Cold Years
A Different Life
It’s admirable how Cold Years have continued to persevere, as if they’re determined to catch the right door opening at the right time to become enormous. While that prospect isn’t off the table, however, it might’ve been truer once upon a time. There are no trails being blazed by Cold Years, nor have their ever been; a cross-section of Hot Water Music’s stirring alt-punk and Deaf Havana’s more rustic Britrock tendencies doesn’t allow for it anymore. And so, while their last couple of albums have been strong, the lack of noise around them always felt telling. Here’s a band with the heart and passion and conviction—and, let’s not forget, ability—to go on for miles, plonked in a musical environment where such straight-laced effectsfeel almost bygone on their own.
It’s a shame, but also maybe not completely unfair. Driven by commitment, Cold Years’ disinterest in playing the game is palpable, which can also encompass any significant advancements. Thus, there’s A Different Life, Cold Years’ third album, once again packed with the good stuff of its two predecessors, but also more settled and staid in its simplicity. Release this a decade ago, and the punch that songs like Radio and Choke have would be increased exponentially. Right now, they’re still solid—again, it’s following Cold Years’ record of having nothing outright bad—but time has subdued this spark.
It’s worth noting that, somehow, A Different Life appears to have skipped over the perdurability of those aforementioned composites, under no real fault of Cold Years’ own. They’re still as game for this as ever, as distinct bits of a modern Green Day likeness shorthand the hook-heaviness of Over and Youth, amid spacious Britrock bluster on Goodbye My Friend, and easy emotionality through doo-wop on Fuck The Weather and choppy acoustics on Other Side. It’s the sound of a wheelhouse being positively raided, such is Cold Years’ comfort with all of this. Ross Gordon similarly works just as well delivering it, mixing alt-punk gravel with Scot-rock stridency and yielding the hits. Truly, Cold Years are in their element on A Different Life, regardless of which way that swings in the context of their catalogue.
Sure, it’d be nice to have a real ripper come out of nowhere, but there’s also merit in consistency that’s this unshakable. Pre-existing fans aren’t going to be turned off by an album like this, regardless of how deep-set the familiarity is. It’s still Cold Years doing what they do best, at the end of the day, even if the needle hasn’t moved by an atom’s breadth. Of course, there’s the very real possibility that something will need to be done if Cold Years wish to keep moving, and that’ll likely need to be addressed sooner rather than later. Right now, though, it’s as fit for purpose as ever.
For fans of: Deaf Havana, The Gaslight Anthem, Hot Water Music
‘A Different Life’ by Cold Years is released on 26th April on MNRK.
unpeople
unpeople
There was no reason to ever believe that unpeople wouldn’t come out the traps swinging. As the successor to Press To MECO—one of the most unfairly overlooked alt-rock bands the UK has produced in the last decade-plus—it’s almost a gimme on principle alone. Couple that with how the final Press To MECO performance at last year’s 2000trees was not even 24 hours before unpeople’s debut one at the same festival, and you can practically smell the confidence coming through. Not for nothing, either; this is a five-track EP with barely any out-of-place droop, let alone flab. The prodigious alchemy has evidently not been lost in the short interim, as unpeople arrive like they’re the most vital debutants in the world.
Hell, they very might be, at least in an alt-rock space. When you take the melodic magic hoarded and purified in their past incarnation, and let develop into something heavier and more streamlined, that’s one hell of a start for unpeople. Indeed, waste kicks off in perfect form, powered by a monster riff affixed with distinct shocks of screams and insatiable hookage. It basically is a Press To MECO song touched up and retuned, which is by no means a reductive summation of unpeople. The way things left off, that tank was not drained, and you really get the feel of how ideas have been repurposed in meaningful, effective ways. The tight, luscious vocal harmonies on going numb and moon baboon speak for themselves, likely louder than everything else here.
