo simply explodes, and POW! Moments later, there’s a sax break. It’s simply too much to process rationally.

Ambitious isn’t the word, really. We’re talking about an album – A SONG – that veers more or less between Black Sabbath and Radiohead. It’s nicely produced, but where does that sit when you’re confronted with such extreme contrasts? ‘The Between’ is a head-spinning, brain-bending experience.,

The same is true of ‘Remember Death’. It begins with haunting, post-rock picked guitar and spoken word, and introduces the idea of years and life itself being cyclical: it’s gentle, its calm, and it’s human. Lyrically, it’s deep, deep, deep… ‘I know it’s an uncomfortable subject, but it shouldn’t be’, says the speaker. And it’s true. Death in our society remains a taboo subject. But why? That as a species we are afraid of death is one thig, but our avoidance of the topic is simply wrong, and the words of ‘Remember Death’ articulate all of this magnificently.

The simple fact is that death is inevitable and we all shall die. Preparing a will or something is good, but simply an acknowledgement of the inevitable rather than fully facing it. Facing it is to live every day like it’s your last. And the fact is, it may be, because you never know.

Things start getting particularly brain-bending around four minutes in. by this point, the atmosphere is hypnotic. You’re invested. You’re open, vulnerable. “The existence that we have now is not real. It’s an illusion. What we see as existence is fundamentally mistaken. What we see and perceive and taste and touch and feel is all filtered by subjective elements… and thus, we do not see reality.” And there is some truth in this: we each experience our own reality. We see colours differently, and our reality is simply our individual experience. It’s why eye-witness accounts of an event vary so. Wildly different as they may be, they will all be true for the person recounting the event. “Through a perfect death, we regain that perception of what is real…” the narrative continues. And this is where it really starts to get difficult, and strange. It is a very, very difficult listen. It continues in this vein, expounding the principles of Gnosticism, while the guitars gradually ebb and flow. The instrumental shifts are subtle, and ‘Remember Death’ contrast dramatically with ‘The Between’.

This would have worked well as a double album, but equally ‘Remember Death’ would have worked as a standalone album. Then again, they’d probably prefer that it was situated as a satellite work, being so far removed from the main release and their other work.

However you approach it, this release documents the work of immensely imaginative band at a creative peak, and it provides much food for thought.

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Cold in Berlin – Wounds

Posted: 14 November 2025 in Albums, Reviews
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New Heavy Sounds – 7th November 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Cold in Berlin have come a long way over the course of fifteen years and now – after a six-year wait – five albums. Give Me Walls was sharp, defined by an angular post-punk sound which crackled with nihilistic fury. You wouldn’t exactly say they’ve mellowed over time, but they’ve become heavier, darker, and have evolved the ways in which they articulate themselves, musically, and lyrically.

January 2024 saw the release of the EP The Body is the Wound, which introduced the thematics of a new and significant project, and indicated where they were heading, and came with references to an album to follow later in the year. The year came and went, and here we are, at the dark end of 2025. But as lead single ‘Hangman’s Daughter’ and follow-up ‘The Stranger’ foreshadowed, Wounds was worth the wait. Perfection takes time, and that’s what Cold in Berlin have delivered here.

But more than that, this is an album which wrestles with difficult stuff. As the band explain, “Wounds is a series of songs about the different ways people live with and process ‘the wounds’ of their lives… A strange celebration of that formative pain we have all experienced in some way. The loss and joy of survival – the celebration of finding others like us, the gift of knowing life comes after fire.” For all the noise of how we need to talk more about mental health, the fact of the matter is that it’s really just that. There is still real stigmatisation surrounding the subject in real terms, with reactions to attempts at open dialogue tending to range from diminishment, to dismissal, to awkwardness and paralysis before moving on with an embarrassed cough. And yes, I’ve learned this from painful experience. Raise the subject of mental health, anxiety, and dealing with bereavement while adjusting to life as a single parent with a teenage daughter… it’s amazing how many people go quiet, how many friends seemingly vaporize. The simple fact is that the majority of people are afraid to touch on dark topics, to venture to dark places. They can’t handle it, and so… these are my personal wounds, and why this album reaches parts other albums don’t get close to.

