Early January. ангст.’s drummer Dmitry opened Instagram and messaged a French screamo band he’d been sitting with for a while. He wanted to tell L’Idylle he liked their music. That was the
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There’s a strand of hardcore coming out of Central Europe right now that trades speed for weight. Records where the
The volume on “Fragment” starts low, and Astoria left it that way on purpose. The intro sits at conversation level
Vocals on “The Anatomy of an Atomic Heart” shift fast. Clarissa handles the harsh side. Guitarist Brandon takes the clean
You could try to plot Overton somewhere between Danzig and the shout-along end of melodic punk. Piebald, Antillectual, and The
On the cover, the Louisiana state capitol and the Mississippi river bridge stand behind streets drawn corrupt and treacherous. That
Mik was on her back trying not to move. Sebastian Pielnik, the B camera operator, stood above her aiming for
New York runs on people it would rather not see. The ones who clean the buildings they will never afford
A faceless head, monochrome, with red handwritten script running across it: that is what Alberto Becherini handed back after If
Forked River is not a big place, but on most weekends there is a show, sometimes two. In one small
The record opens somewhere low. Alienation, disappointment, the kind of self-loathing that follows you around and keeps talking after you
track by track
For most of the spring, Tano!‘s fourth album existed as a stack of boxes hidden in a basement somewhere in Catalonia. The vinyl was pressed, the sleeves printed, and the two people
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Cornelius had two colleagues he saw regularly. One hated pineapple on pizza. The other hated Bon Jovi. He happens to love both. He got tired of the mockery and christened his favourite pizza after the second man’s worst nightmare, calling it Pizza Bon Jovi:
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King Sans’ debut opens in a dark room lit by a single
Narrow Arm start with a room. “Ticking Clock” comes from three players
Gom Jabbar, the chiptune-punk duo of Stormo’s Federico Trimeri and Kenobit’s Fabio
Six songs of meandering clean guitars, vocals that crack right at the
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At Obrien’s Pub in Allston, after bratlash‘s debut EP release show, a woman came up to Jett Hexx to say she’d heard the band for the first time that night. She wanted to know where else she could find their music. She’d ditched Spotify
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Spend enough time in a magazine whose backbone runs through post-hardcore, hardcore
Every weekday morning, Jack Grisham gets on a call with Paul Roessler.
Working title was “Hate Is Not Enough.” That’s what Eternal Struggle had
Manfred Engelmayr was in Berlin in the early 2000s with no fixed
