A Band that’s Big in the Suburbs: Interview with art-pop band Welly

Eszter Vida on 15 March 2025

Do you remember your Year 6 school disco? It’s too early to leave, so stay with me, dear Reader. The dance floor rammed with your classmates, the memories of your hometown looking too much like a world out of a Where’s Wally puzzle, the endless queue of kids outside the corner shop fiending for Lucozade and that one unbranded 50p chocolate bar 10 minutes before the school bell goes. All of these small life dramas are taken for granted when bands consider writing music about where they are from and what life experience they have to bring forth in whatever repackaged version of grungy post-punk they have bleed their fingers over. What even is the term ‘gentrified pop’? Pop surely can’t be gentrified anymore than it already is, you may say to yourself, draped in an Idles or Black Country New Road tee (ironic), IPA in hand and permanently frowning over your lack of Hinge matches. I get it; a subculture of Leeds students may not at all be phased with joy as a primary emotion in music about the world outside, without feeling guilty.

Allow me to introduce you to Welly, pop’s answer to social commentary about the latest drama in your local village Facebook group. If you were getting bored of listening to whiny love songs and wished that somebody would just write a song about the bins not being collected, this band from the suburbs might just be the answer to your boredom. With their debut album Big in the Suburbs dropping on March 21st, this band has come in hot with live sets incorporating magic shows, shoe stealing and cowbells? But on a wildly windy Friday afternoon, I dodge the comically scary obstacle course that temporarily erupted in Woodhouse Moor to hunch over my laptop and chat on Zoom with frontman Elliot.

On the surface, there’s so much of British culture oozing out of their music that it’s quite easy to compare Welly to Britpop pioneers Pulp or even Blur. “I was hearing people singing about the supermarket and common people. It’s not so much that I am inspired by Britpop, it’s that I am inspired by the sort of ‘cottage industry’, the sort of hobbyist element of British life. I can speak quite candidly about school discos, playing knock n’ run – that’s where it comes from.” Inspiration for building the world of Welly is very visual and all in his surroundings. “The suburbs to me are as much of a muse to me, as a lover would be a painter or daffodils were to Wordsworth. I find a dead end street with pretty little gardens and really nosy neighbours.”

Take their music video for album opener ‘Big in the Suburbs’ as an example for how CBBC unknowingly defined a generation, idolising the Dick and Dom’s and Horrid Henry brats in the room. “I always liked how Madness do their music videos. In ‘House of Fun’, one of them is a clown, one of them is a jester, and a barber. Whatever the song is, they always play the roles of the characters in the song.” 

Self-produced by the band, the perfectionism of releasing a debut album is one that most bands have to succumb to. “The album is really homemade. We made it a year ago now, all by ourselves at my dad’s house. Now that’s finished and I keep thinking of what I could have done differently, I compensate with the visuals. The day we were mixing the album, we were saying ‘we could have done this, we could have done this’. I’d rather just get stuff out or else it would never go anywhere.” But a debut project is meant to be raw. It’s a band at their most authentic. “We’re very proud of it, and it’s what a debut album should sound like.”

There’s an ever evolving image of what a debut album is supposed to be and whether it aligns with a band’s message. Narratively, this debut album is very centered on a caricature Southern suburb, zooming in on all the gossip and happenings of everyday people. I ask if there is already a sequel written for the saga. “Album 2 was written before we even signed the record deal, we’re just not sure on what it will sound like yet. I want to focus more on fast food, junk food and instant gratification culture. The 3rd album will be the prog rock Genesis project that no one really wants to listen to.” Soon, there’ll be a cosmopolitan city of sound made up of the band’s sound, whether that’s them hoping to pursue hyperpop or even a baroque project. “It’s about throwing stuff at the wall and I was lucky that the first thing I threw at the wall stuck, which is what Welly is.”

For now, the album opens with its titular track ‘Big in the Suburbs’, opening up the world of Welly with a formal introduction of ‘Welcome to the brand new great British zoo’. I got some further insight on the rest of the tracks. “‘Home for the Weekend’ was the first song that started the project. I never really felt homesick but I was always really gagging to leave home, which for me is a suburbia outside of Southampton. When I moved to Brighton for university, I suddenly went ‘oh I quite miss it’. Bizarrely, I had a seizure and spent hours in Brighton A&E and that’s when I came up with ‘Big in the Suburbs.’ ‘Knock and Run’ is a rip off of the macarena if you listen close enough. There’s also sadder slower songs and it isn’t just all a big joke. Hopefully, if you have already written Welly off, there might be something there to surprise you.” 