It’s ‘Hangman’s Daughter’ that raises the curtain on the dark drama which will infold over the course of nine songs. The big riffery that’s become their signature – and nowhere more apparent on predecessor, 2019’s Rituals of Surrender – is very much present, but there’s a lot happening here, in terms of detail and dynamics and arrangement, with pulsating electronics which owe considerably more to Krautrock than glacial gothy / post punk traditions prominent in the mix, and some thunderous drumming (which does belong more to the post-punk lineage) and some spindly lead guitar work that’s classic trad goth – and at the same time, the song’s imagery leans more toward folk-horror. It’s a potent mix which sets the tone – and standard – for a phenomenally powerful album.

Piling straight in hard and rather faster, ’12 Crosses’ is another showcase of stylistic eclecticism: the tense, cyclical guitar straddles post-punk and noise rock, and creates a claustrophobic, airless atmosphere – then, seemingly from nowhere, there’s brass, which, in context, introduces something of a post-rock feel, which is a sharp contrast with the spiky, Siouxsie-like stylings of the song’s second half. It’s fierce, but there’s more than straight attack.

A mere two songs and ten minutes in, and I find myself reeling by just how much they’ve packed in, in terms of range and depth, and the attention to detail is superlative.

‘Messiah Crawling’ provides… not respite as such, but some headspace to be carried along by a thick, doomy, Sabbathesque riff. ‘They Reign’ marks a change of pace, bringing down the tempo and volume, leading by a more narrative lyrical form. After a slow-build, rolling drums and swathes of synth conjure a cinematic sonic expanse which is transportative. It makes you feel, on a spiritual, perhaps even primal level. Landing mid-album, ‘The Stranger’ is rather sparser and it’s the synths which take the lead on this shimmering prog-pop cut, which grows and twists as it progresses towards a surging climax. Final song, ‘Wicked Wounds’ is nagging, and somehow antagonistic and more overtly punk in its delivery

Throughout, Maya’s vocals are powerful, commanding, but equally, rich and emotive. Not only has she never sounded better, but never more suited to the music her vocals are paired with, running the gamut of emotions from anguish and torment to reflective and vulnerable.

With Wounds, Cold in Berlin have stepped up to another level – and in every aspect. It didn’t seem possible they could keep getting better… but here, they’ve surpassed expectations, and once again exploded beyond the walls of genre to deliver an album which is something else.

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IAN – Come on Everybody, Let’s Do Nothing!

Posted: 24 October 2025 in Albums, Reviews
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Human Worth – 17th October 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Ok, so Ian was never a cool name. Growing up in the 80s, I knew a few Ians. Ian sits alongside Gary, Craig, Kevin, Gavin in a list of names that have fallen out of fashion and always seemed to have connotations of lameness. Calling a kid Ian or any of these names almost certainly consigned them to a future or shelf-stacking or low-level supervisory or managerial work.

Not IAN the band, though. Come on Everybody, Let’s Do Nothing! Is a magnificent beast of an album, which, over the course of five monumental tracks – the shortest of which is seven and a quarter minutes long – combine post-rock crescendos with post-metal explorations and spectacularly heavy raging fire.

The first track, ‘Manuel’ is a far cry from Fawlty Towers. There’s nothing comedic about it. Instead it builds… and it builds. Six minutes in, it’s a raging, speaker-shredding, overloading tempest of all-pedals-on-full , heads-down distorting riffery that’s nothing short of annihilative. It’s one of those pieces that leaves you feeling dazed, and with no idea where B was in the route from A to C: all you know is that you have tinnitus and your chest is palpating and you feel like you’ve been battered.

Muttering voices – presumably samples – reverberate amidst a growing drone at the start of ‘Building Pyramids’, and there are hints of Amenra in this slow-burning build, which you just know will erupt sooner or later. And of course, as the tension builds, it becomes apparent it’s going to be later. The suspense brings an ache to the gut. You need the levee to break. But still they push on with the low, slow, crawling doom drone… 4:39: Bam!!! And holy fuck. It’s not simply the slamming of pedals, the stepping up the racket. It’s a full-blown sonic tsunami. ‘Fennel’ is an all-out slugging, sludge-metal rager. Does anyone really like fennel? Even Jamie Oliver? Really? That anniseedy flavour in a meal just feels wrong. I understand the anger… or something. During the second half of the song, the grindy low-end is contrasted with a squalling lead treble frenzy, and the impact is devastating.

