Somewhere between the brooding sensibilities of gothic rock, the restless pulse of post-punk and the hazy expansiveness of shoegaze, The House Flies have carved out a sound that feels distinctly their own. Their second album, Lions and Ore, finds the Illinois four-piece exploring the interplay between heavier guitar arrangements and quieter, more atmospheric passages. Across seven tracks, distortion and restraint become equally expressive tools, shaping a record that is as melancholic as it is immersive.
There is a deliberate sense of space throughout Lions and Ore. Its arrangements move between hypnotic repetition, brooding guitar textures and bursts of grungy intensity. Yet, beneath its darker sonic palette lies an unexpected warmth, balancing the weight of its heavier passages with moments of intimacy and vulnerability.
Opening track “Goodnight, Goodnight, Lover Dear” establishes this tension beautifully. Its domestic and almost devotional imagery, particularly in the line “Even bones lose faith in here”, unfolds against a soundscape that gradually moves from stillness into something considerably more expansive. There is an intimacy to the songwriting that feels almost cinematic, as though we have stumbled upon fragments of a private world.
“Lost Literature” follows with a more immediate melodic pull, carried by a restless post-punk pulse. Its imagery of highway nights, rental cars and forgotten songs creates a peculiar sense of displacement, capturing the feeling of being somewhere between where you have been and where you are supposed to be. Meanwhile, “Derelict Crawl” leans into the album’s heavier instincts. Its recurring declaration, “We don’t belong”, becomes something of a mantra, reinforcing the track’s abrasive character and underlying sense of alienation.
The record takes a more restrained turn with “Snakes and Toads”, where devotional language, vulnerability and darker imagery intertwine. Its almost ritualistic delivery gives the song an unsettling tenderness, moving between surrender, affection and spiritual longing. On the second half, “Count Us Down” introduces a hypnotic sense of repetition, while “Shelter Me” brings back the heavier guitar textures, building an almost claustrophobic atmosphere around images of desert heat, old photographs and places we carry with us.
By the time we reach “The Glass, The Orchard”, the album reveals a softer side. Gradually developing from a delicate, reflective opening into a dramatic finale, the closing track leaves us with the tender plea: “Keep me in frame / I’ll remain still.”
Across seven tracks of Lions and Ore, The House Flies deliver a cathartic and atmospheric body of work that finds beauty in its imperfections and tenderness in its darker corners. It leaves us suspended somewhere between melancholy and nostalgia; a little disoriented, perhaps, but rather reluctant to find our way back!
