Sun is exploding, into my head
the other seems faraway, out of my threat
black turns into white, white turns into black
the strangest feeling, that I ever had
There are records that behave like companions, their flaws and tremors held out plainly, their pulses close to the skin. Soul Glitches from Germany’s SixTurnsNine lives in that realm. It asks a question without ceremony: What do emotional dysfunctions sound like? …then answers it with the blunt radiance of lived experience; no sermon, no pretense. SixTurnsNine simply place their nine tracks down like lanterns along a dim path, each one sure of its own charge.
The Düsseldorf trio works with three tools: voice, electronics, and bass. Nothing ornamental. Yet within this framework, the group moves in currents that will feel familiar to listeners who carry Portishead in their bloodstream, who once leaned into the solemn thrum of Joy Division, or the noir-streaked poise of Rosegarden Funeral Party and The March Violets. These echoes drift beside it like distant kin.
Primal Lines sets the tone with brooding industrial grooves and sultry, dynamically deep vocal delivery. It’s a study of intrusion and resistance, mapping the pressure of unseen forces and the pushback that rises from instinct alone. Desert Heat, using its deep bassline, conjures an arid setting right off the bat, part dirge and textured lament, it drifts across burning sand and vast quiet, leaving the listener in a dream-state where the horizon swallows certainty. The drums pull Tripping Point forward with a slow, restless momentum, its trip-hop pulse drifting between shadow and shimmer. The vocals quiver with a dusky jazz flourish before rising in a fragile, luminous arc, casting thin beams of light through the dark room of the soul. In that glow, control loosens, and something warmer begins to take wing.
Weird begins with the tick-tock of a clock echoing through an old house, its rhythm brittle and familiar. A contrasting melody rises—bright, inquisitive—like curiosity ascending the stairs. Lyrically, the vocals are eerie, but kneel beside a private ache, allowing the gloom to seep in at its own pace.
Like a dirge from a haunted radio, What If… draws that ache into daylight. Drums, bass, and circling spectres amplify the mood, as a lone question of devotion rises and falls with the restless patience of someone waiting for a door to open.
Distortion flings open a harsher interior world: colours cracking, vision inverting — a feeling mirrored in Anja Valpiani’s own admission: “It’s about being trapped in the isolation of cold light, the protective darkness seems unattainable… Sounds gloomy? It is, a little bit. But there’s hope in there – and that typical SixTurnsNine vibe when things are on the edge.” Amid it all, the drums crash slowly, and the dusky backdrop melts away beneath a vocal delivery with a near-monastic gravity, turning bleakness into something strangely luminous.
With a crackling intro reminiscent of a needle settling onto an old Victrola, Riding the Wings unfurls as a dark groove shaped by thick bass tones, the faint jangle of bells or tambourine, and an atmosphere that exhales like dust rising from analog tubes and old pipes. Haunted vocals drift through it, and a somber melancholy clings to every corner. Yet the track holds fast to its mantra of persistence, moving with the slow authority of someone refusing to surrender their last reserve of hope.
Built on thick snare strikes, trembling undercurrent, and a bass tone fit to peel plaster off your downstairs neighbor’s ceiling, Trackmarks bursts with the pressure of confinement. The voice is sharp yet viscous, carrying its urgency with the dramatic intensity of an old cabaret film-singer who seems ready to step off the screen mid-song just to make sure you hear every word.
As the album draws to a close, Hills of Heaven floats in with vocals shaped by a jazz-meets-folk phrasing touched by the ’60s. Its rhythmic pulse—trip-hop threaded through the desolate drift of Faith-era Cure—keeps the ground shifting. The song reaches upward toward brightness, only for the light to waver, tilt off its axis, and reveal a far less forgiving horizon.
Taken together, these nine tracks move like weather across an unsettled landscape. The album feels lived-in, near to the bone, filled with the tremour of people trying…quietly, fiercely…to stay intact when the world presses inward. Soul Glitches stands beside you, steady in its unrest, alive in its searching.
Get cosy, light some incense and candles, and listen to Soul Glitches below. You can order the album here.
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