You’re tired. We’re tired. Everyone is tired. Reading the news or comments from writers can make you ask yourself: Where did the malaise come from? Is it even real? Was everyone always this tired? Is now actually the tiredest part of history or have we just worn ourselves out wondering about it? Have we all just accepted that everyone is tired, pulled up a duvet and gone back to bed? The problem with naming your band Tired Of Fighting is that it is literally asking for a reviewer to list all the things they’re tired of. Let’s not do that. Let’s talk about their new record, ‘And Then Suddenly It Hits You’.
If you haven’t heard of this band, well, that seems likely. Research reveals very little. They seem to have only a limited social media presence and don’t appear to be the kind of band who make trendy TikTok videos or viral posts. Their Spotify lists just one EP of demos, which is curious in itself. Their only widely available work is a series of sketches. None of this is a mystery but it is surprising, and it means one thing. The music needs to speak for itself.
Tired Of Fighting are a trio made up of Kevin Nolan, George Sharpe, and Nic Wood. Their setup is simple – drums, bass and guitar, with Wood acting as singer/songwriter. Their songs reflect this. They are neither showy nor trendy. They mostly take the form of strummed chords over a solid backbeat, making the songs simple and understated. You can hear the crackle of pop punk somewhere in their songwriting lineage but the actual sound is closer to a singer/songwriter-led band like Travis. In this case, Nic Wood’s songs are what makes the record. He keeps the tone upbeat but downcast, presenting insecurity in a way that is catchy without being obvious. It is quite the skill, and he employs it throughout the album. Every song has a gentle, likeable hook and a workable character.
That said, it’s not a solo endeavour. Kevin Nolan’s drums are varied enough to shape the songs. They’re presented with the kind of weight that makes them feel like an important part of the whole. This is notable on the fast, weighty ‘Branches’ but his playing is thoughtful and the production combines his choices in an effective way. Similarly, George Sharpe’s bass makes good use of space, particularly on ‘Out Of The Forest’ where the simply strummed guitar parts give him more opportunities to play around. Choices like these give the album a little more breadth and an alluring sense of depth.
If Tired Of Fighting have an almost spectral presence and their songs are unshowy, what is it that makes this record worth checking out? The answer is an obvious one; the songs are really good. Not showy good, not life-changingly good, not even thrillingly good, but satisfyingly good. In this regard, they’re like good-quality jam spread thinly across slightly tepid toast. This does, in fact, make the album difficult to talk about. Every time you find yourself layering on hyperbole or reaching for the superlatives, you have to restrain yourself, this isn’t a record like that.
Age is a cruel thing. By the time you have worked out how to do something, you’re probably too old to actually pursue it. If you’re not young, full of energy and inspired then maybe you’ve already missed the boat. The thing about age though is that it brings wisdom, perspective, and in this case, that sense of quality. Imagine a craftsman carefully shaping a piece of wood, softening the edges, working on it until it becomes a sculpture, then listen to ‘Just For Me’ or ‘Castles’. It’s that same idea.
The album’s artwork is a monochrome photograph. It features a man sitting on a bench, facing away and looking down. It’s a striking image that neatly sums up the album’s tone and direction. While it’s not strictly-speaking a concept record, it is built around grief. Throughout, Wood’s lyrics reflect this in a way that is solid and workmanlike. They don’t have the observational wit of Alex Turner, the downbeat geekiness of Justin Courtney Pierre or Rivers Cuomo’s levels of honesty, but they belong in the same bracket. He has style and an approach. His words transmit meaning. They are poetic and sharpened by effort. The standouts are the neat comparisons he makes on ‘Chocolate’ or the gentleness of ‘Death Wish’ but it’s the consistent tone and introspection that makes them winners.
If listening to the album conjures one thing, it’s sadness. It’s not theatrical sadness though, rather the sadness of a quiet venue after the band leaves the stage. The sadness of heading out for a treat and the shop being closed. The sadness of low-quality jam on toast. Low-level, honest, beautiful sadness.
Everyone is so busy gawping at the Turner Prize they forget how hard it is to paint a portrait. ‘And Then Suddenly It Hits You’ is a solidly crafted, quality piece of work. It’s unlikely to be your favourite record; it might not be the best record you’ve heard this week. But if you’re looking for a simple, unobtrusive ode to everyday sadness, ‘And Then Suddenly It Hits You’ comes highly recommended.
IAN KENWORTHY