There’s a weight that presses down on every track of The Wound. It’s the kind of pressure that doesn’t let up, like being trapped in a room where every door slams shut just as you approach it. Qlowski’s second album isn’t here to comfort you—it’s here to stalk you, creeping just out of sight before catching up and pulling you under.
London-based post-punk quartet Qlowski have spent their career so far sharpening their claws in the dim corners of their post-punk sound, but on The Wound, the bloodied fangs are out. Led by the dual force of Mickey Tellarini and Cecilia Corapi, Qlowski has evolved into a larger collective with the addition of Christian Billard, Lucy Ludlow, and James Buxton. Their presence adds a new sense of urgency and, community, building on the foundations only hinted at on debut album Quale Futuro? They return bigger and bolder, but retaining all of the contradictions that define their divisive appeal. The production, largely handled by Gilla Band‘s Daniel Fox, adds scale without dulling the album’s rougher edges. It sounds massive, yet just raw enough to keep its emotional core nicely exposed.
We start with ‘Thirteen’, an instrumental that sounds like it’s being dragged through a haunted funhouse. Warped organs twist around each other in a half-remembered tune, establishing a moody, yet unnerving nostalgia. But then comes the title track, growling like a chainsaw, slicing through the calm. Mickey and Cecilia’s vocals crash together like dueling tornadoes over a backdrop of guitar feedback and drumming that sounds like it’s trying to bring down the walls. Mickey howls, “The wound, the wound, the wound ain’t go away,” and he’s right—it’s not going anywhere, and neither are you. This visceral one-two sets up what lies ahead.
One of the defining features of The Wound is the characteristic interplay between Mickey and Cecilia’s vocals, which shift effortlessly between menace and melancholy. On ‘Desire’, Mickey delivers his lines like a man pacing the room at 3 a.m., caught between the pull of lust and the frustration of never quite having enough: “Desire is a hint, a splinter in your thumb, you can’t see it but it hurts”. The track is as jittery as the cool chill it conjures—verses hover like uneasy whispers before they’re swallowed by crashing choruses, all tension and release. It’s claustrophobic, and it works.
Then there’s ‘Stronger Than’, where Cecilia initally takes the lead, and the band lets some light in—well, as much light as Qlowski ever let in. Her voice carries a sense of hope, but the lyrics wrestle with uncertainty: “Let’s build a house big enough for what’s ours… Take it all, take it all”. The duo’s vocal back-and-forth creates a conversation about driving ambitions and claiming what’s yours. When ‘Surrender’ hits, though… wow. This track feels like a tribute to The Cure’s darker moments, all spiraling guitars and pounding drums. Mickey and Cecilia shout “No surrender!” like they’re leading the last stand at some dystopian dancefloor battleground. It’s not just a rallying cry; it’s a demand for survival: “Can you hold it in your heart, can you hold it in your hands?” Expect fists in the air and sweat dripping off the ceiling when this one is played live.
‘Mastering the Motions’ oddly has a post-punk energy reminiscent of The Sugarcubes – an edgy playfulness that teeters on the brink of madness. Vocals bounce, volleying lines like “Rage is the spark / Love is fire”, dancing on the edge, fueled by that constant tension between grit and abandon. When it finally snaps, it’s like being pulled into a thick, sonic sludge, with each phrase collapsing inward, dragging you down into its murky depths. It’s a deconstruction, leaving you grasping for footing even as the track dissolves around you.
Among all the high calibre ear candy on offer here, ‘A Vision’ deserves a special mention. Guitars grind and stab like industrial machinery dredging up something dark and gooey from the depths of Michael Gira‘s imagination. It’s like Swans circa 1984 if they’d had a top 40 hit. “Wolves at my door, lunching on my flesh,” chants Mickey, a gruesome image that pairs perfectly with the song’s relentless, hypnotic barrage, offering a cool new side to Qlowski’s songwriting. By contrast, ‘Praxis’, feels more reflective and intimate. It’s about motherhood, transition, and finding strength in the uncertainty. Cecilia’s voice floats over shimmering synths, painting a monochrome, cinematic soundscape that’s fragile yet powerful. It’s a softer moment in the album, but even here, there’s a sense of being watched and cold, bony fingers closing in.
The final stretch ramps up the intensity. In Cold Blood has the cool edge of bar italia married with urgent post-punk guitars and hooks that pull you in, only to plunge you deeper with the political weight of the lyrics: “Count them bodies, nameless bodies, what remains of them” and “we are the west / A rotting death cult”. ‘Can You Tell (Love Song for N.K.)’ isn’t so much a love song as it is a reflection on the mess that love leaves behind. This is Qlowski’s romantic side, swirling in gritty, off-kilter melodies that refuse to offer easy comfort.
‘Off the Grass’ closes the album with a bang, a crash, and a load more feedback. It’s like a grotesque carnival ride gone haywire, with a bouncing guitar riff and jolly keyboard hook that takes a sudden, darker turn. The track collapses in on itself in a squall of noise and distortion, leaving behind a bleak kind of ecstasy. It’s the final step in a mad pursuit that’s been gaining on you since the album began, and at the end, you’ve been caught.
At its heart, The Wound is about contrasts. The light barely breaking through the dark, control clashing with chaos, tenderness fighting with defiance. It’s bigger and bolder than anything Qlowski has done before, but it’s also more grounded in its own contradictions. And in those moments where the emotional tension and noise meets, the album hits hardest. It doesn’t offer easy solutions to the crises it explores, but it makes you feel every jagged nerve and unsettled emotion along the way. And sometimes, that’s more than enough.
The Wound is released on 1st November, on Maple Death and Feel It Records.
