Janosch Troehler

London. Sense of urgency. The city vibrates between marble, brick, steel and glass. People live their lives disconnected in the street canyons amongst towering skyscrapers and crumbling sheds.

Everybody rushes by, a coffee to go, off to the next hustle. A metropolis is moving to the hammering sound of garage house and the shredding guitars of punk. But beneath the surface, there's melancholy, loneliness, sadness. It's an intoxicating thing.

We're roaming the streets, walking by shimmering lights, piles of garbage, trying to navigate between the lurching drunks. Ah-hoo... Werewolves of London! How does one survive this fierce love-hate the city spills over its citizens like the surging sea?

And now I sit here at Grounded coffee house in Whitechapel, the heart-shaped foam of my Cappuccino fading with every sip. Whitney Houston sings: "Bring me your higher love!"

Best,

VLURE – Heartbeat

Violent post-punk from Glasgow. Heartbeat is a synth-driven massacre, plowing forward mercilessly. VLURE pair post-punk's sadness with industrial's anger. And it hits like a shot to the heart. You can feel pearls of sweat building in your neck.

I'm going to dance 'til my body's numb!

Last week, while in Italy, my friends and I asked ourselves: What happened to Stromae?

The answer came sooner than expected. On Friday, the celebrated French artist finally released a new song. Santé is as quirky as you can imagine. And I've to admit: The more I listen to the track, the better it gets.

However, Stromae isn't officially part of Weekly5 because he doesn't need this humble platform. I instead feature hidden gems, newcomers, and obscure discoveries.

That said, today's selection brings you an ass-kicking load of fuzz rock, archaic synth sounds, weird rap tunes, dreamy melodies, and breathtaking ambient. Let's dive in!

Best wishes,

Bell Baronets – Fainthearted

Already nine years have passed since I first saw Bell Baronets perform live. I've been in the same squad as guitarist and singer Silvan Gerhard in the military service. They played at the visitor's day.

The band has been more and less active over the past years. But rest assured: When they pop up, they shred through the sea of mediocre indie music. Bell Baronets play heavy fuzz rock.

Fainthearted is their 2021 comeback, after they released the record Tied Up In Red in 2019. The single starts reduced, a distorted guitar breaks the silence; Gerhard's raspy voice pushes out the lyrics with passion. But when the drums and the bass guitar kick in, Fainthearted builds up the pressure. It's not a fast track but violent nonetheless—sparks of raw energy light the fire.

🕒 This newsletter is 1167 words, a 9-minute read.

The lights go out—the excitement towers to infinity. The cheers swell like a tsunami. Then, a bang and the show starts.

It has to be one of the best concerts I've ever had the fortune to experience: The White Lies celebrating the 10th anniversary of their debut album To Lose My Life at the Brixton Academy in London in 2019.

I've seen the White Lies already on other occasions, but the performances simply couldn't hold up to their records. Primarily, Harry McVeigh, the singer, either succeeds or fails to live up to the expectations. So naturally, I was sceptic standing in the vast art deco hall. Yet there I was, in England's capital, completely caught off guard.

Back then, I wrote for Negative White:

McVeigh was in fine form, though it didn't matter if he hit the notes. For all, the lyrics resounded back from nearly 5,000 throats. People were in each other's arms, in a frenzy of euphoria and beer. A highly contagious exuberance twitched through the masses. Mercilessly as glorious, the immortal hymns crashed down on the enraptured.

So tantalizing are these brief snapshots that abound on Instagram: No technology can capture that feeling of having been at that show. No adjective, no matter how polished, accurately describes the experience. That collective energy welded everyone together. That force of melodies made you vulnerable and immortal at the same time. It is a memory that burned itself into the body not only intellectually but quite physically.

Now, why do I tell you this story? It's simple: White Lies have published a new song this week. Since its release, the single has been heavy-rotating in my playlist. But it also had a rough start.

And obviously, there are four other songs that I'm recommending today: a raw ballad, freakish weirdo-pop, feverish beats, and a warm universe of neo-classical electro await you.

Best wishes,

White Lies – As I Try Not To Fall Apart

I had to listen to As I Try Not To Fall Apart a couple of times until it dawned on me: Once again, the British trio White Lies delivered an incredible song.

