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Leah Callahan: Our Lady Of The Sad Adventure (Self-Released) Released 1 June 2026 DL | Streaming Prolific Bostonian singer-songwriter Leah Callahan returns with her most confident blend of UK alternative music styles to date. From shoegaze to synth-pop and beyond, she takes a deep dive into her past and ours. Robert Plummer falls in love […]

The post Leah Callahan: Our Lady Of The Sad Adventure – Album Review appeared first on Louder Than War.

After exploring the effects of dementia on 2023’s A Feast On Sorrow, Urne decided to reconnect with metal’s roots for their 2026 follow-up

Did I really get out of bed at 5:00 am just so I could listen to the new Hayley and the Crushers’ single and perhaps write a little something about it before heading off to work? That’s the level of geekery I have reached! I did not know that “Cringeworthy” was coming out until yesterday afternoon, so I approached this song with zero idea of what to expect beyond knowing it would be super-awesome because, well, it’s Hayley and the freaking Crushers! So you’re getting my fresh, off-the-cuff take with no time for polishing or overthinking. Bathing and breakfasting await, so I have to hurry. 

On that note, I must say “Cringeworthy” is, as I presumed, super-awesome! In fact, it might extra-super-awesome. It’s honestly one of my favorite songs this band has ever done, and the vibe reminds me of those great singles the band put out when it first signed to Kitten Robot Records. I love that this song lives in the world of pure pop goodness with punk and new wave influences — always a sweet spot in the Crusherverse. This song is classic Crushers without necessarily trying to be classic Crushers. It’s got a serious, somewhat heavy theme, but it’s still wonderfully intoxicating in a way all great pop ought to be. The music video is an absolute hoot. Overall, this song and video seem to be going the opposite direction from the popular sentiment that all those millions of people out there doing their thing online are so very cringeworthy. Perhaps, you know, we ought not to be so quick to judge people for what they’re putting into the universe — especially if they’re doing what they love. How does all that judging and shaming serve us? Perhaps my interpretation is self-serving since what I do is certainly cringeworthy in the eyes of many, but I’m taking something very positive from this song. My first few spins with “Cringeworthy” were more than worth the lost sleep. I can’t wait for the album!

It is no surprise if you are a listener/subscriber/patreon to the phenomenal Two Promoters One Pod podcast to see the queue for this early Saturday evening show quickly wind from the venue to the Camden underground entrance. Confused and intrigued passers by enquire as to the headliner this evening. Australian post-Rock legends We Lost The Sea draw blank faces and we had not even got to describing the pull of the other two bands on the bill – Overhead, The Albatross and Dimscûa.

We Lost The Sea – Overhead, The Albatross – Dimscûa

Electric Ballroom, Camden – 23 May 2026

Words And Photography: Paul Hutchings

Kudos must be given to Podcast co-hosts Gavin McInally and James Scarlett, who promoted the run. It is no easy thing throwing your money behind a potential loser, but the numbers at opening night in Nottingham were good, and tonight it seems that the merch team will again be busy.

Sold-out shows and upgraded venues for the other dates confirm that this package is doing good business.

We Lost The Sea

Headliner on this run, it is an unseemly early time for Australians We Lost The Sea to hit the stage. 8:05 pm to be precise. Having seen the band at Arctangent and twice the weekend before at Dunk Festival in Belgium, I knew what to expect.

So, I thought. Yet each time they play, something deep within stirs, and you find yourself gasping for breath as they stir the emotions to a level that you did not think possible. 

Masters of the slow yet intense build up, the six-piece dive deep, drawing mainly from their 2025 masterpiece A Single Flower. A shift of gears is inevitable, but the drift from If They Had Hearts into A Dance With Death never fails to elevate the heart rate.

Intoxicating in their simplicity, it is the repetition and clever beats that make We Lost The Sea such a fantastic and fine headliner.

It was 2016’s Departure Songs that established WLTS in the big league. I endorse this with every fibre of my being. When Mark Owen lifts the intro riff to A Gallant Gentlemen, there is a genuine excitement in a close to capacity room, which can take 1,500 punters. It is a killer six minutes, defined by a mass of nodding and looks of intense focus. 

