Trading '808s...'-era Ye for Jim White, Preston's Rainy Miller inaugurates his "Northern Gothic" aesthetic on 'Joseph...', blurring subtle 'ardkore memories with etherised chorals, Jandek guitars and ragged industrial noise. Next level gear - properly crucial listening if yr into anything from Rabit and Space Afrika to Alliyah Enyo and Third Eye Foundation.
You've got to respect the ambition. It would have been easy for Miller to have followed 2022's zeitgeist-sniping 'Desquamation (Fire, Burn. Nobody)' with another vinegary dip of self-aware industrial drill and smokestack ambience, but he went back to the drawing board instead, taking five years to develop an even stronger, even more politically incisive narrative. His inspiration for 'Joseph...' is Andrew Douglas's 'Searching For the Wrong-Eyed Jesus', a 2003 documentary that follows alt-country don Jim White through the USA's neglected south, trailing thru gas stations, truck stops, scrapyards and churches to figure out the connection between evangelical Christianity and country music. Sensing parallels between the abandoned, emotionally-charged landscape and his own surroundings, Miller formulated a sonic reaction - not exactly his own take on dusty country music but a similarly open-hearted reflection of Preston's grim day-to-day reality.
We begin to get a sense of what that might mean on 'Mud in my Mouth. (Predetermined Definitions)', when Miller coils bleak, bare rhymes around solemn church bells, chattered distortions and shabby, pitch-fucked textures. "Crammed in boxes to be buried and whisked away, watching bootlegs cut from the same cloth, sinking to the floor as to dig deep down deeper for good measure," he snaps into the rain. A little more of the concept cracks thru the clouds on 'Toddbrook Dam, 2019.', a euphoric slowcore strummer that finds the mid-point between ambient rap, post-rock and gospel, and on the minute-long 'An Obsidian Lake Spews out of Me.', northern soul mutates into jungle as 'Bug in the Bass Bin'-style breaks pick up speed and collide with amyl synths. "I think I've experienced delirium only like three times, at least in a negative sense," a voice drawls. All of this builds a sturdy foundation for Miller's unfolding concept: Merseyside-born vocalist Graham Sayle (of post-hardcore outfit Hi Vis) shows up for an assist on the grungy 'Vengeance.', while Miller freezes church choir echoes on 'An Angel! This Way Comes,', leading it into the Reichian 'Then Casts Shadow...'.
With each track, Miller adds another color to his northern illusion. It's gothic, sure, but there's escape, even hope, buried six feet under the kaleidoscopic range of sounds that Miller absorbs into his palette. Chunky timestretched breaks, Massive Attack strings and Autotuned choirboy croons anchor 'Chome, Hallowed be.', before Miller takes a dive into power electronics on the terrifying 'To Grieve a Man...', but there's respite on the other side. After the folky 'Mary Magdalene, as a Home.', Miller drops 'The Fable / The Release.', the album's vulnerable multi-part lead single, and he concludes with a sobering turn from Lancastrian poet Christ Bryan. "Don't tell us to look to the sky for solace, the answers fall in rain, again," he says over Miller's soaring strings. Deeply personal and unashamedly British, 'Joseph...' doesn't demand a different national narrative, it writes one.
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Trading '808s...'-era Ye for Jim White, Preston's Rainy Miller inaugurates his "Northern Gothic" aesthetic on 'Joseph...', blurring subtle 'ardkore memories with etherised chorals, Jandek guitars and ragged industrial noise. Next level gear - properly crucial listening if yr into anything from Rabit and Space Afrika to Alliyah Enyo and Third Eye Foundation.
You've got to respect the ambition. It would have been easy for Miller to have followed 2022's zeitgeist-sniping 'Desquamation (Fire, Burn. Nobody)' with another vinegary dip of self-aware industrial drill and smokestack ambience, but he went back to the drawing board instead, taking five years to develop an even stronger, even more politically incisive narrative. His inspiration for 'Joseph...' is Andrew Douglas's 'Searching For the Wrong-Eyed Jesus', a 2003 documentary that follows alt-country don Jim White through the USA's neglected south, trailing thru gas stations, truck stops, scrapyards and churches to figure out the connection between evangelical Christianity and country music. Sensing parallels between the abandoned, emotionally-charged landscape and his own surroundings, Miller formulated a sonic reaction - not exactly his own take on dusty country music but a similarly open-hearted reflection of Preston's grim day-to-day reality.
