This album sees the band broach some more outward facing subjects without things getting gloomy, a step away from previous material that tended to be more existential. On the title track, vocalist Joe Taylor derides, ‘Sit around and wait for nothing, I can’t tell you the future but I know that it’s coming’, a once neutral statement that’s now almost ominous in the era of climate change and a pandemic as the world is altered past the point of no return. Bringing the track back to a positive headspace, Taylor continues ‘You gotta get up and get outside if you wanna feel the sunshine’, encapsulating the album’s message within the first three minutes of its run time. 

A different approach is taken on ‘Breathe’ as the band acknowledge anxiety and then remind the listener to breathe, with Derek Sanders of Mayday Parade brought on to aid in the sharing of this message. The refrain of ‘just don’t forget to breathe’ is simple yet effective and will surely comfort fans facing difficulties.

There’s still plenty of escapism to be found on the record though, and ‘Earthquake’ provides a heavy dose of this. Comparing a love interest to an earthquake over power chords and a soaring chorus, the track uses these corner stones of the genre to memorable effect, capitalising on everything this band know how to do best. ‘Green Eyes (Polarized)’ shows off a mellower side and is especially reminiscent of their older material, comparing the peaks and troughs of life to moving through the seasons, and being content with the inevitable and ever-changing. At times this outlook can come off a little insensitive as humanity is reckoning with current uncertainty in the world, but at face value the album acts as pick me up before facing the world again, and we need respite wherever we can find it these days.

Sounding confident and assured on ’20/20′, Knuckle Puck showcase a streamlined sound that takes advantage of everything people love about pop-punk and all with a sunny disposition. Now the band have proved how solid they can sound within the realms of the genre, it will be exciting to see how the band use their well-loved back-catalogue as a touchstone to bend and break those rules in the future.

It follows then that the first half of the album is an expulsion of the fears and anxieties that come with illness, featuring strained and unruly vocals over tangled guitar riffs which move between biting and gritty, providing an undergrowth for reflections on pain made within a haze of discomfort.

On ‘Pain’, Tinsley goads: “Pain / go ahead and scream at me / say every word you ever heard”, provoking in such a way that it’s clear she just needs something, anything to happen in the face of failed relief. Whilst we’re all living in a world that’s been upended, it’s refreshing and cathartic to hear such a sensitive topic embraced in the way it is here; the hurt and anxiety being felt and then channelled into songs that both confront and soothe.

On the latter half of the album, ‘Raising Boys’ moves along a veering guitar riff, contrasting with a more static vocal melody that questions: “Did he ever tell you that he wasn’t okay? / The softest soul, a loving heart,” opposing toxic masculinity with compassion. Although the album sounds confrontational, the lyrics are gently inquisitive and empowering.

On ‘The Healer’, the listener is encouraged to “give yourself the break you give others / love yourself the way you do others”, again extending compassion, this time to those on their own journey of self love, whilst delineating the shift in headspace on the record.

The final track ‘Saluting Magpies’ is a culmination of this journey, acknowledging the darkness than can overwhelm us whilst defiantly moving through it, always searching and reaching for that escape route: “I’m still saluting magpies / like it’s the only thing keeping me alive.” It traverses two sides of the same coin, taking us to a place that’s dark and desolate but managing to scour the ground and find promise of better days to aid the journey.

‘II’ is a frantic record, the sound of emotional turmoil set down in the studio. Despite this exterior, at its core it’s a balm for the rougher parts of life.

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It would be disingenuous to claim this is the nicest sounding album – it’s scrappy, capitalising on the band’s live sound, and largely focusing on issues that could wear anyone out. This goes a long way to making it feel like you’re at one of their shows, especially with the addition of short, scattered interludes. Two tracks in we get the ditty: “Do you want to go to work? No! Are you going to go to work? Yes!” Followed by ‘Corporate Realness’: “You are not your job / work is not your life / you are not what you must do in order to survive”. It’s tongue-in-cheek enough to gently poke fun at the reality that yes, most of us have to go and work a job we do not like, whilst still acknowledging how hard it is – it’s reassuring, funny, and elevates the conversation around these topics without making it exhausting.

