From Post-Rock masterpieces For the First Time and Ants from Up There to the collaborative rebirth on Live at Bush Hall and the anticipation for Forever Howlong.
When Black Country, New Road, an English rock band formed in Cambridge, debuted their first album in 2021, labelling them merely an “English rock band” felt like an insult to their burgeoning, fervent fanbase. For the First Time was a cacophonous and emotionally efficacious post-rock masterpiece that evoked hair-raising sensations. Listeners were stunned, their senses heightened, as lead vocalist Isaac Wood navigated the troubled psyche of an incel, his voice a raw blend of croons, croaks, and anguished moans. The band’s sophomore record, Ants from Up There, amplified these emotions tenfold, proving equally captivating, if not more ravishing. Wood’s formerly contemptuous ramblings evolved into gorgeous and confounding musings, hinged on metaphors of the Concorde jet, A-list pop stars, and his tender yearning to share meals with the people he loved and his loves, who sometimes do not appear to share the same feelings in return.
At that point, the band appeared to have established a sound they excelled at. Many, whether in jest or with genuine conviction, heralded the band and their sophomore release as a defining mark of the 2020s, with Isaac Wood being compared to a modern-day Ian Curtis. They likely would have continued their impressive run of releases had Wood not unexpectedly stepped down as guitarist and vocalist at the band’s career zenith. This departure left many fans mourning a man they never knew and the career of a band they thought would soon be over.
However, predictions of their demise proved spectacularly wrong. The rest of the band announced they would be moving forward as a six-piece unit, accompanying a live record, Live at Bush Hall, consisting of a whole, entirely new batch of originals, each of which is fronted by a different member within the band. This bold move shattered preconceived notions, showcasing hidden depths within the band. Voices that had previously been relegated to the periphery suddenly grabbed centre stage, exhibiting unexpected brilliance. Keyboardist May Kershaw revealed a magical, folklore-infused lyricism, building amazing eldritch domains with her words. Tyler Hyde, the bassist, offered fractured, emotionally raw vocals, with each note on the verge of a tearful breakdown. And saxophonist Lewis Evans, with his endearing boyish innocence, provided a new, poignant perspective. Live at Bush Hall marked an exciting new chapter and was a thunderous declaration of a band reborn, full of unrealised potential. But like they’ve done from the last couple of records, the band had slowly started to distance themselves from that era, as that said potential would fully materialise on Forever Howlong, Black Country, New Road’s third and latest album. As many listeners begin to daydream and salivate over the remote possibility that the band will soon resume creating masterpieces on par with the previous two studio albums—something that is very likely to occur—Forever Howlong delves far deeper than that.
From their inception, Black Country, New Road’s deeply collaborative ethos has been evident, a natural outgrowth of their genuine friendship offstage. After all, this is the same band who titled one of their songs ‘Besties’, a track that blossoms from a jingly harpsichord motif into a stadium-ready romp of strong percussion, dazzling acoustic guitars, and firework choruses. This close-knit closeness pervades their live performances, where their instrumental lines weave and respond to one another with almost improvisational elegance, with each member intuitively building on the other’s creative ideas – a quality they possessed early on and have further polished on Forever Howlong.
This same warm, communal spirit – the lifeblood that flows through their intricate harmonies and artistic pivots – has not only maintained this six-piece through years of internal upheavals and reinvention, but has also given them the confidence to fully embrace their inner twee sensibility. This manifests in an extensive arrangement of baroque instruments, a musical departure few could have imagined given their caustic post-punk roots. This dynamic is exemplified by the band’s drummer, Charlie Wayne’s account in an interview with YouTube music reviewer Anthony Fantano, in which he admitted to not knowing the lyrics to ‘For the Cold Country’ until one week prior to its release upon looking them up on Spotify, which might strike some as unbelievable upon hearing the final product.
Yet, it speaks volumes about their dynamic, as the track showcases a gloriously chaotic and utterly unique rhythmic command. It gradually builds weight and intensity from Kershaw’s mediaeval ennui as she describes a “metal-clad knight” who experiences a profound identity crisis as it goes through multiple phases like leaves scurrying along a cobblestone path outside of a gothic monastery as the breeze grows stronger. The progression creates goosebumps, as does her angelic voice, which, through the way she enunciates specific consonants, exposes the raw tender parts of one’s heart, tugging and threatening to rip the vessels out.
