Meet the Newest Name in Doom-Rock with The Waking Point's latest EP, 'Rose Colored Violence'


By now, the apocalyptic Alt-Rock amalgamations being pumped out of Sadie Belica's DIY studio in LA shouldn't come as a surprise. The moody chanteuse performing under the nom de plume "The Waking Point," has been making a name for herself through her unique stratagem in creating nostalgia-inductive rock tunes that drip with ominous energy since her years of enormous workloads and sleepless nights that come with achieving a Doctoral Degree. It wasn't long until Belica's Music would attract remark, being featured on Loudwire and The Deli LA for her authentic combination of Acid-rock arrangements and the ceremonious theatrics that deduce behind each live performance, or behind each take in the vocal booth.


With this year blanketing the entire globe within a bleak pensive state, it's not clear whether to be more outraged by the pandemic, the social injustices surround minorities, or the climate deteriorating in plain sight.

It's a sentiment that the Chicago-native tries to encapsulate through her Moniker, which she's stated as being incited by "the public's resistance to face the threat of climate change." That being said, the most apparent frustration she holds with the state of affairs can be felt, heard, and pictured through her latest hot-blooded Gloom-Rock Extended Play, 'Rose Colored Violence.'


Here, Belica gathers from the touchstones of her influences in Nirvana, Alice and Chains, and Black Sabbath, for a dusky witching-hour venture through an EP that leaves a distinct buzzing after-taste in your mouth. With relentless oozy vibe, black-hued reverberating rooms, and scintillating guitars orchestrations, Belica takes her serrated vocal edges and uses them to cut through the cobwebs of the Contemporary norm, and traverses into a unique and uncontested territory of dusky, obscure, and festering sonic voids.


The Eponymously titled single off "Rose Colored Violence" is like an unstoppable force accelerating through an immovable object. Belica and the tight-knit band behind her, featuring a searing electric guitar, an edgy mid-range heavy bass, and all-out thumping drums, thrust forward out of the gates with unrelenting enthusiasm as if the breakthrough a cemented barrier in front of them. When the haughty songstress takes grips over the microphone, her presence and raspy tone communicate an invading sense of vehemence as she chaper