BLACK LEATHER BIRDS

Christopher Nosnibor called the EP “inspired and inspiring” — wide-ranging, genre-straddling, and impossible to place — tracing its arc from the dizzying, hard-hitting open of “Nothing Ever Grows Here” to the difficult-to-define sadness that lowers the curtain on “this visionary work,” and signing off with a verdict as blunt as it is generous: it's good, and that's what you need to know.

The Shend — founder and frontman of cult Dadaist post-punk legends The Cravats, and a four-time John Peel Session artist on BBC Radio 1 — first spun “Nothing Ever Grows Here” on his programme The Spinning Man, likening it to “a David Lynch film turned into a piece of music.” He returned in June to feature “The Box” — a track he loved so much he played it three times in a row the first time he heard it — likening it to an entire episode of The Twilight Zone compressed into four minutes, and calling it “absolutely brilliant!” and “marvelous stuff!”

ROMBO called it “a chamber of gentle dread,” praising the EP's mastery of restraint — a composer who understands how much emotional weight can be carried by what is left unsaid and unplayed.

Jer@SBS found “The Box” genuinely staggering and “Almost” a level beyond everything else, declaring the EP one of the best records you'll hear this year — worthy of hanging in the Louvre.

A glowing notice praising the EP as boundary-pushing and deeply immersive — singling out the spoken-word centerpiece “The Box” as “a masterclass in narrative songwriting,” and a project that prizes emotional truth over convention.

An in-depth London review praising the EP's meticulous restraint and literary depth — calling the protagonist of “The Box” “one of the more perfectly conceived characters to appear in a song this decade,” and the record a serious, exacting reckoning with ordinary dread.

London's Chris Bound called the EP “dark, thoughtful, and beautifully crafted” — a slow-burning set of interconnected short stories that simmers with unease and rewards close listening, praising A.G.'s gift for fusing experimental sound design with genuine emotional depth, and crowning the result “a compelling and deeply absorbing experience.”

Called it “a thrilling engagement with the unknown,” praising the EP's avant-garde atmosphere, fearless experimentation, and A.G.'s ability to transport listeners into an alternate reality.

Italy's Parkett hailed the EP as “a thoughtful and highly developed artistic vision,” praising how it balances alternative-rock foundations with literary storytelling and immersive, cinematic electronic textures — suspended between reality and imagination.

Calling the EP “strange, hypnotic, and richly cinematic,” Illustrate Magazine likened it to wandering a forgotten dreamscape where time has stopped — praising A.G.'s command of atmosphere and narrative, and a record that rewards those willing to surrender to its peculiar spell.

Finneas Enright praised the EP as “immersive, intelligent, and quietly haunting,” a slow-burning set of psychological short stories that simmers rather than erupts — singling out “The Box” as one of its most compelling moments, and crediting A.G. with recasting everyday dread as something strangely beautiful.

The UK's Plastic Magazine hailed the EP as “its most immersive and conceptually ambitious work thus far,” praising its deliberate patience and literary influence — a blend of spoken word, prose poetry, and ritual chant set against more familiar song structures — and singling out the disquieting mystery of “The Box” and the extraordinary creativity of “Almost.”

Buzzy Band called it “an EP that rewards the brave” — five tracks of literary spoken word, prose poetry, ritual chant, and full-blown horror storytelling dragged into rock territory, hailing the breathing-package nightmare of “The Box” as pure psychological horror and praising A.G.'s spoken-word delivery as utterly locked-in.