Hold On Tight: Lost Pitch and the Thrill of a Bumpy Ride
Nate Kline
Written by Nate Kline in Sonic Journeys Music

Hold On Tight: Lost Pitch and the Thrill of a Bumpy Ride

Toronto’s indie-rock scene has a knack for birthing bands that think big — not just sonically, but visually and conceptually. Lost Pitch is one of those rare acts that refuse to color inside the lines. The four-piece — Erick Vidal, Leandro Motta, Ricardo Santos, and Alex Mine — blur the space between sound, story, and image, building worlds that feel equal parts dreamlike and lived-in. Their debut album Bumpy Ride, out October 24, is a full-throttle statement of intent: bold, unpredictable, and deeply cinematic.

If their 2024 EP Friends & Foes hinted at ambition, Bumpy Ride delivers it in widescreen. The record sounds like it was born from both a garage jam and a fever dream. You can feel the grit of real instruments, the intimacy of DIY recording, but also the scale of something grander — like an indie film that accidentally turned into a blockbuster. Mastered at Abbey Road Studios by Frank Arkwright (Oasis, The Smiths, Blur), it’s a record that somehow manages to be both polished and raw, grounded and surreal.

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The band’s frontman, Erick Vidal, admits the title wasn’t a concept at first — it was a confession. The album was born from a year that tested every ounce of their endurance. Recorded between home studios, Bumpy Ride carries that restless, makeshift energy: late nights, endless takes, and the beautiful chaos of doing everything yourself. The band tracked strings, brass, vocals, and drums on their own, transforming limitations into fuel. You can hear it in the songs — the hum of persistence beneath every chord.

Leading the charge is the single “It’s a Trap!”, a fierce, defiant anthem that captures the band’s creative heartbeat. Written during one of Vidal’s toughest stretches — family illness, a back injury, even a streaming hiccup that temporarily erased their catalog — the track became his punch back at life. It bursts out of the speakers with gritty guitars, bright harmonies, and that stubborn spark of resilience: “You can’t keep me down.” It’s not just catchy — it’s cathartic.

What makes Lost Pitch stand out is their cinematic imagination. Every song feels like a scene, every arrangement a frame. Even the cover art — a woman falling from a carousel horse — speaks to their instinct for drama and duality. It’s beautiful and unsettling, mirroring the way Bumpy Ride moves between chaos and grace. Tracks slip from lush ballads to pounding anthems, never settling into one mood for long. But that’s the point. The band leans into instability — it’s their muse.

Listening to Bumpy Ride feels like flipping through snapshots of a very human year: messy, loud, fleetingly perfect. It’s an album that celebrates imperfection and turns turbulence into texture. By the time the last song fades, you get the sense Lost Pitch isn’t just making music — they’re making sense of the noise, and inviting us along for the ride.

Lost Pitch, by Judah Hernandez
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