Alternative Album Chart: The best new indie and alternative albums this week
Is Leeds the present home of the UK’s best music? While some might say that Manchester is currently the home of fresh and exciting sounds, the Yorkshire capital could well be the place. It’s an argument English Teacher have bolstered with their long-awaited debut, This Could Be Texas. Despite being written across years and in many different environments, it’s a mightily refined body of work for a debut that resonates musically and thematically. While the entire band are on heat across the record, vocalist Lily Fontaine is exceptional as the tip of the band’s spear, augmenting incisive commentaries with potent delivery.
Following this, New York punks Bodega have made good on the promise of what came before and released their best effort yet. The culmination of their recent history and that of their earlier iteration, Bodega Bay, it’s subtle, artful, and has something to say, and not in a cheap, sloganeering way. The quintet has always been a compelling prospect, and I hope their latest effort brings them to wider prominence; it’s more than deserved.
Canadian punk heroes Metz have also released what is undoubtedly their chef d’oeuvre effort with Up on Gravity Hill. While the band have always been travelling on a scintillating creative arc, now they move into a new area, which is much more expansive and profound than what came before. Of course, the clangorous fury remains, but the scope of their sound has been stretched into truly cinematic realms. In my book, the churning opener, ‘No Reservation / Love Comes Crashing’ is the best rock track you’ll hear all year. It’s absolutely genius, helped to life by the immense work of acclaimed composer Owen Pallett.
Not finished with the brilliance there, the likes of Buzzard Buzzard Buzzard, Clarissa Connelly and Seagoth have all arrived with albums that are worth delving into from across the textural and thematic spectrum.
Find this week’s Alternative Album Chart below.
The best new indie and alternative albums this week:
This Could Be Texas – English Teacher – 5
Like the journey from Leeds to the Lone Star State, the road to This Must Be Texas has been a long and winding one. The long-awaited debut album from English Teacher collates songs they’ve been working on for the last six years, some of them written in Wales, others in France, others in a Batley Airbnb. It’s a record about those in-betweens, with lyrics and soundscapes filled with restlessness and indecision, but it never feels lost or stuck.
On the contrary, This Must Be Texas is one of the most self-assured debut albums in modern music and English Teacher’s decision to take their time with the record has clearly served them well. Years spent honing their sound on and off-stage shine through in the coherency of the record, which is a collection of sparkling sci-fi soundscapes and cultural references.
A breath of fresh air in modern guitar music, refusing to be constrained by any genre, This Could Be Texas is proof that English Teacher have already mastered their craft just one album in. It’s otherworldly and restless, poignant and poetic, entirely English Teacher, and it will be a tough act to follow. [Words: Elle Palmer]
Our Brand Could Be Yr Life – Bodega – 4.5
The cultural landscape of New York City has something of a legendary status among artists and musicians. After spawning the careers of various iconic figures, from Bob Dylan to the Beastie Boys, it seems as though many modern Big Apple bands think they have a right to success simply as a result of coming from one of the five boroughs. The sad reality is that the music scene of New York has been of diminishing returns since the days of Patti Smith and CBGBs, yet every now and then, a new group will arise to carry on the storied legacy of musical excellence in NYC. The latest in that lineage are Brooklyn-based post-punks Bodega.
Our Brand Could Be Yr Life follows on from 2022’s Broken Equipment. While not a complete departure from their earlier work, this album is certainly their most mature and diverse project to date.
There is no doubt that Our Brand Could Be Yr Life is the band’s masterpiece; it is the culmination of everything they have been trying to perfect over the past seven years. For all the added subtlety, guitar breaks and dulcet vocals, everything that makes Bodega such an exciting group is still there. During our recent chat with Ben Hozie, he reaffirmed his desire to have pop songs “mean something”, and every single track on Our Brand Could Be Yr Life means something, though it might take you a few listens to figure out exactly what.
Skinwalker – Buzzard Buzzard Buzzard – 4
Disco was a controversial time for music. Granted, many of the songs we know and love today are perceived as floor fillers that helped shape a lot of modern pop; however, it was also the first time music had a set formula. A hit was no longer something that couldn’t be predicted; the perfect time signature was discovered, chord progressions were repeated, and some of the best musicians in the world fell into a corporate trap of repeating the same thing to make sales. The genre is now often looked back on with a sense of nostalgia, but some bands can use it to breathe new life into an exciting sound.
One band that has done that recently is Buzzard Buzzard Buzzard on their new album Skinwalker, a record that starts with a second-long introduction consisting of plain noise. You might hear that and think it’s a pointless addition, but it perfectly sets the listener up for what’s to come: planned chaos. The entire album is industrial and rock-heavy, but it also comes packed with elements of funk, breathing new life into disco as you get something you can dance to or join a mosh pit to.
The best way to describe this album is ‘fun’, often a wrongly maligned word. The band has such mastery over the instruments they use to make a sound accessible, but they are incredibly layered and complex simultaneously. Even the most dance-reluctant would struggle not to tap their feet to some of the tracks on this album, as the likes of ‘National Rust’ and ‘Therapy’ sound like Nile Rodgers and James Hetfield had a child. [Words: Dale Maplethrope]
Up on Gravity Hill – Metz – 4
The Metz that we find on their new album, Up on Gravity Hill, are entirely comfortable with the space they occupy. The trio understands they’re not heavy enough for the metal and hardcore crowd and are too resounding for indie fans. However, inhabiting this margin has allowed them to continue refining and expanding their sound without genre constraints. They are Metz, and that is whatever they want it to be. On their fifth album, they build on the advancements of 2020’s Atlas Vending and summon their broadest sonic palette yet.
