It’s a simple plea, but Rosso Tierney’s “Feel” builds an entire rock song around its uncertainty. The York artist’s latest single turns a deeply human question about connection into fast-moving, guitar-driven alternative rock, drawing on the energy and emotional intensity of ’90s rock.

Right from the opening lines, “Thinking of the reasons why it’s time to cry / Thinking of the reasons why I should not say goodbye,” the song places us inside the uncertainty of a relationship that isn’t necessarily without love, but perhaps without the feeling of connection. Tierney captures the strange space between knowing someone cares and actually experiencing that care.

That tension becomes more pronounced as he sings, “And if I told you that I love you / It wouldn’t be a lie.” The problem isn’t whether the words are true. It’s whether they are enough. When he follows with “When I’m close to you / When I’m far from you / When I call you, love you, care for you,” the repetition feels almost like an attempt to prove that the relationship is real, before returning to the central question: “Tell me that it’s real / I want to feel.”

Musically, however, there is little hesitation. Distorted guitars and heavy drums push “Feel” forward with a punk-edged urgency, while a soaring guitar solo gives the track its release. Influences from ’90s alternative rock, particularly The Smashing Pumpkins, are apparent, but the song feels less like nostalgia and more like a contemporary take on familiar guitar-rock language.

The accompanying video expands that sense of scale, placing Tierney and his vintage 1970s Oldsmobile Delta 88 against a vast former WWII runway in Yorkshire. Warm yellow and orange tones give it a cinematic, road-movie quality that complements the track’s restless momentum.

Rosso Tierney’s “Feel” leaves its central question deliberately unresolved. “I just wanna feel / to make it real” becomes less a conclusion than a plea: asking whether love, without the experience of connection, can ever truly feel real!

The track blends straight-ahead country rock with a distinctly ’90s rock edge. Written by lead vocalist Shane Jolie and produced by Winston Hauschild at The Treehouse Studio on Bowen Island, it keeps things refreshingly uncomplicated. The guitars do much of the talking, while the steady groove gives the song an easy, live-ready momentum.

At its heart, though, this is a song about escape. Jolie describes that moment when you can finally leave the noise of everyday life behind, head somewhere familiar with your favourite people, and remember that things might not be quite as complicated as they seemed: as he puts it, “as long as you have friends and family around, and maybe a little moonshine, life ain’t as hard as it seems.”

That sentiment runs through the track’s entire personality. “Hillbilly White Wine” is not interested in turning a night out into an existential experience. Instead, it finds its charm in the ordinary: friendship, familiar places, a drink or two, and the freedom of temporarily forgetting your responsibilities.

It also makes perfect sense as a Pistol Whip The Devil song. The Vancouver band have built their sound around lived-in storytelling, grunge-infused country influences, and what they call “Redneck Rock,” developing a reputation through bars and festivals across Western Canada.

Following 2025’s “The Devil In Me,” “Hillbilly White Wine” by Pistol Whip The Devil feels like another invitation into their world: loud, loose, slightly mischievous, and ultimately pretty simple: find your people, turn the music up, raise a glass, and let the rest wait until tomorrow!

Described as frenetic, angry, obsessive and depressive, the track sits alongside the band’s reputation for atmospheric, cinematic and emotionally charged songwriting. “Grave Concern” ranks among their most intense releases to date, transforming pain into something haunting and unforgettable, with the soaring guitars, driving energy and uncompromising honesty that have long defined their sound.

Emerging in the late 1990s, Drums for Clowns built a devoted following across Europe, North America and Canada through powerful live performances and deeply personal songwriting. Their unique blend of alternative rock, post-punk and melodic indie has always prioritised truth over trends. At the centre is Kit Cooper, whose lyrics explore grief, love, addiction, hope and survival with rare authenticity, written from lived experience rather than fashion.

Fiercely independent and known for refusing to compromise their sound, the band continues to connect with listeners who value music that is honest, fearless and deeply human. Their catalogue remains relevant years after its creation, and “Grave Concern / A Good Day for Binky” adds another unflinching chapter—music for those who have lived through life’s darkest moments and found the strength to keep moving forward.

About Drums for Clowns
Drums for Clowns are an alternative rock / post-punk band led by songwriter and frontman Kit Cooper. Emerging in the late 1990s, they have built a lasting reputation across Europe, North America and Canada for emotionally charged songwriting, powerful live shows, and a fiercely independent spirit. Their music explores grief, love, addiction, hope and survival with haunting melodies, soaring guitars and unforgettable choruses, creating a timeless soundtrack for anyone who has found hope in the darkness.