We begin to get a sense of what that might mean on 'Mud in my Mouth. (Predetermined Definitions)', when Miller coils bleak, bare rhymes around solemn church bells, chattered distortions and shabby, pitch-fucked textures. "Crammed in boxes to be buried and whisked away, watching bootlegs cut from the same cloth, sinking to the floor as to dig deep down deeper for good measure," he snaps into the rain. A little more of the concept cracks thru the clouds on 'Toddbrook Dam, 2019.', a euphoric slowcore strummer that finds the mid-point between ambient rap, post-rock and gospel, and on the minute-long 'An Obsidian Lake Spews out of Me.', northern soul mutates into jungle as 'Bug in the Bass Bin'-style breaks pick up speed and collide with amyl synths. "I think I've experienced delirium only like three times, at least in a negative sense," a voice drawls. All of this builds a sturdy foundation for Miller's unfolding concept: Merseyside-born vocalist Graham Sayle (of post-hardcore outfit Hi Vis) shows up for an assist on the grungy 'Vengeance.', while Miller freezes church choir echoes on 'An Angel! This Way Comes,', leading it into the Reichian 'Then Casts Shadow...'.
With each track, Miller adds another color to his northern illusion. It's gothic, sure, but there's escape, even hope, buried six feet under the kaleidoscopic range of sounds that Miller absorbs into his palette. Chunky timestretched breaks, Massive Attack strings and Autotuned choirboy croons anchor 'Chome, Hallowed be.', before Miller takes a dive into power electronics on the terrifying 'To Grieve a Man...', but there's respite on the other side. After the folky 'Mary Magdalene, as a Home.', Miller drops 'The Fable / The Release.', the album's vulnerable multi-part lead single, and he concludes with a sobering turn from Lancastrian poet Christ Bryan. "Don't tell us to look to the sky for solace, the answers fall in rain, again," he says over Miller's soaring strings. Deeply personal and unashamedly British, 'Joseph...' doesn't demand a different national narrative, it writes one.
Trading '808s...'-era Ye for Jim White, Preston's Rainy Miller inaugurates his "Northern Gothic" aesthetic on 'Joseph...', blurring subtle 'ardkore memories with etherised chorals, Jandek guitars and ragged industrial noise. Next level gear - properly crucial listening if yr into anything from Rabit and Space Afrika to Alliyah Enyo and Third Eye Foundation.
You've got to respect the ambition. It would have been easy for Miller to have followed 2022's zeitgeist-sniping 'Desquamation (Fire, Burn. Nobody)' with another vinegary dip of self-aware industrial drill and smokestack ambience, but he went back to the drawing board instead, taking five years to develop an even stronger, even more politically incisive narrative. His inspiration for 'Joseph...' is Andrew Douglas's 'Searching For the Wrong-Eyed Jesus', a 2003 documentary that follows alt-country don Jim White through the USA's neglected south, trailing thru gas stations, truck stops, scrapyards and churches to figure out the connection between evangelical Christianity and country music. Sensing parallels between the abandoned, emotionally-charged landscape and his own surroundings, Miller formulated a sonic reaction - not exactly his own take on dusty country music but a similarly open-hearted reflection of Preston's grim day-to-day reality.
