Bonfire Tide – Talk Of Being Saved
Indie Rock
64%

The hardest challenges we face in life are those which catch us off-guard. Moments of profound loss and grief, instances of dizzying panic and confusion. The greatest of these will all arrive without warning, without any opportunity to prepare or brace yourself for the painful road ahead. Often left too dazed and dumbstruck to really react, all we can do is feel it. All of it. I Didn’t See It Coming, the new EP from Halifax trio EEVAH, lives and breathes in the aftermath of the unexpected, and instils every bit of that feeling into its bittersweet melodies. Nicole Hope Smith’s vocals capturing both that numb, hollow emptiness, and the soft quiver of a voice barely holding back a raging tempest. All while Richard McNamara’s hazy dream pop guitar swirls and billows like an ink blot in water, and Fay Clayton’s steady drum beats pulse like blood pumping through your ears. Continue reading
Adults seem so infallible when you’re a kid; our formative years spent looking up at grown-ups who seem to have all the answers. Your own parents feel especially smart, especially strong, carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders, always knowing what’s best. You tell yourself one day you’ll have it all figured out, just like them. ‘Feeling It All’, the stunning debut single from singer/songwriter Nadia Kadek, reckons with how the naïve, idealistic childhood view of adulthood stacks against the reality of growing up. This wonderfully expressive folk number deals with trying to live up to this impossibly high standard you’ve set; acknowledging that no one has their life together the way they thought they would, that a part of you will always look for the the adult in the room for answers. Moreover it touches on how we begin to realise our parental paragons aren’t as perfect as we imagined. They too struggle, make mistakes, do wrong by us, and ultimately fade and pass before we’re ready. The track’s light and airy arrangement leaves ample room for the expressiveness of Nadia’s tender vocals to truly shine. True to its name you can truly feel it all – the frustration and confusion, a sense of loss, of forgiveness and understanding – wrapped up in this beautiful moment of introspection.

It’s been a hot minute since I’ve stepped into a big arena to see a proper certified legend. There’s a unique buzz that comes from seeing an iconic, beloved, household name in the flesh. It’s the kind of experience that will have you bragging “I’ve actually seen them live!“, whenever the opportunity presents itself, for the rest of your days. It’s a rush that I’ve been craving of late, and I’ll be damned if Bruce Springsteen doesn’t fit the bill perfectly. My appreciation for his work has grown slowly but steadily over the years, as I’ve begun to grasp how foundational his influence is for so many acts I adore, but delving into his prolific back catalogue will only get you so far. For decades now, Bruce and the E Street Band have set the standard for live shows with their marathon 3 hour sets, and finally experiencing that first-hand felt like undertaking some rock and roll rite of passage. I had no clue where that journey would take me, no clue of the scale of the buzz around these shows, all I knew for certain was that I’d sure be getting my money’s worth. Continue reading
Sometimes I really struggle to find what to say about a piece of music. Usually it’s either a case of having difficulty deciding how I feel about it in the first place, or finding the right words to articulate those feelings. When it comes to ‘Sunshine’ however, I find myself just too absorbed by the song to think. I sit down with every intention of penning something witty and insightful, but that notion almost immediately flies out of the window in the face of such infectious feel-good energy. Channelling the likes of Earth, Wind & Fire and KC & The Sunshine Band, Philly funk outfit Snacktime have an uncanny gift for getting me up on my feet and emptying my head of all but the groove. I can just about subdue my dancing long enough to type out these few sentences, but by the time the sax breakdown kicks in I’m jamming too hard to form coherent thoughts. Thankfully such unabashed joy as this requires no input or explanation, merely an open heart.
The phrase Fight or Flight sure makes it seem like those are two equally weighted options. In reality our gut reaction is almost always to run away rather than confront our problems. Some primal survival instinct, hardwired into our core being, urging you to keep your distance from danger – but what about when the things that scare you most lie within your own head. ‘Runaway Girl’ is a song about someone spiralling in their own uncertainty, running from thoughts and emotions they’d rather not acknowledge, shutting everyone else out in the process. This indie pop anthem from Tom Seth Johnson every phase of that flight in superb slow-burning splendour. Building up from an airy and atmospheric opening, echoing those first faint whispers of doubt, it slowly throws breezy melodic riffs into the mix to up the urgency. It all leads to a fantastic climax of frenetic pounding drums and crashing cymbals, with a darkness and venom seeping its way into the guitar work. You can’t help but feel swept up in the energy and emotion woven into this story of inner conflict and desperate escape.
There’s something bewitching about the small hours. Maybe it’s the quiet, the stillness, maybe it’s because it’s a rare piece of time that’s all your own, with nothing demanding your attention. Whatever the reason, it leaves a devil on your shoulder whispering “just a couple more hours, then we’ll turn in” while the rest of the world around you is already fast asleep. While I’m liable to waste the night away down some YouTube rabbit hole or binge-watching a new show, for acts that live and breathe rock and roll these are the hours where their world comes alive. ‘Late Nights and Early Mornings’ is a love letter to that sensation; riding a euphoric high after stepping off the stage, feeling invincible as you walk the deserted streets, until the first rays of dawn break the spell. There’s an undeniable electricity in the air, and you can feel the band embody it here in this old-school rocker. Rebecca Haviland drawing from the fire and soul of Janis Joplin, while Whiskey Heart captures the likes of The Black Crowes at their bluesy best. The result is an electrifying anthem for the small hours, made to be played loud – shattering the stillness and inevitably waking the neighbours.