Perfect for driving, the gym and gearing up for a date, Up on Gravity Hill is the sound of a Metz who have been playing together for over a decade, and are continuing to move in unison. The spiky guitars remain, as do the pounding rhythm section and driving choruses, but there’s so much else at play here, with a depth that only a couple of listens will not fully account for.
World of Work – Clarissa Connelly – 4
Clarissa Connelly possesses the kind of voice that is rare to hear in our current musical landscape. It’s entirely idiosyncratic, warm and pastoral, carrying with it years of history and energy. Its richness evokes a bygone era when women sang to each other as they worked, and in its darker moments, Connelly’s voice could easily soundtrack a folk horror movie.
With World of Work, Connelly, a Scottish-born singer who has spent a large chunk of her life in Denmark, crafts an experimental tapestry that encourages us to fully submerge ourselves in its mythic atmosphere, full of brooding guitars and layered vocals. The album is poetic, deeply reflective, and meditative, exploring the different facets of life that often come to blow with each other. Even the tracklist reads like a poem; nothing here is out of place. Connelly has made a striking collection of songs that feels completely cohesive and full of life. [Words: Aimee Ferrier]
Field Theory – Melts – 3.5
In the nostalgic melting pot that is the modern alternative music scene, Dublin’s Melts have built their foundations on the early synth work of Krautrock pioneers and the oppressive industrial sounds of the post-punk era. With Eoin Kenny’s distinctive voice front and centre, the band finds a strong identity in its second album, Field Theory, but falls short of sustained allure.
While it is difficult to criticise any individual song, Field Theory as a unit lacks the explorative zeal suggested by its star-bound tone. Melts have found a formula that works for them and show consummate talent in their field. All the same, despite several slight tempo changes, the word monolith comes to mind, which is perhaps appropriate since Field Theory evokes Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey. Alas, does it have the same sense of enduring promethean awe? [Words: Jordan Potter]
How to Stay Wide Awake – Seagoth – 3.5
When you spend time with any new album, you naturally look for ways to convince yourself that it is better than it actually is. Like a flea market, you often have to sift through some questionable items before you strike gold. Thankfully, How To Stay Wide Awake dismisses that arduous process because it is already great; it knows itself from the off, casting a strong glow of ambient rock. It sounds like a space galaxy projector.
As the name suggests, Seagoth blends the virtuous appeal of swirling shoegaze with the realism of modern coming-of-age. The soundscapes also possess a certain cinematic and video-game aura, which is complemented by the varnished cracks of everyday life. The glossy coating doesn’t distract from the singer’s experiences with self-discovery; rather, it highlights them in a way that doesn’t feel too intrusive or confronting.
This is precisely Seagoth’s talent: How To Stay Wide Awake isn’t there to teach you the secrets of life. It offers insights into one queer person’s journey through psychedelic realms. Queer experiences are unique, of course, and the album reflects this by demanding attention without any sense of threat or aggression lurking beneath the layers. [Words: Kelly Scanlon]
Unwishing Well – The Reds, Pinks & Purples – 2.5
There’s a pandemic of people falling down rabbit holes currently circling society. These are not the fun kind, either. Gone are the days when a pal would enter the pub and reveal that they’re suddenly deep into the lost city of Atlantis, thanks to a particularly engrossing article in Nat Geo. Those harmless rabbit holes would last a month before they came to their senses, and returned to prattling on about pop culture. Now, normal people are lost to far darker obsessions that, nevertheless, bear equal unreality to lost cities. This is the focus of indie stalwarts The Reds, Pinks & Purples on their latest album, Unwishing Well.
‘What’s Going on with Ordinary People’ is an opening track that sets the discursive tone of the record. The American outfit seem like the perfect band to tackle these fraught times in measured music. Their brand of DIY pop has always carried clear-eyed themes with a hint of wry satire that matched their slightly subverted melodies. Here, they are at their peak with that familiar combo. With sumptuous tones, they tackle strands of culture and people who have lost their way in a variety of ways in the modern age. Alas, Unwishing Well is too full of thought to think of anything else.
But are the times really any different than they ever have been, and is The Reds, Pinks & Purples’ new record anything new? In some ways, that’s a crutch that stops Unwishing Well from being truly sharp. The music is measured, which is, in part, a fitting match for the normality that the lyrics long for. But there is no soaring counterpoint that stops it from being anything but middling, maudlin disdain set to pleasant four-chord strumming drawn out with familiar fuzz and reverb. There is a very literal fine margin between perfect and perfectly fine; Unwishing Well sits a little too close to the latter. [Words: Tom Taylor]
Don’t Forget Me – Maggie Rogers – 2
The way Maggie Rogers burst into the music scene was a beautiful and mythical one, captured on video. There she is, a shy NYU student telling Pharrell about her journey from banjo-slinging folk musician to finding her sound during a drop-in masterclass. Then she hits play, and for the next three minutes, as ‘Alaska’ plays, you can see the awe painted across Pharrell’s face. The rest is history.
As a track, ‘Alaska’ is stunning, combining Rogers’ folkish past with a new, fresh, modern edge. That unique texture, along with her beautiful vocals, coloured years of stellar releases. Even as she began to expand beyond that, dropping the production edge for something more typically indie-focused on the 2022 release, Surrender, there was still something a little interesting and different to it, either in lyrical approach or instrumental layering. But on Don’t Forget Me, Rogers has left too much behind. She’s lost the spark that made her special.
There is nothing insulting about Don’t Forget Me. But there is also nothing to make it stick in the mind. It’s nice, and that’s about it. Maybe it needed a bit longer than five days on the drawing board, but either way, the album offers little to hook onto beyond a toe tap to some background music. [Words: Lucy Harbron]
