Be careful of circles, weaving wreaths in the dust; deliverance and pensive lines about passion, of terror and trust. A fearful son walks an angry line; thin as the air, and glories, sublime. Tearing, tearing, tearing into what he’ll become. Don’t fall in wells… There’s nothing like the first one. Still, there’s a spell, and there might stand the next one. The hopeful points forever forward, fingers trace the future of a loving face. A placard awaits, formalities engaged – two spiraling enfants beneath stars. The wishes can wait and the fears shall abate, while spoiled dreams are left to conflagrate; heaven’s behind you, but hell is above, tearing into what you’ll become. Dreams never tell… There’s nothing like the first one. Still, there’s a spell, and there might stand the next one. Don’t fall in wells – not when it’s over – there’s nothing like the first one… Passion fires the life… Still, there’s a spell… Waiting by the line… Standing by the last one.
Across their second full-length, the London post-punks offer up thrumming motoriks, industrial tones, and sullen sing-a-longs in abundance. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 17, 2024
Its exquisite sense of order parallels that of a physical theory. Science is the organization of our knowledge in such a way as to command more of nature's hidden potential. Likewise do these notes command our coldbeats in step with our heartbeats. The Human Remains