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.

There are few performers who embody the spirit of Nashville’s Lower Broadway like David Graham. A longtime fixture at beloved honky tonk haunts like Robert’s Western World and Layla’s, Graham earned his stripes the old-school way—by playing night after night, delivering blistering sets that blend classic country, blues, and rock ‘n’ roll with irrepressible swagger. As frontman of the rowdy hillbilly trio The Eskimo Brothers, he became known for his magnetic stage presence and tireless work ethic. Now stepping further into the spotlight, Graham’s new solo album Downtown captures the grit, heart, and honky tonk soul that he’s spent years perfecting on stage.

Out today, Downtown is a love letter to the rhythm and chaos of a city he knows intimately. From the foot-stomping opener “Big Time Tonight” to the haunting, cinematic “Ghost Town,” Graham showcases the range of his Americana roots influences while staying true to the live-wire energy of his performances. The title track, featuring harmonies from his daughter, reveals a more personal side, making Downtown not just a musical statement but a reflection of a life spent chasing songs in smoky bars and neon-lit corners of Music City. Before his release show at Layla’s this Sunday, Graham sat down with us to talk about the record, the city that shaped it, and everything in between.

Do you remember the first time you ever stepped on stage in Nashville? What was going through your head?

The first time I stepped on stage in Nashville was at Tootsie’s. A very surreal experience for me because I had always had a love for Nashville—even as a kid. But I learned very quickly that was not the right spot for me.
My first long-standing gig in Nashville was at Robert’s Western World.
Even to this day, after playing thousands of shows, it’s still a bit surreal every time I’m down there. The love affair continues.

What artists or records were playing in your house growing up that planted the seed for the kind of music you make now?

Great question. Basically, my parents’ record collection was the start of it all for me—and to this day, still some of my favorite artists.
There was lots of Elvis, David Bowie, Rod Stewart, Willie Nelson, Bob Seger, Queen, Glen Campbell, The Stones…

If Downtown were a late-night bar, what kind of people would be sitting at that counter?
Cool question.
The lovers and the broken-hearted.
The winners and the losers.
The drunkards and the dreamers.
The lost and the found.
Everyone.

You’ve been part of the Nashville scene for a long time. How has the city changed for better or worse, especially for musicians like yourself?

The biggest change I’ve seen—besides the population boom—is that Nashville has always been a music destination, and in recent years it’s become more of a party destination.
There’s still great music here, you just have to seek it out.
And the traffic blows.

What’s the most unexpected source of inspiration that made its way into this record—something not musical at all?

I would say “Ghost Town,” being inspired by the pandemic and how it affected Nashville.

When you’re on the road, what’s one thing you absolutely need with you to feel grounded?

Pictures of my family.

Do you have a favorite line or lyric from Downtown that still gives you chills when you sing it live?

If you wonder where I am tonight
Locked in a fire fight
Lost in the city lights… downtown.

What’s your relationship like with silence? Do you ever go long stretches without music—or is your world always soundtracked?

I perform so much—silence and I have a very good and close relationship, ha.

If you could go back and give your younger self one piece of advice before your first honky tonk residency, what would it be?

Don’t listen to that negative little voice in the back of your head.

You’re throwing a dream jam session at Layla’s. Dead or alive, who’s showing up to play with you—and what song are you all closing the night with?

Chuck Berry
Ronnie Wood
Rod Stewart
Steve Earle

And then I’d end the night with Sinatra and me singing “The Lady Is a Tramp,”
sippin’ whiskey with one ice cube 🙂