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Punk Bars and Bleeding Strings

Alright, here’s the real lineup, since people keep getting it twisted:

Yael spits verses like they’re molotov cocktails—pure fire, no filter.

Andrew has that kind of voice that makes your spine vibrate. Lead singer. Big lungs, bigger feelings.

Paige holds it down on bass, steady like a riot’s heartbeat.

Camilo is our chaos engine behind the drum kit. No click track, no mercy.

And me? I’m Clement. I shred electric guitar like it owes me money.

Tonight felt like the band cracked open something real. We were working on this hybrid track, kind of punk with a grimey, underground rap backbone. Yael freestyled over the bridge and I swear, time paused for a second. The kind of moment where you know something just clicked and you’ll never play that part the same way again.

Andrew jumped in on the hook with this raw, shouted chant. “No crown for the heartless / no peace for the kings”—over and over again until it felt like a protest.

My fingers are cut up from pushing too hard on old strings. Worth it.

Paige just kept nodding like, this is it. Like we found our sound. Camilo added this off-time snare thing that should’ve sounded wrong but somehow made it perfect. The whole track is chaos dressed like truth.

We’re still broke. Still playing garages and dreaming about stages. But tonight? We were something big. Bigger than the room, bigger than the noise.

We are the next big thing...



Come find us before we blow up.