Wine Lips – If You Don’t Know
Toronto’s Wine Lips have spent the last decade developing the kind of garage rock that seems permanently on the verge of overheating. Their songs move quickly, the guitars are dirty and psychedelic, the drums hit with tremendous energy, and there has always been something wonderfully uncontrolled about the whole thing. Yet their new single, If You Don’t Know, released on August 7, 2026, reveals another side of the band. The noise and urgency remain, but underneath them lies a surprisingly thoughtful song about growing older and discovering that time does not wait for anyone.
Wine Lips formed in Toronto in 2015 around singer, guitarist and principal songwriter Cam Hilborn and drummer Aurora Evans. Initially conceived as something of a side project, the band gradually developed into one of the more distinctive names in contemporary Canadian garage rock. Their self-titled debut appeared in 2017, followed by Stressor in 2019, but it was 2021’s Mushroom Death Sex Bummer Party that considerably expanded their audience outside Canada. Super Mega Ultra followed in 2024, pushing their mixture of garage punk and psychedelic rock into an even bigger and more adventurous direction.
After years spent touring extensively across North America, Europe and Asia, Wine Lips are now preparing to release their next album, TV Dinner, due on August 28, 2026 through Stomp Records. The thirteen-track record appears determined to preserve the imperfections that have always been an important part of the band’s personality. Cam Hilborn has explained that he did not want the recordings to become excessively polished, preferring to retain some of the accidents and strange little details captured during the original sessions. It is an approach that suits Wine Lips perfectly, because their music has always depended more upon movement, instinct and excitement than studio perfection.
Following Projector, If You Don’t Know is the second glimpse of the forthcoming album, and although it remains immediately recognisable as Wine Lips, there is something subtly different happening here. The thick, abrasive guitars and psychedelic garage-rock foundations remain firmly in place, while Aurora Evans’ drumming provides the song with the physical momentum we have come to expect from the group. However, the melodies feel slightly more exposed and there is a noticeable trace of 1990s alternative rock beneath the usual garage-psych attack.
The difference becomes even clearer when you pay attention to what Hilborn is actually singing about. Beneath a song that initially feels energetic and almost carefree lies a surprisingly melancholic reflection on ageing and the strange acceleration of time. Adolescence, which once seemed enormous and almost permanent, suddenly belongs to a distant part of life. The years begin to disappear more quickly, responsibilities accumulate and that youthful feeling that almost anything might still happen is gradually replaced by the understanding that choices have consequences and opportunities do not remain open indefinitely.
What I particularly like about If You Don’t Know is that Wine Lips never turn this realisation into sentimental nostalgia. Hilborn does not appear to be wishing that he could simply return to being younger. Instead, the song seems concerned with accepting where you are now and deciding what is still worth carrying with you. There is a weariness towards expectations, relationships and situations in which everything seems to require something in return. Eventually, you have to work out where your energy belongs and recognise which things are no longer worth pursuing.
That gives the title itself a greater significance. If You Don’t Know initially sounds almost casual, but the further you enter the song, the more it begins to resemble a question about certainty and direction. There comes a point when drifting through life becomes increasingly difficult because time itself begins imposing decisions. You may not know exactly where you are going, but you become increasingly conscious that you cannot keep every possible road open forever.
Musically, Wine Lips handle this change in perspective without sacrificing any of their personality. The guitars remain wonderfully rough around the edges, moving between psychedelic colour, garage-rock distortion and the heavier textures of alternative rock. Evans is particularly important because her drumming constantly pushes the song forward, creating an interesting contradiction between lyrics that contemplate the passage of time and music that refuses to stand still. The song may be looking backwards occasionally, but the rhythm is always dragging it towards whatever comes next.
There is also something refreshing about hearing a garage-rock band approach ageing without suddenly becoming solemn. Wine Lips do not need acoustic guitars, orchestration or dramatic changes of style to demonstrate that their songwriting has matured. Instead, they allow those thoughts to exist inside the same battered amplifiers and saturated guitars that have always defined them. The perspective has changed more than the fundamental language of the music.
Perhaps that is why If You Don’t Know works so well for me. Wine Lips still sound like a band travelling at ridiculous speed, but somebody has finally started noticing the scenery outside the window. The reckless energy of their earlier records has not disappeared; it has simply acquired an awareness that none of this lasts forever. Rather than weakening the music, that realisation gives the noise a little more emotional weight.
If Projector demonstrated that TV Dinner will retain the band’s familiar aggression and immediacy, If You Don’t Know suggests that the album may also contain a more reflective Wine Lips. After ten years together, countless concerts and thousands of miles on the road, perhaps it would be stranger if their perspective had not changed. What matters is that they have found a way of allowing that experience into the music without sanding away the roughness that made them exciting in the first place.
If You Don’t Know therefore feels less like Wine Lips reinventing themselves than a band becoming increasingly comfortable with where they are. The guitars still snarl, the psychedelic edges remain blurred and the drums continue to propel everything forward, but behind all that noise is someone looking at the passing years and realising that youth cannot remain an endless resource.
Wine Lips are still driving with the windows open and the amplifiers pushed dangerously into the red. They just seem a little more aware now that every road eventually leads somewhere, and If You Don’t Know captures that realisation beautifully.
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Public Stream Single August 7, 2026
