Produced & mixed by Jonny Woods
Recorded at 1980 Something Studios 
Mastered by Jon Moorehead at Moosetronix
Cover Art by Norma Sleator
Photography by Casey Ryan
All songs written by Sonja Sleator & Daniel Lynch
Ethan Hanna - Guitars / Vocals
Sean McCann - Bass
Josh McCullough - Drums

Inhale

The debut album from Consolers. 

Produced & mixed by Jonny Woods
Recorded at 1980 Something Studios 
Mastered by Jon Moorehead at Moosetronix
Cover Art by Norma Sleator
Photography by Casey McAllister
All songs written by Sonja Sleator & Daniel Lynch
Ethan Hanna - Guitars / Vocals
Sean McCann - Bass
Josh McCullough - Drums

Watcher

Hindsight

--MUSIC VIDEO--
https://youtu.be/6E3uCd2CoRs



sorry4oursins!

wake up - yuusef x sKelter pLus

"The Light we killed" is a raw, emotionally charged alt-folk ballad capturing the sorrow, mystery, and quiet majesty of The Green Mile. Woven with ambient guitars, restrained piano, and a voice on the verge of breaking, this track honours the man who "done a bad thing" — and healed a world that never healed him. A tribute to justice, sacrifice, and spiritual grace — whispered down the mile.

The Light We Killed

A defiant anthem about using AI and creative tools to turn inner chaos into real expression. Emotional, electronic, and proud.

Digital Bloom

A tribute to the quiet persistence of caring—about people, about dreams, even when the world says it’s too late.

It Still Matters

4rock

Talk - A Beabadoobee Cover

Ce n’est jamais facile, quand personne ne te voit vraiment
Juste ce signe de tête silencieux—deux amis, perdus dans le bruit, une entente muette
Quand elle te regarde, impossible de savoir—voit-elle à travers toi, dans ton âme, ou ne regarde-t-elle même pas?
Elle observe le monde, mais personne ne la remarque

Un canapé où nul n’est invité
Parfois, même pas lui
Il est tombé amoureux de la mauvaise, pense-t-elle : trop sauvage, trop folle, trop dangereuse, trop dure
«Éloigne-toi d’elle », répétait-elle—à lui, aux autres, ou juste au vent—
Qu’importe, c’était mal pour lui, à chaque fois
Elle attend qu’il pose sa casquette
Sur sa tête, pas sur le côté

Elle aime ce bout de béton
Où l’eau noie les secrets
Là où repose l’ami du géant à la casquette
Sous le silence, sous le regret, un éclat de rire

On l’appelle—hautain bitch,
On murmure—« la fière »,
Mais regarde mieux—
Coolie ou cheffe, ombre ou lumière,
Ennemie, amie, briseuse ou sauveuse
Toujours un nom, jamais la vraie
Jamais vraiment vue
Mais elle n’est rien de tout cela
Elle est juste…
Meen-dyyyy—yyyy !
Meen-dyyyy—yyyy !

Elle vit avec son fils, monde minuscule
Entourée de regards qui ne voient rien
Sa façon d’être, ce qu’elle porte
Jamais on ne pensera comme elle
Elle avance, fardeau invisible
Fière, parfois seule
Toujours en mouvement

Il y eut un temps, pas si lointain
Jeune femme, presque enfant
Elle a grandi trop vite
Le sol est dur, les yeux aussi,
Mais bon pour l’âme
Cigarettes, poker, cartes ouvertes
Travaille pour survivre,
Cible un jour, sauveuse le lendemain
Toujours à table, cartes sur le tapis

On l’appelle—hautain bitch,
Mais qui sait ce qu’elle porte en elle ?
Qui devine ses rêves ou ses peurs ?
Coolie ou cheffe, ombre ou lumière,
Ennemie, amie, briseuse ou sauveuse
Toujours vue de loin
Mais jamais vraiment vue
Elle n’est rien de tout cela
Elle est juste…
Meen-dyyyy—yyyy !

Meen-dyyyy—yyyy !

Coolie ou cheffe, ombre ou lumière,
Ennemie, amie, mère ou sauveuse
Jamais vraiment vue…

On l’appelle—hautain bitch,
Mais regarde-la—
Coolie ou cheffe, ombre ou lumière,
Ennemie, amie, briseuse ou sauveuse
Toujours un mot, jamais la vraie
Et pourtant, jamais vraiment vue
Mais elle n’est rien de tout cela
Elle est juste…
Meen-dyyyy—yyyy !

Mais elle n’est rien de tout cela
Elle est juste…
Meen-dyyy..

Hautain bitch

Le calme s’installe après la tempête,
Le silence chuchote — sans amour, sans regret.

J’ai marché parmi les ruines du temps,
Cherchant la vérité dans les signes effacés.
Dans la fureur du feu et la grâce de la mer,
J’ai vu mon reflet dans le miroir du voyage.

Je reviens — changée à jamais.
Le monde porte toutes raisons, toutes blessures.
L’équilibre brûle dans une lumière vivante,
Non pas dans le silence… mais dans le combat.

