Blog

  • Fen – Elemental Part One: Mourning Earth Review

    London, England’s Fen has a storied history at AMG, with five reviews spread across three different writers. The illustrious Madame X reviewed them thrice with mixed results, followed by Doom_et_Al’s laudatory commentary on The Dead Light and, most recently, Cherd’s favorable-but-less-impressed impression of Monuments to Absence. You should read their words because they’re excellent writers,1 but the upshot of their analysis is that Fen often crafts gorgeous layers of music that sometimes lose focus or take too long to spool out. Imagine my delight, then, when I discovered Fen’s newest album, Elemental Part One: Mourning Earth only runs forty-seven minutes.2 While the overall album length suggests improved self-editing, Mourning Earth is the first part of a greater effort and carries the risk of either feeling incomplete or disguising bloat between multiple releases. In the end, does Fen free their songwriting from the mires that held back some previous albums?

    Throughout Mourning Earth, Fen conjures familiar reference points while evoking less obvious connections as well. Opener “Glacier” reminds me of “Storm Son,” the opening track to Enslaved’s E, with its prog-leaning clean guitars playing over galloping blast beats and beautifully written choral arrangements. The last third of “Glacier” and follow-up “Techtonic” rumble and quake with calls to Blood Mountain-era Mastodon,3 while “Massif” and “Abyssal Plain” drift into gazey waters, where shimmering guitars and haunting vocal stacks tread alongside Alcest. The opening riff on “Barrow” reminds me of a cross between Helloween’s “Future World” and something off Avatar’s Feathers & Flesh, casting ties to genres I never previously linked to Fen. Meanwhile, closing track “Moor” begins with sparkling builds akin to Saor and Agalloch, but when the atmosphere gives way to melody,4 I suddenly hear mid-aughts Amon Amarth. Everything on Mourning Earth points to a band harnessing a vast reach of styles and influences and fusing them into a vision uniquely their own.

    Given Mourning Earth’s eclectic backdrop, its cohesion and effectiveness remain refreshingly intact. Throughout, Fen’s jaw-droppingly gorgeous textures harken to primordial environs that imbue the album with nature’s innate beauty. Mourning Earth’s midsection broods within layers of reverb and melancholy, entrancing listeners with hypnotic refrains and crystalline guitar work. “Massif,” though, kicks up past the halfway point, recalling the groove and melody from its first half while dialing up the heft and drama. “Techtonic” and “Barrow” both charge out in rollicking fashion, hitting hard early on. “Barrow” even permutates melodies from “Tectonic”‘s midsection, tethering the two songs in a satisfying harmony that took me many listens to notice and appreciate. Bookends “Glacier” and “Moor” round out Mourning Earth’s synchronicity as the longest tracks on the album, supplying grandeur and gravitas that ensure it begins and ends with fully baked moods.

    In the past, Fen’s releases initially fascinated me yet lacked the staying power to compel frequent visits despite stellar moments. Mourning Earth changes that, and its forty-seven-minute runtime proves an incredible boon as the band expertly strikes the balance between anticipation and payoff. And despite being Fen’s shortest LP to date, Mourning Earth achieves a remarkable diversity of sounds and influences without ever sacrificing its singular identity. With the bloat plaguing earlier albums gone, not much else requires attention. More space within the mix would give the wealth of sounds a bit more breathing room, particularly on busier songs like “Tectonic” and “Barrow,” and “Abyssal Plain” doesn’t quite live up to the heights of other tracks. In all, though, Mourning Earth stands uncontested as my favorite Fen album to date.

    Mourning Earth’s magic takes time to gestate, and over my repeated listens Fen’s hooks unfurled and took root as I helplessly succumbed to their enthralling collection of swamp songs. The Watcher’s spritely and ethereal guitars weave melodic threads throughout, even during atmospheric passages, and his withered rasps and roars scrape like the dry crackle of leaves while the wistful cleans brim with forlorn charm. Mourning Earth bursts at the seams with ideas and styles, and it continues to entice me as my time with this review draws nigh. I’m unclear on when Elemental Part Two may arrive or what it will be about, but Part One lets listeners know that this trio has plenty more to say before they Fenish.


    Rating: Great
    DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
    Label: Prophecy Productions
    Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
    Releases Worldwide: August 21st, 2026

    The post Fen – Elemental Part One: Mourning Earth Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

  • Meadow Announce Self-Titled Debut Album: Hear “Yon”

    The word “meadow” connotes a certain level of peaceful natural stasis. A meadow is a place to relax, to watch butterflies and let sun rays hit you. But it would appear that there’s nothing static about Meadow, a Bay Area band with a huge and fuzzily angular guitar sound. Before they get around to releasing their full-length debut, they’ve become a whole other band.

    The post Meadow Announce Self-Titled Debut Album: Hear “Yon” appeared first on Stereogum.

  • Tool’s Maynard James Keenan Announces New Sushi Restaurant

    Between Tool, A Perfect Circle, and Puscifer, Maynard James Keenan juggles many musical commitments, but his entrepreneurial endeavors might keep him even busier. The man blessed with one of the world’s most powerful angelic/demonic howls is also a gastronome extraordinaire. For years, Keenan has been running a winery in his adopted home of Arizona’s Verde Valley. Two years ago he and his wife Jennifer expanded Queen B Vinyl Café, where you could already buy records and get your hair cut, to include a café and coffee roaster. Now he’s opening a sushi restaurant too.

    The post Tool’s Maynard James Keenan Announces New Sushi Restaurant appeared first on Stereogum.

  • Victorian Gloves and the Hidden Language of Elegance

    Victorian Gloves and the Hidden Language of Elegance

    Victorian society turned ordinary objects into social symbols. A flower could communicate affection. A calling card could establish status. Even a simple glove carried meanings that extended far beyond fashion. To appear in public without gloves was not merely unconventional. In many situations, it was considered improper. Modern audiences often view gloves as decorative accessories. Nineteenth-century society viewed them differently. Gloves signaled refinement, self-discipline, and familiarity with social expectations. More importantly, they regulated one of the most intimate aspects of human interaction: touch.

