There’s a very specific kind of emotional pressure that builds when you’ve been “almost” doing the thing for years. Almost putting your own band first. Almost saying what you actually mean. Almost stepping out from behind other projects, other stages, other people’s spotlights. Eventually that pressure needs somewhere to go.
That somewhere, in this case, is Auntie, the six-track EP from Midnite Radio. founded by longtime friends Lee Coram (guitar) and Beak Wing (drums) out of Lebanon, Tennessee. And if this record feels like a release valve finally blowing open, that’s because it kind of is.
These aren’t musicians figuring it out in a garage for the first time. Coram and Wing have spent years playing on other stages, in other studios, backing other visions. Auntie is what happens when that accumulated experience stops being background noise and becomes the main event.
The EP opens with “Reboot the Drought,” which is either a metaphor or a direct instruction to the universe. It wastes absolutely no time. The guitars arrive bright and assertive, the drums punch with purpose, and the vocals cut cleanly through the mix. It’s confident without being smug; a tricky balance. You don’t get the sense they’re trying to prove they can play. They already know they can. This is more about proving they have something to say.
“Fear No Stars” doubles down on that energy. There’s a muscular alt-rock backbone here; clean, ringing guitar tones layered over driving percussion, but it never feels bloated. The sound is tight, intentional. It has that slightly anthemic lift that suggests open skies and headlights at night, but grounded in grit rather than gloss.
One of the more interesting things about Auntie is that it was recorded remotely. The band members were working from different cities, living separate lives, stitching this EP together over months instead of hammering it out in the same sweaty room. And yet, it doesn’t sound fragmented. If anything, it sounds laser-focused. The cohesion is almost suspicious. You’d expect a little drift, a little mismatch. Instead, there’s a unified pulse running through the whole thing.
“Backwards” leans into mood a bit more, pulling the tempo slightly and letting space creep in around the edges. It’s still undeniably rock, but there’s a subtle genre-flex happening; little shifts in texture and phrasing that suggest they’re not interested in staying strictly inside alt-rock lines. It’s experimentation without the performative weirdness. No one’s adding a theremin just to prove a point.
“Quench” feels like a release of tension. The rhythm section is particularly sharp here; Wing’s drumming doesn’t just keep time, it drives the emotional arc. Coram’s guitar tone remains crisp and articulate, with just enough bite to keep it from feeling overly polished. The interplay between them is where the EP really shines. Years of collaboration show up not as flashy solos, but as instinctive timing.
“Breath” (which, yes, feels intentionally placed in the tracklist) offers a brief emotional recalibration. It’s not a ballad in the traditional sense, but it carries a reflective weight. The vocals feel especially present here; bright, direct, unmasked. There’s no ironic distance. No wink to the audience. Just delivery.
Then there’s “Paradise,” which closes the EP on a note that feels earned rather than explosive. It doesn’t try to outdo the previous tracks; it consolidates them. The energy, the experience, the connection; it all funnels into a track that feels like stepping into your own voice and deciding to stay there.
What makes Auntie compelling isn’t reinvention. It’s ownership. This is confident alt-rock built on years of groundwork, finally assembled under one banner. The guitar tones are clean but punchy. The drums are powerful without drowning everything else out. The vocals are bright and forward, carrying the emotional weight without melodrama.
And maybe that’s the real story here. Not a band discovering who they are, but a band deciding it’s time to stop waiting. Auntie sounds like musicians who’ve spent years in orbit finally choosing their own trajectory. It’s expressive, connected, energetic and above all, self-assured. If Auntie EP is the drought breaking, it’s not a drizzle; if anything, it’s a storm.
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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.
