Composed of Stephen Harrison and Aric Improta, the duo have storied musical legacies, featuring involvement with Night Verses, The Chariot, and Fever 333. After the pair simultaneously departed the latter, they found themselves drawn to working with one another over a shared vision of infinitely energising and unpredictable music, with no idea too wild. From this was born their debut EP, Galore.
Featuring production from Jordan Fish (formerly of Bring Me The Horizon), everything about Galore is intended to sound as immense in scale as possible; a roiling collision of musical ideas from punk, post-hardcore, EDM, dubstep, and many other genres. Whilst this does mean that the end product as a whole is chaotic and lacking in cohesion, the tracks themselves are so ferociously electrifying, the repeat button becomes an irresistible temptation.
The whole project is empowered by anger and defiance; It’s Supposed to Hurt encapsulates this perfectly, with it’s abrasive glitch-punk instrumentals and lyricism that speaks of the pain and sacrifice that exists in anything worth doing. Learn To Forget doubles down on these themes with its relentless, guitar-focused instrumental and immensely catchy choruses. The lyrics are a viscerally bitter affair, and could very easily be construed as a documentation of Harrison and Improta’s divorce from Fever 333; a pure anger at having their love of their craft go totally unappreciated and undervalued.
It isn’t hyperbole to say that the UK hardcore scene is in a fantastic state right now. Across the country, bands are emerging from the ashes of a dismal era in history to create amazing art and a lot of those are using their platform to blend and meld genres to fantastic effect. Some of those mixes are par for the course, but it takes a truly unique band to make you look at a description of their sound and loudly proclaim “What the fuck?”.
Enter Manchester’s Lure In. A self described blend of hardcore, shoegaze, noise and hyperpop with a dark, dystopian edge, on paper it seems a little disjointed. However, as soon as their brand new record We Are All Going To Hell begins to play, it all makes sense. Dreamy, sometimes nightmarish guitars fuse together with raw drums and a sense of the walls closing in, all wrapped in a distinctly upbeat (at least musically) bow. We Are All Going To Hell is the group’s second full length and hasn’t been an easy record to make. It has seen a new member join in the form of Sofia Sourianou from Deathbloom and sadly this is the final record that will feature founding drummer Sammy Coker. Thematically, it tackles the world as the band see it, a modern day dystopia that grips and drags our lives down with it, leaving us victims who are yet complicit to the horrors that exist beyond our immediate sight.
A frantic, battering ram of a record that aurally assaults you with 9 tracks in just over 18 minutes, it brings to mind bands like Coalesce and My Bloody Valentine among others. The production is almost claustrophobic, with a wall of sound encroaching on you at all times. Lead vocalist Cameron Wilson also produced this record and his experience dealing with complex, unorthodox bands as a part of the Dai Tan filming collective in a live environment really shows in this. The clattering drums and the abrasive guitars are mixed fantastically, and when things do get a little bit gazey the impact of a change in tone is substantial.
Lyrically navigating personal experiences with identity through the most ferocious means, Cainhurst‘s new EP A Sacrifice sets fire to and purges all preconceived notions on who a person is meant to be, cutting the throat of masters and shattering the chains holding them from their true selves. It begins like the spawn of Dillinger Escape Plan with mechanical math chaos in ‘Scars From The Entry Wound’ before the desperate and lethal vocals of Ewan Benwell pick up the song like a bird of pray picking the bones clean of any signs of life which only lets up to catch a breath.
Moving like the Gospel frantic classic ‘The Moon is a Dead World’ with the crushing weight of ‘Document 8’ by PG.99 the torso of the record is stricken with panicked instrumentals and relentless breathy screams. This is begging to be celebrated in the fervent festivals of Europe and beyond where the crowds of outsiders will hold this dear to the heart. They hold all the hallmarks of brutally devoted screamo with really tasteful and naturally weaved in threads of subtle post-rock and hardcore to create something with much individuality to build on.
A break for calm and collection with rare singing which is kept quiet until the end which makes its impact hold so much more meaning when it arrives. It’s the clearest sign of their development yet as this injection of melody through highlight “Wrest Me From The Jaws Of Heaven” is another layer pulled back on an already vulnerable display. To strip back all angst and leave it bare gives a listener a chance to soak everything which has come before. It builds beautifully to take flight into tortuous post-rock/screamo confession, screaming at the sky with enough sharpness to leave wounds.