It is a reasonably short set owing to the curfew (two more songs played the night after at Manchester), but for just shy of 90 minutes, the whole venue is transfixed. Each song ebbs and flows, the pattern following in a majestic manner. Slow build-ups reach crushingly heavy crescendos before bringing us back down to earth to reduce the elevated heart rate.

A Beautiful Collapse from Triumph & Disaster sits comfortably alongside Everything Here Is Black And Blinding, Bogatyri and evening closer Blood Will Have Blood.

Drenched in reds and blues, the lighting matches the mood that the band conjure up. They lurk in the mist, striding forth onto steps for the muscular parts, Matt Harvey and Carl Whitebread often holding their guitars aloft in justification.

They have earned it, and the crowd respond magnificently. No over-the-top chaos, just massively warm appreciation on a sweltering London evening. Crisp sound and superb lighting. It’s all just damn impressive.

It is over too soon, but the emotions still soar as I travel along the M4 home to Wales. I am just pleased I have a ticket for the final show of the tour in Bristol. 

Overhead, The Albatross

Formed in Dublin in 2009, it has been a slow burn for Overhead, The Albatross. There is plenty to research if you want, but the key thing is that at long last the band are getting the traction and attention that their music and enthralling live shows deserve.

2024’s I Leave You This does the heavy lifting tonight, but it is not a surprise, given how breathtaking an album it is. 

It is hard to categorise OTA. They sit firmly in the post-rock camp, but switch into electronica, pop and rock as well. Their songs are drenched in melancholy, sweetly constructed with stirring passages that swell with passion.

Your Last Breath opens the set, and instantly, there is nowhere to look but the stage. Bassist Stevie Darragh bounds around the stage, at times cajoling the audience, at other times in the photo pit or sat on the edge of the stage. 

OTA have been with WLTS on the first leg of this tour across Europe, and they are sharp. Singer/guitarist Luke Daly’s spoken word hits the right spot, whilst guitarist Vinny Casey goes through his own range of emotions each time I see him play. Nothing manufactured, this is from the heart, and it is incredible. 

The UK run sees Ryan Whelan step in behind the kit. He looks somewhat apprehensive but nails it completely. Their set flies by, with Hibakusha phenomenal.

The only thing missing is the bigger back projection that they can use (2025’s Damnation appearance was the cherry on the top for this), but what they have is enough for the finale that is Paul Lynch. As the song climaxes, there are tears around the venue as the audience join the band with the words.

Tears of joy, of sadness, and of remembrance. It is a song to remember those we have lost, and it works every time. A deserved bow sees them continue their ascent. It will not be long before they are the main event at venues like this. 

Dimscûa

Championed on the podcast by Gavin McInally for the past 18 months, Berkshire’s Dimscûa’s streaming numbers have soared as a result. The early queue sports more of their shirts than either of their touring companions.

One fan on the barrier tells me that she saw them four times in a matter of months in her local pub just a year ago. Now they are a shoo-in for the likes of Damnation and ATG. 

It is not hard to see why. 2025’s Dust Easter may have only had four songs on it, but the overload of crushing riffs, Alex Rowlands’ angst-ridden vocal delivery and the sheer power the band produce made it a must-have release. Early vinyl sold out quickly, and a limited number of reprints no doubt disappeared before the tour got to Manchester.

They own the stage for 30-odd minutes. It is mesmerising to watch. The riffs crash down, the power is increased, and Rowlands roars resonate. The crowd are hypnotised but still able to provide some of the loudest roars of the evening.

Like the other two bands, Dimscûa sweep along with huge peaks and plateaus that provide a roller coaster of a response. They hold the audience in their hands and smash it completely.

As they roll out final song Of Being And Nothingness, you can see the joy on stage. Despite the despair their music can conjure, there are nothing but smiles both on and off the stage. They could be huge.

The post We Lost The Sea, Overhead, The Albatross And Dimscûa Shine in London first appeared on MetalTalk – Heavy Metal News, Reviews and Interviews.

