Teen angst may have never been encapsulated so well as in the iconic genre of shoegaze and its walls of beautiful sound. But not many bands reached the artistic heights of British shoegaze outfit Slowdive, a group who now stand proudly in the long history of great rock music. However legendary their status might be today, their heyday was quite some time ago at this point, with the seminal work Souvlaki having released just over thirty years ago. Unfortunately, the promise the group showed in early releases was not recognized at the time. Slowdive could not survive the endless criticism of their art and split to pursue other projects, assuming their efforts would be relegated to the dustbin of music history. Yet, as the internet expanded in the 2000s, music forums rediscovered the group and eventually revived the creative spark that once burned so brightly all those years ago. Twenty two years separated the first iteration of Slowdive and their self-titled comeback album in 2017, and with another gap between then and the present, fans have waited patiently to see what has become of their output. Critics have been waiting too, this time with much more attentive and empathetic ears. Undeniably, the stage is set for Slowdive to make their next big statement with this new record.

Understanding time is the key component to everything is alive. The way time has evolved Slowdive’s sound, how time has changed their songwriting focus – Slowdive are a band well aware of how time gives and takes away. Most importantly, Slowdive are aware that time has allowed for them to be themselves at their core — no longer do they have to default to expectations of critics, with their unending list of requirements and negative thoughts, in order to achieve success. From the grizzly and weary vocals to the pensive and introspective guitar licks, time and its effects wreak havoc all over this record.

The album opens with pulsing and shifting synths that sound straight out of Miami Vice on “shanty.” Quickly the shoegaze trademark of heavily distorted guitar chords pierces the soft landscape in a way that seems to tear the very fabric of the background synths themselves. Vocalists Neil Halstead and Rachel Goswell float lyrics over the evolving environment, with a delivery evocative of folk music in its hushed yet personal nature. These vocals are not limited to this track, and are all over the record, for which it benefits greatly, as the audible weariness of their voices is evocative of a softened energy. As the band members have entered their fifties, it’s clear they are wiser and precise with what they say in light of the way the waves of life have weathered their souls.

Everything is alive will not strike the average listener as a mindblowing experience in quite the same way the band’s previous efforts might. And for those long term fans, the album may sound relatively tame in spots. These criticisms have their merits, as the slow changing pace of “prayer remembered” or “andalucia plays” do not strike the listener as entirely revolutionary. However, these tracks in particular are pleasant and fit the overall themes Slowdive aim for, but that’s about as much as there is to the tracks – merely passable modern dream pop.

Furthermore, it’s hard to separate the new iteration of Slowdive from their earlier albums. While the album is aesthetically pleasing, it's clear the digital age has meant the abandonment of the rough, totalizing sound bleed and emotionally charged riffs found on Souvlaki or Just For A Day. “kisses” is the primary offender of this loss manifested as pop conformity, at times edging on copycat of the mid 2010s dream pop scene and seems only loosely connected to the rest of the tracklist in theme. That is not to say the technical aspects miss the mark on the album, as they are as proficient as ever, but instead that the chord progressions are standardized and less authentically underground as Slowdive established themselves as.

Even so, everything is alive is reflective at its core, a source of remembrance of things lost to time. Most prominently felt is the loss of family as noted by the dedication of the album to drummer Simon Scott’s father and Rachel Goswell’s mother in the album’s liner notes. 

Dedications of albums are always intentional choices, and these small details of slow pace and softened guitar tones change from something unimaginative to having innate depth from the slow and painful process of grieving. These events have forced Slowdive to soften their approach in reflection to their new positions in life. And while Slowdive has taken a somewhat different direction on everything is alive with clear roots in their previous releases, the release proves to be more of a transitional period rather than a peak.

In fact, the keys to success are quite evident in some stellar tracks. Third track “alife” features the clearly pop version of Slowdive found on “kisses” with much more interesting presentation. Goswell’s chorus on the track of “Two lives are hard lives with you” is so high pitched and wrought with distortion that it contrasts greatly with the waterfall-like guitar licks for an ethereal effect. Duality exists all over the track in their most clear statement of their positions, with the lyrics themselves, the clashing of the sounds and Goswell and Halstead’s competing performances exploring the difficult contrast between “then” and “now”. The last leg of the album starts strong, with the shimmering guitar tones from Christian Savill on “skin in the game” circling so much that it feels as if the listener’s reality is lost, while the methodical drumming of Scott and the effortlessly magical basswork of Nick Chaplin forming a wonderfully grounding base. “Chained to a cloud” adopts the reflective mood through arpeggiated guitars exaggerating the progression of change throughout the track. Final track “the slab” is the most atmospherically impactful, with vocals drenched in fuzz and walls of sound heavy enough to excellently drive home the reflective mood of the previous track, a weight that wouldn’t feel out of place on any of Slowdive’s previous masterpieces.