Hopefully, none of you have yet. You could argue there’s a strong self-awareness to the music, and most of today’s guitar music expresses a deep need for social commentary on the state of the world, but in a more pessimistic and often overdone way. The difference with Welly is the amount of fun and comedy they exude on stage, and they succeed in striking a balance between wit and sincerity when making music sound really British. “It’s far more pessimistic and less arty than it used to be in the 80s. It feels like the music now is shouting at me. Yeah, but could you embellish it?”

Formed in Brighton, there were many grassroots venues that they owe their start to and continue to praise. “Places like The Green Door Store, The Prince Albert and Hope and Ruin, all that lot. Heartbreakers and The Joiners (Southampton) too.” The scene seems to have become a tight-knit community where their DIY project flourished way more than it could in a glorified London. “I don’t think Welly would have got off the ground in London, but in Brighton, it’s not like we could bring our friends to shows because we didn’t know anybody when we moved here. We sort of had to put on our shows and play gobby to get people’s attention, which is how we made those friends through gigs. It’s a very accommodating place and I think they’re up for something kind of odd.”

There’s so much about not being a London centric band anymore. Playing in London is impossible. Welly’s recently announced seaside tour or previous North/South tours showcase their passion to play in small, dingy venues that reach the smaller, more neglected pockets of the music industry around the country. 

“You’re way better off trying to be the biggest band in Leeds than be bottom of the bill in London. We are playing to all of our friends, we played in Nottingham with 5 other bands and they were all having so much more fun than any prick in Hoxton. If you go to Falmouth, they have such a great scene there and what’s great for a touring band like ours is that their biggest band will support. Same thing in Huddersfield, Shrewsbury, Swansea. We get to meet their community. There’s 5 bands, they’ve all got the same drummer, they’re all having so much more fun than working in a coffee shop 9-5 just to play once a year at The George Tavern. Move out, have fun somewhere else. Brighton, if anything, is one of the bigger and harder ones.”

And with that, a toast to our beloved local music scenes. It’s Welly’s reimagined world of what would happen if Horrid Henry grew up with his band, and we’re all living in it.

Written by Eszter Vida

Squid: Cowards – An Inky Exploration of Evil

Seb Coltrane on 27 February 2025

Squid’s slippery tentacles are encroaching Britain’s underground rock scene with their newest and perhaps most invigorating album, Cowards (2025). Previously synonymous with Brixton’s Windmill scene, the Brighton five-piece have since evolved from their maximalist, math-rock sound to a much more coherent and mature album-craft. Lead singer and drummer, Ollie Judge, remarked that it was a relief not to have to “perform with a calculator.” Cowards takes a vigilant step-back from the leftfield virtuosic musicianship, complex polyrhythms and sophisticated guitar melodies integral to their previous releases, Bright Green Field (2021) and O Monolith (2023) and instead offers a sweeter approach. With their musical talents already established, a newfound simplicity facilitates a much more sustainable way of approaching music.

“Am I the Bad One?” Cowards takes us on a journey through the human condition, wrapped up in tales of evil and cowardice, and leaving us in a state of self-reflection. What does it mean to be human? Judge deconstructs our humanity in the investigation of evil. Cannibalism, murder, exploitation, corruption, and greed all permeate through Squid’s inky introspection into the cowardly self.

No, ‘Crispy Skin’ is not a song about calamari, but instead takes inspiration from Tender is the Flesh, a novel where cannibalism and human domestication becomes the norm in a dystopian society. The song sets the conceptual tone for the album, spineless complicity and the rationalisation of evil. Embarking from the domestic troubles of their previous work, Squid internationalise their social commentary, as the murderous “true American” navigates a hypnotic Tokyo suburbia in ‘Building 650.’ 

Subsequently, Judge deconstructs our humanity in ‘Cro-Magnon Man’, contrasting modernity and technology with our pre-ancestral human nature, singing about the “chemicals that turn tomatoes red.” ‘Showtime!’ exposes the exploitation of artists, the track emerges in the characterisation of Andy Warhol and his egotistical abusive behaviours. Finally, ‘Well Met’ takes the metaphorical form of the town of Dunwich, on the coast of Suffolk. As the beaches and cliffs characteristic of this town gradually erode and disappear, so do all the aspects which make us human, as we gradually separate from nature.