    That role gave gloves a significance that clothing rarely achieves. They became symbols of elegance, but also symbols of distance. Every handshake, every introduction, and every dance occurred through a carefully maintained barrier. Victorian culture transformed the hand into something that could be displayed while remaining partially concealed. The result was a fascinating contradiction. Gloves encouraged social interaction while simultaneously controlling it. They allowed connection without complete intimacy, making them one of the most revealing symbols of Victorian psychology.

    victorian gloves symbolism gothic fashion illustration

    Victorian Gloves and the Hidden Language of Elegance


    The Rule Nobody Was Supposed to Break

    Victorian etiquette manuals treated gloves with surprising seriousness.

    In publications such as The Habits of Good Society (1859), readers received detailed instructions regarding when gloves should be worn, when they could be removed, and which social situations required specific styles. Gloves were expected at formal visits, church services, dances, dinners, and public gatherings.

    The rule was not really about fashion.

    It was about respectability.

    A gentleman wearing worn gloves risked appearing careless. A woman arriving at a formal event without gloves could attract attention for entirely the wrong reasons. The accessory communicated that a person understood the unwritten rules governing respectable society.

    These expectations reveal something important about Victorian culture.

    The period was deeply concerned with self-presentation. Industrialization was transforming cities, wealth was becoming more fluid, and traditional class boundaries were under pressure. Clothing helped restore a sense of order by making social identity visible.

    Gloves became one of the most effective tools in that system because they were constantly visible during human interaction.

    People looked at hands when they greeted one another. They noticed what covered them.


    Why Cover the Hand?

    The Victorian fascination with gloves becomes more interesting when viewed psychologically.

    The hand occupies a unique place in human communication. It greets, comforts, guides, protects, and expresses emotion. Few parts of the body play such a direct role in social contact.

    Covering the hand changes the meaning of that contact.

    A gloved handshake remains polite, yet introduces distance. A gloved hand offered during a dance preserves decorum while reducing intimacy. Physical contact becomes acceptable because it is regulated.

    Victorian culture did not fear interaction.

    It feared uncontrolled interaction.

    Gloves offered an elegant solution. They allowed society to encourage connection while maintaining boundaries. The accessory transformed restraint into a visible virtue.

    This is why gloves survived as more than practical garments.

    They became symbols of a culture attempting to balance sociability with self-control.


    A Glove on the Drawing Room Floor

    Victorian novelists quickly recognized the dramatic potential of gloves.

    In Henry James’s The Portrait of a Lady, social interactions are often shaped by subtle gestures, objects, and coded behavior rather than open declarations. A misplaced glove, a prolonged glance, or a seemingly trivial action can reveal tensions that characters refuse to express directly.

    This indirect communication reflects the culture that produced the novel.

    Emotions were rarely announced. They were suggested.

    Gloves fit naturally into that world because they existed at the intersection of appearance and feeling. They were ordinary objects carrying extraordinary symbolic weight.

    A character removing a glove, holding one, or noticing one could communicate attraction, vulnerability, status, or anxiety without speaking a single word.

    Victorian writers understood that objects become powerful when society invests them with meaning.

    Few objects carried more social meaning than a glove.


    When a Glove Meant More Than a Conversation

    Victorian culture excelled at indirect communication.

    Many emotions considered too personal for public discussion were instead expressed through gestures, objects, and rituals. A carefully chosen gift, a delayed reply, or a seemingly insignificant accessory could communicate feelings that social conventions discouraged people from stating openly.

    Gloves became part of this hidden language.

    Their significance came from their relationship to touch. Because the accessory regulated physical contact, even small actions involving gloves could acquire emotional weight. Putting one on, removing one, carrying one, or handing one to another person all possessed symbolic potential.

    The object became a bridge between public etiquette and private feeling.

    Victorian writers quickly recognized the dramatic possibilities hidden within that tension.


    Wilkie Collins and the Power of Small Objects

    Few Victorian novelists understood social symbolism better than Wilkie Collins.

    In The Woman in White, Collins repeatedly builds suspense through apparently ordinary objects that acquire larger meanings as the story unfolds. Letters, clothing, personal possessions, and overlooked details become clues revealing concealed identities and hidden motives.

    This approach reflects a broader Victorian reality.

    When direct expression becomes restricted, objects begin carrying emotional and narrative information. Readers learn to pay attention to details because details often reveal truths that characters attempt to hide.

    Gloves functioned perfectly within this literary environment.

    A glove could indicate class, personality, emotional state, or social intention. Because readers understood the cultural significance of the accessory, writers could use it as a form of silent storytelling.

    The glove rarely mattered because of the glove itself.

    It mattered because of what it suggested.


    The Gothic Appeal of Concealment

    The same qualities that made gloves useful in polite society also made them attractive to Gothic writers and artists.

    Gothic culture has always been fascinated by concealment. Secret passages hide forgotten histories. Locked rooms conceal forbidden knowledge. Veils obscure identity. Shadows transform ordinary spaces into places of uncertainty.

    Gloves belong naturally within this symbolic tradition.

    They conceal without completely hiding. The hand remains visible, yet inaccessible. The object creates mystery without removing recognition.

    That distinction is important.

    Complete concealment ends curiosity. Partial concealment stimulates it.

    This principle explains why Gothic imagery so often depends on suggestion rather than revelation. The unknown becomes more powerful when audiences can glimpse fragments of it without fully understanding what lies beneath.

    A gloved hand emerging from darkness can feel more intriguing than a fully revealed figure because the imagination immediately begins filling the gaps.

    The accessory transforms an ordinary gesture into a question.


    The Moment the Glove Comes Off

    If wearing gloves represented social control, removing them represented something else entirely.

    Victorian etiquette manuals devoted considerable attention to the circumstances under which gloves could be removed because the gesture carried meaning. Context mattered. Timing mattered. The social setting mattered.

    This explains why the act appears repeatedly throughout nineteenth-century literature and visual culture.