Cainhurst are destined to be beacons of feral hope within screamo, pulling raw catharsis straight from the flesh with both fresh and familiar foundations. Having already graced Radio One via Alyx Holcombe there are eyes and ears a plenty awaiting Cainhurst‘s next move and like all great screamo releases the run time is short which will only serve to increase the rabid appetite. Be sure to catch them on their headline tour this September with Lugosi and experience the violence first hand.
Pushing the boundaries of progressive, piano-led rock since cementing themselves in Bristol’s thriving experimental music scene in 2020 Sans Froid (formerly known as Sang Froid, subtly changing their name to avoid a clash with a French goth rock band of the same name) have already been making a splash, fitting in comfortably with fellow oddballs Sugar Horse, Peach and CLT DRP while drawing comparisons to Kate Bush and Radiohead. Now, on their debut full length the quartet lean hard into their more eccentric tendencies for a confusing yet intriguing first swing.
Sans Froid waste absolutely no time in establishing themselves as artsy outsiders, turning away all but the most dedicated prog and art rock fans. Hello, Boil Brain makes a bold, if oft inaccessible, statement, swirling together frontwoman Aisling Rhiannon’s dissonant key stabs and lilting vocals with a punchy rhythm section and chunky guitar riffs for a disorienting and hypnotic experience. After a brief introduction from album opener ‘Hello’ Sans Froid get stuck in with their single ‘Planket’, a whirlwind of jarring piano, chaotic distorted guitar lines and mesmerising vocals. Hello, Boil Brain certainly won’t be for everyone; these first two tracks alone would be enough to keep it out of the charts, however, those brave enough to stick it out will find themselves drawn in and drowning in an intoxicating pool of noise.
From the get-go the interplay between frontwoman Aisling Rhiannon’s keyboard lines and guitarist Charlie Barnes’ wailing riffs plants itself firmly at the epicentre of Sans Froid’s sound, whirling the instruments together in a hurricane of intertwining melodies. Throughout the album moments of harmonised clarity break free from the discordant noise, like when the guitar and vocals synergise over a dramatic piano line on ‘Gammons’ or the subtle and ominous intro of ‘Split In Two’, that make full use of Rhiannon’s full key sound and Barnes’ intricate lead guitar parts. It’s rare to hear a rock band using this winding, maximalist approach this well, Sans Froid manage to balance their brick wall of arty prog rock with clear, memorable musicianship.
The third record from the NYC trio, Emita Ox is dropping at the ideal time for Hello Mary. Whilst the band may have already established a strong following on their side of the Atlantic, the release of this record ideally coincides with their debut UK tour alongside math/emo icons American Football. Whereas the band’s first two full lengths – 2020’s Ginger and 2023’s Hello Mary, respectfully – were perfectly fine homages to dosed-up, blissed-out, fuzzy 90s alt-rock, this record takes a more left-field approach to all things reverberating. With a newfound focus on off-kilter rhythms, mixed-metre compositions, proggy structures, added instrumentation and the incorporation of shoegaze, noise-rock and all things adjacent, Emita Ox feels like a fresh introduction to this band for those already in the know. It’s like Silversun Pickups for the ArcTanGent crowd.
The opening gambit of ‘Float’, ‘0%’ and the suitably titled ‘Three’ present their evolution and shift into more experimental pastures. As the aforementioned opener takes that up-to-date 90’s nostalgia sound popularised by bands like Momma and infuses it with a sense of strained tension that erupts with noise-rock fury, ‘0%’ feels like a fusion of Gouge Away and Hum, its pendulating angst complimented by brutish walls of fuzz and sudden quiet glockenspiel.
In the case of ‘Three’, the track wonderfully harkens thoughts of progressive experimentalists on this side of the Atlantic in the key of PEACH, Sans Froid and Mall Girl, thanks to a shimmering static, irregular piano riff and its blanketing atmosphere that’s somehow both soothing and totally uncanny. The proceeding ‘Down My Life’ further pays homage to this sentiment, but it’s these tracks that initially showcases not just how surprisingly experimental is, but how brilliantly organic and authentic it is.