While Judge hypotheses this dystopia, the musical elements strike a stark juxtaposition to the lyrics. For example, ‘Cro-Magnon Man’ features industrial guitars, code-like keyboard arpeggios, and dreamy vocals, combined with Judge’s pre-human lyrical concepts; all hinting at the notion of the de-evolution of humanity through technology. ‘Fireworks I’ features a harpsichord, juxtaposing the “playful, childlike, and whimsical” with evil and cowardice. Successively, ‘Fireworks II’ dissects the selective memory of humanity. In an interview with Bandcamp, the group addressed this song as a love letter to evil, saying “sometimes you live in a fantasy land,” but “we’re all guilty.”

Cowards introduces woodwind, horns and strings to the band’s repertoire, providing a warmer and heartier timbre. Despite this, Squid’s masterful musicianship is not lost, offering moments of elaborative performance but more subtly. Experimenting with a more traditional sound, by shedding the layers of sophistication, Squid offer a more focused perspective into their lyrical affirmations. The dynamics range not from quiet to loud, but instead sparse and dense, as the band builds in and out of its musical motifs. Cowards demonstrates the normalization of evil, juxtaposing lush, tasteful baroque pop with existential, apocalyptic language.

The band’s hard work certainly pays off in the album, demonstrating that Squid are certainly one of the most verbose and eclectic rock bands out there, leaving an ink-mark on the underground rock scene. However, while impressive, the album seems to lack a direct substance. The continued multifaceted nature of their songwriting does tend to alienate some audiences, while also serving to make their work less memorable, or even catchy. Squid could be even more explicit and articulate in their musicianship, delving deeper into the best aspects of their songwriting by focussing on developing coherent motifs. Nevertheless, Cowards demonstrates the band’s ability to maximise their creativity and conceptually organise their work.

The diversity of Cowards is what makes the album so great. In just 45 minutes, Squid deconstructs humanity through a sequence of otherworldly dispositions. Meanwhile, the contrast of hearty natural orchestration and technological synthetic instrumentation emboldens Judge’s lyrical assertions. Squid’s more conventional approach to song-craft, juxtaposed with Judge’s outrageously evil lyrics exemplifies the complicity and cowardice of humanity. 

Through listening to the album, we become more accustomed to the shocks of evil, resulting in our self-cowardice. Cowards is not telling the story of a coward, but it breaks the fourth wall, making accusations of not just humanity but also the listener. We are all aware of the evils of the world, so what are we going to do about it? Ignorance is bliss, and through cowardice, “The future is perfect, From the backseat.”

Written by Seb Coltrane

Preacher’s Daughter or Pervert’s Son?

Cassia Bennett on 27 February 2025

In a radio session where she played her whole 90 minute new album, Ethel Cain instructs listeners to ‘lie in a dark room and think what you want about it’. I would have to agree that this is probably the best way to experience the newest project Perverts (2025). It’s the kind of music that you just have to let wash over you while you allow your mind to wander through the slow instrumentals and mournful vocals. Reminiscent of a bleak January day, it feels drawn out, cold and grey but in a way that somehow manages to be comforting and unsettling at the same time. Long periods of distorted noise and ambient instrumentals melt into soft melodies with simple, repetitive lyrics that have the effect of seeing shapes through a thick fog. 

Back in 2022, Cain’s debut studio album Preacher’s Daughter garnered critical acclaim and widespread internet fame with the single ‘American Teenager’ becoming popular on TikTok and even making it onto Obama’s favourite music list of 2022. Where Preacher’s Daughter was a concept album with a strong narrative, Perverts is not a continuation, though Cain has maintained the same uniquely Midwestern horror that makes her music so dark. Where Preacher’s Daughter told a tale of family trauma, sexual assault, murder and cannibalism, drawing on inspiration from her own relationship with identity and religion, her latest record seems to lean more into an exploration of religious and philosophical ideas.

Cain’s opening track Perverts is a 12-minute track of distorted vocals reciting the hymn ‘Nearer, My God, To Thee’. This is followed by periodic, electronic drones before melting into ‘Punish’. First released as a single back in November, Cain returns to her darker storytelling with the sound of a creaking swing and simple piano chords overlayed with distorted electric guitar, which will become a recurring presence throughout the album. ‘Houseofpsychoticwomn’ has a sort of pulsating white noise with hushed voices that make it hard to distinguish what’s being said, other than the repeated phrases of ‘I do’ and ‘I love you’. It feels like you’ve jumped into a washing machine whilst trying to eavesdrop on a conversation, but someone turned it on and now you’re stuck in an hour-long cycle of soapy water. This transitions into the slow drum beat and soothing vocals of ‘Vacillator’, with a melodic repetition of ‘If you love me, keep it to yourself’. ‘Onanist’ continues with distorted electric guitars and vocals that build to become a static climax and ‘Etienne’ is a much more peaceful instrumental of piano and acoustic guitar. ‘Thatorcia’ is fully instrumental with Cain’s gentle humming that makes me picture myself walking through an echoey church, which leads into the final track, ‘Amber Waves’ – one of my favourites – that flows, soothing and supine.

