Hall of Ukrainian Rock’n’Roll
In our traditional support of the Ukrainian rock scene, we would like to offer you a story about a remarkable event that took place in western Ukraine in the small town of Manevychi. Every year, at the end of May, all the world's museums hold a night at the museum, and such a night took place in Manevychi, where at the same time the soft opening of the first hall of the future Rock Capital museum took place. The hall is called The History of Ukrainian Rock and Roll and is the first of seven planned halls of the Rock Capital Museum. Perhaps it would not have been so attractive if the Rock Capital Museum had not truly been the first rock museum in Ukraine.
Do you know at least one Ukrainian punk rock band?
Do you know at least one Ukrainian punk rock band? Of course, no one asked me such a question, but I sometimes ask it to my friends. Talking about the glorious traditions of Ukrainian rock n roll, I don't want to miss punk itself. The first thing that comes to my mind is the band Borshch. Some people will say it's not punk rock, and maybe they're right. But musically and lyrically, Borshch has a spark that only lives in this style.
David Bowie’s first address
It remains interesting that even such alien rock stars as David Bowie had his parental home on our unfortunate planet. The future star lived the first 6 years of his life in 40 Stansfield Road, Brixton, London.
Formation of the Ukrainian rock n roll scene
2022 has become too difficult for one of the largest countries in Europe. It is about Ukraine and its heroic people. The passing year has brought devastation and tears, pain and suffering to the country. In its fight against the invaders, Ukraine is choosing its freedom and the right to a democratic future. Today we wanted to remember the glorious past of this musical nation and especially, we are interested in the development of the rock scene in Ukraine, in a country with its ancient roots and culture. How it was and how it was born.
AINA – Nothing Feels Better
Falling in love, properly and helplessly, has always been pop's most reliable subject and its most difficult trick to pull off without curdling into cliché. AINA manages it on "Nothing Feels Better" with a confidence that feels earned rather than borrowed, and the reason isn't hard to locate once you know how the record was made: she wrote it, produced it, played the piano on it, and shaped every vocal line herself, top to bottom. That kind of total authorship tends to leave fingerprints, and here they show up as a rare coherence between feeling and sound — the euphoria in the lyric isn't dressed up afterwards by a committee of session players and mix engineers, it's baked into the architecture of the track itself.
The Scarlet Goodbye – Losing (the only game in town)
There is a particular species of American rock record that only reveals itself fully once you stop expecting it to behave — and "Losing (The Only Game In Town)," the new single from Minnesota's The Scarlet Goodbye, is very much one of those records. It arrives less like a song than a conversation between two old friends who've decided, after decades of separate careers, to see what happens when they finally sit in the same room with their guitars pointed at each other.
Paul Archer – Belfast (Place Of My Soul)
Homesickness rarely produces anything worth hearing. It tends to curdle into sentiment, all lump-in-the-throat platitudes about cobbled streets and childhood summers. Paul Archer, writing this song on an overnight shift at a children's home in rural Cambridgeshire, hundreds of miles from the city he was aching for, has managed the opposite. "Belfast (Place Of My Soul)" turns longing into something sturdier: a testimony, sung by a man who knows exactly what he misses and refuses to prettify it.
Aurealis – How I Feel
Pop music has a persistent problem with sincerity. It doesn't know what to do with it, mostly, and tends to either drown it in irony or dress it up so heavily in production tricks that the feeling underneath suffocates. "How I Feel" solves this problem by simply refusing to have it. Aurealis writes a love song and means it, which turns out to be a far braver artistic choice than another exercise in detachment would have been.
The Bastas Project – Sharp Comfort
Family bands carry a particular kind of risk. Get it wrong and you end up with the sonic equivalent of a Christmas dinner argument nobody asked to overhear. Get it right, though, and you get something no amount of session musicianship can fake: people who have spent decades finishing each other's sentences finishing each other's phrases instead. *Sharp Comfort*, the new album from Woodstock, Georgia's The Bastas Project, belongs firmly in the second category, and it announces itself with the confidence of a group who know exactly what they've got.
Frederick James – Let Me Give You A Good Day
Perth, Western Australia, is not the first postcode you'd associate with the kind of wounded, wide-open songwriting Frederick James deals in, but geography has never been much of a constraint on heartbreak, and James treats his adopted home less as a backdrop than as a witness. His debut EP, *Let Me Give You A Good Day*, arrives with the unfussy confidence of a man who has already written his way through the worst of it and lived to tell you calmly, almost gently, how he did it.
Zachariah Tazewell – The Long Road Out of Hell
There's a particular kind of record that could only have been made alone, in a room, by someone with nothing left to lose and nothing left to prove, and *The Long Road Out of Hell* is exactly that kind of record. Recorded entirely in a housing unit in northern Tasmania, on guitars and MIDI instruments, with no producer, no label, and no one to answer to but himself, Zachariah Tazewell has made something that sounds less like a debut and more like a confession finally spoken aloud.
Brendan Ranney – Slightly Out of Focus
Nineteen years is a long time to leave a guitar in its case. Long enough for a sound to calcify into memory, for a voice to lose its calluses, for the person who once wrote songs to become, quietly and without ceremony, someone who no longer does. Brendan Ranney spent those years surviving rather than singing, and *Slightly Out of Focus*, his debut solo record, carries the peculiar weight of that absence in every bar. This is not a comeback album in the triumphant sense. It sounds more like a man clearing his throat after two decades of silence and discovering, to his own quiet astonishment, that he still has something worth saying.
DIE DIE BE – Erased Faces
Bureaucracy has never sounded so seductive. DIE DIE BE, the Swiss duo of Liliane Bürli and Bujar Berisha, open their new single with the coldest of images — a face scratched from a document, a person reduced to paperwork — and then spend four minutes proving that erasure can groove.
Terra Nai – Foliada de Berducido
Costa Rica is not, on paper, a natural home for Galician folk music. And yet Terra Nai — Diego Alfaro on voice, gaita and acoustic guitar, Keith Guerrero on violin and illustration — have spent the past three years proving that geography is no obstacle to devotion. Their reading of "Foliada de Berducido," the traditional tune from the Galician village of Berducido best known through Milladoiro's celebrated 1980s arrangement, arrives as a small triumph of cross-continental fidelity: a Costa Rican duo bottling the spirit of northwestern Spain and somehow losing none of the original's mist and mischief in transit.
Syna Awel – Acoustic Live Session
Twenty-nine minutes, one afternoon, four musicians and a voice that refuses to be tidied up: that's the whole conceit of Syna Awel's Live Acoustic Session, and it turns out to be plenty. Strip away the studio gloss from a record and you usually find out fairly quickly whether the songs were ever more than production. Here, the opposite happens. "Isem-is Amazigh" opens the set sounding less like a performance than a summons — Mahir Bostandzija's percussion arriving like a heartbeat remembered rather than counted, Anis Agrebi's oud curling around Syna Awel's phrasing the way smoke curls around a lamp. You sense immediately that nothing on this session was rehearsed into submission.
Laji George – Sittin Here Thinkin
Grunge, as a genre, has spent the better part of three decades ossifying into cliché — flannel, feedback, and the same four chords borrowed wholesale from Seattle and worn thin by imitators who mistook volume for feeling. Laji George, to his considerable credit, has no interest in that museum piece. "Sittin' Here Thinkin'," the latest single from his forthcoming record *Out of Line*, takes the bones of that sound and grafts onto them something stranger and warmer: soul phrasing lifted from Otis Redding, the rasp and swagger of Chuck Berry's rock and roll, and — improbably, gloriously — an accordion, wheezing away underneath the distortion like it wandered in from a French dockside bar and decided to stay.