Not many albums have the power to transport you into a completely new frame of mind — whether sinister or joyful — within its first few seconds, but We Found This, the debut full-length from Toronto psych-noise rockers Gloin, does exactly that. The album could be described as "nightmarish," but it's a decidedly thrilling sort of nightmare — the kind that you try desperately to piece together after you wake, covered in sweat.
Opener "Pitchfork" is frenetic, swathed in a delayed and layered guitar line that mutates, almost at a crawling speed, while some Ian Curtis-esque vocals reverberate. It's as if you've opened a mysterious trap door in a house devoid of all sense and reason; think of impossible space — black holes, doors that open to nothing but dusty brick walls, paintings shifting and moving in and out of your periphery, a chandelier that levitates and follows, leaving a dim light as your guide. These unfathomable occurrences and more come to mind as you dive into the void of We Found This.
There's quite a bit of sonic violence on tracks like "OCT," with its trilling atonal guitar lines, an onslaught of pounding bass riffs, and smashed up crash cymbals, it's as if you're listening to the soundtrack of a live exorcism. The encounter leaves you feeling dizzy, yet craving more.
Crucially, there are also moments of experimental reprieve on some of the more radio/single-friendly tracks like "Shoot to Kill" and "Work Patrol," which are more digestible forms of Gloin's in-the-red shoegazey punk rock ala Sonic Youth, Bikini Kill, or Babes in Toyland.
The vocal style and lyrics on We Found This also seem to poke fun at the listener's expense, with a bit of sass and sarcasm, especially so on "Dark Moto," which reaches Nick Cave levels of theatrics (or maybe even David Byrne, if he were a touch more goth). The amount of instrumentation packed on during the conclusion of the song is near-maniacal, as if the band and mixer Graham Walsh wanted to see how many layers they could weave in before it becomes unbearable.
While Gloin is pulling from a diversity of post-punk and noise sounds of the last few decades on We Found This, their contorted concoction feels new and tenacious. The record's title is apt — this debut truly does feel like an arcane discovery you want to share.
(Mothland)Opener "Pitchfork" is frenetic, swathed in a delayed and layered guitar line that mutates, almost at a crawling speed, while some Ian Curtis-esque vocals reverberate. It's as if you've opened a mysterious trap door in a house devoid of all sense and reason; think of impossible space — black holes, doors that open to nothing but dusty brick walls, paintings shifting and moving in and out of your periphery, a chandelier that levitates and follows, leaving a dim light as your guide. These unfathomable occurrences and more come to mind as you dive into the void of We Found This.
There's quite a bit of sonic violence on tracks like "OCT," with its trilling atonal guitar lines, an onslaught of pounding bass riffs, and smashed up crash cymbals, it's as if you're listening to the soundtrack of a live exorcism. The encounter leaves you feeling dizzy, yet craving more.
Crucially, there are also moments of experimental reprieve on some of the more radio/single-friendly tracks like "Shoot to Kill" and "Work Patrol," which are more digestible forms of Gloin's in-the-red shoegazey punk rock ala Sonic Youth, Bikini Kill, or Babes in Toyland.
The vocal style and lyrics on We Found This also seem to poke fun at the listener's expense, with a bit of sass and sarcasm, especially so on "Dark Moto," which reaches Nick Cave levels of theatrics (or maybe even David Byrne, if he were a touch more goth). The amount of instrumentation packed on during the conclusion of the song is near-maniacal, as if the band and mixer Graham Walsh wanted to see how many layers they could weave in before it becomes unbearable.
While Gloin is pulling from a diversity of post-punk and noise sounds of the last few decades on We Found This, their contorted concoction feels new and tenacious. The record's title is apt — this debut truly does feel like an arcane discovery you want to share.