The post Album Review: Beyond Salvation – The Final Nail appeared first on The Razor's Edge.

Country music became part of Brett Kissel’s life almost from the moment he could hold a guitar. Raised on a cattle ranch near Flat Lake, Alberta, Canada, Kissel grew up surrounded by western culture, farming life, and traditional country music influences that later shaped his songwriting and stage identity. Born on May 27, 1990, he began performing publicly while still a child, releasing independent recordings before most artists even graduate high school. His early years were spent balancing ranch life with music, building a reputation across Alberta through local performances and independent releases that showcased a deep connection to classic

The post Complete List Of Brett Kissel Songs From A to Z appeared first on ClassicRockHistory.com.

The Smashing Pumpkins frontman and Cure leader went on to become fast friends

Greek heavy rock trio Fuzzing Nation talk about their debut album Mothertruck, a concept record that builds its own dusty, post-apocalyptic world without losing the raw punch of a rehearsal-room band. Guitarist and vocalist Angel Ioannidis goes into how the band formed almost instinctively, why they prefer keeping things live and unpolished, and how a mix of desert rock influence, punk energy, and heavy groove shaped the record’s identity. What comes through is a band more focused on feel and movement than perfection or overthinking – just loud, direct rock music built to move.

FUZZING NATION started from a random jam session, but Mothertruck sounds surprisingly locked in for a band that came together that way. At what point did you realize this was becoming a real band and not just three guys messing around with riffs?

From the very first rehearsal, to be honest. It never really felt like “three guys just jamming” because we already knew each other for many years and we all came into this with a lot of experience from other bands and projects. We’ve all been musicians for more than three decades, so there was already a mutual understanding and chemistry before Fuzzing Nation even officially existed. The moment we started playing together, everything clicked naturally. The riffs, the groove, the communication, it all felt very immediate and very real. There was no awkward phase where we were trying to figure out what the band should sound like. The identity was already there from day one.

A lot of stoner bands disappear into endless jams and forget the actual songs. Mothertruck keeps things moving all the time. Was that something you paid attention to while writing?

I actually love bands that disappear into long jams, and I love improvisation in general, especially in a live setting like the band Earthless, for example. As a guitarist, I enjoy stretching solos, extending parts, and leaving space for spontaneous moments on stage. That feeling of freedom is a huge part of stoner and heavy rock music for me. But with “Mothertruck”, things naturally went in a different direction. Since it’s a concept album, every song had to carry its own identity and its own role inside the bigger story. We wanted each track to have a clear purpose, a strong atmosphere, and a flow that keeps the listener engaged from beginning to end. So even when a riff or a groove could easily go into a ten-minute jam, the songs themselves were almost “asking” us to stay focused and serve the composition first. That doesn’t mean the energy is controlled or sterile, the groove is still there, the heaviness is still there, and the live versions still feel alive. But the nature of these songs demanded movement, dynamics, and direction rather than endless expansion. That balance became a very important part of the album’s character.

The whole album feels like one long dusty ride instead of ten separate tracks. Did the concept come first, or did the songs slowly start connecting on their own?

The concept definitely came first. In fact, the whole idea started in a very funny and unexpected way during a rehearsal. Our drummer, Terry Moros, showed up wearing a custom baseball hat that said “MotherTrucker” on it. We were jamming on new riffs at the time, and for some reason, the moment I saw those words, the entire image of the album appeared in my head almost instantly. I immediately imagined this huge vehicle, the “Mothertruck”, moving through a desert, post-apocalyptic landscape, with a very cinematic Mad Max-style atmosphere. But in my mind, it felt more like an animated universe rather than a normal movie. Everything had this exaggerated, dusty, surreal energy to it, almost like a moving graphic novel unfolding scene by scene. From there, the central character, the journey, the environment, even the visual aesthetic of the album started forming naturally. If you look at the album cover, that’s basically the world we had in mind from the beginning. So from day one, we already knew this would be a concept album. The songs weren’t randomly connected afterward; they were written scene by scene as parts of the same story. Every track was created to push the journey forward, almost like chapters in one continuous ride.

