Greywind – ‘Severed Heart City’

(FLG Records)

Greywind’s Severed Heart City doesn’t so much arrive as it erupts with a flare shot into the perpetually grey Irish sky, burning with equal parts heartache, defiance, and catharsis. This is Alternative Rock with its sleeves ripped clean off, Emo in spirit rather than stereotype, and very much the sound of a band carving meaning out of wreckage. If you’ve spent any time with Greywind before, you’ll know subtlety has never been their main weapon. Here, they sharpen that instinct into something more focused, more dangerous, and ultimately more rewarding.

From the opening moments, Severed Heart City establishes itself as a record about survival in hostile emotional terrain. The guitars crash in thick and immediate, but there’s an intentional rawness to the production that keeps everything human. Nothing here feels over-polished or sanitised. Instead, the album thrives on tension, between melody and noise, vulnerability and fury, hope and resignation. It’s a balancing act Greywind pull off with conviction, even when they’re teetering on the edge.

Vocalist Steph O’Sullivan remains the album’s emotional anchor, delivering performances that feel less sung and more bled. There’s a cracked honesty in her voice that recalls the best of early 2000s Emo without lapsing into nostalgia cosplay. When she pushes into higher registers, it’s never just for drama; it feels like a necessary release valve. You believe every word because it sounds like she does too. This is the voice of someone who has lived inside these songs, not merely performed them.

Lyrically, Severed Heart City explores emotional isolation, fractured relationships, and the strange comfort found in shared despair. The “city” of the title feels metaphorical, a place built from broken promises and half-healed wounds, populated by people learning how to keep moving despite the damage. Greywind avoid cliché by leaning into specificity; lines feel personal enough to be diary entries, yet broad enough to resonate. There’s a distinctly Irish sensibility here too, that blend of melancholy, grit, and gallows humour that turns sadness into something strangely communal.

Musically, the album sits confidently at the crossroads of Alternative Rock and modern Emo. Crunchy, down-tuned riffs collide with soaring choruses, while quieter moments are used sparingly but effectively. When Greywind pull things back, it’s not to soften the blow it’s to make the next impact hurt more. The band clearly understand dynamics, and they use them as an emotional weapon rather than a technical exercise.

What’s particularly striking is the sense of cohesion across the album. Severed Heart City feels deliberately sequenced, each track feeding into the next like chapters in the same bruised story. Even the more immediate, hook-driven songs carry thematic weight, while the darker, heavier cuts never lose sight of melody. It’s an album designed to be listened to front-to-back, preferably loud, preferably alone, preferably when you’re already a bit cracked.

There’s also a palpable sense of growth here. Greywind sound more confident in who they are and what they want to say. The band no longer feel like they’re chasing validation or trying to fit into a particular scene. Instead, they’re building their own space, one where emotional honesty is non-negotiable and sonic aggression is earned. It’s the sound of a band trusting their instincts and committing fully, even when it means exposing the ugly parts.

That’s not to say Severed Heart City is an easy listen. It’s emotionally heavy, occasionally confrontational, and unapologetically intense. But that’s precisely its strength. This is music that meets you where you are, in the mess, in the aftermath, in the long walk home after everything’s gone wrong. Greywind don’t offer easy answers or tidy resolutions. They offer solidarity, volume, and the reassurance that feeling too much is better than feeling nothing at all.

‘Acid Rain’ drops you straight into the storm. Guitars are thick, distorted, and oppressive, while Steph O’Sullivan’s vocal cuts through with urgency and bite. It’s confrontational, atmospheric, and immediately sets the album’s bleak-but-beautiful tone.

‘I.K.A.M.F’ is Greywind in full defiance mode. Punchy, fast-moving, and emotionally loaded, the track thrives on tension. The chorus hits hard without feeling hollow, channelling frustration into something sharp and anthemic.

‘Happy’ – This title is pure misdirection. Beneath the more accessible surface lies a song about forced smiles and emotional burnout. There’s a bitter irony at play, and Steph’s vocal performance captures that exhausting disconnect between how you feel and how you pretend to feel.

‘Waterfall’ provides a shift in pace, it leans into atmosphere and gradual build. It starts restrained and slowly swells, mirroring emotional overload. It’s immersive and haunting, proving Greywind know when to pull back to make the impact count.

‘Swerve’ is restless and tightly wound and it feels like avoidance set to music. The rhythm section drives the track forward with nervous energy, while the guitars stay jagged and sharp. It’s one of the album’s most kinetic moments.

‘Make Believe (L.O.V.E Me)’ provides big emotions and bigger hooks. This track balances vulnerability and drama perfectly, turning insecurity into a soaring Alternative Rock anthem. It’s raw, catchy, and unapologetically intense.

‘Moon’  is stripped of aggression and drifts into introspection. There’s a lonely, late-night quality here, with space and restraint allowing the emotion to breathe. It’s quietly devastating and beautifully performed.

‘Let’s See If You Can Float’ is dark and unsettling, this track thrives on tension rather than release. The structure feels deliberately uncomfortable, pulling the listener into a space of emotional risk and unresolved weight.

‘The Scarecrow’ is rich in metaphor, it explores emptiness and emotional detachment. The dynamics are spot-on, shifting between fragile and forceful without losing cohesion.

‘Cope In The Coma’ – The album closer doesn’t offer resolution, just survival. Slow-building and heavy, it ends the album in a haze of catharsis and acceptance, perfectly closing the doors on Severed Heart City.

In the wider Alternative Rock landscape, Severed Heart City stands tall as a reminder of what the genre does best when it stops chasing trends and starts telling the truth. Greywind aren’t reinventing Emo, but they are reinvigorating it, grounding it in lived experience and delivering it with urgency and purpose. This is an album that demands to be felt as much as heard.

Ultimately, Severed Heart City is a testament to resilience, not the glossy, motivational-poster kind, but the grimy, stubborn sort that keeps you standing even when your heart’s in pieces. Greywind have crafted a record that’s raw, cathartic, and deeply human. It hurts, it heals, and it hits hard. Just the way it should.

8/10

Essential Track – ‘Moon’

Review by Woody