There’s something gloriously unrestrained about Midnite Radio’s debut EP ‘Auntie’. Right from the start of ‘Reboot The Drought’, it bursts through the door, sequins flashing, amplifiers humming, determined to make you feel something big.
Formed by lifelong friends Lee Coram and Beak Wing in Lebanon, Tennessee, the band carries the chemistry of years spent chasing riffs and half-finished ideas. But ‘Auntie’ is anything but tentative. Joined by Ken Christianson, Miles Martin, and Jon Shearer, the five-piece expand their foundation into something widescreen and unapologetically bold. The result is a collection that leans into drama without losing heart.
Across the EP, guitars shimmer and roar in equal measure. Coram and Shearer trade lines that feel both meticulous and instinctive, weaving texture and punch into every corner. Wing’s percussion anchors the spectacle with muscular precision, while Martin’s bass lines thrum with warmth and propulsion. And at the centre, Christianson’s voice soars in a way that is elastic, emotive, and theatrical without tipping into excess.
What’s most striking about ‘Auntie’ is its sense of scale. This is rock music that understands dynamics as verses breathe before choruses lift off, and quiet moments flicker before detonating into layered crescendos. The arrangements feel carefully constructed yet alive, capturing the electricity of a band fully committed to the moment.
Recorded at Nashville’s Forty One Fifteen studio with engineer Charlie Chamberlain, the EP benefits from a clarity that allows every flourish to shine. The production spotlights harmonies, guitar interplay, and rhythmic shifts that might otherwise get lost in lesser hands.
But beyond the polish, ‘Auntie’ is fuelled by connection. You can hear the camaraderie in the performances and the trust in the risk-taking. It’s the sound of musicians pushing each other toward something brighter, louder, and more expansive than any one of them alone.
In a landscape that often favours restraint, Midnite Radio choose grandeur, and on ‘Auntie’, that choice feels necessary.
