This week, we’ll explore slowcore, a genre that blends the ethereality of dream pop with the reverb-heavy, atmospheric sound of shoegaze.

Establishing itself in the 90s, settling in the 00s, and reemerging in the mainstream in the 20s, the subdued sound and ghostly production of slowcore has become more and more prevalent in modern music.

From esteemed veterans to budding aspirants, enjoy a genre that’s perfect for this cold weather.

— Will Thomas

Formed in 2018 in the infancy of London’s alt-rock resurrection, deathcrash is a four-piece slowcore band who opted for a more methodical, crawling sound compared to frantic neighbors like black midi, Squid, and other London-based post-punk revivalists.

But don’t make the mistake of labelling their stripped back approach as lazy or underqualified. Members Tiernan Banks, Patrick Fitzgerald, Matthew Weinberger, and Noah Bennett are masters of concision– creating a space that thrives on the subdued.

Deathcrash is about the unspoken. The gaps between instrumentation mimic a longing for expression when the words just won’t come. The lyrics are blunt in their reflections, the drums stagger sparsely ahead, and the strings raise the tension to fever pitch.

Much of deathcrash’s work grapples with the concept of grief. Like a frog slowly brought to boil, many of their songs, like “Empty Heavy” and “Duffy’s”, begin in a state of passivity, unaware and voluntarily oblivious to their circumstances. Passivity crescendoes into anger. Once restrained guitar riffs mutate into droning, reverb-heavy walls of sound. Lyrics–once whispered, now screamed–usher a begrudging acceptance of what is, not what should or used to be.

The listening experience is reminiscent of grief’s trajectory, a medley of emotions swimming in a sprawling maw of contradictions. Deathcrash exists in the transient, where the line between reflection and anticipation dissolves, leaving only the immediacy of one’s own perception.

For fans of: Legss; Sprain; Horse Jumper of Love; Duster

With just two studio albums in a four year period between 1995 and 1999, C-Clamp’s limited output is symbolic of their greatest strength–-saying what needs to be said with as little as possible.

C-Clamp’s brevity is engrained in their sound. The instrumentation is laid-back yet intricate, and gives way for lead singer Tom Fitzgerald’s somber lyrics that reside between Nick Macri’s pulsating bassline and Frantz Etienne’s minimalist drum beat.

Their sonic landscape oozes with the quintessential moodiness of the nineties. It’s sad, cold, and oblique. Fitzgerald’s protracted vocal style creates a bittersweet tone where memories serve as a point of reference, a lighthouse that guides you to a time before, or after, whatever current concerns. The listener must assemble a puzzle wherein some pieces are not only missing, but never existed in the first place.

The sparse atmosphere encumbers the listener like a blanket of dust. When examined individually, it’s difficult to discern the sheer gravity of it. But when viewed collectively, its presence is overwhelming.

For fans of: Hum; Castor; Galaxie 500

“Absent Friend” by English post-rock band Bark Psychosis is a song at the end of time. A shivering guitar commences the eight-minute journey, quickly accompanied by the nostalgia-laden melody of a melodica, played by lead singer Graham Sutton.

Sutton’s hushed vocals sound entirely detached from the instrumentation, like a spectator in the audience adding lyrics in his head. We follow Sutton as he reflects on the loss of a friend and the facts he’s forced to face in light of their absence. Surreal circumstances, ones you don’t consider until they arrive, crowd his conscience. Stories left untold, futures endured alone.

Moments of quiet are marked by Sutton’s downtrodden piano playing, as drummer Mark Simnett and bassist John Ling pulsate the track forward. A packed ensemble featuring violins, violas, cellos, vibraphones, organs, trumpets, and flutes create a vast, exotic atmosphere that mirrors the magnitude of Sutton’s guilt. The track slowly withers away to the melody of a vibraphone and organ, as an ethereal crystalline tone lays the song to rest.

For fans of: Codeine; Talk Talk; Bedhead

From moody guitars and melancholic pinings, explore the genre whose sound conjures the image of a never-ending cornfield.