We begin to get a sense of what that might mean on 'Mud in my Mouth. (Predetermined Definitions)', when Miller coils bleak, bare rhymes around solemn church bells, chattered distortions and shabby, pitch-fucked textures. "Crammed in boxes to be buried and whisked away, watching bootlegs cut from the same cloth, sinking to the floor as to dig deep down deeper for good measure," he snaps into the rain. A little more of the concept cracks thru the clouds on 'Toddbrook Dam, 2019.', a euphoric slowcore strummer that finds the mid-point between ambient rap, post-rock and gospel, and on the minute-long 'An Obsidian Lake Spews out of Me.', northern soul mutates into jungle as 'Bug in the Bass Bin'-style breaks pick up speed and collide with amyl synths. "I think I've experienced delirium only like three times, at least in a negative sense," a voice drawls. All of this builds a sturdy foundation for Miller's unfolding concept: Merseyside-born vocalist Graham Sayle (of post-hardcore outfit Hi Vis) shows up for an assist on the grungy 'Vengeance.', while Miller freezes church choir echoes on 'An Angel! This Way Comes,', leading it into the Reichian 'Then Casts Shadow...'.
With each track, Miller adds another color to his northern illusion. It's gothic, sure, but there's escape, even hope, buried six feet under the kaleidoscopic range of sounds that Miller absorbs into his palette. Chunky timestretched breaks, Massive Attack strings and Autotuned choirboy croons anchor 'Chome, Hallowed be.', before Miller takes a dive into power electronics on the terrifying 'To Grieve a Man...', but there's respite on the other side. After the folky 'Mary Magdalene, as a Home.', Miller drops 'The Fable / The Release.', the album's vulnerable multi-part lead single, and he concludes with a sobering turn from Lancastrian poet Christ Bryan. "Don't tell us to look to the sky for solace, the answers fall in rain, again," he says over Miller's soaring strings. Deeply personal and unashamedly British, 'Joseph...' doesn't demand a different national narrative, it writes one.
Trading '808s...'-era Ye for Jim White, Preston's Rainy Miller inaugurates his "Northern Gothic" aesthetic on 'Joseph...', blurring subtle 'ardkore memories with etherised chorals, Jandek guitars and ragged industrial noise. Next level gear - properly crucial listening if yr into anything from Rabit and Space Afrika to Alliyah Enyo and Third Eye Foundation.
You've got to respect the ambition. It would have been easy for Miller to have followed 2022's zeitgeist-sniping 'Desquamation (Fire, Burn. Nobody)' with another vinegary dip of self-aware industrial drill and smokestack ambience, but he went back to the drawing board instead, taking five years to develop an even stronger, even more politically incisive narrative. His inspiration for 'Joseph...' is Andrew Douglas's 'Searching For the Wrong-Eyed Jesus', a 2003 documentary that follows alt-country don Jim White through the USA's neglected south, trailing thru gas stations, truck stops, scrapyards and churches to figure out the connection between evangelical Christianity and country music. Sensing parallels between the abandoned, emotionally-charged landscape and his own surroundings, Miller formulated a sonic reaction - not exactly his own take on dusty country music but a similarly open-hearted reflection of Preston's grim day-to-day reality.
We begin to get a sense of what that might mean on 'Mud in my Mouth. (Predetermined Definitions)', when Miller coils bleak, bare rhymes around solemn church bells, chattered distortions and shabby, pitch-fucked textures. "Crammed in boxes to be buried and whisked away, watching bootlegs cut from the same cloth, sinking to the floor as to dig deep down deeper for good measure," he snaps into the rain. A little more of the concept cracks thru the clouds on 'Toddbrook Dam, 2019.', a euphoric slowcore strummer that finds the mid-point between ambient rap, post-rock and gospel, and on the minute-long 'An Obsidian Lake Spews out of Me.', northern soul mutates into jungle as 'Bug in the Bass Bin'-style breaks pick up speed and collide with amyl synths. "I think I've experienced delirium only like three times, at least in a negative sense," a voice drawls. All of this builds a sturdy foundation for Miller's unfolding concept: Merseyside-born vocalist Graham Sayle (of post-hardcore outfit Hi Vis) shows up for an assist on the grungy 'Vengeance.', while Miller freezes church choir echoes on 'An Angel! This Way Comes,', leading it into the Reichian 'Then Casts Shadow...'.
