Coverville

Dark Compass

When I came across the album, I read the little blurb about Jade being a British singer-songwriter and that the album was inspired by a recent breakup. That didn’t quite prepare me for the opening track, "Stick Around". Jade’s vocals immediately suggested Nashville and country influences rather than the North East of England, Wales, or even Croydon. This is someone who has clearly immersed herself in Americana, country, and folk, and has been truly inspired by those sounds. A cracking way to open the album.
 
"Nobody" has a more contemporary, pop feel. There's still those same hurt feelings, and the vocals rise and hint at anger in places, but are kept restrained. It's a strange thing, knowing there's true pain behind something, and enjoying the resulting songs, but I suppose it's a two way street, being comforted by the cathartic process of working your way through the pain and sorrow.
 
A slight change of pace with "Who Wants", which for me feels very much Jewel inspired. Laid back and melancholic, with just a hint of brightness, which mainly comes from the vocal performance, which at times soars.
 
Continuing the softer sound, "Avalanche" is acoustic guitar driven. Musically relatively simple, but providing a great sound bed for Jade's vocals, especially when with the harmonies later in the track, which provide a haunting beauty.
 
More up-tempo, "Dreams" returns to a pop/rock sound, more Fleetwood Mac than modern-day contemporaries. Knowing the backstory of the album adds context. It may not overtly influence how I feel about the music, but it encourages a deeper connection and a closer look at what Jade is expressing.
 
"Save Your Tears" leans into a sound that, for some reason, doesn’t quite grab me, I can’t put my finger on why. Musically it feels a bit jarring, and lyrically it doesn’t fully resonate with me. Given the likely cathartic process behind the album, it’s understandable that not every track will appeal to everyone. Even so, the track remains an emotionally honest listen. 
 
The next track is punchier. "Glad You Did" opens with a flowing stream of statements, and if the track didn’t suggest otherwise, it almost feels like a thin layer of vitriol and barbed comments, hidden beneath seemingly open observations. In a way, it mirrors the seven stages of grief, with this one representing the final stage: acceptance.
 
For me, "How to Be Happy" feels like a look back on happier times, recalling the sparks that once sustained a relationship but are now gone. It also marks a return to the Americana/country sound, with the faintest touch of slide guitar. One lyric stood out for me, simple, yet powerful: "I wish I was the fire you need, until you burned brighter without me". Sad, but maybe the key to break ups, the eventual realisation it's time to move on.
 
I wasn’t quite sure what "Einstein" was going to be. At first, I imagined it might be about a shared pet, but instead the name is used as a comparison, a way of defining what someone is not. Musically, it follows the same style as the previous track, but it’s the lyrics that stand out as the main takeaway. 
 
I love the lyrics to "Somebody New". The song reads almost like a post-mortem on a relationship. After it’s over, it’s easy to zero in with surgical precision on all the flaws, even though at the time there was only a nagging sense that something wasn’t right. You can almost feel the largest of exhales, the relief.
 
And the album closes with "Wish You Well", calmer, melodic and probably the most magnanimous of things to say to an ex-partner and probably the perfect sentiment to sign off on.
 
There have been many albums inspired by breakups. A recent example is Lily Allen’s West End Girl, and Taylor Swift has often been accused of drawing on past relationships for her songwriting, and why not? Some of the best lyrics, and indeed poetry, come from moments of hurt and pain. What sets this album apart, though, is how personal and detailed it feels. I’m not sure how different my review would have been had I taken it at face value, knowing nothing, but I’m glad I didn’t, it gave me more pause for thought and, ultimately, more enjoyment. I hope that doesn’t sound too callous.

Who Wants to Talk About Love

I’ll just say it upfront. This is a cracking EP from a band I have to admit I've never heard of before. It delivers four tracks and not a single one falls short.
 
The EP opens with "Lifers Too", a fast paced and foot tapping burst of energy. As soon as I heard the lead vocalist, another artist came to mind, although it took me a while to pin down the comparison. Some may say it is an apples to oranges match, but to me he's very reminiscent of Talk Talks lead singer Mark Hollis.
 
The dial turns down a notch with "Cocaine and Lexapro", but that doesn’t make it a boring track by any means, the title alone can't help but grab your attention. Two vocalists take the lead here, and once again the second one reminded me of someone I just couldn’t quite place. I enjoyed the song a lot, but one line stood out in particular: "Pilot's still a pilot 'til he crashes the plane". I’m not sure why, but it really resonated with me. Maybe it's that philosophical ponderable.
 
