August 18, 2026
Tracks in this feature
Tracks in this release
What is the online avatar but the sword of the netizen? A noble extension of the warrior, activated – enchanted even – by touch. They are both a tool to carve out one’s destiny, be it in the server or IRL.
In this sense, Enraile is right at home, a native of the World Wide Web, as shown on previous releases. His new album explores arguably the ultimate weapon, beloved by the internet: the sword. Namely, cool ones. Purple jewels shining out and luring in the 16-year-old warrior from the glossy pages of a catalogue – ornamental, but not for long.
The artist employs his usual internet collage style, throwing in waymarkers in the form of action-movie taglines that land like brainrot Berserk in text-to-speech. Pulling up R&B, glitchy rave sounds and video game-style sequences and despatching them just as quickly. Glittering synths on Transaction glow with an RPG-like nobility before being sideswiped by phasing beats.
A digital wind graces the face of the warrior on Peace To This World. But this moment of quiet honour and wistfulness is pulled into a gaming arena and filled with vaulting neon synths.
In these moments, we see stoic notions of war-worn duty clash with the cringe-inducing vibrancy of the internet. The sacred samurai lit by neon pinks and blues. And Enraile purposely pinballs us like this a few times; real life and the warrior’s existence mesh together in a flurry of blue flames and skulls. Ironically, on this track, we land in languishing metrosong-style guitar; an apt hero’s rest.
Blades are made stout and then thin as pixels stretch on Gz. A quaint track communicating pride is made gaunt and podgy repeatedly, stuttering and starting again. The ancient and sacred is morphed and malformed, before Galadriel Springs of pads begin to flow.
In the end, the wielder is made mad by their weapon. At least, that is what they tell themselves. “A solemn madness hones his blade,” the voice says on Opportunity 1111. But the struggles of the sword and the wielder are inseparable; the two are caught in a death spiral together; the hilt is a kill switch.
The closing track is a wasteland following the battle between the real and the digital. Birdsong twirls and echoes; the landscape is poisoned by boinging FX. The cool swords are shattered, replaced by the clinking of reloading guns and walkie-talkie calls for cover.
A hero desires a sword, and a sword desires truth. On Enraile’s Cool Swords, the hero’s weapon is his ultimate undoing. Led by their weapon towards reality: warriors made tough by wars and wistful panpipes are a make-believe. The real battle is out there, in the wastelands of the real, where that powerful weapon sits much more comfortably as pixelated images on your phone.
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