The passage of time, the struggle of understanding oneself as contexts change, and death have all worn thin on Slowdive. Where Slowdive (2017) was the group finding their musical feet under themselves once again, everything is alive serves to show Slowdive’s attentiveness to the development of their sound, reflective in that Slowdive has acknowledged what made their shoegazey-dreampop so influential. 

Slowdive are reflecting on every little detail in their lives, taking lessons from a range of experiences forced upon them with the passage of time, and have come to the conclusion that everything that surrounds them is alive and beautiful.

Slowdive sound beautifully weary on everything is alive 

Despite near-constant critical acclaim for British post-punk outfit Black Country, New Road, the future of the seven-piece band became uncertain just days before the release of their 2022 album 

. Many worried that without the domineering voice and unforgettable lyrics of Isaac Wood, the group would lose the edge that made them so impactful.

The remaining members were left to pick up the pieces in the only way they knew how – through live shows in which they let their creativity progressively shape the outcome of their music. In turn, 

 is not simply a concert film but an experience for the devoted listener of BC,NR in order to bring them closer to this creative process.

I first became aware of Black Country, New Road through YouTube. In late 2020, a thumbnail featuring a close-up shot of a man shouting down the microphone at some London venue called The Windmill caught my eye. And while their music was strange and teeming with tension, I couldn’t fall in love with the style just yet. Returning to the group after hearing of Wood’s departure, I returned to these old concert videos more frequently than their actual studio releases. While I loved 

 just as much as the next listener, Black Country, New Road’s original concert music was special for its pure raw edge. So when it was announced that the group would be making a return tour as a six-piece in small venues across the UK once again, I was hopeful that the group would return from these sessions victorious. So when a North America tour was announced, I jumped at the opportunity to grab a ticket.

The concert film opens with the construction of the venue and the introduction of the three live shows of audio recordings being three separate plays that the group would be performing on each of the nights. Alongside recorded audio and video showcasing friends and fans of the group explaining what the group means to them, immediately the film closes the distance between the viewer and the band themselves. Traditional heartbeat of the group Lewis Evans is the first to produce any notes in the band’s return to performance, opening with a hope-filled saxophone solo. While there is an uplifting mood to the start of the film, the nervous energy that lies behind the surface becomes very apparent with bassist Tyler Cryde’s opening lines of “Up Song.” It becomes immediately obvious that the group is struggling to remain confident, due to the criticism seen in “Look at what we did together / don’t know how you did it / Have you come out half the woman you were before / Or twice the person you ever dreamed you could be?”

I waited hours in the heat of a late summer afternoon in New York, the sidewalk outside the Bowery Ballroom burning through my shoes, and with each passing minute I became more and more nervous. Had I been deceived? Had the fans and press been too kind in their assessment of their UK tour? Standing dead center in the second row, I was sure to make the show as personable as possible. So when watching the opening of the 

 film, it’s easy to be stuck with that uneasy anticipation all over again. Yet when the band broke the tension, singing “Look at what we did together / B-C-N-R friends forever” in unison, all tension washes away with the cheer of the crowd.

“Up Song” utilizes similar musical themes to an 

 favorite, “Chaos Space Marine.” Like the predecessor, “Up Song” re-uses the theatrical and sing-a-long nature akin to Queen’s best hits to shake the chains of expectation and doubt. In the film, the certain play you see changes with each song of the set, stringing together each night with near seamless transitions. Pianist May Kershaw takes on the role of lead singer for “The Boy,” providing enchanted vocals alongside a fairy-tale-like story of a robin who has lost the ability to fly and searches for strength. The following track “I Won’t Always Love You” features broken spoken word-style lyrics from Cryde and standard BC,NR style anxiety-filled climax. “Across the Pond Friend” and “The Wrong Trousers” feature singing from saxophonist Lewis Evans, delivering fun for the former and reminiscing over the loss of Isaac Wood in the latter, but are some of the weaker tracks ever performed by BC,NR. “Laughing Song” switches the lead role back to Tyler Cryde and features all of the pure defeat of losing someone who seemingly completed you, and while lyrically interesting, lacks much of a punch to make the track truly great. The film also features an intermission period, similar to that of a theater production, and allows the viewer into the creation of the handmade designs for their live sets, accompanied by jokes and odd bits just as if you were within their friend group and participating with them.