    Removing a glove could signal trust. It could suggest familiarity. It could indicate vulnerability. Under the right circumstances, it could even function as a subtle act of rebellion against expected behavior.

    The dramatic power of the gesture comes from contrast.

    A glove exists to create a barrier. Removing it removes that barrier.

    Readers immediately understand the significance because they understand what the object represents. The action requires no explanation.

    This is why gloves became such effective literary symbols.

    They transformed social etiquette into narrative tension.

    A character opening a door tells us little.

    A character slowly removing a glove before speaking can tell us everything.


    Elegance and Control

    Modern audiences often romanticize Victorian fashion because of its beauty and sophistication.

    Yet many of its most recognizable accessories reveal a deeper concern with discipline and self-presentation. Gloves projected elegance precisely because they embodied restraint.

    This helps explain why the accessory became so culturally important.

    The glove was not simply a piece of clothing. It represented a worldview in which appearances mattered, emotions were carefully managed, and social interactions followed established rules.

    That world may seem distant.

    Its psychological tensions do not.

    People still struggle to balance intimacy with privacy, openness with protection, and self-expression with social expectation. Victorian gloves transformed those tensions into something visible.

    The accessory became a symbol of control.

    And like all powerful symbols, it continues speaking long after the culture that created it has faded.


    A Lady’s Glove and a Century’s Anxiety

    One of the most revealing Victorian images is not a Gothic painting or a dramatic novel scene.

    It is a fashion plate.

    Throughout the nineteenth century, magazines such as The Englishwoman’s Domestic Magazine and The Lady’s Realm published illustrations showing impeccably dressed women wearing gloves in drawing rooms, gardens, theaters, and city streets. The images were designed to teach fashion, yet they also documented social values.

    The gloves were almost always present.

    This consistency reveals how deeply the accessory had become connected to ideas of refinement and respectability. A Victorian audience could glance at such an image and immediately recognize the message. The woman was composed, disciplined, and socially acceptable.

    What appears to modern viewers as a simple fashion choice represented something far larger.

    The glove had become a visible expression of self-control.

    Victorian culture admired restraint. The accessory transformed that abstract ideal into something people could literally wear.


    John Singer Sargent and the Drama of the Hand

    Artists also understood the symbolic power of gloves.

    Consider John Singer Sargent’s famous 1884 portrait Madame X. The painting generated controversy for several reasons, yet one of its most striking features is the emphasis placed on the subject’s hands, posture, and controlled elegance.

    Sargent recognized something Victorian culture understood instinctively.

    The hand communicates personality.

    Whether concealed by gloves or dramatically revealed, it becomes a focal point of social identity. Portrait painters frequently paid extraordinary attention to gloves because they signaled class, taste, and refinement as effectively as jewelry.

    The detail mattered because audiences understood its language.

    A glove could communicate respectability. A missing glove could suggest intimacy, informality, or even impropriety depending on the context.

    Objects become symbols when a culture collectively agrees upon their meaning.

    Victorian society turned the glove into one of its most recognizable symbols.


    Why Gothic Fashion Never Abandoned Gloves

    Long after Victorian etiquette disappeared, Gothic fashion preserved many of its visual symbols.

    Corsets, lace, mourning jewelry, black veils, and gloves all survived because they carried emotional meanings that extended beyond their original historical context.

    Gloves remain especially effective because they embody one of Gothic culture’s favorite themes.

    The tension between revelation and concealment.

    A black lace glove does not completely hide the hand. It partially obscures it. The object invites attention while simultaneously withholding information. This balance creates the atmosphere of mystery that Gothic aesthetics value so highly.

    The same principle appears throughout Gothic literature.

    Secrets are rarely revealed immediately. Hidden rooms remain locked. Family histories emerge gradually. The audience is encouraged to imagine what lies beneath the surface.

    Gloves perform the same function visually.

    They transform concealment into elegance.


    The Hidden Language of Elegance

    Victorian gloves survived because they represented more than fashion.

    They reflected a society attempting to manage the delicate relationship between public behavior and private emotion. Every handshake, every dance, and every formal introduction passed through a carefully maintained barrier that symbolized restraint, respectability, and self-control.

    The accessory became a visible expression of invisible values.

    That is why gloves appear so frequently in Victorian literature, etiquette manuals, portraiture, and Gothic imagery. They offered artists and writers a simple object capable of communicating complex ideas about identity, status, desire, and social expectation.

    Their symbolism remains surprisingly relevant.

    Modern life continues to revolve around questions of privacy, vulnerability, and self-presentation. People still decide how much of themselves to reveal and how much to keep hidden. The methods have changed. The psychology has not.

    This is why Victorian gloves continue to fascinate historians, fashion enthusiasts, and Gothic audiences.

    They remind us that elegance has never been purely decorative.

    Beneath the fabric, beneath the etiquette, and beneath the fashion lies a deeper story about human connection itself. The glove separates people, yet it also brings them together.

    Few Victorian objects capture that paradox more beautifully.


    Wear the Darkness

    If Victorian Gloves and the Hidden Language of Elegance fascinates you, explore the Edgar Allan Poets store. Discover Gothic-inspired apparel and artwork celebrating Victorian aesthetics, dark history, Gothic literature, and noir culture.

    Edgar Allan Poe Gothic apparel and noir-inspired fashion


    Join the Noir Newsletter

    Receive more essays on Gothic fashion, Victorian culture, noir psychology, dark history, and literature delivered directly to your inbox.


    Enter the Noir Atmosphere

    Continue the atmosphere behind Victorian Gloves and the Hidden Language of Elegance through the official Edgar Allan Poets playlist, where Gothic beauty, noir emotion, and cinematic storytelling meet in sound.


    Frequently Asked Questions

    Why were gloves important in Victorian society?

    Victorian gloves signaled respectability, social status, refinement, and familiarity with proper etiquette. They were considered essential in many public and social situations.

    What did gloves symbolize in the Victorian era?

    Gloves symbolized self-control, elegance, social boundaries, and the balance between intimacy and restraint. They communicated values as much as fashion.

    Why do gloves appear so often in Gothic fashion?

