University – ‘McCartney, It’ll Be OK’ album review: too hectic for its own good
THE SKINNY: There’s nothing quite like a solid, expertly live-recorded album to capture a band’s explosive stage energy. University is a case in point. Following 2023’s Title Track EP, the Crewe-based emo noise rock trio have eagerly sought to translate their eccentrically heavy performances at Damon Albarn‘s Studio 13 for a debut LP effort that not only channels their sonic blister but carries over their physical heft.
Frontman and guitarist Zak Bowker’s vocal bellows splutter with plosive gob, Joel Smith’s pummeling drums crash chaotically, Ewan Barton’s bass rumbles with volatile bristle, and the layers of synths and digital squall emit with living, atonal resonance.
McCartney, It’ll Be OK makes one hell of a racket. It’s hard not to get lost in their passion, an aural assault that leaps out of the speakers with chaotic propulsion. The energy and passion behind University is unerring, a visceral whirlwind that swings you between indie rock riffage attack and emo hardcore at precarious speed, charged with a fraught frisson that the trio may fall in on themselves or run out of gas at any point. The giddy rush in their sound does much heavy lifting, feeling like a distraction from the album’s undercooked dimensions and grating idioms.
What becomes apparent as McCartney, It’ll Be OK hurtles along is that speed and bluster are all they have. While surface detours into dissonant noise, breaks of terse jangle, and percolating post-rock flash an ostensible eclecticism, their skewed earnestness and gargantuan swagger grow inuring rather than transportive, especially when fronted by Bowker’s perennially earnest, full-throated emo vocals. The weighty crumple of their complex arrangements wavers on disorienting—unfortunately, not in a welcome sense—and is only saved from totally free-falling into a dizzying bore by the teases of doom metal or a just-about discernible garage hook that darts off far too quickly.
University’s humour lyrically colours McCartney, It’ll Be OK more than ever, from the album title’s misheard Beatles line to its opening number ‘Massive Twenty One Pilots Tattoo’ born from the band’s pub bollocks-talk of musing on what the worst possible tattoo could be. All good fun on paper, but the idiosyncratic layer of sardonic foibles and niche humour just starts to irk, like being subject to the guffawing in-jokes of a social group you’re not party to.
This all likely makes much more sense live. Joined on stage by their balaclava-donned mate Eddie, who fulfils the essential role of playing video games and lifting signs denoting their lengthy song titles, University is likely an outfit whose elemental quirks all marry together with gripping impact in the flesh. On McCartney, It’ll Be OK, however, the bludgeoning, one-note din, hectic compositional fuss, and inscrutable sardonicism make for an uninviting and underwhelming meander that lacks the bite they’re striving for.
For fans of: Playing Biffy Clyro at three times the speed.
A concluding comment from Eddie: “Boys, what’s the ‘spawn a tank’ cheat again?”
McCartney, It’ll Be OK track by track:
Release: June 20th | Producer: University and Kwes Darko | Label: Transgressive
‘Massive Twenty One Pilots Tattoo’: Atonal instrumental caked in effects and 8-bit keys. University at their most evocative and points to a direction more interesting than what follows. [3/5]
‘Curwen’: University’s busy emo hurricane at full throttle. The quiet storm interludes its most captivating turn. [3/5]
‘Gorilla Panic’: An irksome flurry of elegiac noise rock swirling around upbeat indie buoy. Goofy emo that’s begging to be reined in. [2.5/5]
‘Hustlers Metamorphosis’: A deeper immersion in the dark here. Snarled post-punk spit with truly aggressive guitar attack possessed with a drama heightened by its intermittently slow paces. [3.5/5]
‘GTA Online’: Indie plod and fizzy synths just don’t like each other. Builds to a tired crescendo of engulfing cacophony, yet still not powerful enough to rid itself of its chirpy keyline. [2/5]
‘Diamond Song’: More emo wail. Aiming for a grand stir, but just feels like a chore. [2/5]
‘History of Iron Maiden (Part 1)’: Starts off with an intriguing slab of cavernous dungeon grind, but careers into their standard frantic whirls. Sparked with a sincere, evocative electricity for the most part. [3/5]
‘History of Iron Maiden (Part 0.5)’: Closing their debut with a coda that echoes their opener. Leaves you wishing there’d been more of this. [3.5/5]
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