In ‘Pulldrone’ Cain speaks over a droning siren-esque noise listing her ‘pillars of Simulacra’, a concept based on Jean Baudrillard’s Simulacra and Simulation (1981) a cornerstone of modern philosophy which proposed that our sense of the real has been superseded by the ‘hyperreal’ – that is, an understanding of the material world based not on first-hand experience, but memories of replications of material reality. Baudrillard explained that, due to the modern nature of media and marketing, the line between reality and re-presented reality has become increasingly blurred. Whilst in the context of the album these pillars likely refer to a sort of spiritual ascendance, this could also be seen as a continuation of her response to Preacher’s Daughter’s reception. After publicly rejecting the fame she received for her first studio album, Cain criticised the internet for nurturing an ‘irony epidemic’ that tends to treat art with flippancy, stating ‘Don’t let the joke about it overtake the source material’. This album seems to resist the ‘irony epidemic’ Cain criticises, and the idea that meme-ified iterations of her artistic output could reduce, or replace, the impact of her work likely echoes Baudrillard’s theory.

Interestingly, Cain seems to mostly communicate with fans through her Tumblr account (yes, I did make a Tumblr account for this and it did crash my laptop). Considered by many as a dead form of social media and mostly associated with dramatic teenage girls of the late 2000s and early 2010s, it may seem like an odd place for an artist to share their work. However, following this sentiment that we dismiss too much as ‘cringe’, embracing this form of media that stereotypically has this ‘cringe’ reputation may be her way of combating this new lack of sincerity in social media.Whilst fans still seem to appreciate the new album, it hasn’t captured the larger audience that Preacher’s Daughter did and that was probably intentional, given Cain’s disdain for the attention she previously received. This seems to be a common theme amongst artists who quickly amassed internet fame on a platform that reduces attention span and promotes sound bites over full songs, with Chappell Roan famously shunning the limelight earlier this year. Creating 10 minute slowcore songs does seem like a logical way to reduce your fanbase to those who simply appreciate your music. For this reason, despite Cain’s popularity with the past US President, I doubt Perverts will make it to the White House, though it may be more fitting, considering the current US government. Even though I initially liked the album, it’s grown on me the more I’ve listened to it and I highly recommend listening the whole way through once, though I do understand that it’s not to some people’s tastes (housemates have told me to turn off my scary music before).

Written by Cassia Bennett

Albums Turning 25 in ’25

Joseph Macaulay on 27 February 2025

As the 21st century reaches the quarter-decade mark, its time for a look back at the albums that heralded in the new millennium and have left a lasting musical impact. Here’s five of the most important records that turn 25 this year!

Kid A – Radiohead

Between 1997’s OK Computer and Kid A you can hear a millennium sized sonic shift that left many Radiohead fans bewildered. This wildly experimental LP is a far cry from the Britpop sounds of their 90s releases, and it was with this album that the enigma of Radiohead was consolidated. Cited by many of your favourite electronic artists as their favourite album, it remains as intriguing as ever 25 years on. 

The Marshall Mathers LP – Eminem 

With his third release, Slim Shady is at the height of his lyrical powers. Ringing in the new millennium with the opening ‘Public Service Announcement 2000’, with an attitude as abrasive as ever and a vocabulary just as vulgar, Eminem cemented himself as the man ‘God sent to piss the world off’. Which he did.

Parachutes – Coldplay 

It’s hard to reconcile the intergalactic-arena-soundscape of modern Coldplay with their quieter beginnings, but their debut launched the band into instant stardom. Chris Martin’s tender voice and the bands heart-string-tugging composition marked a sonic departure in British guitar music, away from the bombast of Britpop and into a more emotional age. Parachutes remains their best-selling record to date and helped usher in a new age of indie music. 

Stankonia – Outkast 

Stankonia set the bar for 21st century hip-hop Olympically high with Outkast’s funk filled medley of eccentricity, brilliantly catchy pop, and some of the most highly acclaimed lyrical delivery of all time. This was a new sound for a new millennium, and one that can be heard in countless hip-hop records of the last couple of decades. Big Boi and André 3000 at their very best. 

