Emerging from London’s underground music scene, The Sick Man Of Europe is distinctly monochrome in its outlook. Each note counts in this climate – economical but played with absolute precision and conviction. Propelled forward by machines and seeking solace in repetition. The same fears. Looking for answers or something to believe in, but finding more questions in an age of absolutes. The Sick Man Of Europe demo tape arrived in a brown manila envelope accompanied by a short typewritten letter. Information was limited but what was clear, from the name, the imagery and typography, right through to the music – the project arrived almost fully formed. Minimal, but with a strong eye for the right detail. On the eponymous debut album, out now on The Leaf Label, that eye is focussed firmly on the battle between the internal and the external; the tensions between human identity, technological advancement and the pursuit of meaning in the modern world. The Sick Man Of Europe name connects the current post-Brexit landscape to the austerity of Thatcherite Britain and the social conditions that shaped the likes of Bauhaus and Joy Division. These are touchstones for TSMOE, but the influence and discipline of Neu!, Suicide and Swans are just as intrinsic to the sound. Produced as a reaction to previous musical projects, TSMOE was looking for clarity and complete control in its creative endeavours. It’s consciously anti-rock in its recorded approach – no low-end bass guitar, minimal effects and no live drums. Dedication to the craft of focussed song writing rather than attempting to follow current production trends.

Producer and genre-melting songwriter Christopher Hatfield fifth Love Axe’s album, Optimism Paranoia Desperation Abolition was released on June 19th. Love Axe’s early releases (Phenomenomenons, 2011, and South Dakota, 2015) were peppered with indie rock and power pop influences, The Food (2021) was a sort of funky, Prince-meets-Weezer album, while the instrumental Linear Valley (2022) was dominated by futuristic synths. The new album is something more intimate: a softly strummed nylon-string guitar and carefully placed adornments (clarinet, piano, pedal steel, some bass and drums here and there) lead the way, making room for Hatfield’s baritone to be front and center, allowing his wary words to wash over listeners with the kind of vulnerability heard on records by Bill Callahan, David Berman, and Nick Drake. “I wrote this record as a way of processing and grieving all of the terrible things I learned about what humanity and this country are capable of during the first Trump administration. And I could only really do that because it was over with – I don’t think you’re really able to process trauma and grief without the benefit of time or psychological distance,” Hatifield said. But it’s 2025, and here we are, once again, in the clutches of fascist billionaires, hellbent on revenge and destroying the planet. Hatifeld continues, “So this now feels, very sadly, much more relevant to our world than it did when I finished it.” OPDA is a record that is delivered in four parts: quite literally, it considers the trajectory from optimism to paranoia to desperation to abolition.