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glum — a Victoria based three-piece made up of alumni of the Victoria music scene — do not make music for closing your eyes to. 

I am struck by how vivid Artificial Love’s (Liz Courtemanche) debut is. Courtemanche has fought with a colour palette of emotions and now her world is stained. The days are pink, the hue sometimes so bright it hurts her eyes.

Hello there.

Welcome…to the Pink Flamingo Room. Why don’t you sit down and stay a while? Have something to drink. We only have grapefruit cocktails, but that’s OK, because it’s permanently 4:00 PM July 18th, 1974, in Miami Beach. Undo your top two buttons, lean back, and let’s watch the band.

Janky‘s slow, melodic world is vintage Owen Davies, infusing thoughtful spirituality into psychedelia and turning folk into something wholly his own.

Henoheno meticulously make music that’s paired well with experiencing the loss of a loved one or the ironic isolation that can be found in big cities full of strangers.

Tucked up into the messy, fiercely struck guitar chords and distractingly poppy melodies are these impassioned, always honest, observations and stories about love/lust/fucking/hanging out – however you may classify your relationship with another person. BB Cream are angry and sweet and funny and sad and harsh and gentle; unceasing polarities.

Wiebe’s quiet, lo-fi folk style lends itself well to her self-reflective lyrics. Whether it’s about a relationship she wanted, one she didn’t, or if she’s just finding herself in that kind of self-doubt stupor we find ourselves in, the arrangements always bring out the mood of her songs.

Toronto’s Spookyfish offers up an interesting Oddslice of noise pie on her new EP. The album is a stark soundscape, with most of the room being taken up by a thin air, a vacuum. Everything about the record is muted and alien.

Like the name suggests, Saturnine is a gloomy EP. Bird Feet’s (Kimberly Edgar) steps are slow and sound like they are getting heavier with each one taken. The sluggishness is akin to that of Vulva Culture but also of someone so overwhelmed with emotion that they can’t lift their feet off of the ground.

Lonely Parade have only been on the scene for a few years, but they’re already mastering their form. And with each release, their music becomes more and more delicious (the balanced-breakfast album cover notwithstanding).

In his latest release FreeZe eP, it would seem that Alex Kasirer-Smibert (Pompey) also has this temperate desire for everything to be put on hold. Throughout, he returns to one simple sentiment over and over again: “I’d rather freeze.”

Rarely does album artwork so thoroughly complement the music of the album it’s adorning. Just take a second to take in this brilliant piece of album artwork—there’s a colourful, happy-looking party going all around. But Nickelas “Smokey” Johnson is staring straight ahead with a look of pure contempt. Or maybe it’s sadness?

On their long-developed debut, the influence of such awe-inspiring (and sometimes fear-inspiring) natural powers is clearly evident: the group’s post-rock style largely thrives on the kinds of massive, multi-stage crescendos that feel like lung-burning, treeline-breaking, ecstatic moments of physical exertion.

The rawness of Paas’ music is painful. This weariness is akin to the morning after a night of drinking where you fell on the sidewalk in front of your crush and scraped your knees. The combination of your head, embarrassment, and raw flesh creates a dull ache that’s subtle but unshakable for a long time.