“Grave Concern / A Good Day for Binky” is available now.

Exploring love through its contradictions: hurt and attachment, forgiveness and doubt, longing and distance; the Arabic alternative-rock release offers a glimpse into the musical world Halah is beginning to create. We spoke with the artist about finding her voice, making the leap from performer to songwriter, and the choices behind “Forsa Tani.”

• For those discovering you for the first time through “Forsa Tani,” how would you introduce yourself, not just as a singer, but as the artist you’re becoming?

I am exploring and integrating all the facets of me. Art has always been part of my identity, writing and singing have always been my escape and the place where I explore who I am.

• You describe this release as the beginning of a new chapter. What feels different about Halah Banna the artist today compared to the artist who was performing covers a few years ago?

I think I am finally ready to start sharing my vulnerability through things I express. It has always been a challenge to find what I truly sound like, being very versatile in the genres I sing. What feels different is that I found the spot where I am sounding like myself and not rehearsed versions of how I could sound best.

• The song explores a lot of contradictions: loving someone who hurts you, forgiving them before they’ve even done anything wrong, and missing someone while still recognizing the distance between you. Were these contradictions something you consciously wanted to capture when writing the song?

I must admit it wasn’t easy to reach a point where I write about these things. If you had asked me few years ago, I would say I don’t want to sing about love and relationships, and that they are so cliché, and I think it comes from some self-criticism I held, or a fear of being emotionally exposed. However, when I started writing, I consciously wanted to explore that space when you are in the middle of the contradictory feelings and not reaching a result or a conclusion, and I think a lot of us can relate to that.

• Why did “Forsa Tani” feel like the right song to introduce your original music with?

I think it happened organically because deciding to work on it is when I accepted that I am ready to be true to myself and that there will be no perfect time. And since I wrote and composed it myself, I could relate to every bit of it.

• Was there anything unexpectedly vulnerable about releasing a song that you wrote yourself?

Definitely, letting go of the fear of judgement and realizing that we are the ones who judge ourselves the most.

• Having spent so much time performing other artists’ music, did that experience influence the way you approached songwriting or helped you discover what your own voice should sound like?

I think I am lucky I got to perform and explore different artists’ music in different cultures, and experiment live with what feels closer to me. I have always had the issue of feeling I can’t find my own sound or genre, but again it just happened when I decided to be true to myself.

• When did you first feel that you had found your voice not just as a singer, but as a songwriter and artist?

This year, when I wrote Forsa Tani, I started feeling more comfortable writing other songs and enjoying the process.

• How did your collaboration with Bassem Daouk shape the song from the version you initially imagined to what we hear now?

I was so lucky to work with Bassem Daouk who is an old friend and a super talented musician, producer, and sound engineer. We have had many projects together since 2017 that were mostly unreleased. I knew he was the first person I want to work with, he understands my style and what I like and he captured exactly what I am looking for while keeping space for his own creativity and touch. I am a big fan of his work and the process was a very smooth and we were very aligned. I am 100% proud of what we produced.

• You chose to express this story in Lebanese Arabic. What does Lebanese give you emotionally or lyrically that another language might not?

I never wrote in Lebanese Arabic before, almost everything I wrote since I was a kid was in English, until I started digging deeper within myself and it hit me that our mother tongue is the language of our subconscious mind, so when you are able to express it, it comes from a truer and more vulnerable place, unfiltered. That was a big realization for me and it pushed me to explore with it more. I’d describe it more as trying to find the right and true words that express the emotion while respecting the structure of a song.

• You’ve described Forsa Tani as the beginning of a larger musical world. What can we expect from that world as you continue releasing music?

I have a vision of what I want, but I am trying to enjoy the process especially with everything else I do since I am not a full-time artist. I have more song that I’ve written, I will focus next on few songs that have a similar feel as Forsa Tani and I also have in mind other ones that would fit in different genres. I think the challenge now is to keep up with what I started and to commit to following what makes me feel alive.

Written in the aftermath of September 11, “Towers of Light” begins from a deeply personal place. “I feel like I’m broken inside me / I feel that it’s so hard to heal,” the opening lyrics admit, immediately establishing the song’s emotional landscape. Rather than rushing toward consolation, the song gives space to the confusion of loss, capturing the longing to return to a world that existed before tragedy: “I want to wake up and remember / that morning before it all changed.”

