Pool Kids are no strangers to switching up their sound, and despite Easier Said Than Done being significantly more polished with sleek production courtesy of Mike Vernon Davis, (Foxing, Great Grandpa) they still remain true to their ethos, and their brand of captivating math rock, emo and pop-rock is still present on their latest release.
Title track, first single, and album opener ‘Easier Said Than Done’ is a combination of lush harmonies, dreamy guitars that take inspiration from 90’s shoegaze, intricate background riffs, and Davis’s production which adds a glossy shimmer over the entire album; a captivating backdrop for their slice-of-life and contemplative lyrics that clearly sets Pool Kids apart from many of their emo contemporaries. Frontwoman Christine Goodwyn’s soft, yet powerhouse vocals may have significantly less edge compared to older tracks such as ‘$5 Subtweet’ but they still add a significant and commendable level of depth and emotion on the majority of Easier Said Than Done’s track listing; which will make you contemplate life, and cry hysterically into a pillow in equal measures.
Boasting a lineup that reads like a who’s who of extreme music—featuring members of Kreator, Loudblast, Dååth, and Mayhem—Sinsaenum channel their collective pedigree into a record that is as technically punishing as it is atmospherically dense. From blastbeat-driven assaults to eerie melodic passages, In Devastation feels like both a cathartic purge and a band finding its footing in the wake of loss.
Sonically, the album hits hard. Guttural roars and relentless double-kick drumming are tempered by neoclassical flourishes, acoustic interludes, and haunting synth work that elevate the atmosphere without softening the blow. Clean vocals make a rare but well-placed appearance on “Last Goodbye,” offering a brief moment of vulnerability before the chaos resumes. It’s a record that blends precision with primal force, striking a balance between discipline and destruction.
2023’s All Fiction was received as an album of quiet experimentation, a wander through fields of avant-garde curiosity where the musical exploration of Pile knew no bounds. Their last album to fall within the Bermuda Triangle balancing act of indie rock, noise and post-hardcore was 2019’s Green and Gray where Pile felt as complete as thought possible but now with Sunshine and Balance Beams we have what feels like a true sequel, one with all the spirit which makes them so revered by their peers and connoisseurs.
Rick Maguire and Co. leave a welcoming door ajar for the casual listener to embrace the learning curve of a band rarely appreciated by the mainstream, the vocals tip toe around the welcome mat of aggression before receding into melancholic territory on ‘An Opening’. Maguire flickers his heavenly drawl into falsetto before crashing into the cold reality of the tracks angular apparatus with drums beating their chest and whirring builds of intensity which pendulum swing us into the arms of the album. Although there is difficulty in assuming the ‘sound’ of Pile, tracks like ‘Made of Clay’ would be assembled if asked to create one from memory, as a torrent of drums from Kris Kuss are the foundation to which all good decorations are displayed as his performance is electric with a pulsating urgency which dictates mood and direction. It provides ample podium for the gravelly tone of Maguire which see-saws from calm narration to a bark which is guided by the unsettling tension of guitarist Matt Connery.
As a project, Ethel Cain sits on the fence of pop stardom. Sellout tours, playing alongside artists such as boygenius and Caroline Polachek and her anti militarism anthems landing on Obama’s playlists would lead you to believe that a top 40 hit would be next on the agenda. Her 5-minute plus length songs, the intensely dark subject matter, and her January 2025 EP Perverts – 90 minutes of dark ambient and drone, with few vocals in there – would beg to differ.
Separating those sides of your artistry would have been the logical step, especially for an artist having been so heavily ingrained by the SoundCloud music scene, burner accounts, and limited timed releases are commonplace. Separating aliases between your blend of slowcore, folk and shoegaze with pop sensibilities and the dark ambient side of your music would seem to be logical, but the juxtaposition is a tool with a purpose.
The release of Perverts felt like an event – although any time a pop leaning artist teases a drone project would ignite interest – and that hype has carried through to Willoughby Tucker, I’ll Always Love You. A shorter project, but one promising to continue along the themes and story of debut Preacher’s Daughter.
Quietly working away in the Scottish underground, Humour have already carved out their sound through a pair of EPs bristling with fuzzed-out indie rock and raucous modern emo energy, drawing from influences as diverse as Touché Amoré and Viagra Boys. Taking plenty of risks and haphazardly launching themselves between genres, Humour deliver an eclectic and emotionally charged experience with their first full length, Learning Greek.
Opening track ‘Neighbours’ sees Humour stepping up to the plate for a confident and noisy first swing, fuelled by zig-zagging post-hardcore energy. While much of the material that follows throughout Learning Greek takes more of measured slacker rock approach, ‘Neighbours’ flies out the gate with demented, screamed vocals from frontman Andreas Christodoulidis cutting through a wall of warbling distorted guitars before dropping to a detached croon for the 90s college rock style chorus. While it’s certainly a bold way to open an album, the sharp changes in tone on ‘Neighbours’ can be a little jarring at times, splitting the track into distinct chunks of lilting alternative and biting post-hardcore rather than bringing the contrasting styles together into a cohesive whole.
