Nova Scotia’s Cut Cult share their newest single, “Dinosaur” – a grimy, groove-laden alt track driven by a monstrous baritone guitar hook and an experimental spirit that’s equal parts N.E.R.D. and noise-punk. Anchored in raw live energy and a loose, unconventional vocal take, “Dinosaur” distills the chaotic charm of a rehearsal tape into something big, heavy, and undeniably fun. 

Cut Cult is the latest boundary-pushing project from Brian Borcherdt – founder of Holy Fuck, known also for his solo work as Dusted and the viral chipmunks on 16 speed. Reuniting with original Holy Fuck drummer Loel Campbell (Wintersleep, Broken Social Scene, Billy Talent) and longtime collaborator Matt McQuaid (Holy Fuck), the trio formed a new band to explore sonic ideas unbound by the limits of past projects. Rounding out the group is Mairi Chaimbeul, contributing psychedelic harp and synth textures.

Written and recorded in a rural cottage in Black Point, NS, “Dinosaur” emerged during late-night jam sessions, home-cooked meals, and full-band hangs. With its head-nodding 808 pulse and bassy swagger, the song quickly became a band favourite though it lacked a final vocal take. That changed when frontman Borcherdt unearthed a scrappy rehearsal recording and laid it over the session. The timing worked thanks to the shared BPM and the spirit was just right.

We came up with this sort of lumbering monstrous baritone guitar part, something like a scary “Hella Good”-Neptunes kind of hook. We had the title “Dinosaur” due to this Godzilla vibe, but no words. I found a rehearsal tape that was perfect – it was still gibberish, but the vibe was right. Being centred around an 808 beat, I knew it’d fit. So I overlaid that take and was done. – Brian Borcherdt

Montreal-based guitarist/bassist and composer Galamba unveils his vibrant new single, “Sea Shack,” a groove-rich instrumental that dances between Afro-Brazilian tradition and genre-blurring innovation. Driven by joyful interplay between vocals, guitar, and percussion, “Sea Shack” pulses with warmth and movement from the very first beat.

The song draws its roots from Ijexá, an Afro-Brazilian rhythm not often heard in 3/4 time. The choice to use this odd meter, along with funky rhythmic hits inspired by Fela Kuti and a wah-soaked guitar solo, highlights Galamba’s commitment to honouring tradition while reimagining it through a modern, genre-defying lens.

Inspired by a reunion of friends at the festive Gaspésie-based hostel that gives the track its name, “Sea Shack” reflects the spontaneity, connection, and celebration of that moment. Opening with a bold, rhythmic intro, the piece flows into an exuberant exchange of melody and groove before dissolving into an emotive, vocal-like guitar solo that soars above lush harmonic textures.

A standout in the song is the collaboration with Camille Bertault-style guest vocalist Bianca Rocha, whose performance brings an unmistakable sense of joy and soul to the recording, and keyboardist Manoel Vieira, whose Wurlitzer adds a playful, Donato-esque flair.

Following their debut release “On the Road,” progressive bluegrass collective Sourwood returns with “Wrong Carolina,” a rhythmically complex and narratively playful second single that blurs the lines between heartbreak and highway maps. The track explores the chaos of mistaken direction—both geographically and emotionally—fueled by one of the band’s most memorable musical arrangements to date.

“It started with this story [that bandmate Liam Lewis] told me,” says frontman Lucas Last, recalling a tour mix-up where Liam‘s band mistakenly arrived at a South Carolina venue – only to find out they were booked at a bar of the same name in North Carolina. “It seemed like a good opportunity for a double entendre, so I mashed together the ideas of the wrong place, wrong time, wrong person.”

The song’s namesake, “Wrong Carolina,” plays with the ambiguity of place and person, letting the title line hit with layered meaning. “We wanted the lyric to feel deliberately unclear—‘I was in the wrong, Carolina’ vs. ‘I was literally in the wrong Carolina,’” Lucas explains. “It’s simple, but the ambiguity is where the real emotional weight is.”

Thematically, the song confronts the moments when confidence turns to confusion—when being sure of something doesn’t make it right. Musically, it’s a standout within Sourwood’s catalogue: pulsing with tension, intricate in rhythm, and laced with the dynamic push-and-pull that has already become a band signature.

The track’s distinctive sound is built around interlocking instrumental patterns, with rhythmic motifs repeating across guitar, mandolin, fiddle, and upright bass. “It almost feels like a prog-rock section passed through a bluegrass filter,” says Lucas. “The way everything locks together creates this feeling of momentum, like a train barreling toward a switch that no one’s pulled yet.”

Despite being the most technically challenging song on the record, it came together surprisingly quickly during a live-off-the-floor session at Halo Recording Studio. “We were intimidated by it—lots of stops and starts, and a very specific arrangement—but we got it in about three takes,” Lucas recalls. “It felt like magic.”

Produced by Roman Marcone and engineered by Danny Smart, the song also showcases Sourwood’s willingness to push sonic boundaries. From phasers on banjo to ambient textures more common in indie rock than bluegrass, the track embraces experimentation. “When I came back to hear the mix, Danny had added all these weird effects. Roman looked nervous, like maybe he’d gone too far,” Lucas laughs. “But I loved it. It was the first time I’d ever heard a banjo run through a phaser and just said, ‘Let’s go with that.’”

With “Wrong Carolina,” Sourwood continues to stake out new territory at the intersection of folk, bluegrass, and indie, pairing genre-defying instrumentation with storytelling that feels both intimate and mythic.