Some reviews praised the album for sticking to groove and not overcomplicating things, while others said it sounds “too familiar” to classic stoner rock. How do you react to that kind of criticism?

Honestly, we understand both sides of that criticism, and in a way, both reactions make sense to us. When we were writing the songs for “Mothertruck”, one of the main goals was to create music that connects with people immediately. We wanted the listener to hear the first verse and chorus and already feel part of the song, almost like they can sing along before the track is even over. That kind of direct connection was very important for us. These days, I’m personally less interested in making music that is overly technical or complicated just for the sake of complexity. Of course, there are amazing bands that build very intricate music with endless riffs, constant changes, and progressive structures, and that approach has its own audience. But with Fuzzing Nation, the focus is more on groove, atmosphere, memorable hooks, and the overall feeling the song leaves behind. As for sounding familiar to classic stoner rock, honestly, we take that as a compliment. The bands that defined this genre are legendary, and they created a musical language that inspired generations of musicians, including us. We never tried to reinvent stoner rock from zero or pretend we came from another planet musically. Our goal was to take the sound and spirit we genuinely love and make it feel alive, honest, and powerful in our own way. At the end of the day, if the songs stay in people’s heads, make them move, and make them want to come back and listen again, then we feel the album accomplished exactly what it was meant to do.

You can clearly hear the Kyuss and Fu Manchu love here, but there are also moments – especially “The Open Wound” – where the album gets heavier and almost drifts toward sludge or post-stoner way. Did you feel yourselves pushing outside the usual desert rock formula a bit?

There’s definitely a strong connection to bands like Kyuss and Fu Manchu in our sound and we fully embrace that. Those are legendary bands for us, and they’ve been a huge part of our musical DNA for years. They helped define the language of desert rock as we know it, and naturally, that influence comes through in what we do. At the same time, there are moments on the album,” like The Open Wound”,  where things take a noticeably heavier turn. That track, in particular, reflects some of our deeper roots, which lean toward more sludge-driven or heavier, darker approaches to riff writing. It’s not something we consciously decided to “add” as an experiment; it’s already part of who we are as musicians. For us, writing often starts with a riff and a feeling. But in this case, “The Open Wound” evolved a bit differently, the lyrics and the atmosphere of the song really pulled it in that direction. It shaped the way the riffs developed and how the whole piece unfolded, almost like the mood of the track was guiding the writing process itself. If that direction becomes heavier, darker, or more intense, we don’t try to resist it or force it back into a predefined “desert rock” shape. We let it breathe and follow where it wants to go. In that sense, “The Open Wound” is a very honest example of that process. So yes, while desert rock is absolutely the core of our identity and what we love, we don’t see it as a limitation. It gives us the foundation to explore heavier or more expansive territories without feeling like we’re stepping outside of ourselves.

Greece has had a strong heavy rock scene for years now, but it still feels more underground and less industry-driven than scenes in some other countries. Do you think that helps bands stay more honest?

Absolutely. Greece has developed a very strong stoner and heavy rock scene over the years, even if it still operates more underground compared to other countries where things are more industry-driven. But in a lot of ways, that actually works in the scene’s favor. When a scene is less tied to commercial structures or industry expectations, bands tend to create music for much more personal reasons. Most of the musicians here are not doing this as a “career move” in a conventional sense, it comes from a real need to express something, to play, to exist in that sound. That naturally leads to a very honest approach in songwriting and performance. There’s no pressure to fit into trends or to shape the music in a way that would be more “market-friendly.” So what you hear is usually very direct, very raw, and very true to the identity of each band. In that sense, the underground nature of the scene actually protects its authenticity. And I think that’s something you can really hear in the Greek stoner and heavy rock community in general, there’s a sense of sincerity in the way bands approach their music, because it’s driven by passion first and everything else comes after that.

The production keeps a live feeling instead of sounding overly edited. Was there a point where you deliberately stopped polishing things and just left the dirt in?

