A Cinematic Leeds Rock Single That Hits With 90s Muscle And Real Emotional Friction
listen to the article
Rosso Tierney makes rock music for the moments when conversation stops being enough. On Feel
, the Leeds artist takes a deceptively simple question — if love is there, why doesn’t it always register? — and sends it through distorted guitars, heavy drums and a chorus that demands to be heard. Fast, restless and bruised around the edges, the track carries the immediacy of ’90s alternative rock while keeping its emotional stakes firmly in the present.
That directness comes from an artist who has spent years building a musical vocabulary from the inside out. A multi-instrumentalist across piano, guitar, bass and vocals, Tierney moved through punk bands, DIY releases and touring circuits before arriving at a solo identity with fewer barriers between instinct and execution. Feel
captures that independence particularly clearly. Tierney writes and performs the track himself, with Sam Graves handling production, giving the recording a hand-built physicality: guitars snarl against driving drums before a guitar solo briefly tears open the arrangement.
At its centre is the disconnect between intention and experience. Two people can care deeply for one another and still inhabit entirely different versions of the same relationship. “Tell me that it’s real / I want to feel” distils that tension into a line that sounds less like a request for reassurance than a demand for something tangible. Tierney is writing about the gap between what someone believes they are giving and what another person actually receives — a mismatch that reaches beyond romance into family, friendship and the quieter failures of communication that accumulate between people.
Rather than slowing that uncertainty into a ballad, Tierney keeps pushing forward. The drums give the song punk-like urgency, while the guitars make emotional hesitation feel almost physical. Doubt becomes acceleration; frustration becomes volume. It is an approach that suits the question at the heart of Feel
: when language cannot close the distance, perhaps noise can at least give that distance a shape.
The accompanying video extends that idea into something more cinematic, placing Tierney on a former Second World War runway beside a vintage 1970s Oldsmobile Delta 88. Open tarmac, an old American car and the suggestion of somewhere to go give the song the visual vocabulary of a road movie caught just before departure. That imagery also connects naturally with Tierney’s broader pull toward glam, art rock and classic heavy guitar music without reducing the track to nostalgia.
Feel
ultimately lives in that unresolved space between caring and connecting. Tierney doesn’t tidy the contradiction away. He gives it distortion, velocity and somewhere to go — until an invisible emotional distance becomes something loud enough to register in the body.
If you would like to submit your music for playlist or feature consideration, please submit here via our partnership with MusoSoup.
