Nailing your second album is probably the hardest thing to do as a band. The parodoxical balancing act of keeping with what made you so good in the first place, but evolving musically, trips up a lot of incredibly talented bands; Catfish and the Bottlemen’s disappointing ‘The Ride’ is testament to the fact that stagnation is stale, while Imagine Dragons’ ‘Smoke and Mirrors’ is what happens when you try and change too much.
So as I loaded up Spotify, my eardrums tingling with excitement, there was something of a nervousness. NBT’s debut album was utterly spectacular, an explosive rollercoaster of powerful vocals andcrashing guitars, and quickly put NBT at the top of my ‘Ones to Watch’ list. And yet, this just meant there was more to lose if it didn’t live up to expectation; the higher the expectation, the bigger the fall.
Singles ‘Amsterdam’, ‘I’m Not Made By Design’, ‘Broken Machine’ and ‘Sorry’ did a lot to allay some fears that NBT would fall foul of the second album curse, the second of those in particular; vintage Nothing but Thieves as Conor Mason’s majestic wailing echoes over a driving bassline with a tension and allure few other bands can create. It’s a profoundly atheist message, which is slightly unorthodox; but atheism has never sounded this sexy.
First single ‘Amsterdam’ is remisniscent of earlier track ‘Hostage’ in it’s unerring confidence and breakneck speed, but with a bit more precision and polish. It begs you to feel, feel something, to join in, before closing all of a sudden leaving you wanting to click the repeat button and start all over again. Once again Mason’s vocals shine, blasting through the glittering guitars with raw power rather than the finesse of ‘I’m Not Made By Design’.
The third single was ‘Sorry’, a change of pace from the energy and power of previous singles. Slower tracks aren’t new for NBT, with first single ‘Graveyard Whistling’ being one of the standout tracks of the last album, but I’m sure I’m not alone in saying they’re at their best when they’re quicker, more relentless, more breathless. That’s not to say ‘Sorry’ is bad – far from it. It’s a heartfelt ballad, with a composure and simplicity of a band who know what they want to do. It’s a slow burner, and the ending will leave you wanting more, as Mason howls ‘I’ve been waiting so long’, the track reaches an apex that never seemed possible from the first notes.
Titular track ‘Broken Machine’ hits something of a sweet spot between the two. The control and emotion of ‘Sorry’ but with the explosion of energy that some of the harder-hitting tracks have make ‘Broken Machine’ a must-listen. The ebb and flow of the dirty guitar melody, the ridiculous range of Mason’s vocals on full display as he toys with the track at will and a hook of epic proportions – it’s a great rock song.
Knowing this, I still had fears – I’ve got trust issues dating back to The Fratellis’ outrageously disappointing second album. Catfish’s The Ride was the biggest disappointment I’ve had since – I don’t trust indie-rock any more. But 30 seconds into ‘I Was Just A Kid’, I knew this was different. ‘You’re not like all the other bands!’ I shouted at my iPhone, as bemused passers-by sneered.
They’ve no idea.
‘I Was Just a Kid’ takes everything great about ‘I’m Not Made By Design’ and ramps it up to 11. It’s absolutely mental, probably a bit too explosive, but it’s fan service at its finest. Opening with pumping drums into a whirlwind guitar track with reckless abandon. The pre-chorus attempts to lull you into believing the song is about to take a breath for the first time, but alas no, it soars into a spectacular chorus; but this one is carried by the driving guitar as much as Mason’s vocals.
Up comes ‘Live Like Animals’ as the next new song, a sneering social critique filled to the brim with the swagger that only full confidence in your own ability can bring. The way the lyric ‘It’s madness, get used to it’ leaves Mason’s lips is so deliberate, so sassy, so audacious. It’s a new style for the band, but one that they can pull off with relative ease.
‘Soda’ reeks of The Pixies’ ‘Where Is My Mind’, with it’s meandering high-pitched vocals and spacey guitars. ‘I don’t wanna be myself, it’s making me so unwell’ cries Mason, in a sombre moment that acts as a real pallet cleanser after the dirty electronics of ‘Broken Machine’ and ‘Live Like Animals’. It’s not NBT at their raucous best, but every album has to have some changes of pace, and ‘Soda’ is still a very good song.
‘Particles’ is another ballad, but it maintains some of the pace and energy that makes them so good. Mason’s vocals – I can’t find enough words to describe how utterly incredible they are. Every single song on this album show that, but none more so than this one. The unrestrained emotion in the titular lyric is phenomenal, and will knock even the hardiest of souls off-guard.
‘Am I gonna get better, better?’ screams Mason on track number nine, but sadly, not with this track. ‘Get Better’ is a decent six or seven out of ten song, but it just seems to be missing something. That said, when this and next track ‘Hell, Yeah’ are the weakest tracks on the record, it’s a strong record. ‘Hell, Yeah’ betrays the energy its name suggests with a stripped-back haunting melody.
‘Afterlife’ is the start of the resurrection from the mid-album lull, if you can even call that; ‘Afterlife’ is a song begging for a great live or acoustic version, and is more of the same from the band.
The distant intro from ‘Reset Me’ gives you time to set yourself. It’s a pretty typical rock song with a nice indie-pop-esque sheen. The intro has a distinctly 1975-y feel to it, but it ramps up to a crashing pre-chorus and a clean chorus that just underline the skill of the band to just pump out great song after great song.
Titling the 13th song on your album ‘Number 13’ makes it look like an afterthought, one of those interludes or half-finished tracks you throw on to fill some space – but there’s none of that from these boys. ‘Number 13’ is but a name, not an indictment on the song itself, as it turns out to be one of the better songs on the album. An ebb and flow that seems symbolic given the topic of a relationship gone wrong, with a Royal Blood-esque sliding guitar and staggeringly powerful chorus; the only critique one can have is that it finishes.
Even as I listen through again while I’m writing this, as soon as I hit Publish I’m going to listen through this again. The tingling in my eardrums, the excitement I had for this album; it was justified, and until I close Spotify, it doesn’t go away.
Alternative Current 