Song of the Day: “Roses” by Hey Colossus

Mar 12, 2026

Hey Colossus has spent the better part of two decades evolving from a sludge-caked noise outfit into something far more dangerous: a band that actually knows how to write a hook without losing their edge. On Heaven Was Wild, they’ve finally stopped trying to cave your skull in with sheer volume and have instead opted for a sophisticated, psychological dismantling. They’ve successfully shed the “noise rock” skin to reveal something sleek, dark, and danceable—provided your idea of dancing involves staring intensely at a wall in a dimly lit room. It’s the sound of a band that has traded their barbed wire for silk piano wire—it’s smoother, sure, but it’ll still take your head off if you aren’t careful.

The record feels like the natural conclusion to the path they started on Dances/Curses. Where their earlier work was a chaotic brawl in a basement, this is a controlled burn in a high-end gallery. The grooves are deeper, the electronics are more integrated, and Paul Lansley’s vocals have moved from a desperate shout to a commanding, eerie croon. They’ve mastered the art of “heavy” without relying on the distortion pedal as a crutch, proving that tension is often far more effective than an all-out assault.

Heaven Was Wild is a “warts and all” document that sounds like it was captured in a frantic five-day fever dream in Somerset—because it was, prioritizing the spirit of the take over the perfection of the mix. It’s a record for people who like their rock music to have a few unironed creases and a bit of dirt under its fingernails. It might not be their most “perfect” release, but it’s certainly one of their most human.

While other tracks like “Cannibal Forecast” offer a sludgy swagger, or “Clock” with a more frantic sprint, “Roses” is the heavy, hypnotic heart of the album. Unlike the high-bpm tracks, “Roses” gives the band’s triple-guitar assault room to breathe, utilizing a heavy, dragging groove that feels like it’s pulling you through thick mud—but in a way that feels strangely luxurious. Paul Sykes delivers a performance here that is arguably his most evocative on the record. He isn’t shouting over the noise; he’s weaving through it. In the periphery of this track is a hint of sinister, floral decay that lives up to its name. It’s beautiful in a way that suggests something is beginning to rot just out of frame.