Some albums feel carefully planned. Others feel like they were kicked into existence with muddy boots and a blown speaker. Speak for the Dead, the self-titled debut from Santa Rosa’s Speak for the Dead, belongs firmly to the second kind. This is a record that doesn’t wait for permission. It arrives loud, rough around the edges, and proudly unapologetic—an album that smells like sweat, spilled beer, and burned-out amplifiers.

From the first few minutes, it’s clear this band understands the power of raw energy. Formed by Jordie Hilley and Clay Prieto—both seasoned players with deep roots in California’s punk scene—and powered by Eric Lundgren’s ferocious vocals and Nick Parker’s sharp-edged guitar work, Speak for the Dead sound like a band that knows exactly who they are. Their influences are worn openly: the aggression of Discharge, the speed and grimness of Inepsy, the weight of Power Trip, and the timeless swagger of Motörhead. But instead of sounding like a tribute act, they fuse these elements into something urgent and alive.

One of the album’s most striking moments comes with Rearview Riot, a track that hits like a runaway vehicle with no intention of slowing down. Built on hardcore punk fury, it carries a sense of movement—of burning bridges and never looking back. The guitars grind relentlessly while the rhythm section drives forward with bruising force. The vocals here are especially powerful, sounding less like singing and more like a warning shouted through clenched teeth.

That intensity deepens on Eternal Night, a song that leans into darker territory. There’s a suffocating atmosphere to it, a feeling of being trapped under flickering streetlights at 3 a.m. The band’s hardcore roots are fully on display, but there’s also a heaviness that borders on metal. It’s relentless, bleak, and strangely addictive, the kind of track that stays with you long after it ends.

Where the album really shows its range, though, is when it steps slightly outside strict punk rules. Lights Out is a standout in this regard. It still hits hard, but there’s a rock ’n’ roll swing beneath the chaos, a sense of groove that invites fists in the air rather than just heads in the pit. The song feels like a late-night anthem for dive bars and back-alley shows, proving the band knows how to balance aggression with hooks.

The heart of the album may well be the title track, Speak for the Dead. This is where everything comes together—punk urgency, metal muscle, and street-level rock swagger. There’s a unifying energy here, a sense of collective voice, as if the band is shouting on behalf of everyone who’s ever felt ignored or written off. It’s bold without being preachy, loud without losing purpose.

What makes Speak for the Dead work so well is its honesty. This album doesn’t chase trends or polish away its roughness. Instead, it leans into it. Every track feels lived-in, powered by friendship, shared history, and a genuine love for loud music played with conviction.

Shadows and Sparks: NEODYM’s “To The Ones”

NEODYM’s latest single, “To The Ones,” lands like a jolt of electricity wrapped in midnight moods. From the very first beat, the track draws you into a world that’s both intimate and expansive—darkly shimmering yet charged with defiance. It’s the kind of song that thrives on emotional tension, where vulnerability and liberation coexist in a delicate, almost thrilling balance.

The production is cinematic, each layer carefully sculpted to support the emotional narrative. Swelling synths, driving percussion, and ethereal textures push the listener forward, while NEODYM’s vocal delivery carries a raw honesty that feels unfiltered and magnetic. There’s an unmistakable tension between introspection and release, a push-pull that mirrors the inner chaos many of us know too well.

What sets “To The Ones” apart is its ability to transform heaviness into a kind of triumphant ritual. It’s not just a song—it’s an experience, a late-night anthem for anyone grappling with heartache or looking to reclaim their energy after a difficult chapter. The track is simultaneously intimate and communal, offering a mirror to personal struggles while inviting listeners into a collective celebration of resilience.

By blending catharsis with bold musicality, NEODYM continues to refine her distinctive voice, crafting music that resonates deeply and lingers long after the final note. “To The Ones” isn’t merely heard—it’s felt, a compelling testament to the power of turning pain into fuel and vulnerability into strength.

Dreamscapes of Sound

John Leslie’s latest single, Dream, is an audacious voyage into the intersections of music, culture, and consciousness. From the very first notes, the track immediately signals its expansive ambition: the resonance of the sitar, performed by Brisbane-based virtuoso Sudha Manian, weaves seamlessly with traditional rock instrumentation, while the propulsive drumming of Jackie James Barnes gives the composition a grounded, almost hypnotic momentum. There’s a delicate tension here—between the familiar and the exotic—that keeps the listener enthralled, as if moving through a kaleidoscopic soundscape where every turn offers a new surprise.

What’s particularly striking about Dream is how it balances intricacy with emotional intimacy. The layered textures of Indian classical instruments don’t feel ornamental; they’re integral, carrying the philosophical weight of the song’s concept. Leslie’s approach to songwriting, inspired by Vedic ideas of the universe as a dream, manifests in a contemplative sound without ever being heavy-handed. There’s a meditative flow to the arrangement, yet it’s punctuated by bursts of rock energy that remind you this is a deeply human, visceral experience.

Recorded over twelve months across four studios, the production itself feels meticulous but organic. Each element—be it sitar, tabla, guitar, or percussion—has space to breathe, resulting in a track that is both expansive and intimate. Dream isn’t just a song; it’s a sensory exploration, a moment to pause, reflect, and get lost in music that dares to traverse borders, both geographic and spiritual. It’s a bold statement from John Leslie, signaling an artist unafraid to push boundaries.

A Gift Wrapped in Truth

“Presente Verdadeiro” feels less like a single and more like a quiet confession set to music. Milton Batera doesn’t rush this song; he lets it unfold at its own pace, carrying the weight of lived experience with an easy, reassuring grace. Rooted in a personal journey that spans continents, the track captures the emotional space between leaving something familiar behind and stepping into an uncertain future.

There’s a warmth running through the arrangement that immediately draws you in. Smooth melodic lines glide over a polished, retro-leaning production that nods to classic pop sensibilities while still sounding present and intentional. The instrumental choices feel thoughtful rather than flashy, giving the song room to breathe and allowing its emotional core to remain front and centre. Everything sounds carefully placed, from the gentle rhythmic flow to the subtle textures that give the track its depth.

What truly elevates “Presente Verdadeiro” is its sincerity. You can sense that this is music born from real struggle, reflection, and hope rather than manufactured sentiment. The song carries an encouraging spirit, offering quiet strength rather than loud reassurance. It’s the kind of track that sits with you, inviting repeat listens not because it demands attention, but because it earns it.

With “Presente Verdadeiro,” Milton Batera presents a song that feels honest, comforting, and timeless. It’s a reminder that sometimes the most powerful music comes from simply telling the truth—and trusting listeners to feel it.