“On and On” pulses with infectious energy while peeling back layers of raw emotion, blending vulnerability and groove in a way that feels both intimate and defiant. Eating Club crafts a sound that lingers—not just in your ears, but in your gut.
“You Are Here Now” hits like a fever dream—violent, tender, and meticulously controlled chaos all at once. Taxidermy doesn’t just build tension—they stretch it until it fractures, leaving shards of noise, beauty, and existential grit in its wake.
“Dolphin (Swimming in a Sea of Love)” floats through dreamy textures and sun-warmed melodies, like a message in a bottle drifting across an endless tide. Bedolina captures a shimmering sense of wonder, where nostalgia meets slow-motion euphoria.
“Carpenter” doesn’t ask for your attention—it kicks the door in and takes it. Muscle delivers a blistering blast of controlled chaos, wired with twitchy grooves and a feral pulse that makes standing still impossible.
“SELF PORTRAIT” explodes like a neon tantrum—part breakdown, part breakthrough—wrapped in distortion and wild-eyed honesty. Glass Wire makes their entrance loud, raw, and unapologetically messy, like a glitch in the system you can’t stop replaying.
“The Honeymooners” shimmers like a distant dream unraveling in slow motion, where melancholy meets a soaring, spectral beauty. Winter Gardens channel longing into something cinematic—haunting, expansive, and quietly explosive.
“Girlfriend” crashes in like a glitter bomb of heartache and heat, all fuzzed-out riffs and diary-spilled lyrics. Soul Meets Body delivers the perfect soundtrack for shouting your feelings at the ceiling, somewhere between vintage pop glow and basement punk fury.
“ghosted” feels like a late-night text you never sent—fast, messy, and full of feelings you can’t quite shake. Bent Luck turns heartbreak into a sing-along sprint, fusing punchy riffs with sharp-tongued charm and just the right dose of self-deprecating humor.
“Backseat” glides with a timeless ease, carried by Louise Goffin’s warm vocals and a melody that feels like wind in your hair on a long, open road. It’s a soulful reminder to let go of the wheel sometimes—and trust the ride.
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Ut elit tellus, luctus nec ullamcorper mattis, pulvinar dapibus leo.
“Molly Mayhem” unfolds like a whispered memory on a frostbitten morning—achingly intimate, yet steeped in quiet turbulence. Joseph the Worker crafts a delicate storm of strummed sorrow and glacial synths, where love and obsession blur beneath a shoegaze shimmer.