“Overflowing with bashful energy”: Welly drops new album ‘Big In The Suburbs’
Welly’s ‘Big In The Suburbs’ injects itself into the British pop cannon, overflowing with bashful energy. The band is not concerned with following in the wake of their predecessors and instead intend on steamrolling a new path.
For all its cliches, Welly’s lyrics present him as more of a culturalist, he sings of your posh cousins, roundabouts, and lawnmowers, including his role as Southampton's newest suburbanite. Whilst I’m sure this offering will be widely labelled as lighthearted fun, the technicalities of it appear to be quite remarkable, coming in at a hefty 14 tracks, each one reveals itself as its own soap opera. A screenshot of returning to your hometown, accompanied by the delayed trains and somehow managing to be in the same room as your teacher from high school, past lovers and your childhood best mate.
The titular track, Big In The Suburbs, is beamed directly into your claustrophobic living room through the tinny stereo on top of your TV. It acts as a content page, talking the listener through the various characters throughout the album and exploring the mundanity of normal life.
Followed by Home for the Weekend, a track crashes through, driven by the guitar melody and anthemic feeling, accompanied by the somewhat berserk Deere John detailing a suicide involving a lawnmower, possessing a sense of absurdity that has only ever rivalled by the likes of Peter Jackson’s Braindead. This series of vignettes solidifies that songs don’t have to be serious and this set moves from strength to strength due to their wry and expansive storytelling.
Holiday ready the band pack their passports ready to Soak up the Culture, encased by a hattrick of singles. Shopping is the band’s first offering that microdoses the reality of the destructive habits of modern-day consumerism. ‘I want it cashless / I want it trendy / But I also want a Costa and a massive Aldi’ This and Cul de Sac balance the substance and silliness, exploring a failed relationship underpinned by chiming guitars and commitment that is like ‘blu tac’, sticky but not for very long.
Momentum is key here, it hasn’t faltered for a second, lunging forward at every turn, dragging the listener around every street corner. Then comes Pampas Grass, a much-needed moment of reprieve, nestled between the Under Milk Wood interlude and the shimmering, jangly guitar of Family Photos. A personal favourite, it stretches out for nearly six minutes, layering lush 80s guitar melodies with full-band vocals, circling endlessly with the refrain: "Round and round and round again." It’s a nostalgic reflection on growing up in suburbia; tinnies on the train, voicemails from your mum, and the quiet alienation of a small town that feels like a time vacuum, pulling you back in no matter how far you try to run.
This glorious offering feels informed and authentic, though seemingly silly the interdependent nature of this project shines through nods to the icons of the 80s, Blur, Pet Shop Boys and even Girls Aloud, it doesn’t feel like a baby’s first bike ride, the stabilisers are off and the band are flying down that hill. An impressive debut, although heavily informed by the past this feels fresh and forward-facing, I have to credit the ambition and eccentricity, there is not an ounce of pretension, this is about all of us Welly included.