Louse’s Mid-80s Post-Punk Infused LP, “Passions Like Tar,” is Fueled by Fiery Anthems and Moody Melancholia

Louse emerged from the pandemic’s precarious haze in Cincinnati, Ohio, forging their sound in the stillness of lockdown. Drawing deep from the wells of early to mid-80s post-punk, cold wave, and the shadowy undercurrents of early alternative rock, they first introduced themselves with 2022’s Dressed in Skin, a brief but biting EP. Now, their focus has shifted to their full-length debut, Passions Like Tar, a moody meditation steeped in melancholy.

Their sound lurches between goth rock’s brooding darkness and post-punk’s angular precision, conjuring echoes of The Chameleons’ atmospheric intensity, Killing Joke’s raw aggression, and Asylum Party’s touching pop swagger. Indeed, there’s also a cold wave chill reminiscent of Faith-era Cure, threading icy synths and shadowy guitars through their songs like a creeping haze. Louse’s music feels tethered to those haunted corners of 80s underground, a slow-burn plunge into the depths of gothic despair.

The album bursts open with Thieves, a track that swaggers and snarls, charging forward with primal force. Guitars bite and claw, cascading in snarling riffs while the rhythm section pounds beneath, unyielding, relentless. The vocals rise from the fray, commanding and fierce, mixing ardent passion with a flicker of mysticism. It’s the sound of danger, channeled into something urgent, hypnotic, and hard to ignore—a blend of grit and pulse, power and persuasion.

Then comes Joy In Pain, which uncoils slowly, shadowed in restraint. Jangling guitars shimmer like light bouncing off dark water, while the bassline broods underneath, steady and somber. The vocals hold a quiet intensity, rich with reflection, pulling from darker places, blending the introspection of post-punk with the melodic bite of a lost era. It builds, not with bombast, but with a subtle surge—into a guitar solo steeped in sadness. Its notes linger like distant echoes, casting long shadows over the song’s melancholy heart, leaving you with the quiet ache of something both felt and feared.

Bed of Knives slices sharp with chiming, echoing guitars that twist and turn, layered in thick fogs of tension. The vocals, bruised with longing, float just above a pulsing bassline that thunders underneath, dragging a heavy heart in its wake. It’s a track where melody clashes with morose; where introspection collides with agitation. It sways between silence and storm, a haunting mix that feels like a distant whisper—both familiar and forgotten, like an old wound resurfacing.

The visualizer shimmers like a flickering half-memory, a kaleidoscope of shadows and static. Faces from the past slip through the cracks, as though ghosts are crawling through the television, desperate to make contact. It’s all there—soft, spectral, and somehow still searing.

The title track, Passions Like Tar, charges forward with the relentless rhythm of classic 80s post-punk, its pounding drums recalling The Teardrop Explodes and Echo & the Bunnymen. Guitars shimmer and twist, blending sharpness with psychedelic swirls that push the track into unexpected breakdowns, teetering on the brink of chaos. There’s an electricity in the air, a taut tension that vibrates through every note, as if something is always on the verge of unraveling. The vocals glide through this storm, cool yet cutting, while the music smolders beneath, waiting to ignite.

Feral Hound slinks in with a Lynchian lilt, its opening synths humming like whispers in a dark room, echoing Angelo Badalamenti’s eerie elegance. Guitars drift in, forlorn and fragile, each note hanging heavy with introspection, thoughtful as if contemplating loss. The vocals, sincere and raw, rise slowly, threading through the atmosphere with an understated grace. There’s no rush here—just a slow burn of emotion, each line digging deeper, stirring up a quiet kind of grief that lingers like a distant echo.

Human Remains erupts with rolling drums that thunder through the track like a storm gathering speed. The beat pounds with relentless urgency, underscoring the sorrow and strife that seep from every note. The vocals, fierce and frayed, tear through the air with fury, like an exorcism of anger and anguish, unshackled and unrestrained. It’s a howl of passion, each line bleeding with rage, as if the weight of suffering can no longer be contained. There’s a brutal intensity here, a sound akin to Killing Joke, where pain is not simply expressed but unleashed with violent, unrelenting force.

Be My Eyes closes the album with a burst of brightness, swirling with expansive, psychedelic visions. The track feels as if the Chameleons had collided with the Lightning Seeds, blending a sharp, shimmering optimism with layers of jangling guitars and soaring synths. The drums, crisp and relentless, drive the song forward with a steady hand, each beat landing like sunlight breaking through clouds. Warm synth lines glow beneath the surface, wrapping the track in a gentle haze. There’s a sense of hope rising, a wide-open sky kind of feeling, pulling you toward something bright, bold, and boundless.

Passions Like Tar is out now on Feel It Records. Listen to the album below or order here.

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