Quiet Sonia - Wild and Bitter Fruits
debut ep


Wild and Bitter Fruits is the debut-EP of Quiet Sonia.
Blending indie rock, folk, post-rock and  shoegaze – with inspiration from jazz, techno, ambient and modern classical – the result is a  kaleidoscopic, multi-colored, genre-defying, almost mosaic-like listening experience, brimming  with details and rewarding repeated listenings. Singer, producer and guitarist Nikolaj Bruus has  written, recorded and mixed Wild and Bitter Fruits almost entirely on his own (with the exception  of much appreciated help from a few bandmates and sporadic professional assistance), learning  many things from scratch, and the result is an exercise in an almost dogma-less work with all the  control and detail-work that follows. At centre stage is compositions and explorations on acoustic  steel string guitar and vocal – in densely layered arrangements among instruments such as violin,  piano, banjo and synths besides the traditional rock line up – taking you on long adventurous and  emotional journeys demanding your full listening attention, from the fragile and bittersweet to the  uncompromising and brutal.

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This Tender Violence
No Weeping Melts the Armor
THis Tender Violence

listen to Wild and Bitter Fruits

“With This Tender Violence, I tried to create a dark, melancholic, dreamy and grandiose track. I wanted to explore whether it was possible to recreate a sort of ‘big music’ or ‘wall of sound’ aesthetic (inspired by The Waterboys and Phil Spector), if I could unite Bashoes furious energetic solo-guitar playing with a rockband context. The sound had to be violent, embracing, energetic.”

-Nikolaj Bruus,
Lead Singer Quiet Sonia.

Wild and bitter fruits

More about the album

personal notes

This Tender Violence

Album-opener This Tender Violence is perhaps the most ‘traditional’ track on the EP. The track embodies a modern folk-dimension, an inspiration from American Primitivism, a dream pop / shoegaze context and threads to classic rock. The lyrics are inspired by minimalistic confessional poetry (Raymond Carver, Robert Lowell, Robert Creeley) – how much can you say in a simple everyday language with a simple setting, a few actions and a few chosen symbols, and most important of all, everything that isn’t said – and describes anxiety in a disintegrating relationship.

No Weeping Melts the Armor

No Weeping Melts the Armor is a long crazy epic rock composition with aggressive nerve, intensity  and underplayed pop-sensibility. The lyrics are a sort of postmodern collage semi-cut-up protest  song. Talk about pulling teeth. In the original version, the track was 3:30. Suddenly, after a year and  a half, it was over 16 minutes. A true wild and bitter fruit. It’s an euphoric, energetic and melodic  indie-pop / rock track with references to Magnetic Fields, Bruce Springsten ‘Born To Run’-era,  Arthur Russell, Aphex Twin, My Bloody Valentine. The tone had to be positive with an aura of hope  and longing. The compositional and aesthetic experiment was more is more and working with an  almost linear form: Pushing it longer and longer, and then a little bit longer. I’m not sure it worked  out completely, but at least (I hope), it’s fresh, it’s different.

Wild and bitter fruits



Like a fever. Dizzy, light-headed. Short of breath. How to move safely from the bedroom to the kitchen. And if noticed what to say. Without confessing that you’re blushing. It’s heart-achingly cruel. 

Blue bike crashing into funeral car. Rain on church windows, I’ve been up all night. This tender violence, something I cannot fix. Tomorrow, all your favourite things. 

But how, how could I share. This state of fear and withdrawal. Try to pin down in a few words. Lift my hands and let them fall.


As long as the pulse of life beats in you. 

That striped sunlight sound. As the bullets thud into flesh. Visible to the world, no secrets, way it is. For God almighty, get the corpses out of sight. Talk of strength, health and beauty. Arrange these little symphonies for the kids. Today all I see, shoppers and surfers. Where’s edge and the fucking dreams, I’d say.

Pure action. On the edge of a catastrophe. No weeping melts the armor. A single tortuous line …

Suffocation, heat, ecstasy and pain. Shaking hands with the funeral director. Flares from fireworks, a dying cigarette. Silk and cocaine. Fuzzy flowers, dead rubber tires. Rats, cats and crack homes, tech-fixes, self-hacks. Watch the clock go tick tock tick tock. The voice of suffering nature.

Pure action. On the edge of a catastrophe. No weeping melts the armor. A single tortuous line.

Aware of everything, committed to nothing. Like the heartbeat of a stone. Call for music’s revenge on an unmusical world. Why would you strip the naked? Everything we held sacred, stolen our spirits, buried them under earth … As we grow old in youth.

Now salvage your last scraps of dignity. Show some guts, soul and presence. ’Cause I’ve seen the last of the human cities. And tears welled up in my eyes.

Ecstasy like a thirsty dog. Shattered bodies piercing together some silent sadness. Explosions, whistles, whispers, creaks. As long as the pulse of life beats in you.

No weeping melts the armor. On the edge of a catastrophe. 

Pure action. On the edge of a catastrophe. No weeping melts the armor. A single tortuous line. 

I’ve seen the last of the human cities. Tears welled up in my eyes.



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