The genius of this album, then, is how it frankly speaks on difficult and complicated topics where women and non-binary voices are routinely ignored, whilst still ensuring it’s a fun and reaffirming listen for those people the band are elevating the voices of.

“This song is called Vagina Police but we want to make it clear that we stand in solidarity with all our trans siblings,” states vocalist Janey before a song about bodily-autonomy that’s sure to conjure up mosh-pits when played live, with its raucous chorus and lyrical motifs made for chanting. The band sound their best when they lean into heavier guitar sounds, most notably on ‘Payback’ and ‘Kiss My Fist’, the former sounding like an Avril Lavigne deep-cut, again with a chorus clearly constructed to resonate at a live show and a bridge that sees the band chanting “hey! Mister! Get your hands off my sister!”

Dream Nails couldn’t have been more clear in what they stand for on their debut record – great songs, thoughtful lyrics, a fun live show, and most of all: “misogynists? Yuck.”

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‘Flower of Devotion’ is a summer record, one that bumbles along akin to the way a low-running stream bleached by the midday sun might do. Meandering and relaxed, borrowing moods from slacker-pop and at times a feeling more rooted in country, think sitting out on a porch with a cool glass of USA-style lemonade. ‘Drip Drop’ especially ties all these vignettes of a summer well-spent together, opening with a sleepy guitar motif and nonchalant vocals.

The record commits to an airy sound even when the lyrics are bringing heavier subjects into focus. On ‘Flood’ Kempf likens falling in love to water, both the feeling and the element similar in how fickle and fractious they can be, whilst ‘Letter’ confronts feelings of unresolved grief at the end of a relationship.

There’s a gloominess to be found here – the album is shot through with a sense of melancholy that comes with trying to stand on your own when you’ve become used to the comfort of partnership. It’s a tonic to the rich, sun-soaked soundscape that defines the record. On ‘Loner’ Kempf asserts: “I want nothing more than to be a loner,” her hiccuping vocals entangled with languorous rhythms and guitar riffs, courtesy of guitarist Jason Balla and drummer Eric McGrady – and you believe her.

‘Flower of Devotion’ is an album that exults the joys of your own company without diminishing just how important friendship and closeness can be, too. Audibly comfortable with their sound whilst broadening their lyrical scope, Dehd’s confidence shines as they expand their sonic palette and push it to new places on this record, coming into their own and having fun whilst doing so.

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Having brought their friends and label-mates on tour with them to warm up the crowd, duo Dirty Radio turn Scala into a nightclub with their high-octane, bass-heavy tunes. Maybe a bit too far from what tonight’s audience were expecting to get the whole crowd involved, but there’s definitely some appreciative head bobbing going on.

Marianas Trench enter the stage all drama and glitter to whoops of delight, but the first big singalong of the night is for ‘Stutter’, a single from their ‘Ever After’ album released in 2011. This sparks a run of non-‘Phantoms’ tracks that speak to everyone in the room, if the words being sung back to the band are anything to go by. Later, the crowd raise the volume for their tongue-in-cheek lyric about not being able to top mega-hit ‘Call Me Maybe’ (co-written by frontman Josh Ramsay) during their performance of ‘Here’s to the Zeros’. ‘Pop 101’ turns the crowd into a room of people all making fun of chart music whilst still being charmed by Marianas Trench’s finesse of the pop-music genre. It’s a duality that highlights the ethos of the band – doing pop really well in all its forms whilst still staying fringe enough (at least in the U.K.) to be cool.

