WE WERE JUST HERE

OUT OF HEAVEN

Highwalllow & Supermoon Songs

You Have To Lose Your Hat Someday

She Said, He Said

16/25

Anti-Lonely

Time To Dream

First single from the second LP "NO LIFE" by New Romantics out 12/13/2025
Pre-Order available now on "Loveless" Pink Vinyl

Low Stakes (From NO LIFE LP out 12/13/25 on Gezellig)

Lyrics:

Before the fall
Before it all
Comes slowly
Apart

Through the gate
I dissipate
And slowly
You'll find

In no time at all
The rest of you is found
You try to jump
But your feet won't leave the ground
It doesn't mean anything
Doesn't mean
Doesn't mean anything
In no time at all

And I slowly unwind
Through the gate
Anticipate
Where I'm going 
This time

In no time at all
The rest of you is found
You try to jump
But your feet won't leave the ground
It doesn't mean anything
Doesn't mean
Doesn't mean anything
In no time at all

Something takes a part of me
Only running when you see
But now there's just one
Something takes a part of me


Doesn't Mean Anything

Equal parts energetic Bauhaus like rhythm meets the melancholic and anthemic choruses of The Cure; Please, Wake Up is a gothic love story, but not in the traditional sense. This story is not about loss or death, but of acceptance and wishfulness. The pulsing bass drives the journey along with a swinging drum beat to lead the listener to move their feet, while the simplistic but atmospheric guitars and keyboards beautifully layer the rhythm and help drive the anguished, but calm vocals. The chorus is impossible to ignore from the beginning “Please wake up, my soul seeks your light” lends itself to paint a beautifully sad picture in the listener's head, while also being quite catchy. There is a calm before the storm bridge that is atmospheric with bass and keyboards guiding the journey which finally leads into the crescendo that is a powerful outro as you can feel the pain in every “Please wake up tonight”.

Please, Wake Up

SHRED ENY (PICTUREPLANE RMX)

The Hard Earth Hexology moves through pressure rather than release. Its songs are built around what people learn to hide—history, grief, complicity, desire for control—and the way those forces continue to act even when they are denied. The writing treats emotion as a physical condition: weight in the body, tension in the jaw, ground underfoot that refuses to shift. Rather than offering confession or resolution, the voice in these songs observes how systems of belief, authority, and intimacy operate quietly, often through tone, silence, and habit. What is suppressed does not disappear; it adapts, resurfaces, and follows. Memory behaves less like narrative and more like geology—layered, compacted, and capable of breaking through without warning.

Sonically, the album sits at the intersection of propulsion and restraint. Rhythmic drive borrowed from electronic music pushes forward while guitars carry grit, twang, and abrasion, grounding the sound in land, motion, and human friction. The genre blend is not decorative but structural: surf and psychobilly tension, blues and country endurance, and techno repetition all serve the same purpose—momentum under pressure. These songs are less about rebellion as spectacle than resistance as posture: staying upright, refusing erasure, and choosing rough edges over polish. The series does not argue or persuade. It stands, listens, and waits, trusting that what holds its shape long enough will eventually be felt.


Doesn't Mean Anything

Void Comp