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GSP Moscow, Russia
Independent label founded in 2013 and based in Moscow. Also known as GS Productions and GSP.
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supported by 5 fans who also own “Touch Of Eternity”
The second half of the closing piece, Howling' resonates the experience of a mountain hike during a sunny autumn day, the shrieking sounds reverberating against limestone pillars that is what i imagine.
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supported by 5 fans who also own “Touch Of Eternity”
NONE a opéré un virage dans Where Life Should Be et ça se confirme davantage dans Damp Chill of Life. Le temps des métaphores est révolu : l'humidité froide, c'est celle des larmes qui coulent sur le visage à cause de la dépression. Tout pleure dans cet album : les guitares typées DSBM grésillent, les solos ("The Damp Chill of Life", "It's Painless To Let Go") sont liquides et coulent, les voix prennent à la gorge ; même le piano, étranglé par les sanglots ("Cease"), est aphone. Insoutenable...
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Show Me a Dinosaur
by Show Me a Dinosaur
supported by 4 fans who also own “Touch Of Eternity”
Nice! The Russian Envy? Have to listen to more releases though...
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Shoegaze, post-rock, black metal, dark ambient: if it's gloomy and surreal, you'll find it on the Arizona outfit's excellent second LP.
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The perfect blend of naive enthusiasm and unfiltered rock 'n' roll danger, leading to an explosive, raw sound. Volcanic, pure, and crushing.
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Move To The Trees
by Winter McQuinn
Winter McQuinn mixes soft rock and psychedelic folk for a sound reminiscent of classic pop purveyors like Cut Worms and the Lemon Twigs.
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Life has gone on long enough
by NONE
supported by 4 fans who also own “Touch Of Eternity”
On ne frappe pas un homme à terre : c'est ce que dit la règle mais NONE a déjà prouvé qu'il ne les suivait pas et si son album éponyme retirait toute perspective de béatitude spirituelle, Life has gone on long enough, son deuxième opus, nous interdit l'accès au bonheur terrestre. La vie n'a aucune substance et la production plus distante le confirme. Le DSBM s'empare de textures sonores blues, mettant en relief une dépression urbaine. Les cris partent en fumées : ne restent que les pleurs...
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