Winterblind has decided to drop EGO, an EP that sounds less like an album and more like a midlife crisis being screamed through a distortion pedal, and I mean that in the best way possible. You know when a band doesn’t so much make music as it performs an exorcism of its own self-image? That’s EGO. It is Prog. It is Metal. It is Funk. It is, crucially, Pain. And it’s not content to simply express itself. Rather, it wants you to feel it. They didn’t sit down to write this as much as they had no other option but to scream it into being.
Everything about EGO is big; not in the bombastic, stadium-rock way, but in the “I just had a revelation in a gas station parking lot” way. Despite the technicality and density on display, the whole thing remains raw, like a nerve ending that refuses to scab over. The prog flourishes never veer into smug virtuosity; they’re there to underscore the chaos, to mimic the way your brain tries to make sense of itself in the middle of a breakdown.
EGO is the sound of an identity unraveling in real time, with each track a jagged attempt to reassemble a fractured self, using only distortion, reverb, and raw emotion. It’s chaotic and confessional, like a group therapy session held in a crumbling cathedral, held together not by structure but by a spiraling honesty that dares you to look it in the eye. Self-aware yet sincere, the EP wears its drama proudly; not as ego, but as a desperate, human plea to be seen, flaws and all. Beneath the math-rock tangents, heavy riffs, and experimental chaos lies something deeply vulnerable: the sound of someone letting go of the act and screaming into the void, unfiltered and strangely magnificent in their wreckage.
The opener, “Aileen Mor Stierve,” doesn’t so much begin as it erupts. It’s that moment in a film where a door flies open, the lighting shifts dramatically, and you suddenly realize, oh, we’re in that kind of story. Time signatures spiral like someone’s trying to speedrun every emotional stage of grief. It feels like jazz fusion put through a meat grinder, and somehow, that’s a compliment. There are no clean edges. Just whiplash changes and the lingering suspicion that the drummer is actively trying to trigger your fight-or-flight response. And this is just the warm-up.
Then “I AM ME” struts in, already having had three espressos and an argument with itself. It’s got basslines that slap like they’re settling old scores. Vocals that veer between desperate honesty and theatrical defiance. If this track were a person, it’d be crying in the bathroom at the club but still correcting people’s grammar. The whole thing is chaotic, heartfelt, and weirdly stylish. It shouldn’t work, but it absolutely does.
“Cultbroker,” featuring Romain Jeuniaux, is the haunted house of the EP. It slinks rather than stomps. The groove is hypnotic, the vibe is ominous, and the feature feels less like a guest spot and more like someone whispering in your ear while you’re trying to sleep. This is music that believes in mood lighting. You don’t listen to it; you let it coil around you like a smoke ring that knows your childhood secrets.
Closing track “Keep Posing” is the closing track, earning the right out of being sardonic, tight, and devastating. It’s the EP looking in the mirror, doing finger guns, and muttering, “We’re fine,” while clearly not being fine at all. The riffs are meaty, the vocals cut deep, and every beat feels like it’s holding back a nervous breakdown with sheer attitude. You’ll want to mosh and journal at the same time.
EGO by Winterblind is raw, theatrical, and unfiltered; more confession than performance, bursting with chaotic sincerity and distortion. In a world of polished, emotionless streaming-core, it feels like a rebellious scream from the heart, messy and beautiful in its vulnerability. EGO by Winterblind doesn’t ask for your attention; it demands it, unapologetically and with a solo.
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About the Author
A tenured media critic known working as a ghost writer, freelance critic for various publications around the world, the former lead writer of review blogspace Atop The Treehouse and content creator for Manila Bulletin.