    Gloves create an atmosphere of mystery because they conceal without completely hiding. This tension between revelation and concealment aligns perfectly with Gothic aesthetics.

    Did men wear gloves during the Victorian period?

    Yes. All genres wore gloves in formal and public settings, although styles and etiquette expectations varied.

    Why do Victorian gloves still fascinate people today?

    They represent enduring themes such as elegance, mystery, privacy, self-presentation, and human connection, making them relevant far beyond their original historical context.


    The post Victorian Gloves and the Hidden Language of Elegance appeared first on Edgar Allan Poets – Noir Rock Band.

  • “That was incredibly disingenuous of Radiohead. But I have to acknowledge that perhaps it was very wise”: Steven Wilson and the war between prog and pop

    In 2017, some Steven Wilson fans could have been forgiven if they misunderstood his statement that his album To The Bone was a pop record rather than a prog one. But if they gave him a chance to explain – as he did to Prog – his argument made more sense than it might have seemed.

    Steven Wilson wants you to know that his new album, To The Bone, is a pop album. Even to someone unschooled in prog, it doesn’t sound much like a pop record. Instead it sounds like an artful modern rock work with some pop touches. It’s proggy a lot of the time – but those who fly the prog banner need to be warned.

    “I know ‘pop’ is a very pejorative term,” he says, sitting in the conservatory of his Hertfordshire home. “Particularly when you’re talking with the prog audience. ‘Pop’ is the sort of word they run screaming from. But I think of pop in the sense that Kate Bush is pop. Or The Beatles are pop. Or ABBA are pop. I’m not talking about the modern, very conservative pop scene – I’m talking about pop in the broad sense.”

    If you know anything about Wilson you’ll know he doesn’t want to be pigeonholed as prog. It’s not that he’s ashamed of the genre – you don’t set about remixing the King Crimson catalogue, or make the music he does, if you feel that way. It’s more that he recognises a grim reality: prog brings with it a set of associations in the wider public mind. Prog is male; it’s po-faced; it values technical excellence above melody; it’s self-indulgent; it’s best left undisturbed in its bedsit.

    That’s all rubbish, Wilson accepts, and it masks the fact that a lot of music which few would consider prog is actually perfectly prog; but because it doesn’t get lumbered with the label, it can reach a wider audience.

    He explains: “If you listen to a band like Joy Division, for example, Closer is closer to progressive rock than punk. The weighty lyrical subject matter about the human condition; the use of Mellotrons; the portentous, conceptual side of it; even the Peter Saville artwork – very pretentious, very humourless. It’s closer to In The Court Of The Crimson King than it is to The Damned.

    “In the UK, things are put on one side of the hip divide or the other. My music does sound a bit more old-fashioned than Radiohead or Sigur Rós. I do wear my love of people like Jeff Lynne and Yes a little bit more on my sleeve than those guys do. But at the same time, I do hear those things in the music of Radiohead and Sigur Rós and Muse. It’s frustrating to me that it’s overlooked in their music but not in my music.”

    As soon as people suggested Radiohead were prog, they took care to say they hated the genre. “Yeah, and I’ve always thought that was incredibly disingenuous of them. But, actually, I have to acknowledge that perhaps it was very wise.”

    It’s not that Wilson doesn’t love or value prog fans. He’s very grateful for everything you’ve done for him. He just wishes others liked his music too. “Most people who consider themselves music lovers have had the opportunity to decide whether they like Coldplay or not, and whether they like Radiohead or not. The frustration is that they haven’t had the chance to decide whether or not they like my music.” And that’s because once you get called prog, you’re never going to get on the radio, into most of the music magazines, or into the newspapers.

    One reason people don’t call Radiohead, Muse and Sigur Rós prog is that they always took care to look like indie bands. Wilson: “I look like a nerd, which probably doesn’t help. If I’d been wiser, I probably could have gone about cultivating my image in a different way.”

    He was probably always destined to be a nerd. “My dad was an electronic engineer and he used to build me things. He would have to invent them, because in the 80s you couldn’t just download a circuit diagram. He built me a little four-track recorder, so at 12, 13 years old I was experimenting with multitracking; and he built me a sequencer.

    “Except my dad wasn’t a musician, so he would always get something a little bit wrong. The sequencer was a nine-step sequencer. A musician would have known that most music is in four, so he’d have built a four-step or eight-step sequencer. He built me a nine-step sequencer because that was the number of relays he could afford.

    I was a pretentious, pompous teenager, reading Franz Kafka and listening to Throbbing Gristle

    “Maybe that’s why I became so interested in strange time signatures – everything I wrote with the sequencer had to be in three or nine, which are not common time signatures. With the multitrack machine he couldn’t figure out how to get the erase head to work, so everything I did had to be a first take. Maybe that’s why I became interested in the idea of lo-fi and the role of chance in music.”

    Rather than doing what most kids do – picking up an instrument, finding some mates who’ve got instruments, bashing out cover versions in someone’s bedroom until before playing in a local youth club – Wilson was learning to be a producer. “I wanted to hold a record in my hand and say, ‘This is something I made.’ My first ambitions were to be in the studio all the time, and my dad – amazingly – facilitated that from an early age.”

    Alongside that was a voracious interest in music – not just the prog giants, but the New Wave Of British Heavy Metal, Neil Young, Elton John, ABBA, Can, Tangerine Dream, ELO, Tubular Bells, The Dark Side Of The Moon.

    “But at the same time – and I’ve always struggled to explain this – I was fascinated by dark music. I was a very pretentious, pompous teenager, readings things like Franz Kafka’s In the Penal Colony and listening to Throbbing Gristle’s The Second Annual Report. Maybe it’s because I came from this very happy, loving family that I was fascinated by these things, which were alien to me. I guess that’s part of the magic of pop music – presenting a world you’d never want to be a part of.”

