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4.5 superb | anat CONTRIBUTOR | January 1st 17 | Without context, Winter Haunts is an aggressive semblance of shoegaze and noise rock, channelling
its emotions like a cyclone and battering the landscape in its wake. It lifts you off the ground with it,
knocking you around with its dense layers and the severity of its cacophony. "Who bruises now?" asks
Benjamin Thompson, and it can be read as a statement of tables having turned, but learn the context of
Winter Haunts and those bruises swell to a darker shade, and the cyclone grows in size as it absorbs
the emotional weight. It's the pronounced and thick full-stop at the end of Thompson's perilous journey
as he sets off to accomplish all that he's dreamed of. To wear his bruises not as trophies but as
callbacks. His brittle voice effuses the purple of his heartache, and the clamber of the drums and the
throaty snarl of the guitars behind him carry the swelling of his burden. At its culmination, where past
catches up to present and the two relinquish their disparity, there's a gentle, earned relief.
Bump |
3.5 great | Prancer | December 25th 23 |
4.0 excellent | doofy | February 6th 19 |
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