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The soft, string-led ‘Selma’ marks a strong contrast. It’s supple and moving, until three minutes in when all feet hit the floor and in an instant everything is blistering wall of guitars and drums which ricochet hard and fast among the riff-driven chaos which has erupted. Shit gets heavy, alright. And then we’re faced with the thirteen-minute finale, ‘Not Erotic / Cop Film’. Initially, I’m transported to the time around 2005 when every other band I saw was post-rock and post-metal didn’t seem to have been invented. Both of these things may be true, but what is certain is that with Come on Everybody, Let’s Do Nothing!, IAN actually do a lot – the album is a genre-splicing and immensely ambitious work which explores deeply the interplay of texture and dynamics: at times graceful and delicate, others face-rippingly furious – and always nothing short of immense.

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William Covert – Dream Vessel

Posted: 9 October 2025 in Albums, Reviews
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Coup Sur Coup – 17th October 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Few drummers receive much recognition, unless they’re the backbone of bands who are household names (people know Ringo Starr, Keith Moon, Dave Grohl, Mike Joyce, Lars Ulrich), or have otherwise featured prominently in a specific musical milieu (Martin Atkins and Paul Ferguson come to mind). Their contributions are overlooked and underappreciated, and in the main, there’s a tendency to only notice exceptional drummers, or poor ones. It’s not the job of a drummer to grab attention, but to hold everything together at the back. Consequently, you might be forgiven for being unfamiliar with William Covert, whose career is defined more than 15 years of drumming in math rock, post-rock, and post-hardcore bands (Space Blood, Droughts, and Rust Ring).

As the narrative goes, ‘Covert began experimenting with live-looped synths alongside acoustic and electronic drums. This experimentation birthed two full-length solo albums characterized by post-rock and krautrock-inspired synth loops and melodies, all performed solo with loop pedals and sequencers.’ Dream Vessel was born out of a desire to pursue a different approach and a different direction, and indeed, the first part of this latest offering was a collaborative, group effort, with Nate Schenck on bass and Jack McKevitt on guitar, while we learn that ‘the other half was performed entirely solo, diving deep into cinematic ambient soundscapes, dreamy Frippertronic-influenced guitars, modular synth, and free-jazz drumming filtered through a post-industrial lens.’ Nothing if not varied, then.

The album’s five tracks span thirty-eight minutes, and it’s very much an exploratory experience. ‘Brotherhood of Sleep’ eases the listener in gently, with a slow, strolling bass and reverby guitars. It’s an expansive and spacious instrumental work, rich in texture and atmosphere – a shade proggy, a little bit jazzy, unfurling at a sedate pace. ‘Trancers’ fades in, and offers similar vibes, but it’s both more spacious, and more groove-led. The guitars bend and echo that bit further, and as the track progresses, so the pace and urgency build, along with the density of the guitars, which warp and stretch more with every bar. It may not hit the extremity of My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless, but the guitars do sound as if they’re melting by the midpoint, before the track locks into a muscular, driving groove that’s a world away from where it began. There’s an appeal that’s not easy to pin down when it comes to compositions which begin in one place and end up entirely in another, while it’s not entirely clear how they’ve transported the listener from A to B. The experience isn’t completely unlike making an absent-minded walk somewhere, when you haven’t been paying attention, and arrive with minimal recollection of the journey- although the difference is that the walk is usually via a familiar route that requires little to no concentration or engagement, whereas a song that swerves and switches involves an element of brain-scrambling along the way.

‘Dream Void’ is a centrepiece in every way: The third track, right in the middle, it’s over nine minutes in duration and a towering monolith of abstract drone. It’s immense, cinematic, widescreen, gentle. Around the mid-point, the drums arrive, and they’re busy, but backed off in the mix, and we’re led down a path to a place where frenetic percussion contrasts with chords which hover and hum for an eternity. Slow-picked guitar brings further texture to the mellow but brooding post-rock soundscape of ‘C-Beams’, which pushes toward nine minutes, as the album ventures into evermore experimental territory. As present as the drums are, they don’t provide rhythm, but bursts of percussion, swells of cymbal and wild batteries of rolling, roiling whomps.

The more concise, feedback-strewn ‘Throttle’ marks a change in aspect, a roar of noise, a wail of feedback, and positively wild, before ‘Come True’ closes the set with some Kraftwerkian bubbling synth and undulating bass, paired with a rolling beat. It’s all nicely done. And this is true of the album as a whole.