‘Haven’t Had Enough’ gets Ramsay jumping into the crowd to tour the room amongst a tangle of reaching limbs whilst later in the set, a chant of ‘ROYCE! ROYCE! ROYCE!’ for touring member Royce Whittaker starts almost entirely unprompted from the audience. This is clearly a band who are adored by the people in this room, and the love is returned. Before playing single ‘Rhythm of your Heart’ Ramsay lets us know that “I actually wrote this in England whilst we were on tour here – I wrote it in the tour bus.” If it wasn’t a fan favourite before, it surely is now.

The highlight and most perfect way to end the set is with ‘The Killing Kind’, closing the show as it does the album. It’s an electric performance switching from brooding and ominous to triumphant in the space of a few minutes. To play a seven-minute long non-single track and have everyone singing along like they’ll never sing again speaks to the energy and dedication Marianas Trench inspire and will continue to do so, whatever they’re planning next.

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The album leans into creepy aesthetics, with the lyrics “I feel sick in your presence” and “I wanna skin you alive” both appearing in the first two tracks. These ‘something’s not quite right’ feelings are heightened in the sonic atmosphere of the tracks, with wordless melodies and relentless, marching drum beats both focal points of ‘Afraid’. ‘High’ takes a departure from the more obvious tricks, instead focusing on a feeling of desolation and loss to achieve this atmosphere as vocalist Rebecca Need-Menear caterwauls over guitars crashing like tidal waves – it’s the first track on the album that calls for an immediate replay. Centrepiece of the album ‘Not Enough’ is the highlight, with airy synth strikes underpinning the track as guitar and vocals achieve a dazzling balance between pop melodies and angsty guitars, with a rock-drop that could soundtrack any on-screen drama.

Found on the second half of ’45’, the heavy electronic shudder of ‘Dirt’ soon gives way to a chorus full of guitars and heady vocals; the same in ‘Never Love Again’. There’s no denying it’s a formula they do well, and one that shows off their honed blending of electronic and rock elements, but more deviation from it on a full-length would be welcome. ‘California’ is a track that does walk a different path, focusing on a different atmosphere all together with a sparse arrangement in places, whilst drum machines and synths are utilised to tell a story in other places – it’s a welcome change of pace to close out the album.

As a whole, ’45’ shows off what this band have been refining since their inception, and as their first full-length album is definitely worth the wait it’s been to hear it –now comes the wait to see what Anavae do now they have their debut album as a touchstone to create from.

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There are clear stand-outs, such as ‘Lose Our Heads’ which sees the band utilising a more synth-heavy approach to their advantage, and ‘Fired Up’ which showcases the pure energy this band can translate into sound. Unfortunately, there are also some misses. ‘Guilty (For Your Love)’ is an early offender – though it contains their trademark bombast, the chorus leaves a lot to be desired. Towards the tail-end of the album things begin to get tedious on both ‘Wake Up’ and ‘The Cure’, neither of which utilise their strengths as they appear overwhelmed by their sound. Theresa Jarvis’s vocal performance saves these tracks from being entirely forgettable, with a vehement delivery all the way through the record.

When Yonaka hit their stride on this album, they sound really, really good – arena ready, even. With an incendiary collection of tracks behind them forged through single releases and EPs, they can afford to miss the mark a few times on their album and only carry the very best forward – and when this band get it right they don’t just light a fire, they set the whole house ablaze.

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Opening number ‘I’m in Hell’ leads with the chorus, and it pays off as the desperate lyrics and soaring melody keep you hanging on just to hear it again. This is the sort of track that’s meant for a live set– a hands in the air, sing until your throat’s raw show. The adrenaline doesn’t let up on ‘Running Rings’, which utilises a much more pop-leaning guitar line that works to make it another highlight of the release, even if the lyrics are a little saccharine.

Things slow down towards the end, as the introspective ’24’ closes out the EP. It’s a short release and although hearing another side to the band is appreciated, the energy from the first half is missed. ‘A Fear That Comes Around’ makes a good go of showcasing all the band has to offer, but at this point it feels like it’s time for the band to release a full-length album – and we’ll be all ears when they do.

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