Today we’re premiering the official video for “Rat Race,” one of the cornerstones of The Post Seasons’ debut album “Songs For The Sound Guy” — out now via Waddafuzz Records, RocketMan Records and Scuderie Ducali Records. The clip leans on footage pulled from the Prelinger Archives, the public-domain collection of mid-century American industrial, educational and advertising film — a choice that lines up neatly with what the song is actually about.
Waiting years to put out a record gets boring. That’s more or less the logic behind The Post Seasons’ debut — “Songs For The Sound Guy” was written, recorded and released in the span of a few weeks.
The Italian four-piece — Hoxha, Pinchetti, Zanoletti and Arciprete, all with previous time in projects including Glass Cosmos, Panamas and Lowinsky — didn’t bother sitting with the songs for long.
“‘Songs for the Sound Guy‘ is a disillusioned album written and recorded in a few weeks,” the band say. “Four people, even not knowing each other so well, went straight to point and made the most of what they had. One of the reasons is that waiting for years to see your songs coming out is so boring. The creative process is related and connected with the urgency of making the songs alive on a stage in the shortest time possible.”
The album is out now via Waddafuzz Records, RocketMan Records and Scuderie Ducali Records. The band presented it live on April 18 at Musicattiva in Cologno al Serio. Recording was handled by Federico Inguscio at FTS Studio, with mixing and mastering by Ettore Gilardoni at Real Sound Studio.
The Post Seasons describe their own position with more honesty than most bands commit to in a press release: “Like the New York Dolls, but without the glitter and with more Braulio, The Post Seasons are just indie veterans who never learned how to play quietly. Too late to be The Replacements, too cynical to be Jets to Brazil, and probably too stubborn to quit.”
Musically the record sits in indie punk territory in the vein of The Paddingtons, and it doesn’t pretend to be a career move. “‘Songs for the Sound Guy’ is clearly not about chasing the dream of a big stadium or arenas,” they write, “but enjoying every situation and make the most of it. It could be a small bar in the suburbs or a club in a big city, we are playing it as loud as possible. Also, we are every sound guy’s best friends. Wanna know why? Come to see us.”
The four songs follow that line.
“Wrong” deals with the permission the night gives — the space where morals slacken and pleasure stops needing a justification. The band frame it as a song about indulging in what the daylight hours deem wrong, and finding freedom in the part of yourself that does it anyway. The chorus pulls the idea into something harder: “Whatever happened / to make us feel so wrong / shatter the glass to see what’s beyond. And brace yourself against your will / sin in the night until you’re free.”
“In My Sleeve” is a quieter entry, a song about an ex that won’t quite leave. “Just another song about a past love,” the band shrug — the kind where the warmth keeps pouring out of small details and old memories long after the flame goes out. “And in my sleeve I have a story that doesn’t want to be told. And in my hat I hide a rabbit that sings your name when the silence falls.”
“Rat Race” is the closest the album gets to something autobiographical. The band consider it the most honest song on the record, a confessional about 9-5 life and the gap between the promises youth made to itself and whatever came after. A slow lead guitar line carries most of the melancholy. ‘
The key line — “I joined the Army of Misfortune, ready to die in a smog-fuelled queue. Now, losers, let’s all go to the camp!” — lands particularly well for anyone in their forties, which the band note openly.
The closer, “Not For Real,” swings the other way. It’s a sarcastic sketch of a certain kind of young urban professional, complete with a sexual comedy subplot involving a friend’s mother. “Our profound hero finds the necessary time to listen to a friend’s mother and console her with his carnal prowess,” the band write, deadpan. “Shamble stands tall upon a stage, he’s got big glasses in a word of rage, but no, he’s not for real.”
The accompanying video uses footage from the Prelinger Archives — the public-domain collection of mid-century American industrial, educational and advertising film. It matches the tone of the record: secondhand, improvised, uninterested in gloss.
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