Sardinia isnāt a place you forget. That sun, those coasts, the wind bouncing off empty villages ā itās all over this album. Western Wilderness smells like sand, rust, and heat in your ears. The band isnāt reaching for stars this time. Theyāre walking the dirt, slow, heavy, and not caring if anyone keeps up.
Nine tracks, and each one drags you a little deeper into that abandoned-town vibe. Guitars are thick and sticky, like tar over stone, sometimes snarling, sometimes moaning. Drums stomp like tired feet on cracked streets. The vocals are rough, bluesy, like someone shouting stories to the wind. Thereās no polish, no sparkly illusions. Just sweat, sun, and riffs that hit like a hammer.
Itās stoner rock, yeah, but not the same desert clichĆ© youāve heard a million times. There are moments that crawl into psych territory, shimmering and weird, like heatwaves over dunes. And then the next second itās back to grooving, dragging your head with the weight of it all. You feel the silence between the notes almost as much as the notes themselves.
The album doesnāt tell a story. It isnāt space rock. But somehow, the songs feel connected ā like they all grew out of the same soil, the same wind. You can imagine the trio wandering those abandoned mines, guitars slung low, letting the echoes guide them. Itās dusty. Itās patient. Itās Sardinia in a box.
If you put this on, donāt expect fireworks. Expect sunsets, slow walks, and the kind of riffs that stick to your shoes long after the record stops. Thatās Western Wilderness. Itās alive. Itās rough. And it doesnāt give a damn about anything else.
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Released by Electric Valley Records on October 24, 2025