‘For the Cold Country’ may at first seem like the album’s moving core to many people who are hearing the band for the first time. However, this impression is swiftly challenged by the later track, the Tyler Hyde-led ‘Nancy Tries to Take the Night,’ which arguably plumbs the same emotional depths, but on an inverted trajectory. Where ‘For the Cold Country’ sees Kershaw and Wayne guiding listeners on an ethereal ascent towards a celestial resolution – reminiscent of a black midi track or even the band’s earlier, more experimental forays – ‘Nancy Tries to Take the Night’ drags you down to hell. Evan’s saxophone work, starting with a slow, creeping sequence of arpeggios that erupt into a rapidfire cascade, ultimately leaves you reeling in a stark, sinking emotional abyss.
A bleak, Dickensian narrative swelling into a Reich-ian woodwind crescendo, the crushing core of this song isn’t the unresolved tension that Hyde and the band build with the repeated plea, “Do you want it? / Oh please tell me, do you want it?” – where “it” signifies Nancy’s yearning for domesticity, a life as a wife and mother, tragically out of reach due to an absent or abusive partner. Instead, the true weight descends on the bridge. The agonising internal conflict between survival and oblivion is revealed by Hyde’s prophecy-driven performance of “A vote between the good and bad, with all she’d seen and all she’d had / Nancy tried to take the night, but now she’s gone, removed from sight,” which ultimately leads to the tragic decision to commit suicide as a means of escaping abuse and despair.
One of the distinguishing differences in their creative approach for Forever Howlong was their purposeful pursuit of a long-standing question: could they create something whose full musical potential could only be realised in a controlled environment like a studio? This signified a shift from their previously established priority of capturing the raw energy of their frequently huge live shows. Notably, their previous partner on Ants From Up There was Sergio Maschetzko, their own live sound engineer who, surprisingly, had never produced a record prior to that encounter.
Consequently, the band navigates some palpable growing pains as they grapple with discerning which performances are best suited for the nuanced precision of studio recording versus the raw, untamed energy of a live setting. ‘Happy Birthday’, for instance, unfortunately leans heavily towards the latter, and the studio manipulation of some drum and bass elements unfortunately overwhelms the other instrumental layers on this track, a stark contrast to their previous record where such interventions were impactful yet subtle. However, if one is ready to listen beyond this auditory imbalance, their emotions will most certainly take over, their bodies maybe convulsing in a cathartic outpouring of tears as they surrender to the track’s melancholy, gossamer choral melody.
Hyde delivers one of the year’s most devastatingly heartbreaking lines: “Cause children don’t know the meaning of truth,” a sobering statement that cuts deep, emphasising how an adult may grow so cynical as to cloak a child’s intrinsic naivety while simultaneously seeming to downplay their own hardships. It reads as a scathing commentary from the narrator on the shallow nature of privilege and how the world’s harsh truths may erode even those who appear to have it all.
There are times when the band strikes gold, and ‘Two Horses,’ headed by Georgia Ellery, a gifted violinist best known for her work with Jockstrap, is a prime example. The somewhat startling cutting of the kick drum and bass that seemed strange on ‘Happy Birthday’ actually works to the song’s advantage. Ellery’s vocals soar above a background of tumbling keys, a brilliantly anthemic saxophone, racing drums, and frantic, demanding basslines. The sound has a panoramic feel that resembles Spirit’s galloping across boundless plains in the 2002 flick.
This same triumphant feeling resonates in the album’s title track, though with a touch more tenderness and luminosity as Kershaw returns to vocal duties. Set against a delicate ensemble of woodwinds and flutes, her breath control is both theatrically expressive and subtly enchanting, evoking the image of conducting a local chorus of nightingales in a secluded woodland, deeply reminiscent of Snow White’s captivating serenade to the forest creatures.
Black Country, New Road are still steadfastly devoted to their own creative vision, and to be honest, they don’t seem to care if their unorthodox songwriting occasionally leads listeners momentarily adrift. They’ve always tried to eschew the usual verse-chorus verse-chorus format, and with this album in particular, they’ve gotten better at doing just that. Take a peek at the vocal landscape – this is where this record makes a significant change. The emotional weight of the album is carried by three outstanding female vocalists rather than by a single man’s story or even by any male viewpoint (notice that Evans’ voice is absent throughout). This audacious acceptance of fresh voices and their steadfast determination to defy fans’ expectations at every opportunity will likely propel Black Country, New Road to reach even higher heights and establish their status as a band that is always evolving in exciting ways.
Words by Mishael Lee
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