Who Put These Landmines in Paradise? The Beginning of John Shambles
- Alyssa Crocker
- Dec 22, 2025
- 4 min read
There’s something quietly exciting about seeing an artist you already admire step slightly to the side and try something new. Landmines is a tiny EP — just three songs — but it feels like the opening chapter of a much bigger story.
This is the first taste of John Shambles, the solo project of Brett Emmons, best known as the unmistakable voice behind one of my all-time favourite Canadian rock bands, The Glorious Sons (who I was lucky enough to see live this year).
Now Before anyone panics: no, Brett hasn’t left the band. This is simply him stretching his legs creatively, and honestly? I’m really glad he did.
With a full debut project expected in April 2026, Landmines feels like a sketchbook — raw, honest, unpolished in the best way. Sonically, it leans into the alternative, indie rock type and if you know me at all, you know that’s right up my alley. It’s quieter than what we’re used to from Brett, more internal, more uncomfortable at times — and that’s exactly what makes it compelling.
The Sound & Overall Feel
What stands out immediately is how Landmines doesn’t try to be big. There’s no arena-sized chorus screaming for attention. Instead, the EP sits with you — messy thoughts, self-doubt, dark humour, emotional spirals and all. The production feels intentionally rough around the edges, like these songs were captured in moments where emotions hadn’t been fully processed yet. There’s a sense of being inside someone’s head, and not always liking what you hear.
This EP feels deeply human. It’s anxious, sarcastic, reflective, and sometimes brutally self-aware. Brett’s songwriting has always had a way of cutting straight to the nerve, and under the John Shambles name, that honesty feels even more exposed.
Track One: “Landmines”
The title track sets the tone immediately. Repetition plays a huge role here, especially with the line “Watch your step”, which feels less like advice and more like a warning — to himself and to anyone listening. Lyrically, this song is loaded with self-reflection and accountability, touching on pride, avoidance, and emotional damage left behind.
Lines like “Don’t forget that people don’t forget / Nothing falls like a strong sense of pride” hit hard because they’re painfully true. Pride is often the quietest landmine — the one you don’t realize you’ve stepped on until it’s too late. There’s also a sharp edge of dark humour and self-criticism throughout, especially in moments where the lyrics spiral into discomfort rather than resolution.
Musically, the track feels restrained but tense, like it’s constantly on the verge of unraveling. It mirrors the lyrical theme perfectly: walking carefully through something beautiful that’s also dangerous. Paradise isn’t always safe — sometimes it’s where the damage is hardest to see.
Track Two: “Try Not to Freak Out”
This song feels like anxiety personified. From the opening lines, it reads like intrusive thoughts written on every surface of your life — walls, signs, mirrors, your own body. The phrase “try not to freak out” becomes almost ironic the more it repeats, because the song itself feels like a quiet panic attack.
There’s something incredibly relatable about lines like “This isn’t my house / These aren’t my plans / Babe could you tell me / Are these my hands?” That sense of disconnection — from yourself, from your life, from expectations — is something a lot of people quietly deal with. The song captures that floating, dissociative feeling without ever overexplaining it.
What I love most here is how vulnerable it feels. There’s no attempt to tie things up neatly. It doesn’t end with answers — just the admission that, despite trying not to freak out, sometimes you absolutely do. It’s honest in a way that’s uncomfortable but refreshing.
Track Three: “Fool in the Woods”
Now .. This is hands-down my personal favourite on the EP. “Fool in the Woods” feels cinematic, almost like a late-night drive where your thoughts get louder the longer you’re alone. The imagery is vivid — trailer parks on cliffs, American girls, ghost songs, frozen lakes — and it all feels deeply nostalgic and haunted.
Lyrically, this song wrestles with stagnation and identity. The repeated line “It’s not so bad and that’s the worst part of it” might be one of the most quietly devastating lines on the EP. There’s something terrifying about being stuck in something that isn’t terrible enough to escape, but isn’t good enough to feel alive either.
The closing lines, especially “Keep me in your plans”, feel soft, almost pleading. It’s a contrast to the cynicism earlier in the track, and it leaves the EP on a note that feels fragile and unresolved — which, again, works perfectly for where this project is right now.
Looking Ahead
With John Shambles’ first live show happening March 13 (Friday) at The Mod Club in Toronto (which is now sold out!!) this project already feels like it’s meant to be experienced in intimate spaces. These songs don’t need spectacle — they need quiet rooms, close crowds, and people actually listening.
Landmines may be small in length, but it’s heavy in feeling. It doesn’t try to redefine Brett Emmons as an artist — instead, it gives us another angle, another voice, another place for his songwriting to exist.
If this EP is any indication of what’s coming with the full debut project in 2026, we’re in for something deeply personal and emotionally resonant and Sometimes the most powerful releases aren’t the loudest ones.
Sometimes they’re the ones that ask you to slow down, watch your step, and sit with the uncomfortable truths hiding beneath the surface. Landmines does exactly that — and I can’t wait to hear where John Shambles goes next.
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