Things are cranked up again with "Havenhead", a track that pushes forward and carries you with it. There’s a strong 90s feel here, and that flavour runs through the whole EP. I’m not sure whether that’s unique to this release or part of the band’s overall sound, but either way it works. This is a cracking track.
 
The EP closes with "Berlin", shifting from high energy to something a little more sedate. Yet it retains a sense of something special, particularly with the 80s-style synth underpinning the track.
 
This is the kind of EP that could easily serve as a band’s “best-of” collection, with all the strongest tracks gathered together. As I mentioned earlier, I’d never heard of the band before, but I’ll definitely be exploring their back catalogue and eagerly awaiting their next release.

A Brief Intermission in the Flattening of Time

It's funny being based in Canada, I’d never come across The Beaches before. At first I thought it was an unusual name for a girl band, and then the penny dropped.... or at least I think it did. This band radiates a potent energy that immediately brings to mind The Parlotones and their incredible album Stardust Galaxies. There’s a palpable sense of creative vitality throughout their music, an energy that feels both spontaneous and meticulously crafted. The result is a tour-de-force album that grabs your attention from start to finish, brimming with infectious hooks, driving rhythms, and a raw, compelling edge that makes you sit up and take notice.
 
I hate to be that old fart, waving a warning flag about the explicit nature of many of the tracks, but yes, this is probably not an album you’d want playing around smaller ears. Then again, maybe it’s a sign of the times, and those little ears have already heard it all before. This is definitely an album with more adult sensibilities, exploring mature themes and experiences. That said, it never feels explicit just for shock value. The content is grounded in real-life adult themes and genuine reactions. OK, off my soapbox.
 
The album opens strongly with "Can I Call You", immediately kicking things off with a surge of energy and attitude. From the first notes, it’s clear the band isn’t holding anything back, driving rhythms, bold vocals, and a confident, infectious energy set the tone for what’s to come. It’s the kind of opener that grabs your attention and lets you know this album is going to be a dynamic, full-throttle ride from start to finish.
 
The first hints of The Parlotones’ influence come through on "Did I Say Too Much". It strikes a perfect balance between a driving beat, thumping drums, and compelling vocals, resulting in an absolute cracker of a track. The energy is infectious, the hooks are immediate, and it’s the kind of song that makes you want to hit replay the moment it ends.
 
There’s more magic in the making with "Sorry For Your Loss". Once again, it’s a fantastic track, and I can already tell I’m going to struggle to keep coming up with fresh superlatives to describe just how good this album is. Then again, that’s probably my own fault for attempting a track-by-track breakdown, but really, each song seems to outdo the last, making it impossible not to get swept up in the album’s momentum.
 
It’s no surprise that "Touch Myself" dives into more mature territory, but this isn’t shock for shock’s sake. The lyrics feel real, honest, and even a little biting, which makes them impossible not to admire. I usually avoid quoting lyrics, but I had to highlight the brutal honesty of “Don’t need no batteries. ’Cause the strap’s in the trash with my self-esteem.” The whole track is full of gems like that, clever and raw, making it one of those songs you can’t stop thinking about.
 
"Fine, Let’s Get Married" is a track where the heart clearly overrides the head, or maybe it’s just a complete lack of common sense. Amid a swirl of fighting, red flags, and little optimism for the future, it's all delivered with an infectious beat you can’t help but tap along. It’s like a camera obscura capturing someone else’s disastrous choices, simultaneously compelling, wry, and impossible to look away from. 
 
The camera obscura is still very much at work on "Take One To Know One", giving us a peek into yet another relationship that probably deserves a well-placed dose of TNT. The song unfolds amid a constant back-and-forth of ego and one-upmanship, and you can’t help but feel grateful to be the spectator rather than a participant. The band nails that mix of sharp observation and biting humour, making the drama almost entertaining from a safe distance.
 
And ever onward, in an album that rarely lets up on its drive, passion, and keen observations, comes "I Wore You Better". The sentiment will likely resonate with anyone who’s felt the sting of a breakup, but here it’s complicated by an element of sexual experimentation, leaving one party feeling hurt and used. Yet the band delivers it all with a vitriolic, one-finger rock salute, raw, unapologetic, and impossibly compelling.
 
And the vitriol continues with "Dirty Laundry", but delivered so seductively, it's hard to feel the anger. It's talk of someone leaving an emotional mess in their wake and leaving the other party to deal with it and that person saying F.U. If only all F.Us were this welcoming.
 