Dream Vessel is gentle, overall, but not without edge, or variety, and certainly not without dynamic. Here, ‘interesting’ and ‘unusual’ are not dismissive shrugs with a hint of condescension: Dream Vessel brings together a host of ideas and traverses a succession of soundscapes , never staying still for a second.

AA

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Ashley Reaks – At Night The World Belongs To Me

Posted: 24 September 2025 in Albums, Reviews
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2nd October 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

The context for Ashley Reaks’ sixteenth solo album – and his third in three years (not counting the compilation of demos released earlier this year) – is weighty. He has written openly and extensively of his health issues, while sharing images and commentary nocturnal wanderings, and these both inform At Night The World Belongs To Me, of which he writes:

The looming spectre of death and loss haunt the album: Reaks survived two major health scares and a misdiagnosed terminal illness over the last 18 months, experiences that inform the reflective, poetically gloomy lyrics, and the 4 am downtempo grooves. Adding to the sense of loss, guitarist and long-term collaborator Nick Dunne died suddenly at home just one week after completing his guitar parts for the record.

Through all of this, he has continued to collage and write prodigiously, but At Night The World Belongs To Me marks a distinct change of tone from its immediate predecessors, The Body Blow of Grief (2024) and Winter Crawls (2023). The usual elements are all present and correct – the sense of experimentalism, the collaging of genres, melding post-punk, jazz, and dub – but this feels darker, more introspective. The cover art, too, reflects this. While it has the same rather disturbing, grotesque strangeness of his usual work, the grim-looking figure in repose has connotations of ailment, frailty, even the deathbed.

The first track, ‘Playing Skittles With The Skulls and Bones’ has a bass groove that calls to mind The Cure’s early sound, melded to a rattling rhythm reminiscent of ‘Bela Lugiosi’s Dead’. The smooth sax that wanders in around the mid-point provides something of a stylistic contrast, but at the same time, it’s minor-key vibes keep the song as a whole contained within a bubble of reflection, evoking the stillness of night. I know, I’m sort of dancing about architecture here, but something about Reaks’ work prompts a multi-sensory response.

‘Rimmed With Yellow Haloes’ brings soaring post-rock guitars atop of an urgent ricochet of drumming and solid bass. On the fact of it, it’s almost poppy, but it soon shifts to take on a folksy aspect, while Reaks sings of death and funeral pyres, and the refrain, delivered with lilting, proggy overtones, ‘The Lord gave the day to the living, the night to the dead’. In context of the album’s title and theme, there is a tangibly haunting foreshadowing here, a suggestion that Reaks has not only accepted his mortality, but has assumed his place. It’s powerful, and deeply moving. Of course, Reaks can’t help but introduce incongruous elements, with some horns which are pure ska and some super whizzy 80s pop synths providing a pretty wild counterpoint to it all. It’s hard not to smile, because there’s an audacity to this approach to composition and arrangement – a lot of it simply shouldn’t work, but it does, and it’s uniquely Reaks.

The album’s shortest song, ‘Things Unseen’ is snappy, poppy, Bowie-esque, an amalgamation of post-punk and electropop, a standout which is succinct and tight, and consequently, the dark connotations of the bleak shuffle of ‘Life Forever Underground’ – a rippling synth-led tune – are rendered more profound. The sequencing of this album is such that the shifts between songs accentuate their individual impact.

‘Mask the face, unmask the soul…’ he sings softly on ‘Mask The Face’, which has a somewhat spacey Krautrock feel to it – before a guitar solo that worthy of Mark Knopfler emerges most unexpectedly. And as dark as things get here, Reaks never ceases to bring surprises. At Night The World Belongs To Me perfectly encapsulates the reason he’s so respected and critically acclaimed, but orbits light years outside the mainstream. In a world defined by an exponentially reducing capacity for sustained attention, Ashley Reaks makes music that requires real engagement, the musical equivalent of complex carbs and high fibre foods in a processed, white bread culture. But also, contemporary mainstream radio music favours short songs which cut straight to the chorus, where the hook has to land in the first twenty seconds. Here, we have eight songs, all but one of which are over five minutes long. They take their time, they’re expansive and exploratory, there’s atmosphere, there’s depth. And as ‘Eyeing Up The Sky’ tapers away on a buzzing drone, we’re left with much to chew on, much to consider.

AA

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