Dead Skin Project’s ‘Scarlet Teardrops’ is gloriously gritty gothic revival
There’s something deeply satisfying about an artist who decides, decades into a musical life, to stop asking permission. Dead Skin Project, the fiercely independent creation of a Bishop Auckland lifer who’s been plugged in since the late ’70s, feels like exactly that kind of rebellion. And ‘Scarlet Teardrops’ is its battle cry.
Built on a foundation of snarling guitars and theatrical flair, the single struts in with a wicked grin. There’s a deliciously macabre edge to it, as if it’s winking at you from beneath smeared eyeliner. The song’s energy feels loose and alive, capturing the scrappy thrill of someone rediscovering why they fell in love with rock music in the first place.
What makes ‘Scarlet Teardrops’ land so effectively is its balance of mood and melody. It leans into the darker corners of its aesthetic without losing sight of the hook. The chorus lingers, bold and memorable, with that unmistakable singalong quality that defines the best anthems from rock’s golden era through to glam’s grand theatrics. It’s easy to imagine it echoing out of a smoke-filled club at midnight, arms raised, voices rough and jubilant.
There’s also something poetic about the track’s origins. Words written years ago, once shelved and left dormant, have been resurrected and given new life. That sense of unfinished business gives the song extra weight, like an old ghost finally stepping into the spotlight. Rather than feeling dated, it feels sharpened by time and delivered with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what they want to say.
‘Scarlet Teardrops’ kicks the door open, pours a drink, and reminds you that rock’s heart still beats loudest when it’s created on its own terms. Dead Skin Project may call it a hobby, but this feels like a victory lap decades in the making.