    He grew up with a sense that music was a journey rather than a destination, and mourns the loss of a concept of ‘pop’ that incorporates everything, rather than something that’s narrowly defined by the fashions of radio playlists. We discuss the wonder of BBC4’s repeats of Top Of The Pops, which – by simply reflecting what happened to be in the charts at any given time, rather than ‘curating’ a view of what music should be – offer a fairly dizzying idea of 80s pop. You might get a terrible novelty record, some absurdly ambitious piece of new pop, a heavy metal epic and a disco hit all thrown through the screen, one after the other, not differentiated.

    Truth has become a flexible notion. It’s filtered through your race, your religion, your politics

    “The 80s get a bad rep,” Wilson says, “but it’s wonderfully mad when you see The Smiths alongside The Tweets on the same episode of Top Of The Pops, or Status Quo next to Echo And The Bunnymen. It’s all become so homogenised.”

    So when he says To The Bone is a pop record, he doesn’t mean he’s trying to compete with Ed Sheeran; he means he’s trying to make a record that captures the spirit of adventure he remembers from some of the big acts of his teens. Not a lowest common denominator, but a higher plane, of pop.

    “I was completely besotted by artists like Kate Bush, Tears For Fears, Talk Talk, Prince, Depeche Mode, and what Peter Gabriel was doing in the 80s. What I loved about those records was that they were very accessible – you could enjoy them for the melodies – but at the same time, if you chose to engage with them at a deeper level, there were great lyrics about quite deep subject matter, and very ambitious, cinematic production, with great musicianship. And they were outside genre classification.

    Steven Wilson

    (Image credit: Scarlett Page)

    “So this is the first time I’ve really focused on my pop sensibility, stripping away some of the most conceptual elements and some of the more technical muso aspects, and just concentrating on the art of writing big, epic, ambitious pop music.”

    You might be preparing yourself for Wilson’s fifth solo album to be a bundle of entirely unrelated, utterly flippant three-minute songs. That’s not what To The Bone is. While it might not be as obsessed with the darkness as its predecessor, Hand.Cannot.Erase., or as unconcerned with commercial possibility as previous iterations of Wilson’s career – Bass Communion, Blackfield, Continuum, Incredible Expanding Mindfuck, No-Man, Porcupine Tree, Storm Corrosion – it’s a weighty album, dealing with what has become the weightiest theme of all in the contemporary world.

    It’s the Tarantino thing: ‘I don’t care if John Travolta’s out of fashion – I’m going to bring him back’

    “It starts with this black American schoolteacher who’s a very good friend of mine, Jasmine, talking about the nature of truth and how truth has become a flexible notion,” he says. “Truth is something that’s filtered through everyone’s agenda, whether it’s your race, your religion, your politics. All the songs on the record are about truth and about the way people have different truths, whether it’s the religious fundamentalist or the terrorist or the politician.

    “In the simplest sense, there are songs about how two people in a relationship can have a completely different truth about that relationship; a different perspective. What we call ‘truth’ is nothing of the sort a lot of the time. We have a perspective, and that becomes our truth. Truth, in the true sense of the word, is an absolute singular reality. But it seems to me you can never get to that singular absolute reality.”

    His fascination with truth is a result of what has happened since Wilson wrote Hand.Cannot.Erase.. He had thought that record offered a bleak enough view of the world, “but since then we’ve had Brexit, we’ve had Donald Trump, we’ve had the terrorists come right to our very doorstep, we’ve had Bataclan, we’ve had Manchester. I wouldn’t say it would have been irresponsible not to write about those things, but it would have been strange if I hadn’t touched upon them.”

    He thinks pop’s escapist artists must have been challenged by what has happened in the world – when 22 people are murdered at the end of a pop concert, how can it not be? “This world has now come to them, and it’s affecting their young fans. Can they continue to completely pretend it’s not happening? It seems to me that we’ve forgotten that a lot of pop music came out of anger – and you could argue that was when it was at its best.”

    But there’s sentiment there, too. Wilson often invited his heroes to recreate their roles for him – like getting Alan Parsons to serve as engineer on The Raven That Refused To Sing (And Other Stories) – and while he would doubtless argue it’s about getting the best person for the job, it’s hard not to see it as wish fulfilment too.

    Maybe it’s self-validation. … I’m not saying I feel like a failure

    There’s another returning hero this time. “Do you know those old Talk Talk and The The records from the 80s? Remember the harmonica? I tracked down the guy who was on all those records, Mark Feltham. It’s one of the first sounds you hear on the record. It’s such an amazing sound. No one had looked at him for 20 years. It’s the Tarantino thing: ‘I don’t care if John Travolta’s out of fashion – I remember he was great, and I’m going to bring him back and make him hip again.’”

    He considers that for a moment. “I don’t know if I’m making these people hip again. Probably not. But as soon as he started playing in the studio, people around were almost crying. It’s such an amazing sound.”

    The sensible money would be against To The Bone being the album that makes Wilson into a mainstream star. But his exclusion from that environment baffles him. At one point we have a 10-minute discussion on why I never commissioned an interview with him when I was music editor of The Guardian, despite the paper’s writers giving him good reviews. (Short answer: ‘bloke who’s made good records makes another good record’ isn’t much of a story for people who’ve never heard of him.)

    But what I don’t understand is why it bothers him. He lives in a beautiful house. He sells out big theatres. His audience loves him. He gets to make the music he wants, without interference. In the end, he accepts, it boils down to something simple. “I have a big ego, as most people that stand up in front of an audience on a stage do. You have to have a big ego. I would like my music to have some place in history. I would like it to have some immortality. And the more significant it is to the more people, the happier I’ll be.

    Prog Magazine 79

    This article first appeared in Prog 79 (Image credit: Future)

    “Maybe it’s self-validation. People look at me and say, ‘He’s made music. He’s not compromised. He’s got a good fanbase and he sells lots of records.’ I’m not saying I feel like a failure – but I still don’t feel self-validation to the extent I’d like to. And yes, I look at people like Thom Yorke and I think: ‘You fucker!’”

