Brighton’s The New Eves are rewriting the rulebook.
Part folkloric-journal, part punk manifesto, these women fuse together cello, violin, drums, flute and bass into urgent music that resists being coaxed into any genre.
As Nina Winder-Lind puts it:“This project has been about us redefining ourselves, and we hope anyone who’s listening can be inspired by that.”
Their debut album The New Eve Is Rising, out August 1st, is being hailed as a seismic arrival.
The opening track, also titled The New Eve, is less a song than a spoken-word declaration – Nina Winder-Lind delivering lines meant to be screamed, marched to, chanted in rebellion. It reads as a manifesto of autonomy and myth-making.
Critics have likened their sound to punk-era Velvet Underground meets folk-horror drama. Tribal rhythms gallop like horses, voices echo off imagined clifftops, and a sense of ritual pulses through every track. Far from derivative, it creates its own universe: “a dangerous, dreamy collision of acid folk, krautrock, anarcho-punk and raw harmonies.”
Word around the London and Brighton DIY scenes is that their live show feels transcendental. They don homemade white costumes, call upon experimental ballet, and mix chanting with amplified strings. As Ella Oona Russell says, “The space we go into when we perform feels quite far away from regular life… it’s amazing that we can bring people there with us.”
Their recent singles Highway Man — reimagined from Alfred Noyes’ poem with a female-first twist — and Cow Song, inspired by kulning (Swedish cattle calls), and field-recorded around a cow named Bonnie, have pushed beyond indie folk’s safe boundaries.
They call their sound “Hagstone Rock,” named after pebbles that supposedly reveal hidden truths, because listening through their music feels like peering into your own mythology.
With their debut heralding a new chapter, The New Eves aren’t just emerging, they’re erupting. Rewriting ancient tales, reclaiming a voice for women and redefining genre lines without playing by anyone else’s guide.
Their scene is British, their roots are folk, but the music they make is implacable and vital — alive on its own terms.
Georgie Tancred