We’ve always been very clear about this from the beginning, both on this album and on the two EPs that came before it, we’re not interested in polishing things to the point where they lose their character. Over-editing and excessive production are simply not part of our vision. The goal for us has always been to capture the band as it truly is. What you hear on the record is exactly how we sound when we play together live. No extra layers, no studio tricks that can’t be recreated on stage. That was a fundamental idea when we formed Fuzzing Nation, we’re three people, and everything we write is built around what those three people can actually perform in a room or on a stage. For that reason, we consciously avoid adding anything that would go beyond that core setup. If it can’t exist in a live situation as it is, it doesn’t really belong in the recording. That approach has stayed consistent across everything we’ve released so far, and it’s something we will continue to follow moving forward. At the same time, I think a lot of listeners in heavy rock today are a bit tired of overly edited productions. Modern tools can do incredible things, but sometimes they also take away the human element of a performance. Personally, both as musicians and as listeners, we’re drawn back to records that feel alive and real, whether that’s early Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, or even ’90s Kyuss, where you can still feel the room, the amps, the players, the “mistakes”, the energy. That “imperfection” is something we value. So in a way, we never really had a moment where we decided to stop polishing things, we simply never started down that path in the first place.

“I Don’t Believe” suddenly kicks the pace up compared to the rest of the album. That track almost sounds punk in places. Did that side of the band come naturally?

That side of the band definitely came naturally. “I Don’t Believe” is actually a strong example of how the whole album breathes, when we played the record in full during rehearsals before recording it, it already felt very diverse in terms of energy and influences, almost like a musical “cross-section” of who we are. The riff for “I Don’t Believe” actually came out instantly in the studio, very spontaneously. It was one of those moments where you don’t overthink it, it just appears. The track is also unique within the album because it’s the only one where our drummer Terry Moros takes on vocal duties, which already gives it a slightly different identity and attitude compared to the rest. From the beginning, it had this raw, punk-driven energy to it, which matched perfectly with the immediacy of the riff. That main riff came together in the studio through our bassist, Steve Giannakos, and it set the tone for the whole track. Later on, it evolves into a heavier, almost doom-like section towards the end, which for me is one of the standout moments on the record. For us, moments like this feel completely natural. “Mothertruck” is a multi-layered record in terms of influences and dynamics, a reflection of everything we bring into the band. The core is always rooted in desert rock and stoner rock, but within that framework there’s space for punk urgency, heavier passages, and different textures to coexist without feeling forced.

The concept behind Mothertruck sounds half serious and half tongue-in-cheek at the same time. How much of the album is meant as mythic desert storytelling, and how much is just FUZZING NATION having fun with the whole thing?

That’s a really interesting way to put it, and I think there’s a bit of truth in both readings of the album. On the surface, the concept of “Mothertruck” is set in a post-apocalyptic desert world, but we’re not really interested in “heroes” in the traditional sense. In fact, we don’t really believe in the idea of heroism as something romantic or elevated. The central figure in the story is not a hero in that way, it’s more of an ordinary person who suddenly finds themselves trying to survive in extreme conditions. It’s someone placed in a world that has collapsed, where everything is stripped down, and yet rock and roll still exists as a driving force. In that sense, the character is constantly in motion, not out of glory or destiny, but simply because standing still is not an option. Survival means movement. Survival means adaptation. And in a strange way, that’s where the “mythic” weight of the story comes in, this idea that an ordinary person is forced to carry something larger than themselves, almost like a myth they never asked for. At the same time, there is definitely a layer of imagination and a certain tongue-in-cheek energy in how we approach the whole universe. We like the cinematic aspect of it, the exaggeration, the visual world-building. But we don’t treat it as something overly serious or self-important. It’s more about enjoying the space between storytelling and fantasy, while still keeping it grounded in something human and relatable. So it lives in both worlds, it has a serious emotional core about survival and movement, but it also embraces the freedom and playfulness of building a fictional universe around it.

Stoner rock can become very predictable when bands focus only on vibe and forget energy. Your record feels more aggressive than a lot of newer desert rock releases. Did you consciously want more punch in the songs?

