I introduced The House Flies to our readers with “Sweet Foxhound” last September. Today, they return with a compelling new chapter in their musical evolution. Hailing from Moline, Illinois, this four-piece has slowly developed a unique sound at the intersection of post-punk, goth rock, shoegaze, and grunge. From the Glimmer EP to their full-length debut, Mannequin Deposit, they’ve built an identity around dark atmospheres, melodic instincts, and a distinctly Midwestern character. Now, with Alex Riggen, Burnie Eckhardt, Ozzie Woods, and Nick Pompou operating as a unified four-piece, they deliver “Lions and Ore,” a seven-track album that finds them more expansive, confident, and emotionally assured.
Released today, November 6, and recorded in Alex Riggen’s basement, “Lions and Ore” thrives on contrast. Quiet, atmospheric passages give way to crushing guitar sections, while persistent post-punk rhythms hold everything together. The production retains an intimate, almost raw quality without sacrificing the album’s broader sonic ambitions. Burnie Eckhardt’s first full-length appearance with the band brings another dimension to the guitar arrangements, helping create a cohesive, adventurous record. Let’s delve into the journey.
Opening with “Goodnight, Goodnight, Lover Dear,” the band establishes an atmosphere of forbidden love, religious repression, and private longing. References to “Father’s hymn,” the “chapel loft,” and “collared shirts in southern town” evoke a world governed by shame and tradition. Against this backdrop, “Even bones lose faith in here” becomes devastating. The vocals are intimate and controlled, giving the song’s emotional tension room to breathe before its final suggestion, “no more need to kneel today,” offers a glimpse of freedom.
The second song, “Lost Literature,” brings a more melodic, dreamlike perspective. Its images of “a rental car” crossing the “highway night” unfold like fragments of a fading memory. The repeated “And who you are, and who you were” captures uncertain identity and the distance between past and present. Hazy guitars, steady rhythms, and an understated vocal performance make this one of the album’s most absorbing moments.
On “Derelict Crawl,” repetition becomes an instrument. The unsettling imagery of “boil the leather and take our shoes off” and “leather stains the bone” suggests physical and emotional deterioration. The lines, “All dialtone, one two now gone. We don’t belong,” deliver the song’s central feeling of alienation. The heavy guitars and persistent rhythmic drive give the track its weight, with the vocals reinforcing its disquieting atmosphere.
The fourth song, “Snakes and Toads,” explores devotion at its most vulnerable and disturbing. The lines, “stitch my eyes shut, guide me home to you,” capture an almost complete surrender to another person, while “Your silence beckons me home” blurs the distinction between comfort and obsession. Its references to snakes, toads, and psalms lend the song a ritualistic quality. The repeated “Come close, my love” becomes increasingly haunting against the dark instrumental backdrop.
With “Count Us Down,” the album briefly softens its edges. The lines, “I took your hand, love, and we dreamt in Brazil,” introduce a tender recollection of intimacy, while streetlights, summer heat, and nighttime imagery reinforce its nostalgic mood. The hypnotic refrain, “Sleep count us down and take us home,” gives the song a beautiful sense of surrender. The vocals are especially effective here, carrying melancholy without slipping into sentimentality.
“Shelter Me” returns to heavier ground, painting a bleak landscape of desert heat, crumbling walls, and buried memories. “Alcove low we crawl” and “I’ll smother it all” suggest a desperate retreat from a hostile world, while “old cord, old wire and old photos” speaks to the burden of the past. Its shifting dynamics, thick guitar textures, and urgent performance make it one of the album’s physically imposing moments.
Closing with “The Glass, The Orchard,” and as the album’s longest track, the band leaves us with a quieter meditation on romantic fascination and emotional control. Lines like “Hold your comments now, hold your feelings down,” capture the struggle to contain overwhelming feelings, while “Keep me in frame, I’ll remain still” expresses the desire to be remembered and held in someone’s world. The dreamy guitars and an understated vocal delivery give the track a lingering, bittersweet quality that makes it a fitting conclusion.
“Lions and Ore” works so well because The House Flies command dynamics. The vocals never need to overstate their emotions; their restrained delivery makes the darker lyrical passages more convincing. The guitars move effortlessly between melody, atmosphere, and distortion, while the rhythm section supplies the muscular foundation that keeps the songs grounded. The basement recording gives everything an appealing immediacy, allowing the performances to retain their physical character.
With “Lions and Ore,” The House Flies have made a confident and rewarding statement of intent. Seven songs, each with its emotional landscape, come together in a cohesive and unpredictable record. Having first introduced themselves to our readers through “Sweet Foxhound,” the band now returns with something considerably more ambitious. Alex Riggen, Burnie Eckhardt, Ozzie Woods, and Nick Pompou have created an album that deserves to travel well beyond their Midwestern home. Dark, melodic, heavy, and deeply human, “Lions and Ore” is a welcome return from a band whose evolution is becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
Listen to “Lions and Ore” on Spotify
Follow The House Flies here for more information
