When we were kids we used to fill up tennis balls with matchstick heads and roll them through the town, at night when no-one was around; an explosion for our alone ears, a diary in a blind surveillance spot; meaning within a vacuum. And we grew into silent bombs ourselves. Friction, bodies jar against the rest, every now & then an ignition; facing me shouting my own thoughts, your features, like the grains of old oil paintings were faint from exposure; time as white sound spreading; shoulders blunted blades ache for wings. Absurd logic in the face of loss; building lives around time bombs. I feel like a rat, trapped, queasy concrete, a mind besieged; they feed me electric, shocked to death, words as a cage we never thought to escape, my feet a gentle weathering against the pavement. Cracks become islands; I tear those streets apart. ....And we grew into quiet bombs ourselves.
supported by 4 fans who also own “Time As White Sound”
Brilliant album, I honestly can't remember the last time an album connected with me in such a way. In a world where a lot of music sounds stagnant GIVE sound fresh but with familiar elements. It evokes memories of Orange 9mm, Pearl Jam, Dead Kennedys, The Who & CIV among others. I would recommend this to anyone. james samociuk
Toronto band Respire deliver a post-hardcore tour de force on the largest scale possible, orchestrally rich and incessantly uncompromising. Bandcamp New & Notable Jan 6, 2021