ALBUM REVIEW: Deaf Havana – ‘We’re Never Getting Out’

We’re Never Getting Out begins, in true Deaf Havana fashion, with a sad musing from James Veck-Gilodi. “I was coming off from a relapse when they told me that you died,” he sings, notably worn-down and unguarded, “and I never did come visit, thought we’d have more time.” Something like that is usually a telltale sign of what’s to come from a Deaf Havana album, namely Britrock’s most despondent man spinning his yarns into pure gold. Arguably, that’s why Deaf Havana have stuck around despite the numerous breaking points they run into over the years. Changing sounds, a waning profile and a hefty cull of members have all buttressed up against the string of substance-soaked regrets that is Veck-Gilodi’s life, but the tenacity to get back up and pour all of that into his art has led to Deaf Havana lapping the Britrock conventions they grew amongst multiple times over.

But there’s a limit to how far that can work, apparently. Furthermore, it’s a limit that Deaf Havana never seemed all that close to hitting before We’re Never Getting Out. It’s a strange album to come from specifically them because, in their efforts to produce bleeding-heart odes to fraught journeys towards inner peace, it’s rarely felt like so much effort has been put into keeping Veck-Gilodi centred in that picture. On an album about the marriage that he called time on to reach a place of greater happiness, it’s hard to find a place where that unequivocally works.

Still, the fact that there are multiple ways of looking at it is a good start. It fits the arc of an individual who, over about half-a-dozen albums, has held the central goal of capturing a joy that’s always seemed to elude him. It also seems to actively want to avoid the maliciousness that would taint this into something far more mean-spirited and bad. There’s guilt and remorse that comes from simply allowing this relationship to fizzle out, as well as the desire to end things amicably on the closer I’ll Be Around. And yet, even when trying to rationalise We’re Never Getting Out in those ways, the awkwardness of the experience is always slinking around the corner. It’s a protracted narrative that can feel so uncomfortable to take in over such a stretch, and not in the way that previous Deaf Havana albums have been, either. In the past, there’s been an artfulness to how topics like depression or alcoholism or even gnawing toxicity have been tackled, which feels impossible to grasp with this one. More than previous instances, it’s like being dumped upon and then getting strung along to watch the “it’s not you, it’s me” at the end.

It’s not a flattering or sympathetic frame at all for Veck-Gilodi to be placed in. As open and honest as he is, there’s a niggling ick about how that looks in the full light of day. Apparently a lot of these songs were written before the marriage had even ended, which is a fact that elicits a wince every time you hear it. That this is a commercially-released body of work can make that even harder to swallow, with how soul-crushing the situation reads as, despite no explicit intention of that. (The piece having the name We’re Never Getting Out doesn’t quell those perceptions, either.) And while it’s not common, it’s also not surprising when existing flaws get cracked open even wider because of this. You know how Lawn Tennis was already so-so as a single? Yeah, well, in full context, with its jaunty tone and writing that forgoes any solemnity in leaving settled life behind, to where you can actively hear the thematic gravitas leaking out of it, it actually kinda sucks now.

The biggest disappointment of all is how it’s evidently a result that hasn’t landed squarely, as opposed to a deliberate slashing of Deaf Havana’s image. The earnestness is just as central (Lawn Tennis excluded), paired with the pensive pop that found its way into the band’s wheelhouse on their last album The Present Is A Foreign Land. Although its more extroverted older brother Rituals represents the pop side of Deaf Havana that’s appreciated in value more (like, by a truly staggering amount), the smaller foundation still has a quite a bit to like here. Car Crash is a beautiful little slow-burner, swirling through its negative space with an even-handed lyrical conceit of dissatisfaction from both parties that makes it work all the more. Hurts To Be Lonely and Cigarettes & Hotel Beds later possess the whipping, windy pop-folk choruses that Deaf Havana are dab hands at. And with Frida 1939, a lonely, tear-sodden acoustic line and Veck-Gilodi at his most vocally downtrodden is an easy way to draw attention in from the get-go.

Maybe it’s the overall aura of the album taking the wheel, though, but We’re Never Getting Out also has a propensity for feeling…too small? It’s the way its momentum seems to have a set cap, notable in contrast to previous Deaf Havana albums and songs driven by a hotter fire. Here, the cleaner mixes leap out more, as does the lack of tangible grit and dishevelment that even Rituals and The Present Is A Foreign Land had in their own way. When there are moments wanting to show off some rock, they’re either fine-but-flagrant retreads of past works like Carousel, or pop-rock that only pays lip service to additional texture on Break and Lawn Tennis. Dog, on the other hand, actually does show a little development; there’s character to the sizzling guitar that the album doesn’t indulge in too much.

But on the whole, We’re Never Getting Out really is an album whose image is compounded by its missteps. It probably is Deaf Havana’s worst album, but even calling it that doesn’t seem to properly fit the bill. In fact, it isn’t too hard to understand why Veck-Gilodi has deemed it the best Deaf Havana album—from the perspective of him, it’s probably the most free, breathable authorial voice that he’s ever had. But expecting that to translate to a wider listener-base can be a trickier ask, especially in such a thematic scenario that’s best suited to personal contemplation over a radio-ready pop-rock album. It’s very flawed, and while some appreciation can be given for how openly those flaws are worn, a good album requires more. Deaf Havana, of all bands, should know that by now.

For fans of: Twin Atlantic, Fatherson, The Xcerts

Words by Luke Nuttall

‘We’re Never Getting Out’ by Deaf Havana is released on 3rd October on SO Recordings.