Some records whisper. Others scream. Elme 7” by Berlin-based trio ÿdeg, does both, and it does so with a clarity and conviction rarely heard and seen on the contemporary underground music scene. Across seven tight, explosive songs, ÿdeg deliver an urgent, intelligent, and emotionally gripping sound. It’s post-punk, post-hardcore, and noise rock at once, but it never settles comfortably in any box. Instead, the band leans into tension, disruption, and dissonance to find something new. Something raw and real.
Let’s start with the obvious, this record is excellent. There is no filler here. Every second is intentional. Every note serves the atmosphere. From the opening moments, Elme feels like a surge of electricity, controlled, but barely. The production, handled by the band themselves and mixed by their drummer Ronny, is clean and caustic. The sound is full of texture, grit, and presence. You can feel the rooms they recorded in. You can hear the sweat. ÿdeg come from what they call the “failed democracies of the East,” Saxony and Hungary. That’s not just a line for press releases, but a vital part of their music identity. The lyrics, shouted entirely in Hungarian, carry a weight and sharpness that transcend language. Even if you don’t speak it, you feel it. These are personal and political songs, songs about alienation, big city life, and the numb confusion of the post-truth era. But they are delivered with such emotion, such bite, that the meaning cuts through.
The vocals are shouty, yes, but never monotonous. They are melodic, expressive, and full of conviction. They command attention and guide the ear through the dense soundscape. In this case, the voice becomes an instrument, an anchor, a compass, and sometimes a weapon. In such a longevous music genre where vocals are often buried or flattened by generous servings of reverb, delay, and echo effects, ÿdeg place them front and center, and it pays off. But the guitars are where the record truly shines. Angular, jagged chord progressions meet jangled, discordant harmonies. There’s distortion, feedback, and rawness, but also melody and intent. It’s noise sculpted with care. There’s a clear lineage to Fugazi, Sonic Youth, andDrive Like Jehu, but ÿdeg never feels derivative. Their riffs surprise. Their transitions catch you off guard. They are writing songs with structure and purpose, even when the structure is disguised in chaos.
Often, basslines in this music genre can fall into the background. Not here. ÿdeg’s bassist plays like a co-lead instrument, driving, melodic, and grounding. These low ends act as glue, binding the shifting rhythms and guitar layers into a coherent whole. They fill space, create tension, and bring weight. They’re subtle in their power but unmistakable once you tune in. The drumming is not just competent, it’s creative. Cleverly assembled patterns, shifting time signatures, and abrupt breaks keep the listener on edge. Yet it never feels showy. Every beat serves the composition. The drums dictate the energy, the groove, the pace. They are both the backbone and pulse. ÿdeg knows when to pull back and when to strike. There are moments of silence, of subtlety, that make the louder sections hit even harder. There are buildups that lead not to explosions but to eerily calm bridges. The push and pull between aggression and restraint is what gives the record its tension, and its beauty. The seventh track, especially, feels like a thesis statement for the band. It’s both furious and vulnerable. There’s a melody running just under the surface, threatening to burst through the noise. You can hear influences from Revolution Summer bands, but also a more European bleakness, a kind of post-socialist malaise set to rhythm and distortion.
It’s worth noting that the band recorded this themselves. This is DIY at its best, hands-on, hands-dirty, and full of character. The mix balances chaos and clarity with such precision and finesse while Marvin Menz’s mastering at Tide Studio in London gives the final touch of professional weight without sanding down the edges. The record may be brief, just seven tracks, but it feels expansive. It introduces a band that already sounds complete, fully formed in their vision. Yet, it also leaves room for growth, for future exploration. That is the hallmark of a great debut. There is a lot to be angry about in 2025. A lot to fight. But there’s also a need for connection, for honesty, for art that doesn’t pander. Elme offers all of that. It’s a record that reflects the world while refusing to surrender to it. It shouts, but it also listens. It rebels, but it remembers tenderness. It’s a light in the dark, but one that touches, spits, and burns. ÿdeg may have just arrived with this debut EP, but they already sound vital. This isn’t just a great debut. It’s one of the best underground releases of the year. Essential listening. Head to It’s Eleven Records for more information about ordering this gem on a 7″ record.
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