That vulnerability gradually gives way to the song’s defining image. “Towers of Light shine in the night / A pathway for new stars,” the chorus sings, turning the memorial beams above Lower Manhattan into a celestial metaphor. The departed become “new stars,” while the light becomes a symbol of continuity; an image that allows remembrance and hope to occupy the same space.

“Towers of Light” by Dr. Judy Kuriansky & Russell Daisey draws from a classic/soft-rock palette, with an accessible, anthem-like quality that suits its communal message. Its emotional progression is mirrored in the lyrics, moving from the individual experience of being “broken” toward a broader recognition of those who were lost: “They’re our friends. They’re our lovers. / They’re our sisters and our brothers.” The song’s focus on relationships rather than historical specifics is what ultimately gives it a universal quality.

That universality is reflected in its remarkable journey. Since its creation, “Towers of Light” has been performed on five continents and at more than 170 occasions, from memorials and houses of worship to peace summits and international gatherings. One of its most significant moments came in Hiroshima in 2006, where Daisey performed the song with Kuriansky and vocalist Neil Walsh in the presence of the Dalai Lama, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, and Nobel Peace Laureate Betty Williams. The Dalai Lama’s response was simple: “Powerful. Very powerful.”

The song later found another life in Japan, where soprano Tomoko Shibata translated it into Japanese and performed it in connection with the 2011 earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear disaster. In doing so, a song born from one tragedy became a musical language through which another community could express grief and hope.

Perhaps that is the lasting strength of Dr. Judy Kuriansky & Russell Daisey’s “Towers of Light.” It does not suggest that healing means returning to normal. In fact, “normal’s so far from my mind,” the song acknowledges. Instead, it arrives at a quieter form of hope: “We’re still here, / Gazing at new stars.”

Twenty-five years later, the light still remains!

The track wastes no time making an impact. Massive syncopated guitar riffs charge forward, drawing from groove metal, melodic metalcore, djent, thrash, and power metal, while layered female vocals introduce an atmospheric melodic edge. The production feels expansive and cinematic; at times, almost like the soundtrack to a Dune or Blade Runner 2049 scene where the world looks enormous, but the real battle is happening somewhere inside.

That internal battle is what makes The Lazz’s “The Crown” particularly compelling.

Opening Act IV: The Return, the track explores what happens after transformation. Drawing on Jungian ideas of Shadow, Persona, and ego, it asks an uncomfortable question: what happens when self-knowledge itself begins feeding the ego?

The crown becomes the perfect symbol. It represents inner strength and sovereignty, but also the temptation to believe that personal growth means the work is finally finished. Sometimes, becoming more self-aware simply gives the ego a more sophisticated mask.

The tension comes through in the contrast between the male and female vocals, shifting between atmospheric textures and more aggressive delivery. The interplay adds a dramatic, almost cinematic quality without taking away from the sheer weight of the guitars.

The accompanying visual world expands the concept further, following two protagonists who rise into positions of symbolic power before realizing that transformation is not a finish line. Ultimately, both must relinquish the crowns they mistook for proof of completion.

And that may be the most interesting thing about “The Crown” by The Lazz: beneath all its heaviness lies a surprisingly human reminder that self-discovery doesn’t mean you’ve finished becoming.

The crown doesn’t make the king. The work isn’t done!

Opening with weighty classic-rock guitars and a brooding Americana-inflected atmosphere, the track immediately carries a sense of gravity. There’s something cinematic about its slow build, gradually pulling us into the emotional tension between creative conviction and the expectations of those around us.

The AI-assisted vocalist adds another layer of character. Deep, weathered, and commanding, it carries the authority of a seasoned storyteller, shifting naturally between conversational intimacy and theatrical intensity. The lyrics remain firmly at the centre, giving the song a distinctly human quality.

“The Love of Strangers” explores what happens when something deeply personal is met with skepticism rather than encouragement. Those closest to us can sometimes become too familiar with our flaws, our past selves, and the limitations they associate with us. Strangers, however, arrive without that history. They encounter the work, and the person behind it, as they are in the present.

“The dining room is empty, but the theater is packed.” That line captures the song’s central paradox beautifully. The people closest to us may fail to recognize what we are trying to build, while an unexpected audience can see its value immediately.