We actually really enjoy that side of stoner rock, the slower, more open, heavy groove-based approach with lots of fuzz and space in the riffs. There’s something very powerful in that “laid-back heaviness” when it’s done right, and we definitely appreciate bands that live in that world. With this record, though, the outcome naturally leaned more toward mid-tempo and groove-driven energy. It wasn’t a decision like “let’s make it punchier” or “let’s avoid slower material”, it came out that way organically during the writing process. The album was built almost like a film, scene by scene, from the first track to the last, which represents the end of the story. Because of that, each song’s energy, pace, and feel were directly connected to the moment or “scene” it was representing. So the intensity and drive of each track weren’t pre-planned in a strict sense,  they followed the emotional and narrative direction of each part of the story. In a way, the groove and punch you hear are not the result of forcing things into a certain sound, but simply the natural outcome of how the material developed. And we’re very happy with that balance, because it still leaves space for both heaviness and atmosphere to coexist in a very honest way.

Coming from bands like Sorrows Path and InnerWish, did it feel liberating to play something more loose and instinctive with FUZZING NATION?

Having that background definitely shaped who we are, but in a way, Fuzzing Nation came from a very natural need to return to something more instinctive. Between Sorrows path and InnerWish, we’ve all spent many years walking different paths within heavy metal, from epic doom to power metal, so we’ve experienced a wide spectrum of structure, precision, and complexity in music. Those are amazing worlds to be part of, and they taught us a lot, but at some point we felt the need to strip things back and reconnect with something more direct. When we formed Fuzzing Nation, it wasn’t about rejecting that past, but about going back to the roots of why we started playing music in the first place. And for us, those roots are Black Sabbath. If you think about it, they essentially defined the foundation of everything that came after in heavy music, but what always inspired us most was how immediate and raw those early records felt, often written and recorded in a very short time, with a very “live” spirit, almost like capturing a moment rather than constructing something overproduced. That idea of capturing a moment is very important to us. It connects directly to how we work now, as a three-piece band, very stripped down, very focused on performance, energy, and interaction. We also love the format of a trio because it keeps everything honest and open, there’s no hiding behind layers, everything has to work in real time. In a way, even though we are living in what many would call a golden age for stoner and heavy rock, especially since the 2010s, building on what was already happening in the ’90s with bands like Kyuss, the real inspiration still goes back to a more analog mindset. That raw, unfiltered approach to sound and performance is what we wanted to reconnect with. So yes, Fuzzing Nation feels liberating, but not because we’re doing something radically different, more because we’re stripping everything back to what originally made us want to play music in the first place.

A lot of heavy rock bands today sound extremely clean and safe. Mothertruck still sounds sweaty and loud in a rehearsal-room kind of way. Do you think heavy rock loses something once everything becomes too polished?

That’s a very big and important discussion, and it’s something we think about quite a lot. If you look back at how records were made in the ‘70s, most bands were recording to tape, and that alone created very different limitations and very different results compared to today. The level of editing you could do was minimal, so performances had to be real. You can hear it in bands like Led Zeppelin, for example, a lot of those records weren’t built on perfect click tracks or rigid structures, and that’s part of why they feel so alive. Tempos breathe, dynamics shift, and the music feels like it’s being performed in the moment rather than constructed piece by piece. From the 2000s onwards, with digital recording and tools like Pro Tools, everything became much more precise. Things like quantization made it possible to lock every hit perfectly to the grid, and gradually the sound of records became more polished, more controlled, and in many cases more “perfect” than a human performance would naturally be. Guitars, drums, vocals, everything started getting cleaned up and edited to a point where sometimes the human element gets lost in the process. We’re not against technology at all, but we do feel that something important can disappear when everything becomes too polished. The energy of a band playing together in a room, the feel of a strong rehearsal or a live performance, that’s something you can’t really recreate through editing. For that reason, with Fuzzing Nation we’ve chosen to stay as close as possible to how we actually play live. We record the songs the way they are performed, without breaking them apart or rebuilding them in the studio. Solos are played in full takes, riffs are performed from start to finish, and there’s no copy-paste approach anywhere in the process. Even when we use a click, it’s there to support the performance, not to replace its natural feel. We also stick to a very physical, hands-on setup, real tube amps, real fuzz pedals, real interaction between players. It’s important for us that what you hear on the record could just as easily happen in a rehearsal room or on stage, because that’s where the music actually lives for us. So yes, we do think something can be lost when everything becomes too polished. For us, the goal is to keep that raw, human energy intact, because that’s what makes stoner and heavy rock feel real in the first place.