Hybrid Theory – Linkin Park 

The astronomic success of Linkin Park’s debut saw nu metal reach dizzying heights as the millennium began. It’s hard to think of a more raw performer than frontman Chester Bennington, who put mental health battles in the spotlight in a very profound way. Following his tragic death in 2017, the band was on hold until late last year as they returned with their eighth studio album From Zero. Extending their immense legacy into the 2020s, Hybrid Theory was the record that started it all.

Written by Joseph Macaulay

Inhaler: Open Wide – the new era of Inhaler is here 

Daniel Brown on 19 February 2025

Inhaler; we know the score by now. Commanders of the nepo-baby debate in music, generals of the vibrant Dublin music scene, loyal servants to that glamorous indie rock and roll. A frontman who’s the son to a king of rock, imaginary boyfriend to a million fangirls. But is that where the story ends?  Following their first two full releases, the pandemic plagued It Won’t Always Be Like This (2021) and sophomore outing Cuts and Bruises (2023), the Irish four-piece have released their latest project Open Wide (2025), a passion driven exploration into love, authenticity and what the creation of music means to them. 

With two albums under their belts, Inhaler could seem set in their groove. Pick a country and they could sell out a show there, pick a song and they can play it to a rowdy and rambunctious crowd that will sing it back to them, ask them to pick a lane and a problem arises. For an artist finding ‘their sound’ is no mean feat, but one would argue that being defined by a sound and being able to subvert that in an appealing, necessary and logical way is a much meaner one (see the parting of Arctic Monkeys fans like the red sea following the conceptual Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino (2018)). Nevertheless, Inhaler have taken a deep breath (too on the nose?) and strove for this album to represent their genuine selves, even if that means outgrowing their indie-rock roots. It’s evident the group have shed their skin with this album and embraced the pop elements that encapsulate so many of their greater qualities – the infectious melodies, the catchy hook, the screamable chorus, and to call a spade a spade – this is a pop-rock album. Gone is the very loosely tied label of indie (I mean how independent can you be when signed to Polydor records), with Inhaler striving to break free from any chains being recognised as an “indie band” might thrust upon them. 

The album opens with ‘Eddie in the Darkness’- who Eddie is and what he is doing in the darkness is still unclear, but at the very least he mimics the slew of Inhaler fans entering this album in the dark. Following a series of single releases – none of which the same, all of which noticeable deviations from the band’s pre-established formula, fans were left to wonder what had become of the Irish rockers. Whilst the album is a stark departure from the quartet’s first album outing It Won’t Always Be Like This (2021), ‘Eddie in the Darkness’ eases listeners into the change, still containing notes of the Inhaler fans fell in love with a glam-rock twist, gearing them up for what is to come and as such it becomes the crux of this new era. 

If Inhaler has always known how to do one thing, it’s how to etch a catchy tune onto the grooves of your brain that infects every subsequent thought and shower concert you have (if my housemates are reading this, I can only apologise). ‘Billy (Yeah Yeah Yeah)’ and ‘A Question of You’ in particular wrap strings around your arms and legs with their shimmering guitar riffs and punchy drumbeats, puppeteering you into a bop regardless of your setting. Similarly, choruses of ‘Concrete’ and ‘Little Things’ could coax out the voice of those most quiet and scale it to the size of a choir. The groove is well and truly alive throughout the album – taking a life of its own, a life perhaps given by collaboration with Kid Harpoon. The British producer of Harry’s House (2022) fame was given the trust of Inhaler and tasked with translating their lofty pop dreams of authenticity and groove into a tight 13 track album. His influence is palpable, with several songs coming straight from his catalogue of synth-pop mega-tunes designed for the biggest stages. 

Elijah Hewson really pushes his vocal performance, squeezing every drop out of his vast vocal range, less so in the classic sense of pushing his upper limit – but instead displaying a lower timber which compliments the building verses on many a track. Drummer Ryan McMahon gives a rhythmic and tight performance which bassist Robert Keating builds upon with his bold and striking basslines. Ultimately though Josh Jenkinson, lead guitarist of the band, is the absolute standout. His lead sections ebb and flow – calling out to the listeners at exactly the right moments without overpowering the symbiosis of the final product. He is a true chameleon, dancing between genres and sifting through rhythms; with country-infused riffs on songs like ‘X-Ray’ and much funkier melodies on tracks like ‘A Question Of You’. 