The track mirrors that journey. It moves patiently from isolation towards something more expansive and triumphant, blending classic rock with Americana and indie-rock textures. The guitar work provides both atmosphere and release, with the soaring solo becoming a particularly effective emotional payoff.

Scott A. Flaxman’s “The Love of Strangers” is about creating beyond the reach of expectation, and finding the freedom to keep going when not everyone understands the vision.

Sometimes, the audience we never expected becomes the one that hears us most clearly..

Formed in 1998 by brothers Dan Wilson (bass) and Doug Wilson (drums) and completed by vocalist Kurt Lobdell and guitarist Joe Chichetti, No Drinks For Jimmy emerged from the Baltimore/DC rock scene with a clear mission: to make loud, authentic, emotionally resonant rock music. Drawing from the giants of ’90s and 2000s modern rock- Foo Fighters, Jimmy Eat World, and Stone Temple Pilots- the band has forged a sound that balances melody with raw power and genuine emotion while remaining distinctly their own.

“Broken” follows “Year of Me (The Brunswick Song)” and shows another side of the band while retaining the powerful guitars, memorable melodies, and emotionally direct approach that define No Drinks For Jimmy. As the band puts it, “When you’re Broken, you start your own 12-step program. This is a song about hitting rock bottom.”

What makes the release especially significant is its completely independent creation. Each member recorded remotely across multiple states- Arizona, Florida, North Carolina, and Maryland before the band handled all mixing and mastering themselves. No outside producers, engineers, or artificial intelligence were involved. The result is a pure collaborative effort that captures the group’s unshakeable chemistry and DIY ethos.

“Broken” is more than a new single; it is a reaffirmation of the band’s modern rock roots and a testament to their commitment to honest songwriting. Whether blasting through arena speakers or providing solace through headphones, the track is built to resonate.

No Drinks For Jimmy look ahead to several live shows in 2027 as they continue connecting directly with fans, reviewers, and curators.

About No Drinks For Jimmy

No Drinks For Jimmy is a collaborative rock powerhouse from Columbia, MD, founded by brothers Dan Wilson and Doug Wilson and completed by Kurt Lobdell (vocals) and Joe Chichetti (guitar). Known for energetic live shows and a wide-ranging mix of hard rock, alternative, and melodic influences, the band has released the EP Find the Fourth (2017), the full-length Verse•Chorus•Rise (2021), the live EP Three Live Pours (2024), and singles including “Not The One” and “Year of Me (The Brunswick Song).” Their most recent live highlight includes a performance at the legendary Whisky a Go Go in Los Angeles.

“Broken” is available now on all major streaming platforms.

Recorded between their rehearsal room and a home studio in Coedpoeth, with studio engineer Bijan Tayari handling the drums, the EP stands as a clear statement of artistic control and hands-on craftsmanship. Moving into grittier, more earthbound territory, the songs confront real-life themes head-on. “Liza” tackles homelessness without glamorization, while “You Talk Too Much” centres on a strong, rebellious female character full of attitude and fire.

The band’s hard work has already begun to turn heads. “Liza” earned Rogue Angels a nomination at Radio Wigwan’s 9th annual awards in London, while “Seven Year Itch” claimed rock single of the month and rock single of the week honours on two local radio stations.

Following the EP’s release, fans will be able to catch the band live at the Late Lounge in Rhyl and the iconic Tivoli venue in Buckley, with further dates expected.

Hailing from Wrexham, Wales, Rogue Angels were built on the shared vision of former bandmates Mikey Dream (lead vocals) and Ian Edwards (guitar), who believed that original, high-quality rock music could still thrive in today’s digital landscape. Through social media and modern artist platforms, they assembled a dynamic five-piece lineup, completed by Dominic Gallagher (bass), Joe Evans (guitar) and Darren Collins (drums). Each member brings fresh creativity and energy to the band’s evolving sound.

Drawing inspiration from the keyboard-driven rock of early-80s Bon Jovi, the alt-rock edge of Billy Idol, and the timeless power of AC/DC and Free, Rogue Angels consistently deliver catchy, hook-laden rock with real substance. Adding an extra layer of intrigue is the recurring character “Kane”, born of both Angel and Demon, whose complex split personality weaves through their musical narrative and gives the band’s world a distinctive identity.

With Right Side Of Midnight, Rogue Angels continue to prove that honest, self-made rock still has plenty to say.

