My introduction to They Are Gutting a Physique of Water got here unexpectedly whereas watching a video from Pizza Skateboards, that includes Vincent Milou’s section. Their sound struck me straight away—abrasive and hard-hitting. The guitars have been crunchy and aggressive, whereas the vocals felt nearly submerged, engulfed by a chaotic swirl of noise and melodic upheaval. It was a peculiar combine, evoking each a sedative sense of manic happiness and a narcotic-like obliteration.
This observe originates from 2019, a time simply earlier than the material of our actuality started to fray—earlier than the worldwide pandemic unleashed a frenetic assault on the remnants of our former world. The track felt distinctly twenty first century, nearly prophetic, encapsulating a second earlier than the true disarray of our occasions set in. In case you’re a fan of shoegaze, you would possibly acknowledge They Are Gutting a Physique of Water; the up to date shoegaze scene isn’t huge, and whereas it has gained some momentum not too long ago, many new bands merely recycle the previous, providing little greater than intelligent imitations of legends like My Bloody Valentine. After enduring a slew of mediocre replicas, listening to “French” felt like a revelation: the deadlock is over, the seal has been damaged.
TAGABOW introduces an audaciously contemporary aesthetic. Their newest album, LOTTO, unveiled in October 2025, retains their signature sound characterised by heavy, crunching guitars intertwined with technological distortion. But, it additionally brings forth an intriguing new layer: the haunting echoes of a world burdened by the unrealized promise of an web utopia. It immerses listeners within the disorienting alienation of as we speak’s digital age, echoing the powder-blue recollections of our early web childhoods.
The album’s lyrics draw closely from the lead singer’s private battles with habit. The observe titled “Herpim” — a misspelling of “heroin” — captures a poignant battle. Doug Dulgarian, who discovered himself ensnared in habit after being prescribed painkillers, displays on the euphoric fantasies medicine can create whereas concurrently confronting the harshness of actuality: “an empty boarding sky/when actual life kills my excessive” (bayside okay). His journey traverses the fragile stability between escape and acknowledgment, finally discovering gratitude for all times amidst an awesome cloud of nihilism. A prevalent theme on the album is the dislocation of time, whether or not chosen or pressured—“inform me there’s a greater one/and I’ll go get my gun” (american meals)—that mirrors the melancholic temporal struggles confronted by these grappling with melancholy, rife with eager for misplaced lives and nostalgic daydreams of childhood: “sit tight child/’trigger you’re by no means going dwelling/the TV, nook retailer/has been frozen on a former rating” (bitter diesel).
The album culminates with “Herpim,” an apt conclusion to this apocalyptic narrative. It unfolds like a hypnotic storm: starting with an nearly indecipherable, robotic chant—evoking the demise cries of a Tamagotchi in its last moments—earlier than transitioning right into a haunting, subdued resonance that quickly erupts into an inferno of textured guitar riffs. It feels as if one has entered a corrupted sport from their childhood, getting ready for a climactic boss battle within the vampire fortress, recollections resurfacing of a fascinating bell tower amidst the stormy evening sky. I can nearly really feel the torrential rain and listen to the snapping branches within the shadows. The sparse lyrics evoke the phobia of a airplane passenger experiencing extreme turbulence, finally transitioning into aid and prayer because the airplane makes an attempt its touchdown. For now, the descent appears inevitable. All that’s left to do is pray.