This album, beyond its sonic characteristics can be defined by love- a word synonymous with Inhaler some might say. Their first ever single, ‘I Want You’, an obvious tale of youthful love, my personal favourite track of theirs, ‘Love Will Get You There’, an homage to the importance of intimacy, and their fans, well loving would be a bloody understatement (Pre-gig queueing is scheduled to be added to the next Olympics as an endurance event thanks to their questionably motivated efforts). The band’s latest outing is no different with love being the key tenant of most songs. The lyrical direction of the album has devotion and adoration brimming at the surface and there’s an easy thread of passion to follow throughout the project, giving listeners an immediate and heartfelt connection to the songs. ‘Your House’ and ‘The Charms’ in particular capture this passion in their lyrics- calling out to many a hopeless romantic who may be hearing this album in (a potentially) bleak mid-February. 

Open Wide (2025) depicts Inhaler at the peak of their powers. Gone is that youthful naivety of an accused nepo-baby indie band and in its place – a charismatic and poised pop-rock authenticity that serves as a statement of intent. A statement of intent of a band who have cultivated their sound and are ready to show it off on the biggest stage.  Prying the love of that good ol’ indie music from the tight grips of the wild diehard Inhaler fan is no easy feat, but the Dublin four-piece have dug their claws in and ripped the arms of their legion of admirers open wide, ready to embrace their new era. 

Written by Dan Brown

Anthony Fantano: Why are we letting one man decide what is good?  

Kate Moxon on 19 December 2024

Anthony Fantano, or TheNeedleDrop on YouTube, made his fame for his brutally honest album reviews. With a cult following and a plethora of controversies under his belt, I want to know why he is considered an influential voice within music criticism. 

Some of his 10/10 albums include the sound of summer 2024, Charli XCX’s Brat (2024). Along with this, is the genre bending To Pimp a Butterfly (2015) by critically acclaimed rapper Kendrick Lamar. Both of these albums are no surprise to me. They’re inventive, whilst still dominating the mainstream. Songs like ‘360’ by Charli and ‘King Kunta’ by Lamar were popular with old and new fans alike. They also both performed well in the commercial charts and wider public sphere. ‘Brat’ peaked at number 1 in the UK Official Albums Charts as did ‘To Pimp a Butterfly’. 

In contrast to these well-loved popular records, is Death Grips’ album The Money Store (2016) which was also awarded a 10 from Fantano. As a big fan of the comedian James Acaster (this is related I promise), I became quickly familiar with many experimental albums from 2016. For those unfamiliar with Acaster’s podcast and book project, he became obsessed with finding, listening to and rating albums made in 2016. One of these included ‘The Money Store’, an experimental, aggressive, hard yet rewarding listen. The experimental nature of this album clearly strays away from the mainstream with a peak at number 18 on the UK Albums Charts. Although Death Grips have their fan base, a cult one at that, they haven’t particularly made it to the mainstream unlike other artists with albums that Fantano deems 10/10. 

I understand the notion that music critics are supposed to challenge listeners and highlight underground artists however, with Fantano it seems that his views are extremely personal to him rather than his intentions being to introduce new music to followers. Instead, he mass reviews new releases and decides what he likes about them and if he thinks it is deserving of a high or low score. In a way, I suppose that’s the point and that people have become accustomed to waiting for his own personal review of the work of their favourite artist. However, with a following of over 2 million, it feels that many may have fallen into the trap of swapping their own opinions for his. In order to understand how he has this enormous sense of authority as a ‘tastemaker’, it’s important to look towards another dominant force in the music review scene: Pitchfork. 

When some borrow from Fantano for their opinions, others look to Pitchfork. The popular music website scores albums from a 0-10 to one decimal place. When I was first attempting to understand the larger music scene (aka when I started listening to 6 Music instead of Heart), I took Pitchfork’s word as gospel. I trusted what they had to say because they were professionals and their position as critics is respected (mostly). But even they get it wrong. In 2021, they published a list of scores they wished they could change and included the rescores. There are many big names on the list including Lana Del Rey, PJ Harvey, The Strokes, Grimes and Wilco. 

However, the one which stands out to me is Charli XCX’s EP Vroom Vroom (2016). It probably comes as no surprise that I have been a fan of Charli’s work since her inception. Firstly, I managed to link almost every point in this article to her and secondly, I have taste. Her finally getting the respect she deserves in her industry warms my heart. However, her earlier, trailblazing work in the hyperpop sphere was largely looked down on as too leftfield. She worked tirelessly for people to finally understand her and a large part was this EP. Produced by the late SOPHIE and including other large names in the PC music scene such as Hannah Diamond, this EP helped popularise the genre that Brat (2024) took large parts of its inspiration from. The score given to Vroom Vroom (2016) was a 4.5 and Pitchfork wished they could change it to a 7.8 claiming that there was ‘nothing more homophobic’ than the original score, which is true. The issue with the flat number scoring means that there is no room for interpretation. A long form review of an album, EP or single can celebrate the successes and failures combined. However, when that nuanced review is paired with a score out of 10, people look at the score first. The scoring system makes it seem like a pass or fail test system. There shouldn’t be a mark scheme for artistry.  