Rogue Angels are:
Mikey Dream – Lead Vocals
Ian Edwards – Guitar
Dominic Gallagher – Bass
Joe Evans – Guitar
Darren Collins – Drums

• “The Escape Plan Handbook” was built around the idea of a vanishing America — the 60s and 70s freedom of being truly unreachable, of cheap rent, open roads, and no way to track you down. When did you first feel the loss of that world personally, and what made it the right obsession to build an entire album around?

Yes, I  was trying to capture what it was like in the 60’s and 70’s in America.  According to some economists and historians, the year that America had the highest standard of living was 1969. The exact year can  be debated but this is as close as many come.  If we look at the 10 years prior to that and the ten after we get a rough idea of a certain lifestyle for many. I am sorry to offend people of color and minorities and the very poor who were always dealt a difficult and much different version of America. This thinking is a means to understand the overall general population at that time.  It was a time when rents were so cheap and minimum wage was so great that it scared the daylights out of conservative politics – because too many people had too much time on their hands and stood up and yelled and caused a ruckus when the government did things that were against the decency of humanity such as the Vietnam War. This freedom and lifestyle had to stop because  it allowed for a lot of Artists to thrive as a result of this  very high standard of living. The minimum wage was $1.60  an hour.  A worker in a factory such as General Motors made $4.00 an hour.   $4.00 in 1969 money is equivalent to $37.00 today. That’s for a person working a factory floor. So, for example The Grateful Dead rented an entire Victorian house in, it’s safe to say,  a nice street in a really cool city for $250 a month. It had 4 floors, God knows how many bedrooms,   so with 5 people sleeping there and each paying  $50 a month,  the rent was  covered.  That means one person had to work A DAY AND A HALF in a factory to cover their rent FOR THE MONTH.  Gas was 30 cents a gallon, a hamburger, fries and milkshake at a dinner in 1969 was between 85 cents and $1. So one had to work a half an a hour to get a full meal at a diner if they were making the very minimum wage of $1.60.   McDonalds Burger was 15 cents in 1969.  A  50 cent hamburger has the same purchasing power of a $4.25 hamburger today. Imagine buying a Hamburger for $4.25 today? We’re fucked.    My point is people had freedom, freedom to live as they decided. For so many it was easy.   Life was wide open. And what does that mean? For one,  the arts thrived.  Peoples minds weren’t trapped  in a hellscape of working. People didn’t even think about the cost of rent as they must today. People soared and roared and created shit. Those picture of the 60’s and 70’s are real.  We could talk about this for hours. We could talk about why and how this ended as well. Was it purposely ended by governmental policies? They certainly  don’t want a free society  who has the wherewithal to rise up every time  they entered a war  or commit any other indecent act and have to deal with street revolts  by the people etc. I don’t want to get into politics any more here but look into the changes that took place in 1980 and where they lead to and  see who was behind them…and vote accordingly.

• You’ve described writing these songs from two perspectives — being IN that world and looking AT it from the outside. How did those two vantage points produce different kinds of songs, and can you point to specific tracks on the album that live in each of those spaces?

Sometimes both perspectives meld into one song as well.  The bird’s eye view makes a landing at the camp sight.  It’s like a cloak I carry around with both perspectives always on the lookout and inevitably it ends up in a song or in this case many songs.  I’ll find myself in certain situations with unabashed freedom,  surrounded by the coolest freaks and think, yeah this is it,  this was how it must have been in the late 60’s but they had it 24/7  or 24/6  This will write a song like We Applaud All The Freaks- a direct result of getting together with a bunch of great people and walking around the city with the same playlist in all of our headphones,  tripping over ourselves . I thought man, look at all these beautiful freaks…and then I’ll get back to the reality of today where people don’t have the time to listen to ONE song let alone sit around a turntable with their friends to check out a new album, the entire thing…just sitting there listening  because that was a great thing to do and we’d freak out doing it. Nostalgia is a strange thing when things have gotten worse. This devestating reality will write a song like What’s Your Message because it’s asking what are you going to leave everyone with this new lifestyle?  What are you doing now that we will remember you by, that is so important it will  be written in stone later on? I was imagining this scenario sitting in a kitchen at someones house in 2026, the modern frenetic nothing and comparing that to what went on in The Grateful Dead’s house in 67, or any other house on that block.

• The recording philosophy here was clear from the start: keep it dirty and real, all analog, tube amps, wild early 70s synths. In an era of infinite digital polish and endless plugin options, what does committing to that analog approach actually demand of you as a producer — and what does it give the music that nothing else can?

