Lebanese Post-Hardcore Band GLIDDEEE Release EP About Resistance [Lebanon]

Lebanese Post-Hardcore band GLIDDEEE just came out with their debut EP KINETIC FLAW. The band started in 2022 as a duo of two friends, before shifting into a full lineup in 2024. They formed at a time when punk-centred music started to decline in the local scene, leaving the members without many options to play. Thankfully, in 2024, there is an influx of interest in punk music, reflective of the still ongoing political and economic turmoil that the country saw. Thanks to the passionate people of the Dajjeh collective, the band got the chance to play their music with like-minded bands in a scene filled with polished production and saturated monotony. Soon, GLIDDEEE established themselves in their local scene with their uncompromising sound, unpredictable stage antics, and unfiltered stances. The band decided to close this already strong year of music releases in their country with a varied shifting sound of hardcore, post-rock, and noisy shoegaze in their new EP “KINETIC FLAW” along with their already released singles: the energetic “SUPERTASEUR” and the blistering epic “INHALER”.

KINETIC FLAW arises as a piece carrying not only GLIDDEEE’s evolution but also the changes it underwent externally, with both the underground scene and Lebanon as a whole as backdrops. From switching drummers to experiencing an uncertain landscape, the EP makes these vicarious themes personal and metabolizes them into music, carrying emotions of each of the band’s individual members. Their art was both born out of the scene’s tough entrances and exits and stands without compromise despite it. GLIDDEEE’s fusion showcases a distinct sound and philosophy, recognizable across their work.

In terms of development, much of the EP’s sound has been a long time coming for Marco, Chris, and Ali, with Elizabeth carrying forward Younes’ drumming compositions after his departure from the group in early 2025. While his mark—both musical and philosophical—remains, Elizabeth has asserted herself with her own sound, allowing these compositions to breathe new air and adding in much of her own flair as well as work in itself. These changes took place at the same time as much unrest throughout their environment. With worries of imminent collective and an uncertain future, GLIDDEEE’s uncompromising sound arises in staunch protest, insisting on the birth of as true a vision as they could put together, with Joy Moughanni’s seasoned skills on production/mixing.

As soon as we press play, we’re immediately bombarded with screeching guitar feedback from Marco Bazerji in the blistering opener NEPOTISM AT HEART, a noisy, properly uneasy introduction to KINETIC FLAW. A sound as rebellious as the band’s mantra, local scene, and writing. Carrying a hardcore composition—not only poking fun at the concept of nepotism in the entertainment industry but also subconsciously reflecting on the difficulties of integrating into the underground scene. A protest, a lesson, and a reminder of what GLIDDEEE has to offer. Bazerji sings with torn vocals, weaving lyrical cynicism with a desperate sound: “Time to sway enormous expectations / Capitalizing a youth sensation.” As the track slips from silence back into noise, it offers a renewed nihilism, reinforcing an encrypted protest. Demonstrative and almost childish, tied together by the band’s synthesis.

Without any time to catch our breath, we’re immediately attacked with their daring lead single INHALER, a triple feature of hardcore, shoegaze, and post-rock, brought together by a monologue emblematic of the band’s writing. It’s kicked off by a grainy sample of what appears to be a CPAP machine’s noises, actually created by an old film camera, immediately imposing themes of difficulty breathing and fighting against it. With an intense first half illustrating the senses within a world that feels like it’s watching you die, a partnership is encapsulated by “The blood-soaked sun cries as we melt through its rays / Thorns from our lungs punctured in as we fucking strolled.” The track’s second half brings in a sense of fragile hope, quickly brought back full circle—shattered: “But soon turned dark with no doubts, no second-guessing, waiting with no care, / No pondering if I’ll go either above or below.” Truly breathless, noisy, and imposing, blending distorted and at times lo-fi sound with crystal-clear interludes and interjections. Here, the guitar’s chest-stabbing high ends are contrasted and built by the bass and drums’ hard thumping, like a protesting heartbeat, alive still as the song goes on. These weigh on the band and listener: the hostile instability of the environment and country, a place where you can’t sit still but moving forever could kill you all the same. We are forcibly adjusted to shifts like these, torn apart and put back together, losing something to gain another, and fighting for what’s left—the distorted sounds leading between themselves and bouts of clarity. Both are representative of internal conflict and the ever-shifting situation in Lebanon, as it slips between crisis, war, and destruction of home. A true reminder of what it means not to breathe.