    Wilson isn’t bitter. He’s just devoted so much of his life to thinking about music, and the music industry, that he can’t quite see the wood for the trees. It’s easy for an outsider to point to the 629 albums recorded under 327 identities, to the concept albums and experiments, to the privacy he protects, and say: ‘Dude! You want to be a household name, and get in all the music mags? Just make one album every two years and tell people how unhappy you were making it, and how drunk you got every night to cope.’

    But if he did that, he wouldn’t be Steven Wilson. And what would be the point of that?

  • BUTCHER BABIES Announces New Album “Nightbloom” & Shares Music Video For “Blame It On The Wind”

    Butcher Babies has locked in October 2 as the release date for its new album, Nightbloom, out via Judge & Jury Records. Along with the album announcement, the band has shared its newest single, “Blame It On The Wind”.

    Nightbloom comes courtesy of producer Howard Benson, whose resume includes work with My Chemical RomanceSkilletDaughtry and Halestorm, among others. Joe RickardNeil Sanderson and Henry Flury handled co-production duties, while Cameron Pierce Mizell and Evan McKeever contributed additional production on “Songbird.”

    Butcher Babies frontwoman Heidi Shepherd had this to say about the album: “A couple of years ago, I found myself in a web of darkness that I couldn’t shake. A vicious cycle of self-loathing and doubt, all while my support system did everything in their power to remind me of who I am. I desperately wanted to see in myself what they saw in me. I needed a way to look in the mirror and find love for who was looking back at me. So, I shut off social media, and for the first time in my life, I started therapy.”

    “Therapy sent me down a rabbit hole that I didn’t know existed,” she continued. “Over the course of a year, I was flooded with memories of trauma and emotions that I had suppressed. I started to feel that in this overwhelming darkness, these memories needed a way out. So, I started writing. I wrote about my failure of a ‘perfect’ marriage over 20 years ago. I wrote about the stormy canyon road that sent us to divorce. I wrote about watching the love of my life fall in love with someone else in front of me. I wrote about a one-night stand that has haunted me for decades. I wrote about a former boyfriend who took his own life. I wrote about Mormon religion ostracizing me while their members, and my neighbors shamed my family for supporting me. And even more currently, I wrote the abandonment of losing a best friend of 20 years. I wrote about moments that I didn’t realize held so much weight on my heart until we tore that fucker open in therapy.”

    “While reliving and experiencing some of my darkest moments, I started to finally bloom,” she added. “These songs grew and took on life in the dark. In writing these songs, I was able to turn negative experiences in my life into something positive, which in turn gave these memories a new place to live. Moments that I can look at and think ‘Wow, I survived that. I bloomed in the darkest moments of my life. My Nightbloom.’”

    “This new album isn’t about the suffering; it’s about the survival. These songs were born from memories of heartbreak, uncertainty, betrayal, and pain. But they’re not just about those subjects, they’re more about what grew because of them. This album, Nightbloom, is a reminder that not everything beautiful needs perfect sunshine to flourish. Sometimes the most meaningful parts of life begin in the darkest seasons.”

    Butcher Babies guitarist Flury added: “Writing with purpose. That was the overall theme of this album. Each part, layer, and lyric was crafted with purpose and focus. Nothing was unimportant. Every detail was created to tell a story with a singular voice. Nightbloom is our most important work we’ve ever done in Butcher Babies.”

    Nightbloom finds Butcher Babies at its sharpest, pairing the band’s trademark aggression with bigger melodic hooks and a sleeker modern production that pushes the sound in new directions. The record captures a band still evolving while holding onto the unapologetic energy, powerhouse vocals and pummeling instrumentation that have defined its run so far.

    “Blame It On The Wind” is already picking up steam at rock radio, with strong airplay from SiriusXM Octane helping build buzz ahead of the Oct. 2 release.

    Butcher Babies will keep its 2026 world tour rolling with a U.S. run alongside Chad Gray (MudvayneHellyeah) starting in late summer and running into fall, plus a stop at Louder Than Life in Kentucky. The band’s live show has long been its calling card, earning it repeat festival bookings and a devoted fanbase around the globe.

    Butcher Babies has spent more than a decade cutting its own path through heavy music. Formed in 2009 and based out of Las Vegas, the band has built its name on explosive live shows, fearless experimentation and a sound that resists sticking to one genre, folding thrash and groove metal aggression together with soaring hooks, punk-rock swagger and a constantly shifting set of influences.

    The band made its mark early with 2013 debut Goliath, then kept building with Uncovered (2014), Take It Like A Man(2015), Lilith (2017) and the 2023 double album Eye For An Eye… / …’Til The World’s Blind. Each release has pushed Butcher Babies further, embracing heavier extremes, bigger hooks and increasingly personal songwriting along the way.

    Now the band is stepping into arguably its most exciting chapter yet. The new singles arriving via Judge & Jury Records offer an early look at a bolder era, one that sounds heavier, more melodic, more vulnerable, and more fearless than anything that’s come before. Each release peels back another layer of what Butcher Babies has become, hinting at what could be the band’s most ambitious record to date.

    More than 15 years into its career, Butcher Babies shows no interest in repeating itself. The band keeps evolving, keeps taking risks and keeps challenging what people expect from it. Judging by the new material, the next chapter isn’t a continuation of the story so far; it’s the start of something new entirely.

    The post BUTCHER BABIES Announces New Album “Nightbloom” & Shares Music Video For “Blame It On The Wind” appeared first on Sonic Perspectives.

  • Dee Snider Apologizes To Kelly Osbourne Over Ozzy Remarks

    Dee-Snider-Kelly-Osbourne-feud

    Dee Snider has apologized to Kelly Osbourne. Six days after a set of comments about who actually wrote Ozzy Osbourne’s lyrics turned into a very public argument with Ozzy’s daughter, the Twisted Sister frontman posted a short, direct apology on X and tagged her in it. What’s unusual is how he got there — he’d spent the previous night openly admitting he couldn’t find the right words, and the phrasing he eventually used wasn’t his own.

    🎧 STREAM THE METAL BREAKDOWN DAILY NOW:

    Scott Penfold breaks down the latest hard rock and metal news stories on today’s Metal Breakdown Daily. Download the free Loaded Radio App on Apple iOS and Google Play and get it every weekday morning.