There’s a brief respite with "Lesbian of the Year", which offers a more relaxed vibe and introspective, biographical lyrics. There’s a sense of a later sexual realisation, set against the pressure of societal expectations to “find the one.” The track leans on a subtle electro beat, giving it a different texture from much of the rest of the album. This change of style and pace is a welcome breath of fresh air, adding nuance and depth to the overall listening experience.
 
With "Jocelyn", I can't help but be reminded of Wayne’s World, "I’m Not Worthy, I’m Not Worthy". The song carries a touch of self-loathing, reflecting that all too familiar struggle of not fully seeing the good qualities someone else sees in you. It’s a relatable sentiment that almost everyone has experienced at some point, and the band captures it with both honesty and a subtle, wry touch, while at the same time giving it a rocking beat.
 
The album closes with "Last Girls At The Party" and right from the opening notes, you can feel the band kicking back and having a blast. The vocals remain as strong and compelling as throughout the rest of the album, and the brief moments of the band singing in unison sprinkled throughout the track are a real treat. It’s a playful, celebratory finale that leaves you smiling, capturing the camaraderie and joy that underpins much of the album’s energy.
 
In the end, this album is a whirlwind of energy, honesty, and unfiltered emotion. The Beaches manage to balance raw attitude with sharp observations, weaving between playful defiance, biting humour, and moments of real vulnerability. Every track brings something memorable, whether it’s a lyric that cuts deep, a beat that demands you move, or a chorus that lingers long after it ends. It’s an album that doesn’t just showcase the band’s talent but their confidence in knowing exactly who they are. Bold, unrelenting, and impossible to ignore, this is The Beaches at their best.

No Hard Feelings

Flowers for the Dead are a band from Washington, DC. I hadn’t encountered them before, but they’ve already built a solid body of work, with numerous single releases, a couple of full-length albums, and now this EP, which offers a glimpse into their evolving sound and artistic vision.
 
The EP opens with "Tiny Beanie" a relatively short track at just a minute and a half. Musically, it gives a clear sense of the band’s style, though the valley-girl–style talking layered over the track feels a bit like misdirection, teasing one expectation while hinting at something different.
 
With "First Place" the dynamic flips. The vocals are more in line with what I anticipated, but musically the track is somewhat restrained and flat. It picks up in the second half, yet it still feels a little at odds with itself, as though the song can’t quite decide whether to hold back or fully soar.
 
"Thorn" is another short track, again just over a minute and a half, and just as the pieces start to come into its own, the song ends, leaving you wanting more.
 
The final track, "Perfect View" immediately brought the Beatles’ “Dear Prudence” to mind, or, considering the band’s direction, perhaps the Siouxsie and the Banshees rendition. The gentle build and melodic interplay highlight what the band can achieve when their ideas fully gel.
 
There’s a lot to like in this EP, but it also feels like a teaser for what could be. While that might sound like faint praise, EPs often serve as introductions to a band, and the ideal is for them to be as strong and cohesive as possible. I missed the band’s 2024 album release, "Magnolia" but this EP has definitely piqued my interest, and I’ll be keeping an eye out for future releases.

Perfect View

I have to admit Jack's Mannequin isn't a band I'm familiar with. I received an email recently, glanced upon it, clicked on the link for the EP, started listening and was taken in immediately. I then actually went back and read the email and realised that this EP is in fact a reworking of some tracks that appeared on the bands debut album, 20 years ago, taking the original songs and giving them a brush stroke of strings. 
 
And indeed, "Holiday from Real" opens with a swirl of violin, punctuated by an abruptly bowed phrase that almost mimics a pizzicato effect. A hint of flute follows before the track blossoms into a rich, vibrant soundscape, carried by infectious pop lyrics. It’s the kind of playful yet sophisticated blend that might even make Mozart smile. I was tempted to revisit all of the original tracks these versions are based on, but I held back, choosing instead to enjoy a brief flirtation with this rendition. I think they’ve done the original proud, transforming an energetic pop song into something fresh and re-imagined rather than merely performing a weak pastiche.
 
The next track, "Bruised" carries a more emotional wash, steeped in gentle melancholia. It seems to tell the story of a holiday romance fading, with the distance of a plane pulling hearts apart mile by mile. Around the 90-second mark there’s a brief but beautiful violin solo, and while I found myself yearning for the warmth of a cello, I wasn’t left disappointed, the vocals step in to provide all the emotional weight the moment demands. 
 