Honestly, if you’re trying to pick any holes in this EP, you won’t have much luck. It’s such a neat, clean package, without becoming anodyne or micromanaged. This all feels like a proper band making proper rock music, just with the know-how to punch it up to almost unspeakable levels. It’s probably why there’s such a constant emphasis on Meg Mash’s bass, or letting the guitars rip out to an almighty size. You can tell this band’s seeds were from a generation of alt-rock built on real, ground-level creativity—it’s plastered over literally every part of this. Further still, there are the hints of a frustration and anger that’s gestated from brief glimpses into a key component now, and a crucial source of fire in the mix. When your band name comes from a term for people considered luddites of no political importance, it’s good to see that thread hasn’t just been left to dangle.
Put simply, unpeople seem to have thought of everything. Out the box with little additional setup required, it’s exactly what you want from an alt-rock band, with the results to prove it. Again, not that that’s surprising, nor that the calibre of the work on offer is that far above the expected level. But even so, you’re not going to complain when the spiritual successor to such a ridiculously underrated band can live up to their legacy and even a little more. May the reign of unpeople be long and fruitful, ‘cause they’ve got everything they need for precisely that.
For fans of: Press To MECO, Reuben, Puppy
‘unpeople’ by unpeople is out now on Sharptone Records.
Grumpster
Grumpster
Rejoice, folks whose music taste hasn’t changed since 2014—you’ve been seen! Not that that’s a niche market, exactly, but if you’re exactly aiming for both the fixation on defending pop-punk and screaming out “Bullshit, you fucking miss me!” at any given opportunity, Grumpster have you covered. This is their third album and second for Pure Noise, though there’s a clearer sense of breaking out looming than 2022’s Fever Dream had. Maybe it’s just the vivacity with which the nostalgia gears are turning, but you shouldn’t count against it when Grumpster are this committed to the bit.
By which we mean, a specific concoction that feels purposely hybridised to live between Man Overboard and Modern Baseball. You can see it, right? In the former case, Alex Hernandez has been brought in as the brasher, bellowing foil to Donnie Walsh’s sharp rasp. As for the latter, the chunky halfway house between mid-2010s pop-punk and emo in perfect equilibrium with its brawn and sepia tone speaks for itself. Brett Romnes produced this, if you couldn’t tell from the same fingerprints all over the place that have coated past works from Hot Mulligan and Free Throw. Good company to keep, and the sort that Grumpster do maintain a sonic kinship with on the likes of Sun or Bone$. The math-rock side of either doesn’t factor in here, but the central brand of pop-punk is as churning and powerful as it’s always been.
It’s best for Grumpster to keep things relatively simple and clean, though, as that’s evidently where they’re strongest. If they ever do amble outside of their set rubric, it’s by very marginal degrees, like the cable-knit grunge of SSBpt2 as a minute-long fragment, or the dashing of Midwest horns on closer Waste. Although a few more instances like that wouldn’t go amiss, the album is short enough to where it’s not that big a deal, and the scrappy fundamentals are already choice enough. You’d hardly find yourself disappointed by the way meaty cuts of guitar and bass collide with each other, arranged with melodic intention at the helm and landing pretty universally. Wither and Thorns are definitely above-average as far as hooks go within this sound, maintaining a punk freneticism that can sometimes be subdued by indie-rock or emo detailling, and vice versa.
Overall, it is, indeed, the kind of pop-punk worth defending. Grumpster barge in with a lot of charm and earnestness, a product of a DIY come-up that looks primed to grow some pretty long legs in the near future. It’s a rather likewise pattern to Man Overboard and MoBo’s own respective rises, you might notice, and flagging that up isn’t an accident. There’s the same ember of a potential scene-stealer flickering away within Grumpster, with just a bit more cultivation needed for them to really catch fire. So if crying and shouting along like it’s 2014 again is high up on your priority list, it really is in your best interests to give this a try.
For fans of: Modern Baseball, Man Overboard, Sincere Engineer
‘Grumpster’ by Grumpster is released on 26th April on Pure Noise Records.
Words by Luke Nuttall
