Lowlives
Freaking Out
When it’s been six years since they’ve released more than a single, you’d half think that Lowlives would be about cooked. A—tentatively, now—‘supergroup’ of almost-but-not-quiters isn’t a longterm sell, and proof of their capabilities can only go so far. As solid an EP as Burn Forever was, you’re not spinning half a decade’s worth of good will from it. At the same time, though, Freaking Out arrives very casually, almost as if it’s not aiming for an uppercut to disrupt the rock scenes around it. A lesson learned from alumni of The Defiled and No Devotion who once endured similar practices of attrition? Perhaps, but in general, Lowlives are a bit of a different animal. It’s unlikely for anyone to say it’s strictly better than what it came from, but it is…different.
And while that might sound dismissive or setting up a fall, rest assured that Freaking Out is not bad. In terms of grunge revivalism, it’s actually refreshing how divergent from the stock palette this is, opting for the hard rock that always informed and elevated Soundgarden or Stone Temple Pilots at their height. Lee Downer certainly wants to replicate the vocals of a Cornell or Weiland, the kind that could rip the earth from underfoot with their gravitas on Liar or Out Of Step. Fitting for the man formerly known as Stitch D now going by his government name, it’s a sound that feels matured and fermented to really hit hard. The opening title track with its headbanger riff shows off the beefy production and rumble that’s just as accustomed to a grimier dirge like Swan Dive, or a melody bearing notable shades of power-pop in Liar and Closer Than You Know.
It’s all really solid stuff, emblematic of what you’d typically expect from a band whose constituent parts came from the levels they were at. If that seemed backhanded, well…sorry? It kind of has to, because the material that Lowlives offer effectively peaks at that. The grunge they’re emulating already had the world-beating thing on lock, and a valiant effort to recite the core tenets of it can only go so far. It helps a lot that there’s no real low point, the closest being Loser that’s in the tiresome self-deprecating lane of a different branch of grunge revivalism. The fact that Lowlives themselves are wise enough to generally steer clear is entirely to their credit; the songs feel more powerful when they’re not saddled with that kind of baggage. And when that’s the clearest core aim—to make a rock album with no compunctions about innovation or grand statements—it’s hard to fault what Freaking Out offers.
It’s one of those albums that puts paid to needlessly churlish opinions that an album has to be some masterpiece to even be considered good. ‘Good’ is a scale, at the end of the day; there are degrees within it that are still valid. And with a band like Lowlives who are never going to be some globe-conquering force, that’s worth appreciating all the same. It’s pure, simple rock music without become the pub-performing parody of itself; a feat in itself, really. Credit to Lowlives for pulling it together, then, when it would’ve been so easy to simply give up and crumble.
For fans of: Soundgarden, Stone Temple Pilots, The Smashing Pumpkins
‘Freaking Out’ by Lowlives is released on 31st May on Spinefarm Records.
Gaffa Tape Sandy
Hold My Hand, God Damn It
It’s a little weird that this is Gaffa Tape Sandy’s proper debut full-length. The name has been around and prevalent for nearly an actual decade now, a mainstay of UK indie scenes and 2000trees-core that’s given plenty of contemporaries an invaluable leg up. That’s one thing you might notice about bands like this—you can feel the influence that the gears less resistant in their turning will have. If their 2019 EP / mini-album Family Mammal was a quaint bit of garage-rock du jour for the time, Hold My Hand, God Damn It is significant more developed, sophisticated, enjoyable…basically, just everything.
All the while, it’s still firmly telegraphed what Gaffa Tape Sandy want to be. The rambunctious scrappiness and vocal tradeoffs between Kim Jarvis and Catherine Lindley-Neilson bring about heavy hints of The Subways. There’s a salt-of-the-earth approach to melody-smithing that’s borderline identical, albeit with the ratios of punk, indie and pop-craft being slightly altered. With Gaffa Tape Sandy, gnarled post-punk can be left to tear up the edges on Dead 2 Me and Split, and Queasy sinks deeper into lumbering grunge for the album’s closing five minutes. They’re the areas that Hold My Hand… lives in, not too dissimilar from much of the company that Gaffa Tape Sandy have kept over the years. With as wide-ranging as that’s been, you’d imagine some of the juice would’ve rubbed off on them.
