Weird Winter by The Southern Sun: A Cosmic, Dreamy Escape That Sticks With You
Let’s get one thing straight—Weird Winter isn’t your typical rock album. Released in 2016 by Canadian band The Southern Sun, this self-released gem blends post-rock and shoegaze into something that feels like staring at the stars while lying on a frozen lake. It’s cold but comforting, distant yet intimate. And honestly? I can’t stop thinking about it.
The album kicks off with "Nightlife," and man, does it set the tone. Imagine layers of shimmering guitars washing over you, paired with synths that sound like they’re beaming straight from some retro sci-fi flick. Alex Helperin (who wears more hats than I thought humanly possible) nails the balance between chaos and calm here. There’s this moment halfway through where everything drops out except for a heartbeat-like drum loop—it’s simple, sure, but it hits hard. Like, goosebumps-hard. If you’ve ever felt both lost and found at the same time, this track will slap you right in the soul.
Then there’s “I Love You Spaceship,” which might just be my favorite cut. It starts slow, almost hesitant, like it’s unsure if it wants to take off. But when those soaring guitars kick in around the two-minute mark? Forget it—you’re gone. The whole thing builds into this euphoric wave of noise and emotion, leaving you breathless. What sticks with me most is how raw it feels. No frills, no overproduction—just pure, unfiltered passion. Max Helperin’s drums punch through like a heartbeat racing after a sprint, while Mike Roukens’ basslines glue everything together with a warm fuzziness. Honestly, listening to this track feels like hugging someone you haven’t seen in years. Weird, right?
What makes Weird Winter so special isn’t just its sound—it’s the vibe. This isn’t background music; it demands your attention. Tracks like “Vulture” and “Flag on the Moon” keep things unpredictable, blending heavy riffs with ethereal textures. Even the quieter moments, like “Holiday,” leave an impression, wrapping you up in a cocoon of nostalgia and longing. David Schmoll’s loops add these subtle little details that make you want to hit replay just to catch what you missed the first time.
Here’s the kicker though—the whole thing was written, arranged, mixed, mastered, and basically willed into existence by The Southern Sun themselves. That DIY spirit shines through every note. Sure, it’s not perfect—but maybe that’s why it works. Imperfections give it character, like scratches on an old vinyl record.
So yeah, Weird Winter isn’t gonna appeal to everyone. If you’re looking for catchy hooks or radio-friendly bangers, this ain’t it. But if you dig music that takes you somewhere else entirely—if you love albums that feel like late-night drives or staring at the horizon as the sun dips below it—this one’s worth your time.
Oh, and here’s a random thought: Listening to this album somehow made me crave hot chocolate. Go figure.