The melancholy deepens with "Dark Blue" and I’m not sure if the original carried quite the same heavy coat of despair. The lyrics may be unchanged, but here the strings cast a strikingly dark tinge, especially in conjunction with the words. I imagine the original leaned more toward pop sensibilities, but that was only a fleeting thought, I was too absorbed in the sorrow, relishing the experience. Just past the halfway mark, there’s a wonderful break that allows the song to pause, reflect, and breathe before the relentless surge resumes for a final attack.
 
I was hoping for some respite, and indeed when "I’m Ready" begins we’re greeted with a lighter, less sombre sound, but the lyrics soon suggest otherwise. I can’t quite pin down the exact story; it feels like a breakup song, but the clues are scattered, more breadcrumb trails than clear statements. That mystery doesn’t detract from the track, though. About two-thirds of the way through, there’s a striking switch as the verses turn spoken, carried by a piano hammering out a succession of notes, before it shifts back again for the final lead-out.
 
The EP closes with "The Mixed Tape" a softer track that, for a moment, had me thinking of the Beatles’ "Eleanor Rigby”. Soon a thumping bass drum cuts through, followed by swirling, Beatlesque strings that become the track’s driving force. It’s hard not to suspect a deep admiration for the Fab Four behind these choices. Still, make no mistake, this song firmly belongs alongside the others on the EP, and it provides a fitting tonal conclusion to the collection.
 
It’s not often that a release leaves me with so many conflicting emotions. I’m frustrated that I didn’t discover this band sooner. I’m anxious that, given the long pause between records, this might be their last. Yet above all, I’m grateful, happy to have found another fantastic artist, and thankful, as always, for amazing music.
 
If you like this EP, definitely check out the original "Everything In Transit" album. If the strings aren’t your thing, definitely check out the original "Everything In Transit" album. And if you haven’t heard either, well… just check out both.

Everything in Transit (Strings Attached)

David Cloyd has been an artist I've meant to dive into more deeply for a long time. Like me, it seems life threw a few curveballs his way, and his new album Red Sky Warning arrives 14 years after his previous release, I Could Disappear. That’s a long gap, but as I found out, well worth the wait.
 
The album opens with Ocean of Hours, a slow, almost anthemic track, steeped in sadness and longing. It's melancholy at its finest. I had to play it three times before I could bring myself to move on. The second track, If We Could Escape, lifts the tempo with a brighter, more upbeat feel. David’s music has drawn comparisons to Radiohead, Beck, and Peter Gabriel, but with this song, I couldn't help but think of Peter Schilling’s Major Tom. Not in a derivative way, but in spirit. Both tracks share a kind of floating, otherworldly momentum.
 
The Day Before brings us back down to earth, blending Radiohead-esque tones with a hint of Suzanne Vega’s acoustic introspection. That stripped-down, reflective mood continues in A Far Cry from Nothing and Cage of Water, although the latter introduces a darker undertow.
 
Drive With Me is a standout. It's upbeat and effortlessly fun, with lyrics that glide along like a convertible on a summer highway. Picture a sunny day, the person you love riding shotgun, and the whole world wide open in front of you.
 
Into the Sea dips back into murkier waters, both musically and lyrically, but David’s vocals carry it with grace. It’s the kind of song that’s heavy without being weighed down.
 
Climbing Ivy caught me off guard. It’s slow and wistful, and to me, it feels like a song about family, growing up, and the quiet weight of time. But then my wife, who was listening with me, said, “Ah, that’s so sad.” It reminded me how differently music can hit people. One line in particular stuck out: “It just happens when your verses rhyme.” David may not appreciate the comparison, but it instantly made me think of Rufus Wainwright’s World War Three and his cheeky line, “Don’t bore us, get to the chorus.” Lines like that walk a fine line. Are they clever or lazy? Genius or grating? Maybe I’m just being picky. Then again, I still twitch every time I hear Ed Sheeran’s “We push and pull like a magnet do.” Argh.
 
The album closes with Small Wooden Boat and Walk the Earth, both gentle, acoustic tracks. The latter, especially, has a lullaby-like quality that leaves things on a soft, contemplative note.
 
All in all, this is a beautiful album, and I really wish I’d explored David Cloyd’s music sooner. But better late than never. I have a feeling I’ll be listening to Red Sky Warning a lot in the months ahead.

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