The popularity of these scores is largely ‘rage bait’. People online, mostly on Twitter (now X) and Reddit, will likely disagree with the marks to some capacity. This conversation can obviously be a useful publicity tool by getting the fans and reader to do the work for the writer and artists. When a fan speaks on a score, this includes highlighting the artist and song as well as the writer and publication. Why should music fans trust scores that even the reviewers can’t get right? And why should we let one man decide what’s good? In my personal music utopia, Anthony Fantano is dethroned as a sort of ‘music god’ and stripped of his power. Instead, there are a variety of voices which are widely accessible and the work of artists isn’t distilled down to one number. 

Words by Kate Moxon

Calico by Ryan Beatty: A Welcome Revisit

Lucas Assagba on 3 November 2024

‘Driving with the headlights off, / ribbons running down your face, / but you’ve never known love like that, / so you dance the night away.’

In the first few seconds of Calico, Ryan Beatty paints us a picture. A picture of melancholy, of solitude. A picture almost as blue and as piercing as the clear sky behind him on the album’s cover. A pseudo-member of the now-retired hip-hop collective Brockhampton, Ryan is no stranger to emotional vulnerability. Having laid down vocals on songs like 2019’s ‘SUGAR’ and releasing two records of his own (2018’s Boy in Jeans and 2020’s Dreaming of David), he’s made it quite clear that he doesn’t like to keep his cards too close to his chest.

But on 2023’s Calico, he’s more honest than ever, painting a not-so-perfect portrait of love, maturity, and finding the comfort within the chaos of modern life. It slots itself perfectly into the ever-present indie-folk wave of the 2020s, and I’m frankly surprised that it isn’t treated with the same reverence as Phoebe Bridgers’s Punisher or Boygenius’s The Record (with all three projects featuring the subtle, yet cutting production of Ethan Gruska.)

Lead single ‘Ribbons’ bears the same cold clarity as a splash of water to the face after a rough night. It’s subdued, yet overwhelming; it’s a gentle whisper, but also a scream into the void. It tells a story of isolation, in all its parts, sculpting a snapshot of a life without love, for better or for worse. Is it for the better, to ignore the allure of a tender, loving life and to simply ‘be happy to be here at all’? Or will it end up being for the worse, as you’re ‘making faces / at the one who stares’ at you from the bottom of a glass?

Who’s to say? Not us, because the song ends before any conclusions can be drawn, and after a heavenly strings arrangement courtesy of Rob Moose (Bon Iver, Taylor Swift). It teeters on a resolution before meeting an abrupt end, just like a relationship that never quite made it.

Multiplicity is a common theme on Calico; Beatty explores the layers upon layers that make up life as a young adult, like on the aptly named ‘Multiple Endings’, where he wars with the feeling of ‘being used’ in a relationship; ‘I went through days / with multiple endings / just to get through.’ This multiplicity is also reflected in Beatty and Gruska’s production; ‘Cinnamon Bread’, a personal highlight, opens with a sequence of divinely layered guitars that seem to fill every corner of every room, every time I listen. Industry legend Shawn Everett (Beyoncé, Clairo) blesses the whole album with his affinity for mixing, and this shines through on ‘Cinnamon Bread’ the most. Every take of every instrument has its own identity, gathering like a symphony of pure emotion. This was the first song on the album I heard, and to this day, it ‘open[s] up,’ ‘close[s] me in,’ and ‘cut[s] me to the bone.’ It’s nothing short of heavenly.

Calico is remarkably candid from top to bottom, expertly encapsulating the feeling of huddling around a campfire, as I think all folk music should. Its production is quite barebones, with the presence of OTT synthesizers and effects being few and far between. However, on track 4, ‘Andromeda’, Gruska and Beatty pair the grounded and the otherworldly like bread and butter, setting a scene of serene exuberance with soft harmonies and softer synths that feel reminiscent of the Weyes Blood song of the same name. ‘What stops me from sending the call / in a midnight paranoia? / Hey, that’s love after all, isn’t it?’ Beatty seems to muse on every plane of existence as the air builds upon itself around him.

