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The Sounding Board

Slip inside This House's noisy and winning new album

A weekly column where New Music Tuesdays live on. Conversation is encouraged in the comments.

Soft Rains Will Come

Every Tuesday, the Sounding Board is a space for a short-ish review of a recent-ish release and conversations about new-to-you music. We’ll get things started with a write-up about a newer, likely under-heard album, and invite you to share your music musings in the comments.

On certain stressful, over-caffeinated days, I can feel my pulse in my glasses. It’s a fluttering throb of tension at my temples that registers as external stimulus but is all internal pressure. 

It’s the same spot tickled by the noise blasts and spasmodic rhythms of Soft Rains Will Come. The new album is the second collaboration between noise mavens  G.W. Sok and Ignacio Córdoba, who expanded the project’s sound and roster for this eight-song batch of twitchy, pulsing goodness.1 On their second team-up, This House’s core duo is joined by Søren Høi on drums and Kristian Tangvik on synthesizer.2 The additional personnel adds bombast, complexity and depth to Soft Rains Will Come, resulting in an album of noisy wheels within wheels that spin in independent yet complementary directions. Those disparate propulsive forces push the album through an assortment of prickly genre neighborhoods, including ambient noise, noise rock, math rock and industrial rock. 

That makes for an angular, jittery listen. Discordant electronic hums and glitchy crackles, wilting guitar chords, urgent drums and the flat, authoritative honk of Sok’s voice create a humid, insular and compellingly charged atmosphere.3 Aside from the LP’s title track, which finds a sing-song melody after a couple of twitchy minutes, obvious hooks and approachable instrumentation are in fairly short supply. 

Soft Rains Will Come might be the least cuddly album to feature a song with “Butterfly” in its title.4 Still, This House offers a few pieces of ear candy for folks who might ordinarily bounce off this sort of album, a work that wraps up with “Shoelaces.” That track is a couple of minutes of lyrics steeped in dismal sentiment, capped by roughly four minutes of gradually fading semi-structured noise. 

The fleeting glimpses of a more straightforward rock band often intermingle with Soft Rains Will Come’s most oblique or strident moments. Few things are more immediate than a thunderous drum fill like the kind Høi calls up to give the sloshing sounds that wind down “Shoelace” some sense of shape. The power chords that follow the jagged metal-on-metal screeching sounds on “Burned House” form the sort of big, bright lick that could slot into a Rage Against the Machine song, and are another example of This House’s penchant for putting a light at the end of a self-imposed tunnel. The dark passageway itself is rewarding, too. 

Soft Rains Will Come has a lot to offer fans of weird noise and intense feelings. Dental drills, construction equipment, Mark Sandman’s oddball jerry-rigged bass and “Atrocity Exhibition” — both the Danny Brown album and Joy Division song — all come to mind while listening to the album. It’s nice that there are flecks of brightness mixed into the brutalist concrete, but the sturdy abrasion is functional and admirable on its own. That, combined with a sharklike commitment to constant motion throughout the album, makes This House hard to leave. 

  1. It was released on March 20, 2026, via a handful of labels depending on locale. These include Pink Cotton Candy Records in Denmark, in collaboration with Ramble Records in Australia and Red Wig in Germany. People who dig the stuff I choose to write about in this space would probably enjoy Dustsucker, the blog portion of Pink Cotton Candy’s website. ↩︎
  2. Sok and Córdoba are the album’s sole credited songwriters. Sok is the project’s lead vocalist. Córdoba contributed guitar, synthesizer, programming, bass, backing vocals, produced, engineered and mixed. ↩︎
  3. I saw Xiu Xiu open for Swans during a muggy Midwestern summer at some point in the early-to-mid ’10s. I remember my ears ringing in humid darkness after the opening set and eagerly awaiting more confounding auditory input while having no real sense of what to expect next. This album approximates that feeling. ↩︎
  4. Maybe Butterfly by Mariah Carey is the most cuddly? Pinkerton by Weezer can occupy the exact pupal midpoint between cuddly and repulsive (mostly complimentary). ↩︎