This release is important in the local scene as there is a genre gap here – it sits in the “happy valley” between commercial rock that can be too light and the sort of complex, angsty rock that is often self-indulgent. I love this song because it’s rooted in sad sentiments but carries a positive, ultimately optimistic energy. This is music with feeling, the type that makes you want to show resilience by jumping around, punching the air.
Never mind wild oceans – right from the start, this song is like experiencing high winds. A tightly syncopated rhythm section and guitars punch out a jerky, rocky, mid-paced intro like an English version of the Foos arm-wrestling with Biffy Clyro.
Jon Burnell’s voice is fantastic: strong, controlled with a pleasing tremolo – here is a man in total command of his voice as an instrument. There is a subtlety in the power of his vocal delivery which harks back to Emo but without sounding overwrought, and has a tone of honest vulnerability. A ray of optimism that shines through the storm-clouds.
There is a gorgeous, full sound in the chorus, “every time it hurts…aches too hard,” with subtly embedded backing vocals that enhance rather than clutter the melody. This chorus has emotional depth and the boys should be proud of this hook. They are hard to create. Part of the magic comes from the production, recorded at Cornwall’s legendary Sawmills by John Cornfield, who has also worked with iconic bands such as Oasis and Supergrass.
Phil Thomas’s reverby and repetitive guitar melody is hummably catchy rather than intricate, ideal for getting under the listener’s skin. Too many soloists fall into the trap of showboating when a song like this demands the simple efficiency of a lick with a few easy-to-remember notes to infect your ears. It also makes it more of a tasteful indie-rock number rather than a full-on sonic assault.
The breakdown after the solo slows the pace, giving the listener a moment to breathe before the next energetic chorus kicks back in. It’s almost like being caught in a hurricane: that deceptively calm eye of the storm offering brief respite before the force-ten winds return and knock you off your feet. Then it’s suddenly over. The wind drops to zero. Things settle. Calm ensues.
A short, catchy rock banger that blows in, says what it has to say with efficiency and impact, then blows straight back out again. Its brevity made me hit play again immediately and that chorus is so easy to learn, I fully expect audiences to be singing it back LOUDLY at gigs – always the best part of being in a live band.
Talking of which: why not pop along and see them play at Exeter Cavern on Friday, 6th February?
Tickets Here!
Words: Stu Pearce (No Ordinary Fish)
