Bleed’s introductory EP Somebody’s Closer was initially self-released by the band through digital platforms in 2021. Despite no physical release at the time, the EP, invoking late ’90s / early ’00s-era alt rock / metal gained the Dallas, Texas-based band a lotta buzz with its gauzy distortion balancing tension and atmosphere, and via several mutual connections came to the attention of 20 Buck Spin. The label issued vinyl and cassette editions in 2022 bringing Bleed’s music to new audiences and wider attention. Since that time the anticipation for the band’s debut full length has built to fever pitch, and at long last it arrives as Spring heads into Summer. Bleed’s self-titled LP maintains the melodic heaviness and tight song structures of the EP, while diving headfirst into the oceanic haze, pushing their sound into territory more immersive, relentless and hypnotically lush. Guitars surge and sway in stacked waves of gravitational angst, overdriven rhythms eccentrically pulsing beneath, and guitarist / singer Ryan Hughes’s voice floating in and out, sometimes distant and detached, sometimes cracked open with desperation. Lyrics move in fragments, alluding to themes of deep interntal struggle, coping mechanisms and hurting those you love most. It’s music that doesn’t so much demand attention as seeps straight into the bloodstream, the kind of album that endlessly loops in the back of the mind at 3 A.M. Bold strides are taken right outta the gate to make the authenticity of Bleed’s universe more expansive in its inspirations and ambitions. There’s a confidence to the way Bleed let’s these songs unfold, they make their impact immediate and have no need to persist longer than necessary. The result is an album that feels massive yet intimate, brutal yet beautiful, familar yet singular. It doesn’t simply leave an impression, it lingers, reverberating long after the final notes have faded.