White Lies' latest single starts with a full-on pumping 80s groove. Then, Harry McVeigh's voice meanders in an almost Smiths-like fashion, introducing the actual melody to the composition. Only in the chorus, the instruments follow his complex up and downs. As I Try Not To Fall Apart would be rather monotonous without the spotlight on McVeigh.

Am I a faulty kind of man so tender in the heart?
Are clues embedded in my hands, a horoscope of cards
No, I'm no special grain of sand or undiscovered star
If there's a great and holy plan, I'd rather have no part

Yet, the song is stunningly dense, the lyrics highly repetitive, hooking the listeners in a trance. As I Try Not To Fall Apart remains pretty levelled throughout its runtime. No climax, no big finale that provides catharsis. In this regard, the single is not related to other songs like Farewell To The Fairground or Tokyo.

You take me in your grateful arms
And I try not to fall, oh I try not to fall apart

It's a constant but melodic grind, and that's what might put people off at first. But it's precisely that continuous flow that creates the euphory, an eternal and complex highlight. The more you listen to As I Try Not To Fall Apart, the more it opens its doors to the gigantic atmosphere.

Last week, I dropped by my brother's flat. He and his roommate were getting ready while I waited with a mix of impatience and excitement for an afternoon of Dungeons & Dragons in Zurich.

Suddenly, an unbelievable noise escaped the mate's room. A burst of rapid blasts, shattering mountains and piercing the earth's core. I was stunned, yet the sound felt incredibly familiar.

It turned out to be Strange Days (1999) by the US noise-rock outfit HEALTH. This revelation slightly aggravated me. In 2019, I curated another song off their record Vol. 4 Slaves of Fear called Feel Nothing. However, I never kept track after that.

It's not been the first time that I missed great artists because of my own negligence. But that story is for another time.

There's just one important lesson: I should also regularly follow up on the artists and see what they have been up to since I've curated one of their tracks.

But now, let's turn our attention towards today's selection. It's hard to find a common thing among the five songs. At a glance, they're simply too different: Dragging goth, euphoric pop, glooming electronic, sweet soul, psychedelic rock. Yet, below the surface, the tracks all feature a smoothness.

Best wishes,

Angel Olsen – Safety Dance

Blue eyeshade, a frayed mullet, those are the dead giveaways that Angel Olsen travels back in time. The US artist's latest EP, Aisles, features five covers of iconic 80s hits. One of them: Man Without Hats' Safety Dance. You know, the song with that ultra-weird music video.

Olson states: "I felt that it could be reinterpreted to be about this time of quarantine and the fear of being around anyone or having too much fun."

Angel Olson replaces the song's upbeat nature with a downwards spiralling feeling of helplessness. Her interpretation of Safety Dance is a dark, almost goth-like mass that drags itself in slow motion through the velvet curtain of patchouli and dry ice.

It's Friday night, the train is rushing through the darkness; Amason sing Ålen, fading the day away beautifully. It's been a tough, intense week. And a busy weekend lays ahead. I feel that my batteries are drained. Yet, there's the music.

I close my eyes, everything around me, the drunk teenagers, the exhausted late-shift workers, the lonely and the party people, they all disappear. And I feel the melodies vibrating through every fibre of my body.

Curating the Weekly5 is, no matter how exhausted, my weekly highlight. Of course, it's also a complicated process as every second week, I could actually in good consciousness recommend ten songs. But dedicating time to something that not only gives me joy but feels like an essential part of survival is incredibly important. I hope you have a similar thing that recharges you in such a way, no matter what it is.

Moving on to today's selection, it's a spectrum of every facet of music I love. There's the epicness that makes you feel small and insignificant; there are emotions that crawl under your skin. The curation features catchy melodies and weird, artistic gems; there's lightness and heavyweight.

Best wishes,

Moby – Extreme Ways – Reprise Version (Edit)

In all fairness, I have to admit that I'm slightly too young to have experienced the height of Moby's career. His breaking record Play was released in 1999. However, I remember hearing Find My Baby and Extreme Ways on compilation CDs we used to buy back then. The latter track obviously gained a wider audience as the title track for the Bourne films.