And just like many of those acts—including The Subways—Gaffa Tape Sandy still cap out at being very good, rather than anything more. Hold My Hand… definitely improves on what came before, but more in the sense of adding more into a well-kept, maintained mix of influence, rather than allowing it to spread. When they do, you’re left with throwaway interludes like Rosemary and Holding Hands in which bedroom-pop fragments get pride of place in the tracklist, for some reason. Still, keeping tabs on their strengths isn’t a bad thing for Gaffa Tape Sandy to do, nor is keeping them streamlined and purposeful. It’s where a lot of the best decisions on this album are made, in the cribs from PUP’s own rough-and-tumble punk on Scrapbook, or the richest hook goldmines in Evil and Energy.
All of that is noticeable, and worthwhile when chronicling how evident the growth of Gaffa Tape Sandy is. It’s comfortably the best thing they’ve done, while still leaving room to properly swing for the fences, should they wish. If not, though, that’s fine. Hold My Hand… still has the makings of a sleeper hit that’ll connect more than anyone can anticipate, particularly among that aforementioned 2000trees-aligned cache. Even if, right now, it’s not making those enormous moves, get it rolling and that could be very possible. It’s what happens when an onus is put on laser-crafting rock music in this precise image, and when its creators seem as comprehensive about it as Gaffa Tape Sandy do.
For fans of: PUP, Beach Riot, The Subways
‘Hold My Hand, God Damn It’ by Gaffa Tape Sandy is released on 31st May on Alcopop! Records.
The Yacht Club
I Don’t Think That I Am Ready To Be Without You
One of the good things about the current crop of emo is that—to put it in insultingly simple terms—the bands know what’s required of them. Just look at The Yacht Club who, right down the incredibly localised appreciation of 2019’s The Last Words That You Said To Me Have Kept Me Here And Safe, are the precise dimensions for another floorboard in the American Football house. A big, wordy album title with unfeathered production and playing that’s entirely small-scale and ground-level—that’s exactly what you expect, isn’t it?
The formula is borderline fundamental; it’s why these emo scenes continue to bubble up and metastasise in their little underground cliques. If anything, the pejoration of ‘formula’ probably does a disservice to it all, iimplying some kind of churned-out, mass-produced product, of which none of this is. Again, look at The Yacht Club. This is as close to stock-standard as it gets in palette and tone and approach, and yet I Don’t Think That I Am Ready To Be Without You proudly displays its moments of beauty. Turn is the big one, where Marcus Gooda’s quilted voice coos out “I’ve been to far more funerals than weddings for my friends / Even been to both for one of them”, rendered more heartbreaking by the solemn piano chords and picked acoustic guitar. It’s a wonderful song, arguably the pinnacle of The Yacht Club’s work for how its plainspokenness transcends the need for flash or artifice.
It is what’s written in the emo handbook, after all—less is more, in all circumstances. For The Yacht Club on this EP, that manifests in making guitars even more silken and spidery, and drums having a softer, tamped-down texture to them. Coming together makes for some wonderful little flourishes on Stumbling and Rain, but in general, a sound this stripped-back is a nice change of pace. And it’s not like it’s that different, either; soften the edges of emo’s rustic, woody exteriors, and you get something befitting of the gentleness of humanity The Yacht Club present. This isn’t necessarily raw as it is open, honest and unflinchingly earnest. Really, for this kind of exhalation in the eye of loss and hopelessness’s storm, five tracks is a perfect package.
It’s also the nailing-down point of where The Yacht Club teeter between another act stellarly embracing the virtues of current-wave emo, and one that can step up even further. They’ve got the abilities to, among fantastic compositional skills that don’t shy away from hookiness like with Displaced Love. At the same time, they’ve cultivated such an ideal little environment around them, where they’re able to turn out gems like this and it’d feel a shame if anything were to change that. Chances are it won’t; ideations of superstardom don’t feel too high on the docket, and not in a way that projects a lack of ambition. The Yacht Club simply just know what they’re best at, and this is exactly this.
For fans of: Mineral, Lakes, Big Hug
‘I Don’t Think That I Am Ready To Be Without You’ by The Yacht Club is released on 31st May on Beth Shalom Records.
Words by Luke Nuttall