With each track, Miller adds another color to his northern illusion. It's gothic, sure, but there's escape, even hope, buried six feet under the kaleidoscopic range of sounds that Miller absorbs into his palette. Chunky timestretched breaks, Massive Attack strings and Autotuned choirboy croons anchor 'Chome, Hallowed be.', before Miller takes a dive into power electronics on the terrifying 'To Grieve a Man...', but there's respite on the other side. After the folky 'Mary Magdalene, as a Home.', Miller drops 'The Fable / The Release.', the album's vulnerable multi-part lead single, and he concludes with a sobering turn from Lancastrian poet Christ Bryan. "Don't tell us to look to the sky for solace, the answers fall in rain, again," he says over Miller's soaring strings. Deeply personal and unashamedly British, 'Joseph...' doesn't demand a different national narrative, it writes one.
Estimated Release Date: 02 May 2025
Please note that shipping dates for pre-orders are estimated and are subject to change
Trading '808s...'-era Ye for Jim White, Preston's Rainy Miller inaugurates his "Northern Gothic" aesthetic on 'Joseph...', blurring subtle 'ardkore memories with etherised chorals, Jandek guitars and ragged industrial noise. Next level gear - properly crucial listening if yr into anything from Rabit and Space Afrika to Alliyah Enyo and Third Eye Foundation.
You've got to respect the ambition. It would have been easy for Miller to have followed 2022's zeitgeist-sniping 'Desquamation (Fire, Burn. Nobody)' with another vinegary dip of self-aware industrial drill and smokestack ambience, but he went back to the drawing board instead, taking five years to develop an even stronger, even more politically incisive narrative. His inspiration for 'Joseph...' is Andrew Douglas's 'Searching For the Wrong-Eyed Jesus', a 2003 documentary that follows alt-country don Jim White through the USA's neglected south, trailing thru gas stations, truck stops, scrapyards and churches to figure out the connection between evangelical Christianity and country music. Sensing parallels between the abandoned, emotionally-charged landscape and his own surroundings, Miller formulated a sonic reaction - not exactly his own take on dusty country music but a similarly open-hearted reflection of Preston's grim day-to-day reality.
We begin to get a sense of what that might mean on 'Mud in my Mouth. (Predetermined Definitions)', when Miller coils bleak, bare rhymes around solemn church bells, chattered distortions and shabby, pitch-fucked textures. "Crammed in boxes to be buried and whisked away, watching bootlegs cut from the same cloth, sinking to the floor as to dig deep down deeper for good measure," he snaps into the rain. A little more of the concept cracks thru the clouds on 'Toddbrook Dam, 2019.', a euphoric slowcore strummer that finds the mid-point between ambient rap, post-rock and gospel, and on the minute-long 'An Obsidian Lake Spews out of Me.', northern soul mutates into jungle as 'Bug in the Bass Bin'-style breaks pick up speed and collide with amyl synths. "I think I've experienced delirium only like three times, at least in a negative sense," a voice drawls. All of this builds a sturdy foundation for Miller's unfolding concept: Merseyside-born vocalist Graham Sayle (of post-hardcore outfit Hi Vis) shows up for an assist on the grungy 'Vengeance.', while Miller freezes church choir echoes on 'An Angel! This Way Comes,', leading it into the Reichian 'Then Casts Shadow...'.
With each track, Miller adds another color to his northern illusion. It's gothic, sure, but there's escape, even hope, buried six feet under the kaleidoscopic range of sounds that Miller absorbs into his palette. Chunky timestretched breaks, Massive Attack strings and Autotuned choirboy croons anchor 'Chome, Hallowed be.', before Miller takes a dive into power electronics on the terrifying 'To Grieve a Man...', but there's respite on the other side. After the folky 'Mary Magdalene, as a Home.', Miller drops 'The Fable / The Release.', the album's vulnerable multi-part lead single, and he concludes with a sobering turn from Lancastrian poet Christ Bryan. "Don't tell us to look to the sky for solace, the answers fall in rain, again," he says over Miller's soaring strings. Deeply personal and unashamedly British, 'Joseph...' doesn't demand a different national narrative, it writes one.