    The apology, and the stranger who wrote it

    Late on Monday night, Snider shared a post from a fan on X. That fan had laid out the situation for him plainly: Kelly seemed hurt because she read it as diminishing Ozzy’s legacy, not because the songwriting history was false. Text strips away tone. If it were me, the fan wrote, I’d simply say — I’m sorry it hurt you. That was never my intent.

    Snider’s reply: thanks, he’d been looking for the right response.

    The next morning he wrote it. Tagged Kelly directly. Said he was sorry that what he’d said hurt her, that it was never his intent, and offered his sympathies on the loss of her dad.

    That’s it. Four short lines, no self-defence, no relitigating the facts, no “if anyone was offended.”

    And here’s the part I keep turning over: he took a script from a stranger on the internet, said so publicly, and used it. Most people in this position hire a publicist and produce three paragraphs of nothing. Snider — a man who once challenged an entire band to a fistfight in Covent Garden — admitted he didn’t know how to say sorry properly and let someone else show him.

    There’s more grace in that than in a perfectly worded statement.

    🤘 LIVE & LOUD: Stream the World’s Hardest Radio Station 24/7

    What he actually said about Ozzy

    Now the part that everyone’s arguing about, which is worth getting right.

    On August 12, a fan raised the subject of musicians who co-wrote Ozzy’s material — Lemmy Kilmister and bassist Bob Daisley among them. Snider, who lives on X and answers everything, jumped in.

    His reply, in substance: not a load of the lyrics — all of them. Ozzy always had bass players write his lyrics. Geezer Butler wrote all of Black Sabbath’s. Daisley wrote lyrics for the first two solo albums, and Snider suspected he was paid to write on later records without credit. Lemmy wrote lyrics too.

    He followed up with a broader point: many singers don’t write their own songs but make them their own.

    And here’s what almost nobody covering this story is saying out loud — he isn’t wrong on the facts.

    Geezer Butler wrote Black Sabbath’s lyrics. That’s not a hot take, it’s the historical record, and it’s on the sleeve of every Sabbath album we’ve ever ranked. Bob Daisley wrote lyrics on Blizzard Of Ozz and Diary Of A Madman. Lemmy co-wrote for Ozzy, including some of his biggest solo material.

    The second comment is the real point, and it’s the one that got buried: many singers don’t write their own songs but make them their own. That’s not an insult. That’s a fifty-year veteran describing what an interpreter does, and Ozzy was one of the greatest interpreters heavy music has ever produced.

    But this landed on a platform where nobody reads the second comment.

    DeeSnider

    Why Kelly responded the way she did

    She hit back hard, on Instagram Stories, and I’d struggle to blame her.

    Her position: there’s something classless about trying to diminish her father’s abilities and achievements when he isn’t here to answer for himself. And if Snider wanted to invite a career comparison, she argued, that comparison speaks for itself — a brief run of mainstream success forty years ago against a career spanning nearly six decades, from helping define heavy metal with Black Sabbath through an extraordinary solo run. His music, she said, will keep influencing people long after all of them are gone.

    Sharp. Deliberately so.

    And the context matters more than the wording. Ozzy died on July 22 last year, seventeen days after his final show at Villa Park. Kelly has spent the last thirteen months grieving in public, on a platform that hands her every stray opinion about her father whether she wants it or not.

    Somebody breaking down the songwriting credits on Ozzy’s catalogue would read very differently to her than it would to a metal historian. That’s not fragility. That’s what grief does to context.

    We Also Suggest – THE BERSERKER & THE PRINCE: Ranking the Zakk Wylde Era Ozzy Osbourne Albums From Worst To Best

    Why this one ended better than most

    Rock and roll social media feuds almost never resolve. They calcify. Somebody doubles down, the fans pick teams, and eighteen months later it’s still being brought up in interviews.

    This one didn’t, and both people are responsible for that.

    Snider didn’t argue that he was factually correct — which he was, and which would have been the easiest and worst possible move. He apologized for the effect, not for the facts. That’s a genuinely difficult distinction to hold, and most people fumble it into a non-apology.

    Kelly said what she needed to say, publicly, and it clearly landed.

    Nobody had to pretend the underlying history was wrong. Nobody had to pretend nobody was hurt.

    Check This Out – Ranking the 13 Ozzy Osbourne Solo Songs That Built a Heavy Metal Throne

    Where Dee Snider is right now

    Worth noting because it colours this whole thing.

    Snider is retired. He confirmed Twisted Sister’s 2026 reunion after years of insisting he was done, then cancelled the reunion concerts when degenerative arthritis and mobility issues made performing at full strength impossible. Rather than kill the shows entirely, he gave Sebastian Bach his blessing to front the band for select 2026 dates.

    For a guy who spent years saying that when people retire they should leave the stage and that he was sick of buying “No More Tours” shirts, stepping aside and handing the microphone to someone else is a fairly consistent act.

    Which is the same instinct on display this week. He got something wrong, somebody told him how to fix it, and he fixed it.

    dee-snider-apology

    TL;DR

    • What happened: Dee Snider publicly apologized to Kelly Osbourne on August 18, tagging her on X and saying he was sorry his words hurt her, that it was never his intent, and offering sympathy for the loss of her father.
    • How he got there: he shared a fan’s post the night before suggesting exactly that phrasing, thanked them, and said he’d been looking for the right response — then used it.
    • What started it: August 12 comments about who wrote Ozzy’s lyrics, naming Geezer Butler, Bob Daisley and Lemmy Kilmister, plus a follow-up that many singers don’t write their own songs but make them their own.
    • The overlooked part: the songwriting facts aren’t in dispute. Butler did write Sabbath’s lyrics; Daisley did write on the first two solo albums; Lemmy did co-write. The issue was timing and tone.
    • Kelly’s response: she said it was classless to diminish her father when he isn’t here to answer, and drew a career comparison she said spoke for itself.
    • Where it stands: resolved. Snider apologized for the hurt without relitigating the facts.

    FAQ

    What did Dee Snider say about Ozzy Osbourne?