Nevertheless, it wasn't enough for me to keep up with Moby. So I didn't acknowledge the release of his latest record, Reprise, back in May. Until this week. It's a best-of that wasn't only praised. However, critics weren't too pleased with the bombast of his classical interpretations. Too much pathos, too much bombast. And it might even be true for some of the reprises. Well…

Oh baby, oh baby
Then it fell apart, it fell apart

The NYC-based artist lately released an edit of his Reprise Version of Extreme Ways, shortened and condensed. The song starts subtly; an acoustic guitar and a piano, accompanied by strings. And Moby, who's more telling a story than singing. It brings out the essence of Extreme Ways, which simply remains a melancholic, self-doubting hymn without the electronic trickery. And yes, it shortly erupts in a lot of bombast in the end.

Hope and despair live close to each other. Euphory and melancholy are siblings. Can there be happiness without sadness? Can there be joy without pain? It's the kaleidoscope of emotions that makes us human.

To me, there's no other art capturing our inner mysteries as powerful as music. It's a constant source of fascination.

And today, we take a glance through the colourful imagery of feelings, notions, and impressions of humankind in music, from the valley of pain and suffering to the highest peaks of ecstasy.

Best wishes,

Hearts Hearts – Rub My Eyes (Live)

One of 2020's songs stuck with me: Rub My Eyes by the Austrian group Hearts Hearts. Although I can't remember exactly how I stumbled across the track, it immediately got hold of my soul. This erring piano intro, the suffering tone in David Österle's voice, the sound's urge to plough forward no matter what.

In the meantime, Hearts Hearts have released their third record, Love Club Members. And this week, the band won the FM4 trophy at the Amadeus Awards. There's no way around it: Hearts Hearts walk the stairway to music heaven.

On Friday, the quartet dropped a live recording of Rub My Eyes. The song loses nothing of its qualities; no, it instead gains traction. This version is raw; you can feel the depth in the sound; it's euphoric in how some aspects of the composition take centre stage. The guitar scratches on the shiny surface, the strings dance bolder than they did in the song's studio version. It's all you can wish for in contemporary pop music.

First, a big thanks to all of you who open this newsletter every Sunday. It's a small community, but I value quality much more than quantity. The feedback I get after a new edition always motivates me anew every week.

Today's selection is – for one exception – filled with subtle beauty—songs for dreamers. And one for the angry. (And nothing by the pensioners in mo-cap suits.) So, let's dive in.

Zeal & Ardor – Bow

In recent years, no other Swiss band has created more international fuzz than Manuel Gagneux's Zeal & Ardor. The highly praised amalgamation of black music and black metal erupted like an earthquake in the rusty metal genre.

After the sound's blueprint, Devil Is Fine, and the first proper record, Stranger Fruit, Zeal & Ardor have announced a new, self-titled album for 2022. The first single release, Run, is a fierce drum fire – followed by the complex, technical Erase. Both songs shine in their own regards while being nothing for the common ears.

Black cats showing up out of nowhere
Macbeth on heavy rotation
Hope dies in their hands though we don‘t care
The young girl screams: Death to the nation!

The latest track, Bow, is different. "The song takes out established themes and places them into a completely different background," says Gagneux. It's not rock music, nor is it metal, nor blues, nor gospel. But it's heavy, powerful, and demanding attention. Bow is loud without being overly noisy and wild. It's the angry sound of protest—a sharp social commentary.

Hilke – Paradoxes (feat. Frank Powers)

There's a grand nature to Paradoxes. Swiss artist Hilke collaborated with Dino Brandão (aka Frank Powers) to create this slow but stunning trip-hop hymn.

However, Paradoxes begins intimately. Powers drags out the syllables.

If love was easy
This should be easy, too
Keep your distance
If that's what you need

Nothing gives away the epic expansion that follows. The larger-than-life brass section roars, shrinking you to a bare existence. The voice multiplied to an artificial choir, only underlining the overwhelming notion of the song.

After Greta, it's Hilke's second single release of the upcoming debut album, Silent Violent – set to release in October. The two tracks already promise this to be a fascinating record.

Maimuna – Aux Gens du Vide

She won the m4music Demotape Clinic back in 2017, the only Swiss music award of substance. So, it should be evident that Cyrielle Formaz, aka Meimuna, is a force to be reckoned with – but a gentle one.