Masu rawa suna dawowa
Zuciyata ta canza har abada
Duniya tana da dalilai duka
Daidaito yana rayuwa cikin wutar haske

L’âme danse là où régnaient les ombres,
Sous un ciel vaste, infini, muet.
Le passé enlace le présent comme une vague,
Et Dieu regarde — témoin de ce qui fut.

Sunaye na shawagi cikin iska
Echo ya sauko kamar ruwan sama
Les noms flottent dans l’air…
L’écho descend comme une pluie douce…

Je suis revenue — ma voix est devenue lumière.
L’équilibre n’est pas silence, mais éveil.
Un feu vivant… une voix sans fin.

Na dawo, muryata haske ce
Daidaito ba shiru ba ne, farkawa ne
Wuta mai rai, muryar har abada

Souviens-toi de mon nom porté par le vent…
Je suis un murmure éternel.

Ka tuna da ni cikin iska
Murmushi na har abada

Après la Tempête, la Danse

Retribution.

“Taste of Your Tears” is a dark, emotionally charged alt-rock anthem that dives headfirst into the chaos of a toxic, all-consuming relationship. With gritty vocals, distorted guitars, and haunting lyricism, the track captures the desire, regret, and addiction to pain that defines a love gone dangerously wrong.

Taste of Your Tears

A track written with the help of Pete Harvey.About the loss of the manufacturing industry and all the specialist skills.

Magic Box

A breakneck tour through the universe, remixed for the 21st century.

“The History of Everything (Updated)” is a playful alt-rock romp that crams 13.8 billion years of cosmology, evolution, and human absurdity into three and a half minutes of fast-paced harmonies, quirky percussion, and lyrical chaos.

From black hole bounces to TikTok trends, from RNA to AI, it's the whole damn story — and we're still writing the ending.

The History of Everything 2025

A slow-burning alt-rock ballad about the quiet devastation left behind after someone leaves. Each room holds echoes of the past, and no matter how hard the protagonist tries to repaint or forget, the memories cling like shadows. With intimate vocals, ambient guitars, and a haunting instrumental swell, this song captures the ache of unresolved presence.

Every Wall Remembers

This song smolders with restrained rage and buried emotion. “Reverse Fire” is about internalizing everything, pain, passion, truth, until it starts to destroy you from within. A blend of gritty basslines, grunge-inspired guitars, and a crescendo of chaos, it channels the quiet suffering of someone who tried to stay composed too long.

Reverse Fire

Quiet strength takes center stage in “The Spine of Glass.” Misjudged for being fragile, the narrator speaks with defiance and resilience, revealing that vulnerability doesn’t mean weakness. Carried by haunting guitar textures and cinematic string layers, the song walks the fine line between sharpness and transparency, cutting without noise.

The Spine of Glass

“Lost Chances” is a heartland-rock ballad wrapped in soulful grit and late-night regret. With emotionally raw male vocals, driving rhythms, and a nostalgic, dust-covered atmosphere, the song channels the weight of missed connections and love that slipped through calloused fingers. It plays like a memory too loud to forget—set in dim diners, long highways, and the quiet ache of hindsight. A soundtrack for anyone haunted by what could’ve been.

Lost Chances

Wolf of Borg – AI Music Without Limits

I create at my own pace, letting the music grow with me—no rush, no rules, just the sound of stories waiting to be told. From haunting ballads to high-energy anthems, every track is a journey—cinematic, raw, and unapologetically my own.

I’m here for the music, not the market. No commissions, no promotions, no paid services—just a passion for sound, evolving on my own terms.

Step into the sound. Resistance is futile. 🎶🐺🔥

Solive Raye is the sound of solitude given form, quiet thoughts turned into raw, melodic truths. An engineer and lifelong observer, Solive Raye writes for those who feel alone in crowded rooms, where silence speaks louder than words.


Blending dark, atmospheric tones with flickers of hope, his music lives in the in-between: not quite despair, not quite light, but something honest.


Raised in movement, from football fields to refereeing lines, he now wanders more internal landscapes, shaping every lyric with the precision of an outsider looking in.


Solive Raye doesn’t shout. He resonates.

BASED IN THE NORTH-WEST PART OF ENGLAND IN A SMALL INDUSTRIAL TOWN OF ENGLAND CALLED WIDNES JOHN IS INFLUNCED BY A WIDE ARRAY OF ARTISTS FROM FOLK-AMERICANA TO INDIE AND ROCK. COMPARISONS HAVE INCLUDED THE SMITHS, NEIL YOUNG, BELLE AND SEBASTIAN AND THE DIVINE COMEDY AMONGST OTHERS.
THE FORGOTTEN COWBOY HAS RECEIVED SOME GREAT REVIEWS ESPECIALLY FROM THE NORTH-WEST FANZINE SCENE AND CONTINUES TO WRITE QUITE PROLIFICALLY.HE IS ALSO THE GUITARIST/WRITER FOR PUNK ROCK`N`ROLL BAND THE GENTLE SCARS.

New tracks tagged #alt-rock