Nothing should be surprising about a band who have always used the power of surprise as almost an extra instrument. Coming out of the Windmill pub scene alongside Squid and Black Midi, they were probably the hardest to classify of all these unclassifiable bands. What was it? Prog-folk-classical-punk-jazz? Prolk-clunkzz?
You had the sense in previous albums, including their Mercury nominated debut For The First Time, that part of the fun of it was the surprising directions they discovered within their own songs, within their own classically trained capacities as musicians. It made for captivating listening. And this has not not changed, despite the departure of singer and guitarist Isaac Wood for mental health reasons.
It’s not even surprising that they have kept going as the same band, given how much they prided themselves on its seven, now six, members all being equal and valued equally for their input (sure, like that’s ever happened in a band).
No what’s surprising is the sheer degree to which this record feels liberated. It is full of personal warmth, grand peaks of emotion and a certain salty sweetness. With Wood up front they were like The Fall trapped in the Saltburn mansion, but now with Tyler Hyde, Georgia Ellery, and May Kershaw swapping vocals and taking most of the songwriting duties, its more like Arcade Fire let loose in the weird local village.
With Arctic Monkeys producer James Ford on board, the new mix feels fresh on a bright Spring album worth an early Mercury bet.
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Opening track Besties is a seemingly straight-up celebration of young friendship that steers away from sentimentality with the majestic sweep of its soaring instruments and vocals, with Ellery ending up fretting, “I’m a walking TikTok trend/The colour runs out in the end’ .
The Big Spin - lyrics by Kershaw - has a similar cosy bent, a Meghan Markle world of beets, apples and pie-making that turns disturbing in dwelling on the threads between people that may tangle and rot but also renew. This is Kate Bush domesticity, with similarly restless dynamics.
Socks takes this further, a gorgeous love song full of twists and turns, the music reflecting the lyric by Hyde, self-questioning but always hopeful, veering between loud and quiet, between folk-jazz and dream-pop or whatever the hell it likes because this is love, right, and it’s not easy but it’s great.
Look, it’s not a shiny pop record by any stretch of the imagination, nor is it baroque indie like The Last Dinner Party, for all its theatricality. Salem Sisters is cabaret music for a summer garden party that halts and drives, and takes in peaks of glory.
While the Joanna Newsome comparisons are there for all to see, it’s also very Lou Reed in both its melodic gifts and willingness to go way out there. Two Horses is like Reed’s Berlin album taken out into the countryside to get straight with some equine therapy only to have to listen to Ellery’s story of betrayal by a lover, “I watched him kill my horses.”
These are songs that beguile and exhilarate, in one of those old school albums that you have to play again and again. The more you explore the better it sounds. As with Windmill-alumni Squid, Black Country, New Road have matured with confidence to resist the contemporary route to success - in short, take your clothes off and dance - in favour of developing a body of songs which feels weighty yet effortless. When you’ve done the hard work you can find your groove.
Best song of all is For the Cold Country, which in its six minutes manages to tell an allegorical fairy tale that starts hymnal, turns into chamber music, but then finds a lovely melody that breeds a bold, “I take off my armour,” confidence, that twists into heavy jazz kronk before whipping into a dazzling climax, all Bernard Herrmann strings and thunderous drums. It’s Captain Beefheart doing Nick Cave’s Jubilee Street and will blow off many a head this coming festival season.
A great album by a band bursting with new life.
Forever Howlong by Black Country, New Road is out now
