There’s a rawness to Toronto Tapes that hits like a sunrise after a sleepless night—unflinching, flawed, and strangely beautiful. Zweng, the California-born artist once buried in the chaos of the psych-rock underground, has emerged from the wreckage with something astonishing: an album that doesn’t just document recovery, but feels like recovery.
The record is a genre-melding journey through Zweng’s year of sobriety and self-discovery in Toronto. With producer Will Schollar at the boards and Kensington Sound Studios as the canvas, Zweng paints a portrait of a man unafraid to revisit the mess in search of meaning. It’s indie rock with scars—stripped-back but defiant, aching but unashamed.
Tracks like Good To Be Free and Elevation channel the euphoria of emotional rebirth, all while rooted in vintage tones and lived-in storytelling. Covers aren’t just covers here—they’re confessions. His spectral reinterpretation of Pet Sematary turns a Ramones anthem into a metaphor for relapse. Even Uptown Girl gets a sharp, post-social media spin, critiquing the illusion of perfection in a culture obsessed with surface.
But it’s the original compositions where Zweng’s voice fully lands. Marianne and Jeanette are love letters to maternal strength and ancestral ghosts, delivered with the quiet intensity of someone finally learning to listen inward. This is the sound of a man reuniting with himself, one chord at a time.
Zweng doesn’t posture, and he doesn’t plead. He just tells the truth. Toronto Tapes is not a rebrand—it’s a return. And in the landscape of artists chasing trend cycles, Zweng stands out by doing something radical: being exactly who he is.