Analog helps shape the Spirit of the songs because analog instruments have their own Spirit.  It’s like having another great player with you. If  a keyboard player is playing it on an old synth, that synth is bringing its’ added Spirit with it. Each player brings their  signature to a performance and that signature can be so deep it transcends the simplicity of the part  and so does analog gear, it has it’s own signature.   There’s also the scientific element that digital recording does not  think the distortion  is important enough for converters to capture.  It doesn’t capture all the harmonics of the wave,  just bits of it. It transfers the fundamental tone and not the distorted outer waves of the tone (also something one might not ‘hear’) but all those lost distorted tones of that wave creates a body, a depth, a mystery. This is evident when you put on vinyl from the 70’s.  They have a Spirit, almost as if the tape machines that recorded those songs also recorded the essence of the Earth itself. The magnetic tape absorbed the ghosts that were present  and it got  sucked  onto the tape. This takes a conscious listen and a very awake listener to hear of course. As a producer there’s no compromising for me.   In the studio every instrument was played by a person, there are no programmed parts played out by computer.  Do listeners know this? Maybe. Maybe  there’s a  deeper part of knowing that is not conscious.  But it’s an honoring of the past and what made me love music…honor the drummer and use a drummer, honor the Hammond B-3 and use a real one,  honor the amps and microphones and use the real ones. Why? Because Hendrix,  Marley, Morrison, Lennon , they’re all listening.  Don’t let them down. They played for real. Their magnificent souls went into this thing called music. Ring their bells.  A small part of me was reacting against AI generated music  as well – which is as vile as eating vomit.  So I was keeping in elements of humanity during the recording, even in small degrees and details,  like the scraping of fingers on the strings between chords that in times past a producer would have stopped, or the slight squeal of the guitar amp before or after the chord is hit for example. That’s one aspect of keeping it dirty, but mostly it’s the sounds themselves that deliver the dirt.  Keeping it dirty and real is a way to combat AI.  We also  have to get weird. So weird and honest that it sounds unlike anything AI could conjure.  Not for weirdness’ sake but for the sake of digging deeper and bring forth our uniquenesses,  our souls, our take on our time here as only we can say it and  without an ounce of compromise. Ai does not and will never have a soul so we’ve got to bring forth ours.

• Your story includes recording an entire album in the Massachusetts mountains using only modified analog effects and 40 overdubbed guitars — music that was never released — and then losing a full studio to fire before your debut. Most people would have walked away. What kept you going through that, and how much of that resilience shows up in the DNA of “The Escape Plan Handbook”?

It’s all an evolution,  nothing is directed or forced or even thought about consciously, we just become and what we become is evident  in our output at that time.  I usually write  a lot of songs for each album and pick the 11 or so that strike me as the better ones and so by writing a lot and not being trapped into any  song  with the thinking that this one  particular song I am working on must be put on the album, this forces me to pull in everything Ive got at the moment, creating a lot of work and not fine tuning or focusing too much on the details, at first, nor stopping to be conscious of a specific statement to make. It’s all just an outpouring of being at that moment in time.  An overwhelming capturing of what’s in the net. I never stopped this fishing expedition except for the time I was rebuilding my studio and re-thinking a few things.  None of my heroes stopped. Nobody stops who ever really began. If you began for reasons other than creating as great a work you can and for that reason only, you won’t stop.  That’s what keeps so many of us going after  making 0.0036 cents per listen.

• Greg, you started playing guitar at 8, was in a band at 12, and playing NYC bars at 16 — yet at 18 you made the deliberate choice to step away from the lucrative live musician path and focus entirely on writing and recording your own music. How has that foundational decision shaped everything Lord Sonny The Unifier has become?

Everything we do, everything,  builds onto our soul, piles on. We’re walking wooly mammoths lumbering into the streets, the bars, your friends place for a BBQ, the Supermarket.  We’re MASSIVE. Wearing massive coats of history and memories, secrets, plans, fantasies, losses, wins, everything is there, piled on a clear,  somewhat weightless overcoat. When we create our art we’re moving the brush and choosing the paint with this behemoth soul, this life’s overcoat on.  Hopefully it’s light as a feather and  a wise guide for us and not a burden. That’s the point of this human experience. Stay light. When I begin to write a song I tell myself,    I’ve got one objective to get a  good one,  to get it  “right” and that is to have fun. I don’t know what I am going to do but I am going to do it and have fun doing it.  Nobody knows how to write a great song,  nobody. There’s no knowing, there’s only doing and hoping for some magic. Magic comes to the free.   This will open up a lot more avenues for creation,  a lot more roads reveal themselves when you’re lighter,  for one, you’re flying higher and can see more options. You don’t see clearly down in the mud. I chose the most creative path, that is writing, sometimes at the expense of playing live but so be it.