The very best tracks on offer are the final two. “Turbines” features solo piano and singing from Kershaw to begin, accompanied by a shot of the rest of the band members watching on as they do on stage at live shows, with one seat empty. Kershaw’s lyrical performance is seemingly abstract, but ultimately heart-wrenching and evokes feelings of total worthlessness in “Don’t waste your pearls on me / Don’t waste your pearls on me / I’m only a pig / I’m only a pig.” The final instrumental on the track is comparable with the very best of BC,NR, with drum and guitar work from Charlie Wayne and Luke Mark that hit like shotguns to the chest on every note played, especially felt in person. The New York live set closed with “Dancers,” sung by Tyler Cryde. Expressing feelings of high expectations, mountains of criticism, and constant need to perform, the band delivers a plea for understanding accompanied by an emphatic musical closure from all members. The film closes out with “Up Song (Reprise)” which is the opener slowed down, exchanging proud feelings for solemn remembrance, with the film ending on one final melancholy piano solo and a bow from the band.

Throughout much of the film and the musical accompaniment, references are made to Isaac Wood and his irreversible influence on the group. The open seat is at the table featuring the sign “Reserved for Hubert Dalcrosse” is presumably his and is the same name of the writers of every play for each night, demonstrating in the film his instrumental impact. And while the group is leaving him behind in good faith, the group has yet to diverge from their art-rock findings on 

 – most of what is offered here sounds like an enjoyable b-side. Yet with their original post-punk-heavy sound becoming almost insufferably oversaturated and seemingly impossible to return to, the band may be in need of a stronger turn away from their previous work. And while the band has not announced any plans for a studio recording of this setlist, maybe it is best that 

 remains in the imperfect state that it currently is. Many touches throughout the film helped to create an experience that superseded the regular live performance, adding inventiveness that the music at times lacked. One can only hope that the band will be able to reinvent itself yet again, and all faith should be put in them that the next stylistic change is for the better, whatever it sounds like.

BC,NR attempt to pick up the pieces with concert film 'Live at Bush Hall'

It’s been 25 years since the untimely passing of singer songwriter legend Elliott Smith, and while not necessarily a household name, Smith’s stamp upon the music scene has endured long beyond his years. Whether it be heard within the playlist of a coffee shop, or within the soundtrack of the feel-good film classic 

 wraps around you like a vintage jacket that fits perfectly on first wear. And while it’s his most commercially successful album, 

 is also Elliott Smith’s masterpiece, emblematic of the perfection found in his ingenious approach to indie folk.

Many of the tracks on the album are ones that are probably very familiar to casual listeners, and for good reason. “Between the Bars” is the heartbroken and heavy-souled fourth track on the record, and is uniquely desolate yet comforting. Smith’s voice has characteristics of the quiet and soft-spoken style of singer songwriter Nick Drake, yet his delivery of the lines ranging from timid to proudly defiant proves dynamic, and stays fresh with every listen.

The standout track on the record is undoubtedly “Angeles.” Written during Smith’s move from Portland to Los Angeles, and in turn transforming from the nascent star into the bright lights, his lyrics reflect the similarities between the loss of a romantic relationship and this major transition period. “Angeles” seems to be the comfort that one finds critical at the very lowest points of their lives, noting on the positive points of previous experience while also noting how unfortunate these same situations truly are.

Other well-loved tracks on the album include “Speed Trials,” “Alameda,” “Say Yes,” and “Ballad of Big Nothing.” On these tracks, Smith’s breathy vocals wade into the ears like a warm blanket, masking the often depressing lyrical content. Paper-thin, double-tracked vocals recorded on a four-track cassette gives a softness to “Speed Trials” that wraps around the listener, despite the description of a loss of personal autonomy in the lyrics. “Alameda,” a reference to Alameda Street in Portland, continues the intimate vocal style as Smith details his personal life and regrets of letting people in too close, heard in “Nobody broke your heart / you broke your own ‘cause you can’t finish what you start.” On “Ballad of Big Nothing,” a mockery-laden track about a drug addict, Smith utilizes an upbeat background of guitarwork and percussion to juxtapose the inherently depressing nature of losing the joy of life to addiction. In essence, 

 is not just a showcase of Smith’s supreme ability to create a great sonic atmosphere within each track, but also underscores his timeless songwriting.

While the commercially successful tracks are worthy of their love, many of the lesser-known songs on the album provide the listener with remarkable performances like any other. Cuts such as “No Name No. 5,” “Rose Parade” and “2:45 AM” are nearly flawless tracks in their own right, and have generally gone without their due praise.

While the guitar chords seem incredibly simple to a casual listener, the chord progressions in this album create a fluttering around the eardrum, pushing around the listener’s emotions in a truly addictive manner. No matter if it’s the first listen or the thousandth, Smith’s ability to manipulate emotions without much apparent effort has made him something of a cult classic. Smith isn’t trying to make music that is overly dramatic, and the stripped-back nature of both his lyricism and production provides a softer edge that compliments his vocals perfectly.

 is nothing short of a singer-songwriter classic. While many casual fans may only know of the most iconic tracks, there is truly not a bad second on the entire record. 

 is not just a great nostalgia driver, but an album full of authenticity that works to paint a canvas of beautiful misery.

Andrew Loose