Dark Rhythms and Raw Emotion: Inside the Sound of Remit

There’s a certain charge you feel when a band is just starting to catch fire — that point where DIY energy meets intentional craft. That’s where you’ll find Remit , a three-piece from Melbourne blending coldwave guitar textures, funk-inspired rhythms, and emotionally raw lyricism. I caught up with Jordan, the band's bassist and vocalist, to dig into their creative process, their love for the underground, and why their sound matters right now.

FINDING THE RIGHT FREQUENCY

Remit’s formation wasn’t a calculated industry move — it was the result of years of trial, jam sessions, and shared musical obsession. “Music equates to joy, connection and wildness,” Jordan tells me, reflecting on childhood memories of his dad’s blues and funk records. The trio — Jordan, Sim (guitar), and Rob (drums) — found each other through this shared devotion. Remit, for them, isn’t just a band. It’s the one that finally feels right .

THE SOUND OF STRUGGLE AND GROOVE

It’s not easy to pin Remit down sonically. You hear krautrock influences in their repetitive, motorik rhythms. Sim’s guitar work nods to early goth and coldwave. There’s even a thread of jazz-funk complexity running through their arrangements. “We try to bring rhythmic complexity into our sound in a weird way,” Jordan explains. But what ties it all together are the themes: heartbreak, political unrest, existential drift. This is music built for release — not escapism.

SONGS BUILT FROM LIFE, NOT FORMULAS

For Remit, songwriting is as much release as it is composition. Jordan’s process often starts alone with his bass, letting feelings and phrases surface organically. “If I’m going through something — breakup, pissed off about politics — I grab the bass to feel better,” he says. Songs begin as skeletal grooves or lyrical fragments, then get fleshed out through long-form jamming with the band. It’s a method rooted in instinct and trust — not structure.

LIVING THE UNDERGROUND, AIMING FOR MORE

Remit is proud of their roots in Melbourne’s underground scene. They’ve shared stages with punk and post-punk legends from Japan, and have deep ties to local experimental filmmakers who craft their visual identity. Yet there’s a growing hunger to go further — bigger venues, better sound systems, broader audiences. “We’re keen to get the music out there now,” Jordan tells me. “We think this project can speak to others, not just our own community.”