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.
Gravité Fresq – Curry Sauce
Nobody asked for the defining anthem of human-machine breakdown to arrive via a kitchen drawer in South Dublin. And yet here we are, standing in the rubble of our own technological hubris, holding a passport that an AI refused to render, wondering whether John Cena was always the answer to our existential frustrations. Gravité Fresq, those self-described painters of "sonic frescoes of gloomy absurdity," have somehow managed to smuggle a genuine philosophical crisis into a four-to-the-floor banger, and the audacity of it is breathtaking.
Erik Neimeijer – Birds Of A Feather
Every so often, a song arrives that feels less like a new release and more like an old friend finally showing up at your door — weathered, road-worn, and carrying stories you somehow already knew. Erik Neimeijer's *Birds Of A Feather* is precisely that kind of song. The Dutch singer-guitarist, riding the momentum of his soul-rock single *Green Eyed Soul*, has chosen to close his album of the same name with a track that has been gestating for over two decades, and the patience paid off. This is music that has been allowed to breathe, to settle, to find its own shape — and it sounds like it.
Kent Olsson – Access Denied
Kent Olsson arrives from Västerås with something to prove, and "Access Denied" makes the case with considerable force. The Swedish songwriter and producer has built a track that refuses the modest ambitions of most independent pop releases, reaching instead for a complete creative statement — a world unto itself, populated by locked doors, red alert warnings, and the righteous fury of someone who has been told "no" one too many times and decided, finally, that the word means nothing.
Mark Cee – How You Left Me Still
Grief, that most ungovernable of human states, has long resisted easy translation into song. Too often, artists reach for it and return with something safely mournful — tasteful strings, hushed vocals, a minor key doing the heavy lifting while the listener sits politely unmoved. Mark Cee, the indie/alternative songwriter from Babylon, New York, refuses that particular comfort. His new single, released June 15th, 2026, arrives not as an elegy but as something rawer and more disquieting: a portrait of the moment *before* grief finds its language, when loss has only just landed and the world has not yet caught up.
Clay DuBose – Father Time & Mother Nature
Every decade or so, a record arrives that makes the gap between releases feel entirely worthwhile — not because absence has manufactured mystique, but because the artist has simply lived enough to earn the weight of what they're saying. Clay DuBose's Father Time & Mother Nature is precisely that kind of album: the work of a man who stepped away from the spotlight not in defeat, but in pursuit of the very experiences that would eventually give his music genuine gravity.
Ulrich Jannert – ALL IN
Some records announce themselves quietly and then refuse to leave. Ulrich Jannert's four-track EP *ALL IN* is precisely that kind of modest-seeming ambush — the sort of release that slips past your defences on a Tuesday evening and is still occupying room in your head come the weekend. Born in Germany, now planted in Sweden, Jannert has spent the better part of four years quietly assembling a body of work that moves between soul, rock, R&B and the lush flatlands of modern country. With *ALL IN*, he does not so much synthesise those influences as let them breathe together in the same room, easy and unforced, like old friends who have long since stopped needing to impress each other.
SONIC BOMB – Like Lions Every Day
There is a particular breed of rock band that refuses, on principle, to be categorised. They will not submit to the taxonomy of genre, will not be pinned like a butterfly beneath the glass of someone else's reference points. Boston's SONIC BOMB are precisely that band, and their new four-song EP, *Like Lions Every Day*, announces this refusal with the kind of blunt, grinning confidence that most acts spend entire careers trying to manufacture.
Sri Lanka – Leviathan
Forty years is a long time to carry a wound. Sri Lanka formed in Philadelphia in 1986 — a city not typically granted its due in the post-punk mythology, overshadowed perpetually by New York's louder, better-documented chaos — and for a few blazing years they were something genuinely dangerous. Goth's cathedral gloom cross-pollinated with post-punk's serrated urgency, filtered through the particular derangement of psych rock: it was a sound that could fill the sticky floors of CBGB and the Trocadero alike, a sound that pointed somewhere important. Then Brett Turner, their founding frontman, died at twenty. The band lurched onward, regrouped, released two more records, collapsed. And then, silence — thirty-odd years of it.
The Essence of The Universe – Bring All Your Lovers
Nobody asked for a band like The Essence of The Universe. Nobody knew they needed one. And yet here they are, Daniel di Porto Rosa and Nic Nikita — two Swedes who refuse to be identified, located, or explained — arriving with a single that hits like a fist wrapped in velvet, dragged across the face of a sleeping music industry and leaving a mark that won't easily fade.
Paper Swords – Breathe In The Light
Phil Black has spent six years in Wyoming building something that most artists wouldn't dare attempt alone — a fully realised dark science-fiction universe married to music, 3D visuals, and a mythological narrative arc. The result of that long, solitary labour arrives now under the name Paper Swords, with a debut single called *Breathe In The Light* that announces itself not as a song so much as a declaration of intent.
4fro Nick – Don’t Waste My Time (LA mix)
There are songs that announce themselves quietly, easing through the speakers like morning light under a door, and then there are songs that kick the door clean off its hinges. 4fro Nick's "Don't Waste My Time (LA Mix)" belongs emphatically to the latter category — though what makes it so arresting is not mere aggression, but the controlled intelligence behind the noise.
Cello – Like A Tiger
Cello arrives at your ears the way a stranger walks into a pub at closing time — unhurried, entirely certain of herself, and somehow making you feel like the room just got more interesting. "Like A Tiger," her third single and the most vivid dispatch yet from the forthcoming album *Kung Fu Disco*, is four minutes or so of deliberate, coiled energy: the sound of someone who has spent years listening to the right records, learning the wrong instrument, and finally deciding to say something worth hearing.