    On August 12, 2026, responding to a fan discussion on X about who co-wrote Ozzy’s material, Snider said Ozzy always had bass players write his lyrics — naming Geezer Butler for Black Sabbath, Bob Daisley for the first two solo albums, and Lemmy Kilmister. He followed up by saying many singers don’t write their own songs but make them their own.

    Why was Kelly Osbourne upset with Dee Snider?

    She interpreted the comments as diminishing her late father’s abilities and achievements at a time when he isn’t able to respond. She called it classless, and argued that a comparison between the two men’s careers spoke for itself — Snider’s mainstream success being brief and four decades ago, against Ozzy’s near-six-decade career with Black Sabbath and as a solo artist.

    Did Dee Snider apologize to Kelly Osbourne?

    Yes. On August 18, 2026, he posted an apology on X tagging her directly, saying he was sorry that what he said hurt her, that it was never his intent, and offering his sympathies on the loss of her father. He apologized for the impact rather than retracting the underlying songwriting claims.

    Was Dee Snider right about who wrote Ozzy’s lyrics?

    Broadly, yes. Geezer Butler is credited as Black Sabbath’s principal lyricist. Bob Daisley wrote lyrics on Blizzard Of Ozz and Diary Of A Madman. Lemmy Kilmister co-wrote several songs for Ozzy. The dispute was never really about factual accuracy — it was about raising it a year after Ozzy’s death.

    Is Dee Snider still performing?

    No. Snider stepped away from performing due to degenerative arthritis and mobility issues, which led to Twisted Sister cancelling their 2026 reunion concerts. He gave Sebastian Bach his blessing to front the band for select 2026 shows rather than cancel them outright.

    A public argument that actually ended with somebody saying sorry and meaning it — rarer than it should be. Was the apology owed, or was this all overblown? Tell us in the comments. And keep it locked on the Loaded Radio stream — follow Loaded Radio for daily rock and metal news.

    The post Dee Snider Apologizes To Kelly Osbourne Over Ozzy Remarks appeared first on Loaded Radio.

  • Ellie Goulding Sues Former Managers Over Live Nation Ties

    The UK pop star Ellie Goulding has filed a lawsuit against her two former managers, Ben Mawson and Ed Millet of TaP Management, claiming that they didn’t disclose that their management company was owned by the giant touring company Live Nation, first partly and then fully. Goulding’s lawyers claim that the managers’ Live Nation ties prevented them from properly representing her and that they pushed her into deals with Live Nation whenever possible.

    The post Ellie Goulding Sues Former Managers Over Live Nation Ties appeared first on Stereogum.

  • ANDI DERIS On Having Both MICHAEL KISKE & KAI HANSEN Singing In HELLOWEEN: “Sharing Means More Luxury — That Probably Gives Us a Free Ticket To Go On Another 10 Or 15 Years”

    In a recent interview with Mr. Music’s “Meet My Guest” podcast (transcribed by Blabbermouth), Andi Deris spoke about how he had to adapt his voice when he first joined Helloween as the replacement for Michael Kiske more than three decades ago. “Well, the majority of the songs we decided to detune half a tone down. I think from [2000’s] The Dark Ride on, we had these low tunes, like a half tone or even a full tone down. Back in the day, it was not so easy technically. You would have to change the guitars again and again and again. So we said, ‘Okay, the compromise is we don’t play The Dark Ride in drop D, but we find a middle way,’ and we just dropped down half a tone, and we played everything half-tone D. So The Dark Ride itself on stage was higher performed.

    “But nowadays it’s much easier. Nowadays with the [technology], we go back to the normal tunings again. Because it’s just a push of a button and you are half a tone lower, half a tone higher. So now we are capable of playing everything in its original [tuning] again.”

    Asked if he ever lowers the key of a song on a night when his voice isn’t feeling right, Deris said: “Oh, no. You shouldn’t do that. Because during a tour, you are completely used to changing your technique in between the songs. So when you suddenly push it down a half a tone, then the bridge to switch is lower as well, so you’re not doing yourself a favor. So it’s even worse, actually, because your routine is completely f***ed up then. So no, we would never do that. If you would realize, let’s say a few weeks before the tour, that something is not fine with me or [current Helloween co-vocalist] Michael [Kiske], then you could decide to put everything one tone down and rehearse like that to get the routine. But so far, thank to God, we never had to do that.”

    Referencing the luxury of having both Deris and Kiske — as well as original guitarist/vocalist Kai Hansen — sharing vocal duties, Andi said: “[Having more than one singer] helps a lot, because sharing means more luxury. Sharing means a little bit more breaks to calm down, so let Michael sing his song and I’m fine after five minutes again and can perform much better than if I would have to go on without a break. This is the luxury of two singers. Well, Michael always says we have two and a half singers.

    “That probably gives us a free ticket to go on another 10 or 15 years even without pissing off the people because we can share. And in the rehearsal room you check it out, and you say, ‘Maybe the running order is not working because I need a break here. Otherwise, my voice is f***ed up.’ All that sh*t you can do because you have two singers [or] three singers.”

    Helloween’s latest album, Giants & Monsters, arrived in August 2025 via Reigning Phoenix Music. The follow-up to 2021’s Helloween was mixed at the legendary Wisseloord Studios in Hilversum, Netherlands, which has hosted sessions for Iron Maiden, Judas Priest and Def Leppard.

    The 2021 self-titled album was the first to feature the band’s expanded reunion lineup consisting of Deris, returning members Kiske and Hansen, guitarists Michael Weikath and Sascha Gerstner, bassist Markus Grosskopf and drummer Daniel Löble. Upon its release, Helloween landed in the Top 10 in more than 10 countries, including Germany, Spain, Finland, Sweden, Switzerland and Austria.

    The post ANDI DERIS On Having Both MICHAEL KISKE & KAI HANSEN Singing In HELLOWEEN: “Sharing Means More Luxury — That Probably Gives Us a Free Ticket To Go On Another 10 Or 15 Years” appeared first on Sonic Perspectives.