The album is short and sweet at nine tracks, wrapping up with the relentlessly optimistic ‘Little Faith’. Dread is a common theme in a lot of indie music lately, characterising the lowest of lows as nothing but. ‘Little Faith’ is different. Beatty sings about how he’s always hurting, his plants are dying, and everybody but him is getting their way; but still, the only way is up. The chorus sees him lulling himself out of oblivion, as he chants, ‘I don’t think I want to do this, / but I can’t give into my old ways. / So go on, honey, / hallelujah for a little faith.’ It’s a picture-perfect conclusion.

Calling Calico underrated would be gratuitous, but I do think there’s more to this record than people realise. It’s an album people hear in passing rather than something all-consuming; more of a quiet afternoon crush than a violent overnight rush, and that feels criminal. Every day since hearing this album, I’ve sang its praises, and all I can do is pray that one day, it becomes a bigger presence within the modern indie-folk canon, and that people connect with it as much as I do. Hallelujah for a little faith.

Words by Lucas Assagba

Leeds Locals Smash New Album: Yard Act’s ‘Where’s My Utopia?’ Review

Jessica O'Brien on 15 May 2024

Written by Jessica O’Brien, Edited by Erin Clark and Millie Cain

After making waves in the UK music scene and impressing their way through the summer
festival season with their phenomenal debut album, The Overload (2022)- Leeds-based post-
punk band, Yard Act’s second wind comes in the form of the highly anticipated Where’s My
Utopia? (2024). I, like many other assured fans, was suitably eager to hear more after having
loved their previous album. 


The album begins with an ease into the mellow ‘An Illusion’, with the lyrics introducing the
main message of the album, soundtracking reflections on success and being away from
family with dreamy melodies. It soon returns to their upbeat style with ‘We Make Hits’, as
well as ‘Dream Job’, echoing the same high energy as their last album, and reinforcing the
band’s capacity as facilitators of a high-octane gig environment. ‘Down by the Stream’ then
takes the listener in a different direction, incorporating a hip-hop drum beat into the
album’s melting pot. This song captures the experimental nature of the album which largely
differs from their debut – and of which I am definitely a fan. Combining their usual post-
punk genre with hip-hop makes this an album acquired to a variety of tastes, with the
distinct sound of this particular tune merging a certain ‘StereoMCs’ vibe with their classic
spoken-word sound. 


As soon as you think you have their sound fusions nailed down, the next song ‘The
Undertow’ rolls around, heralding with it an undeniable 90s brit-pop style. The album
evokes the sound of Pulp or Blur, with its familiar British sound and witty references
in the lyrics. However, as a nod to lovers of the band’s debut, ‘Fizzy Fish’ and ‘Petroleum’
really returns to their original post-punk sound, with Smith’s spoken-word performance of
the lyrics. The heavy bass line of ‘Petroleum’ and ‘Grifters Grief’ bring a certain funk edge,
while incorporating obvious Ska influences. These two tracks echo the distinct Gorillaz-esque
sound, which can be attributed to Gorillaz very own percussionist and producer Remi Kabaka Jr. who co-produced the album – Gorillaz fans everywhere should be sure to add this to their ‘to-listen’ list.


‘Blackpool Illuminations’, to me, is the real highlight of this album – if you were to listen to a
singular song from this album, I would urge you to make it this one. Everything about it
makes it stand out from their usual upbeat, humorous songs. Since their debut, Yard Act’s
style has been defined by Smith’s rhymes over the catchy bassline and drumbeats; but
where ‘Blackpool Illuminations’ leads the listener is in an introspective and moving
direction, reflecting on Smith’s childhood memories and watching his young son visit the
same places, and experience similar things that he did as a child. The introspective nature of
the song forced me to think of the cycle of life, and how adults watch their children make
the same mistakes as them until it is their turn to do the same. Capturing the repetitive
nature of human life, Smith’s soft spoken word over the track beautifully resembles a poetry
reading:

“Because I know now I’m never gonna get my utopia
But if I can show you how to cope
And give you scope to grow beyond the moment of each new low
Then I know I don’t need utopia.”

Overall, Where’s my Utopia? marks a huge musical development for Yard Act. The album
explores the success of the band but still leaves frontman, James Smith, searching for his
own ‘utopia’, which underlines that success has not brought him the same happiness that his
family has. The album spans multiple genres, with clear disco and hip-hop influences,
making their album stand out from other post-punk artists and resonate with a wider
audience. 


Yard Act are soon to perform at Millennium Square, Leeds on the 3rd of August 2024.