Bwo

The ring of platinum and the whisper of feigned intimacy are like visiting a jewellery shop after a long quarrel with the world: beautiful, but slightly cloying. The vocals are a mixture of brave bravado and weary lament, as if someone has put on a reinforced helmet and is racing between cars to prove that they cannot be broken; the road smells of petrol, smoke and determination. Here there is both bravado and vulnerability: cries of betrayal turn into a fuse that could explode, and the chorus - the mantra ‘call me what you want’ - sounds like a challenge and at the same time like a sedative for broken pride. It's all about noisy nights, bomber jackets and the fine line between rage and self-irony; you want to give in to the pull of the rhythm and at the same time not forget to fasten your helmet.