• The album has been compared to Viagra Boys, Tom Waits, Motorhead, David Bowie, The Lennon Claypool Delirium, and Jack White — a wild and eclectic range. Which of those comparisons feels most accurate to you, and which one surprises you most?

It’s so difficult to say exactly how we are influenced by the artists we love. Hopefully I wasn’t too influenced by any of the above mentioned great artists. I certainly don’t want to be.  I want to make music that, from the first note, people will say, that’s Lord Sonny The Unifier,  like we do when we hear the songs and artists we love. Think of the greatest guitar   players, you only need to hear 2 seconds of a note and you can say, Oh that’s Carlos Santana, that’s Richie Blackmore. 2 seconds. That’s the ultimate achievement for a writer. Probably the artists from when I was much much younger directly influenced me. The songs I heard at 2 or 3 years old. Those rhythms and beats told me, hey, this is the music of your era,  in your birthplace. This is it …and it sunk in,  and those roots grew to many branches and leaves and some of those leaves died and some of those branches grew larger some smaller but the roots stayed and got fatter and deeper.  If I were born in Jamaica and heard those rhythms  as a 3 year old I would be playing reggae. I can’t now, it’s not me. Do I love it? yes. Do I freak out when the beat is on the 3? Yes and I write music with the beat on the 3 sometimes because I love it so much but it’s not reggae.  If someone says,  you sound like so and so- your career is doomed. You won’t shake the pages of a music history book that’s for sure . Kandinsky the great painter who some say created the first abstract painting in the early 20th century (tho that’s up for debate) said that if you create a work that is based on someone else’s work  or use theirs as a  starting point in your work then your work will be stillborn.  He would know.

• Alternative Nation called LTSU a band with “not an ounce of compromise” and The Farsighted noted something “distinct that will never be accused of being derivative.” In a Brooklyn music scene that can sometimes reward a certain kind of cool, what does it actually cost to be that uncompromising — and has it ever cost you something you regret?

Well, the ultimate cool is never being accused of being derivative or not having an ounce of compromise. So we fit right in, HA! I think that’s what’s so great about the Brooklyn Music scene-  that those descriptors can apply to so many of the bands there. It is the melting pot of Freaks. It’s changing a bit for the worse as the rents are incomprehensible and creating a restricted area for most artists. It will soon change like Manhattan did and as soon as everyone’s lease is up or lost somehow, it will be gone and moved elsewhere- if the music scene continues with a BAND being the central core, as this is evolving as well.  The only thing I regret as a musician is working too much at things not musical.

• Lead single “Ain’t Nobody Listening” — what is that song about, and why was it the right first signal to send from this album into the world?

In that song,  Ain’t Nobody Listening,   I sing,  ‘ I pulled the alarm cause my head is on fire/ the men in charge are serial liars/  thought I’d let you know/  it’s gonna blow’  There’s a maniacal urgency when there is  maniacal, incomprehensible behavior by our so called leaders. It’s absolutely out of control that this behavior has been normalized and so it began the LP.  It’s an overt blaring of emergency and the effects of people shouting in the streets and nothing much changing, if anything. This goes back to your first question and how the young fighters in this country are trapped in their jobs and have so little time and energy to take over the streets like they did in the 60’s. They’re not listening to us and we dont believe a word they say- that’s pretty much the loop we’re in. At this point it feels as if the only change that will emerge is from an Alien intervention of the extraterrestrial kind.

• Vinyl is coming shortly after the digital release, and the album is available to pre-order on BandCamp now. Where does Lord Sonny The Unifier go from here — and is there already a next escape plan forming on the horizon?

I was going to call the next album The Escape Plan Handbook Part 2 but thought because of our short attention spans nobody would notice the part 2 part in the title  and it would get brushed aside, but yes there is another album that I am in the studio recording now. It’s more of a where we go when we get out of the bunker album. I’d love to play more shows live as well. I’ve got a 7 piece band so it’s a bit of an ordeal to pull them all together for gigs without a guarantee. Hopefully we’ll get there this year.

⇒ Pre-order the album on Bandcamp.