The “Mothertruckers” thing could’ve easily turned cheesy, but somehow it fits the band’s attitude. Did the audience create that identity naturally, or did you always want FUZZING NATION to feel more like a gang than just another stoner band?

That identity actually came very naturally, and it’s something we never really tried to force or manufacture.The term “Mothertruckers” isn’t something we imposed from the outside, it’s more like it appeared organically through the way people connected with the idea of the “Mothertruck” universe. In a sense, it reflects the same world we’re talking about in the album, not traditional heroes, but people who are simply trying to move forward in a landscape that is constantly shifting, demanding, and often overwhelming. We see the “Mothertruckers” as everyone, really. It’s not a label for a specific group of listeners, but more of a shared identity. It represents the idea of ordinary people navigating their own version of a fragmented world, holding onto myths, stories, and personal “keys” that help them make sense of what’s around them and maybe, in their own way, try to change it. In that sense, it’s not about turning the audience into a “gang” or a concept, it’s more about recognizing a common ground. There’s a human connection in it. We’re all moving through something, all trying to find direction, meaning, or resistance in our own way. And if that energy translates into something that feels like a collective identity, it’s because it already exists in the experience itself, not because we created it artificially. So “Mothertruckers” is less of a name we gave and more of a reflection of the world both the music and the listeners are already part of.

The album artwork and lyrics have this dusty post-apocalyptic mood, but the music itself never becomes overly dark or miserable. Was it important to keep the record fun underneath all the fuzz and dirt?

That contrast between the artwork, the lyrics, and the actual feeling of the music was very intentional in spirit, even if it wasn’t something we sat down and “designed” in a calculated way. The visual world of “Mothertruck” carries that dusty, post-apocalyptic atmosphere, but what we wanted to express musically is something different underneath it. It’s not a world that has surrendered or collapsed into complete darkness. On the contrary, it’s a world in motion. There are people inside it who are still pushing forward, still reacting, still trying to survive and find meaning in movement rather than in resignation.That instinct, the survival instinct, becomes even stronger in a broken environment. And for us, that energy is what really defines the record. Even when the riffs are heavy and the sound is rough and dusty, there’s always a sense of forward motion, urgency, and life underneath it. So rather than leaning into something overly dark or miserable, we wanted the music to reflect that inner drive. That tension between chaos and vitality is what shaped the way the songs were written. It’s not about escaping the environment, but about moving through it, and that movement naturally brings a certain brightness and energy, even within all the fuzz and dirt.

Stoner rock has existed long enough now that some bands almost treat it like a museum piece. Listening to Mothertruck, it feels like you’re more interested in playing loud and moving people than protecting some sacred genre tradition. Is that fair to say?

Stoner rock has been around for a long time now, and there are truly legendary bands that defined its foundation, Kyuss, Fu Manchu, Monster Magnet, among others, who really shaped the sound during the ’90s. In that sense, it’s a genre with a very strong history and identity. At the same time, especially from around the 2010s onwards, we’ve also seen what you could call a kind of “golden age” for stoner and heavy rock. There’s been a huge wave of new bands, constant releases, touring, and a very active international scene. You also have festivals like Desertfest in cities such as London and Berlin, along with many other similar events across Europe that keep the whole thing very much alive and evolving. So for us, it doesn’t feel like a “museum piece” at all. It’s a living, breathing scene, and that’s exactly what makes it interesting. At the same time, because desert rock as a wider umbrella can absorb so many different influences, it gives each band a lot of space to define its own identity without being locked into a strict formula. For us, that identity is very clear, playing loud, keeping things raw, using analog gear, and always aiming to translate the energy of a live performance into the recordings. What matters most is that people don’t just hear the songs, but actually feel that live intensity and connection coming through the music.

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