“The Black Heart? That’s where the old people go, it’s where my dad hangs out with his friends. How old is he? Forty-two.” – some kid who likes ska.
It is a Friday evening in Camden, and the local scene is gathered outside of the Black Heart. I laugh as I think back on the words from the kid at the Keep Flying gig a few months earlier – it looks like the crowd that showed for the gig really is hitting the forty as their average. Has it really been that long since we were that kid, enthusiastically throwing ourselves at the scene, with a love for the music more so than the people we met through it? It must be. Yet tonight, our age seems forgotten as greetings and hugs are shared, as we buy a round at the bar and make our way up to watch our friends play their tunes on stage.
Modern Shakes barely started playing as I find myself wrapped in a hug. For a moment I don’t recognize who it is, as my brain rapidly goes through everyone I know in the London scene and fails to fit the face. Drunken memories from nights in the United States and Canada fill the gap, as the penny drops: it’s the boys from Early Flights, who flew in from Madrid.
Burnt Tapes did something very unlike Burnt Tapes, and released their second full-length, New Lungs. We’re celebrating. We’re reuniting.
It’s funny really. For all Burnt Tapes writes songs about loneliness, they’re one of those bands that fosters a community. Their small cult following is made of friends, fans, and bands they previously toured with – an international scene made local for those nights.
If you look up the record reviews so far, they read as love letters – and though I’d happily write the guys a love letter, and genuinely enjoy the new songs, no record is perfect. Let’s dig in to see where it shines and where it falls flat.
The album opens up with Crisis Actors. We get Pan singing over the guitar, Jo counting it down with the drums, until the full band kicks in. It drags the emotion out, reigns it back in, finishing with a desperate “I swore I’d never be back here again.” It the quintessential opener, deeply ingrained with its role in the record. On its own, it leaves you wanting. On the record, it leaves you wanting more.
“Now I’m sending you this postcard as if it all meant something, but in the end it’s nothing, and now I’m stuck here coughing up my stomach lining.”
Song titles in all-caps or all-lowercase are a pet-peeve of mine. With MOTHERSGUILT, it almost works – this is one of the heavier songs Burnt Tapes has written. Phil is taking over on vocals, and he tends to be gruffier than Pan. The riffs have moments that are reminiscent of slowed-down skate punk. You don’t have to wait long for a hook to hit, whether it’s the repeated melody starting with “it goes drop by drop, my blood fills the cup” or the two-line chorus “I’m getting by on coffee and mothersguilt.” It manages to stay at perfect length, and knows where to stop before it drags on too long.
“Comatose these gears start to rust, cutting off the parts that you lost, oh, the parts that gave up.”
Moving into the poppier song Little Sister brings a big change in energy. First released as a single two years ago, it is an old friend by now. Going for a more classic song structure, it shines in its simplicity, while hitting on heavy subject matters. “Zoloft nightmares came and went, while I was waiting for the end,” Phil opens the song, hitting on the hopelessness that comes with depression, the internal voice that keeps telling you that there’s no way out. It ends with the glimmer of hope found by having someone around who is able to stand up to that voice. “Little sister, I don’t want to die after all.” It’s almost a love song to those who make life worth living.
“So I started on my meds, ignored all the side effects, couldn’t wait to let it inside my head. Didn’t think I’d be around, took my hand and let me out, open the doors that let the blackbird out.”
You Only YOLO Once opens with such a strong melody, but loses steam throughout. The song sounds repetitive, relying on the vocals to bring the changes in melody. You’ll end up with “awake again at three am” stuck in your head, but won’t remember what comes after. The parts that are strong are strong and it does show why Burnt Tapes is the kind of band where you shouldn’t skip the lyrics.
“I’ve been waiting for this black hole to swallow up everything I’ve ever known. While I was waiting for this black hole, I was ruining everything I’ve ever known.”
We’re almost halfway through the record with title track New Lungs, and are back to structured songs. It’s predictable in the best way. Neither the vocals nor the instruments are leaning too hard on the other to do the heavy lifting. It really shows off Pan’s vocal range, and improvements as a vocalist, and is one of the most memorable songs. It’s just a good poppy punk rock song all around.
“Said I can see you, but you don’t see me, and all this silence is deafening.”
If you’ve been particularly enjoying the later stuff by Iron Chic, or most bands on Dead Broke Rekerds, Shelf Life of the Party is the song for you. Gruff punk without the bite. I know a lot of people really enjoy this kind of thing, but stuck between two strong songs, it could have been a b-side.
“I’m burning out, I’m running on empty, it’s got to the point where I can barely form sentences.”
Every time I try to give the record a listen in full, this is the point I get distracted, which is a shame. Office on Repeat absolutely shines on its own. The song feels like a story, and has one of the strongest outros on the album. Give me more chants, please? The end of “you lit a match to set the world on fire, I guess you’re doing pretty well, I’ll see you in hell” makes me so happy.
“We used to watch Office on repeat. We used to drown out our lack of sleep.”
Of all the songs on the record so far, Future Strangers is the biggest throwback to Burnt Tapes’ previous record, Never Better. It sounds a bit rawer than the poppier songs, without droning on, giving that energy we haven’t seen much of. I’m also digging the drum fills on this one.
“What we know is a drop, what we don’t is an ocean. I steadied my hands finally and I surrender to the sound, yeah, I remember it all came down.”
We’re heading into emotional territory with OnlyFriends, with a heartbreaking start of crackling vocals over a guitar. It’s the quiet of the moment, where things feel like they can still work out. It builds up until the full band kicks in, almost desperate. There the song loses focus a bit, and the part with the claps is almost self-indulgent, adding little value to it. It’s one of the songs that you will either put on repeat if in need of a sad song, or skip when feeling content.
“What if I go and you’re not there? What if you pass and I’m not anywhere? I just need a moment to whisper something about how time flies away.”
It’s no secret that I am a sucker for songs that open with muted vocals over muted chords. So Long, Sundays opens strong. It’s another song that wouldn’t be out of place on the last record, the sounds of nostalgia, of longing for what was, the grittier side of life and emotions.
Personally, I believe Office on Repeat would have been the stronger closer. This song could have been trimmed by about a minute and moved a few tracks back. There’s also no need at all for those last thirty seconds, but that’s personal – my dislike for anything ska has been well-documented, and next time I am in London, I will make sure to bring an extra stack of my “Say No to Ska” koozies.
“When we were kids, did you think we’d get to this? It’s hard to leave, it’s hard to stay. We let this slip away, we let the ocean come between us.”
In the end, Burnt Tapes wrote a strong record, and a worthy follow-up to Never Better. The songs feel cohesive enough that you could listen to any of them on their own and immediately know they’re on this record, but lose that cohesiveness when listening to the record as a whole, suffering from the order they’re in. The production is absolutely amazing – it makes New Lungs such a pleasure to listen to. Most songs will definitely find their way on repeat listens, and others will be an every-now-and-then moment, but I’ll happily sing along to all of it during live shows.
