Canadians nnounce new LP ‘The Weathervane Is My Body’ incoming June 26 on The Flenser. Howl through the harsh edges of hardcore and folk with an ending result that is both comforting and confrontational.

Their second full length record is an attempt to answer, an attempt at conciliation through refusal. After relocating from the Alberta prairies to Montréal at just seventeen years old, guitarist and banjoist Paul Lecours and singer-poet Karsyn Henderson navigated the shift from rural life to the city. The two grew up in a small town of 600 people, graduating in a class of nine. By age fifteen they were running a local studio and radio station. There was no industry support, no infrastructure, no template for what they were trying to do, only the work itself and the conviction that it was worth doing. They drew influence from punk, shoegaze, and sludge, and their distinctive sound emerges from years of experimentation across multiple projects, each shaping their evolving sonic identity. Upon their move to Montreal, they were joined by Chris Clegg (bass) and Thomas Hart (percussion) and began building Truck Violence from the ground up. The band’s second full-length record and first with San Francisco’s The Flenser, is the product of that entire process. Every element reflects this. The group composition, the recording, the mixing and the visual media were all produced in house without outside intervention. DIY here is not an aesthetic choice or a marketing angle, it is the only honest option available. The album’s first single arrives alongside a music video directed by Kirill Sommer. Henderson comments: “‘New Jesus’ is a rant about the blatant fascistic slide occurring both to the south of our border and on screen. It is loosely about the ABC—Trump settlement and the post-January 6th election fraud cases. The lack of any broader moral compulsions beyond centralizing power on the political right has led to a culture of post-truth, where there is no reward in accuracy unless it leads to an augmenting of one’s political capital, which it rarely does.” He continues, “This is as destructive in politics as it is in art. There is surprising apathy among young people in regards to this slide, who believe the acquisition of power and the subsequent lording over that occurs, is merely nature, essentially; what will happen, will happen. With these lines of thinking, you find more people sympathetic to this mode, if it is both natural and inevitable, why not acclimate and reap the rewards. Why not join the fascist grift, degenerate art through TikTok, etc…”

Truck Violence, live:
Apr 18 Tilburg, NL — Roadburn
Jun 27 Manchester, UK — Outbreak Festival
Jun 28 Newcastle upon Tyne, UK — Zerox
Jun 29 London, UK — Windmill Brixton
Jun 30 London, UK — Windmill Brixton
Jul 02 Roskilde, DK — Roskilde Festival
Jul 03 Montreuil, FR — Le Chinois
Jul 04 Ieper, BE — Ieper Fest
Jul 05 Rotterdam, NL — Vessel 11
Jul 07 Nottingham, UK — The Old Cold Store
Jul 08 Leeds, UK — Wharf Chambers
Jul 09 Withington, UK — 2000trees
Jul 10 Newport, UK — Le Pub

Rooted in the noise rock and post-hardcore traditions, and steeped in a DIY ethic that runs deep in Canadian underground culture, the new release is uncompromising in its refusal to be anything other than what it is: immediate, self-determined, and built entirely by the hands that imagined it. The album cover was shot on film by the band on Avenue du Parc in Montreal. A figure perches atop a small Quebecois-style house, handbuilt from reclaimed materials, spine curved, legs pulled in, bare-backed against a skyline that dwarfs everything beneath it. A rural thing dropped into the grit of the city, small and out of place and refusing to disappear. The body is naked and defenseless, open to every stimulus the world cares to deliver. This is the album in a single image.

‘The Weathervane Is My Body’ tracklist:

My dog would fuck the air
Jaundiced and reaching for a mother
Compelled by Christy
House caught fire
New Jesus
Your name, It’s walking
Stomach as a tower and the globules descending
Gerard, be quiet
Kindly, wash yourself

Photo by Matthew Van Dystadt-Aguiar