After a moment of silence, we’re immediately thrown back with MIGRAINE GREEN. A full-bodied dub bassline from Ali Hamdar, forming a drum swing that drags along with it; a swing heavy enough it’ll give you a headache. Stereo distortion, synthetic textures in one ear, and noise in the other—tactile. The band’s collective sound, smug vocals, and a nauseous story. Green sleeves, green vomit, a green headache, and greener words. Sounds of thought blended with stimuli of the outside and attacks from the familiar. Elizabeth’s drum work shines through especially, overlaying the track’s rhythmic intent, merging its older sound with its more recent stylistic choices in a symphonic evolution of sound over an old story. Merging her ethic with Younes, the band’s old drummer’s contribution, she breathes life back into a shelved track given many iterations. This also applies to Bazerji, telling a story not entirely his own, making it a theatrical recounting set to a groove that stands out.

After all the bleak seriousness from that first set of songs, here comes their debut single and their most accessible song thus far, SUPERTASTEUR: GLIDDEEE’s musical spread, their gritty punk tastes. Fast-paced, loud, and insistent with a powerful bass undercutting the ensemble and vocals to match—almost drowned out, just clear enough to complete the circle. Guitars joining and clashing, the sounds of struggle and victory, the achievement of SUPERTASTEUR. A flagship track—punchy, consistent, and memorable, a good initial scent of the band’s output. Chris Aoun’s guitar work contributes to the cacophony, making a statement piece out of SUPERTASTEUR. Their first release, and what could be argued to be their most accessible, it outputs an energy of movement, encouraging a curiosity. The drum work here is attributed to Younes Rizk. He offers a more desperate, forceful rhythm, melding with the sections holding strained vocals, showcasing a different dynamic entirely. A blueprint.

“Am I feeling sore? / Or was it from before?” REGGAGE builds on the spirit of their debut single, carrying a jam and the band’s synergy. A lead-in with some groovy bass lingering as its foundation, returning prominently in interludes underlying intricately layered vocals. Breaks for a punk-y waltz where the lyrics take center stage alongside Aoun’s ever-disruptive guitar work egging it all on. A tug of war between packed noise and moving funk, where you can just about see the mosh forming and just about hear the excitement it could bring, while the song screams about pleasing no one. Originally born out of a jam of GLIDDEEE’S, REGGAGE displays the resonance the band has formed over its time as a collective, made more impressive by Elizabeth’s relatively recent participation in it. A song on lack of control displaying the band’s deep understanding of its own sound and motifs.

“Get off your sad face”: A treat of emotive lament on closer TEMPORARY. The heart of GLIDDEEE’s raison d’être. A tunnel of strongly felt sound, the drums’ high ends hitting both ears, high treble until the bass offers room to settle. Here, the center of the band’s “outsider” aesthetics can be heard, an internal chaos innate to their music, its permanence, and every step it must have taken to bring KINETIC FLAW full circle. It brings out begging for just a little bit more, a good encore. A standout of Chris’ patent arrhythmic guitar composition is the heart of the track’s slow closing off of motifs. “I guess if no one pays attention / Would we even come back after this?” One of Bazerji’s many questions posed throughout TEMPORARY; the end of their battle, for the time being. Conflicts measured through song are brought to a tentative close, until there’s another story to tell.

Amidst all the uncertainty, they produce a clear vision made to be entirely theirs, a lamentation on the beauty in conflict, of musicalizing internal violence. It feels as if this is just the cusp of their capability as a collective—there is much to look forward to.

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