Bedside Uprising from Marching Breath by Draoi

A different kind of Draoi anthem unfurls here, a quiet insurgency born from the exhaustion of endless shifts. The familiar thrum of a bodhrán anchors a tender waltz, an unexpected dance between the worn-out urgency of folk punk and the gentle sway of a deep breath. Instead of outright clang, battered Telecasters offer glassy swells, a surprising shimmer against brushed snares, forging a sound that feels both intimately familiar and strikingly new for us. That original rage, usually shouted from the terrace, settles into a singular, unwavering resolve sung by a voice that learns to sign its name with breath. There’s a mandolin-and-voice round that just… floats, a communal hush that transforms personal panic into a shared, soft rhythm, echoing the album's mantra, 'Hold the line, close your eyes, we march when we breathe,' like a lullaby with an iron spine. It's a testament to the influence of all those quiet acts of defiance, those historical stands for basic human dignity, now turned inward. This piece carves out a sanctuary, an invitation to wear rest like a badge of honour, not an apology, proving the most potent uprising begins right where you are, with nothing but your own defiant heart.

We've been raising hell across Ireland since our first gig ended in a bar fight and three broken strings. Our songs? Pure gutters-to-glory stuff—rebellion, heartbreak, and whiskey-soaked nights that blur into dawn. Punk spirit meets ancient melodies, delivered with spit and fire. Pure madness live.