Flying On Clipped Wings

As a myriad of hardcore bands plumb the depths of the 90s and early 2000s for inspiration, it was perhaps inevitable that we'd see a revival of the emotionally charged ferocity that bands like Poison The Well, From Autumn To Ashes and Remembering Never in particular dealt out, and for a band playing this sound to get picked up by a label. The band in question, Wristmeetrazor, the label in question, Prosthetic Records, and here we are with their official debut album. Fortunately for the band, I'm quite a fan of that strand of early 00s metalcore, and fortunately for me and the other listeners, they don't just retread those waters on this album. They take their name from a Usurp Synapse song, and the fragmented, blistering ferocity of that strand of screamo, emo violence, is all over this album. Song lengths seldom go past the two minute mark, the guitars squeal and screech with wiry feedback, the vocals are a tortured pterodactyl cry. Yet it's Wristmeet

Here's some of the haïkus I never got around to compiling and uploading to my blog. Honestly, once I started writing longform poetry I kinda forgot all about the haïkus, but here we go pals. Swiping Through Tinder In The Counsellor's Waiting Room This is about going on the hellapp and not doing anything, no matter how cute or interesting the faces you see might seem Flurry of green hearts Some tepid validation First text stays unsent Writer's Block Is Really Just Impostor Syndrome Come Home To Roost Basically just about how the fear of your previous artistic successes being flukes becomes an actual reality when the words won't come out, title saying it all really. They're screaming at me Every blank word document Mediocrity Banksy Lowkey Had A Point Lads Again the title sums it up really, just a wee rumination on how we kinda get fixated on empty gestures of validations for various things on our various social media platfo

Those of us who find ourselves in low moods a lot of the time often find comfort in sad songs. We wallow until there's no more sorrow to be let loose, and we can pick ourselves up again. Very often there's particular songs that get put on repeat, a feedback loop of sadness, a downward spiral. For me, Grouper's song Call Across Rooms , off her 2014 album Ruins is the one song among the many songs fitting that description that's under the microscope today. It's one of only a few songs that completely broke me emotionally upon first listen. The day after first listening to it, I ended up in hospital for a suicide attempt. I was afraid of it for a little bit afterwards, but I tried listening to tricot in the ambulance n I haven't gone off that band at all, so I return to Call Across Rooms at my lowest points. The song is essentially recorded in one take, Liz Harris singing over sad piano, a faint air of feedback in the air. I've heard music critics re

Well, 2018. It was a year. Honestly whether it was a good or bad one depends what lens you're looking at it through but it was definitely a year that'll be etched into the history books. Fortunately it did produce quite a bit of good music, which I'll document here in the form of my favourite tracks released. Calvin Harris & Dua Lipa: One Kiss Calvin Harris makes his return to more traditional dance music with this silky smooth cut. Dua Lipa continues to exude the effortless cool that's become her trademark of sorts, the instrumental has some lovely 90's house vibes I'm a sucker for, the true big song of the summer. Vein: Virus//:Vibrance Vein are one of the hottest bands in hardcore at the minute, and this song is more than sufficient justification for that. They've taken the white-hot aggression of their early EPs, and teased it out more into an almost sickeningly forceful groove, losing none of the power but far more refined. It's as catchy a

Hey friends, long time no upload. Figured I'd start putting more of my poems back up on this while I wait to eventually think of other content to upload. This poem is about stagnation like many of my others, but with a lot more in the way of specific detail, the title being stolen from a book I found working in the basement of a local charity shop Worms Can't Fly anchored in Athlone, might as well be open sea anchored by aspiration or apathy? either way I'm chainsmoking my way through the same gaps Johnny Hobo did except my lullaby's not whisky just the cheap, dirty cans brought home from the same repeating setpieces of shitty sessions Alcoholism funded by the department of social protection Offset by ten hours charity work, my altruism or an answer to how I spend my days? Just another unanswered question, like "what are you going to do after graduation" or "what makes you happy?“ Perhaps escape is possible, Or some measure of catharsis at le