Pinwheel Valley’s ‘Can’t Hear A Sound’ Signals EP on the Horizon

Pinwheel Valley / Image Credit: Yazeed Malkawi

Out October 3rd, 2025, Pinwheel Valley delivered ‘Can’t Hear A Sound’ via Hot Soap Records, priming fans for the November arrival of EP Hello From Afar. The band, fronted by Jordanian-Canadian multi-instrumentalist Qais Khoury, evolved from his solo KAIS days into a live unit with Stephanos Marangos ripping guitar duties, Max Daniels anchoring bass and electronics, and rotation between drummers Stephanos Meletiou and Phrangiskos Petrisis.

They’ve hit 2 million streams, landed spots in CLASH Magazine, METAL Magazine, Kaltblut Magazine, NOTION, Earmilk, and Billboard Argentina, plus spins on BBC Radio London, BBC Radio Sheffield, RTÉ 2FM, and NPR Music. Standouts include ‘Your Superman’ bowing at No. 13 on US iTunes Alternative, and award-winning visuals for ‘Willow’ and ‘Abduction’ taking top honors at New York Film Awards, Vegas Movie Awards, and Swedish International Film Festival. Rooted in Qais‘s cross-continental life—Amman to Vancouver, London at Point Blank Music School, now Cyprus with Hot Soap Studios Ltd.—and early exposure to his father’s Sinatra and Elton John covers, the sound pulls from Jeff Buckley, Bon Iver, James Blake, and Radiohead to forge indie soul edges with mellow alt-rock drive and folktronica textures.

‘Can’t Hear A Sound’ hits as a brooding alt-rock lament penned and produced by Qais Khoury, its folktronica undercurrents giving way to indie soul heft through aching guitar work and taut string sections. Drums lock in with a measured punch, framing vocals that strain against the mix, evoking the grounded ache of Radiohead or Alberta Cross while nodding to City and Colour‘s introspective grit. The arrangement breathes, letting emotional peaks land with precision rather than force.

Qais Khoury had this to say: “Can’t Hear A Sound’ is a song of bloodlines and soil, of war and the restless pull of home. It is a cry carried on the wind, calling to kin who have wandered astray, drawn into circles that could never hold them. A plea for their return to the ground where their fathers lie sleeping. It is both invocation and vow — a promise to shield them, body and soul, whatever the cost, and to guard the earth that holds their roots. The song does not turn away from the truth that the land itself has been altered — that war has crept to our own shores, reshaping the very fields we swore to protect. The silence is no longer peace but the ringing echo of bombs, a quiet so loud it haunts the ear. Yet in the midst of this devastation, the song reaffirms its oath: that to remain bound to one’s roots is the only way to live honestly, to find a way through the world without becoming lost.

Stream ‘Can’t Hear a Sound’:

Follow Pinwheel Valley:

WebsiteInstagramFacebookSoundcloudTikTokYoutubeSpotify