Cantina Sòber Basalt Queens and Twisted Teens' Blame the Clown

Millions of years ago, the mountains of Verona, Italy were exploding with lava from intense volcanic activity. The cooled lava formed a volcanic rock called basalt that now sits under a layer of red clay. In one corner of the region, two native grapes dominate the wine that’s made there. The personality of these two queens and their rocky throne define the wine. The place is called Roncà, and the wine becomes something that could exist nowhere else.

Over in New Orleans, centuries of African, Caribbean, European, Indigenous, Cajun, and Creole traditions have collided, mingled, and continually evolved. Incessant creativity and celebration centered around food and music permeate the streets, backyards, and bars where old and soon-to-be friends gather. As Roncà in the Lessini mountains of Verona has its own physical terroir, New Orleans has a cultural terroir that’s singular.

Cantina Sòber and Twisted Teens, from Roncà and New Orleans respectively, are unmistakably products of their environment. Although each place is inherently unique, both share a distinct and unruly energy — qualities that radiate from Sòber’s Basalt Queens and Twisted Teen’s Blame the Clown.

Photo: Coeur Wine Co.

Cantina Sòber is a one-man show starring winemaker Andrea Tirapelle. He transformed a small family vineyard in the lesser-known hills of Roncà into an enchanting, wild, organic wine paradise, intent on showing what its indigenous grapes and volcanic soils are capable of.

Andrea combines the powers of the lush and fragrant Garganega with the lesser-known Durella that contains enough acid to eat through a car door. The high elevation and basalt-rich soils enhance Garganega’s richness and aromatics, while harnessing Durella’s vibrant acidity and minerality.

Twisted Teens are Caspian Hollywell on guitar and vocals and “Razor” Ramon “RJ” Santos on console steel. Like New Orleans itself, where magic and disrepair cohabitate, they reflect a frenetic beauty. 

Photo: Ground Control Touring

Twisted Teens generate the same feral energy that anyone who surrenders themselves to New Orleans knows. Caspian’s voice crackles with gritty soul and RJ’s twangy console steel rolls out a kind of melodic magic carpet to hitch a ride on as you soar through the album. 

There’s a whole lot of power coming out of this DIY band. There’s also swagger, charm, and plenty of great hooks and bops. Caspian is the Durella of the dynamic — bracing, electric, impossible to ignore — while RJ's fluid steel is the Garganega, rounding the sharper edges without dulling them.

Sòber’s Basalt Queens, made of 50% Garganega and 50% Durella, brings rippin’ acid and smoky flint to a weighty and round palate. It jerks your whole body awake and has a long finish. Blame the Clown’s opening track, "Is It Real?," delivers a similarly disorienting jolt, reverberating with desperation, confusion, and adrenaline.

“Wild Connection” captures the exuberance of early romance complete with RJ’s swooning steel guitar. “Little Seed” is chirpy, cheerful, and cheeky, again with sprawling steel guitar. This is very much an album to listen to on a road trip with the windows down. 

"Not Real" takes aim at dangerous negligence and denial that allow liars to remain in power:

So this culture of conflict avoidance
Creates people who internalize cowardice
Everywhere liars in control
And everyday people aren’t real with their soul
Thеy internalize conditional acceptancе
Emotional prison
Life sentence
Not real

This record careens between defiant, romantic, weird, and really fun, true to its place of origin. Twisted Teens aren’t going for polish, but rather real-time inspiration and creativity. The recording captures spontaneous takes, first-takes, and even some mistakes. 

Andrea’s process has the same philosophy. The winemaking is ultra-organic, from the vineyard teeming with biodiversity to the bottle where the wine goes unfiltered. 

Both seem to follow the same rule: start with good raw material, don't fuck with it too much, and let the wildness make its way into the bottle—or onto the record.