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After Isaac’s departure, there seemed to be a general mood among the indieheads that Black Country, New Road would never be able to reach the same heights without him as the frontman.

And with the release of this album, that sentiment still seems to linger for some people. But I don’t have that bias. I was introduced to this band literally four days ago, so I like to think I’m coming at this with clean ears, no legacy pressure, no emotional baggage. Just the music, as it is.

And honestly? They kind of killed it.

This album doesn’t feel like a band trying to replace someone. It feels like a band learning how to stretch out into all the new space he left behind. It’s not louder, or better, or trying to replicate the old sound, it’s just… different. More collaborative, more patient, sometimes stranger. And it works. Maybe not for everyone, but it really worked for me.

There’s always that argument that they could’ve started over. New band, new name, new sound. And honestly, I understand why people feel that way. The shift is noticeable. This doesn’t sound like Ants From Up There 2.0. There’s none of the desperate, shaky whininess that Isaac brought — which I personally loved — and instead, the tone has mellowed into something more patient. It almost leans folklore at times, especially in tracks like For the Cold Country, where the storytelling is front and centre and the vocals feel like they’re being read from a book by candlelight.

This album is slow. Not boring slow — intentional slow. It’s the kind of album that walks you into a room, shuts the door quietly, and just… sits there with you. It’s soft but heavy, like a moss blanket. Like you’re being tucked in and emotionally threatened at the same time.

The instrumentation? Still insane. Every time I think I know where a song is going, it side-steps into some weird swing jazz horror film moment and I just have to sit there and let it happen. They’re so good at that. Making you feel like the song is breathing independently of you.

I genuinely think it’s impressive how well they pulled this off post-Isaac. Having three different vocalists should make it feel disjointed — like a musical group chat. But it doesn’t. Somehow it works. It feels like a scrapbook. Or like everyone wrote a letter to the same person and mailed it in the same envelope.

To end the general discussion, I just want to say one thing:

This album, for me, should be viewed independently from Ants From Up There. It’s never going to live up to that — and that’s okay. That album was a moment. It did something huge for the industry. But to compare them directly is setting yourself up for disappointment. The genres aren’t even really the same anymore.

What does remain, though, is the ridiculous level of instrumental talent. And if you can just listen to Forever Howlong without mentally stacking it against their past work — you might actually enjoy it. Shocking, I know!!!

We’re always praising artists for being versatile, so don’t turn around and drag a band for evolving — especially when they’ve had to navigate something as big as a lead vocalist leaving. They didn’t choose this situation. But they adapted. And they made something weird and soft and good.

Below is the individual song ratings:)

Song Name	Rating
Besties	8
The Big Spin	7.5
Socks	6
Salem Sisters	8
Two Horses	9
Mary	6
Happy Birthday	7.5
For the Cold Country	9
Nancy Tries to Take the Night	8.5
Forever Howlong	6.5
Goodbye (Don’t Tell Me)	8

Favourite Track — For the Cold Country

This one hit me.

It was the first time on the album where I felt something close to that raw, slightly pathetic energy I liked from the Ants era. The vocals are soft and a bit fragile, but not in a fake way — more like someone telling a story they’re a little too close to.

The knight imagery is weird but kind of beautiful. I love how dramatic it is without feeling forced. And then verse three?? That whole section is so good. The percussion behind those harsher lyrics really caught me off guard in the best way. Everything just clicks.

Definitely the one I’ve gone back to the most.

🕯 Least Favourite — Mary

I know the band said they were trying to strip this song back on purpose — less chaos, more focus on the story — but it honestly just felt kind of flat. Like, I was waiting for something to hit and it never really did. I respect the intention, but in practice? I was mostly sitting there, not being pulled in even when i really wanted to be. It does pick up towards the end, but by this point I was a little bit bored.

I think if you’re really into the slower, soft-side-of-BCNR stuff, this might work better for you. But I wanted something weirder. Something messier. And Mary just kind of sat there being soft for four minutes. Not bad. Just forgettable.

Lyric Breakdown

For this lyric breakdown, both lyrics are from ‘Nancy tries to take the night’ for the specific reason that although it wasn’t my favourite, it probably had the best lyrics out of all the songs

You run through the streets like the whore that you are /And you hope pretty soon you’ll be struck by the car

This line… it just hits like a punch. It’s brutal. And it’s supposed to be. It’s not about Nancy being a “whore” — it’s about the voice of society, or guilt, or shame, saying that to her. That kind of internalised judgement that creeps in when you’re doing something you’re not even sure how to feel about.

To me, it feels like a lyric about the emotional fallout of something you didn’t want — a pregnancy, a loss, a decision — and then feeling guilty for not feeling guilty enough. That numbness that becomes its own kind of pain. And then to top it off, the line ends in a desire for something catastrophic, like she’d rather be hit by a car than keep existing in that space of shame and ambiguity.

It’s so dark. But it’s honest in a way you don’t hear in many songs. It doesn’t romanticise anything — it just says the quiet part out loud.

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When you’re frolicking round with your legs in the air/ Smile on your face but it’s covered in hair

Nancy tries to claim a moment of freedom — “the place is now” — but it’s immediately crushed. The abuser (or the internalised voice of shame) doesn’t just take it away — they mock it. They mock her.

This line weaponises joy. It makes her look foolish for even trying to be happy. The tone is cruel, invasive, almost cartoonishly degrading. She’s sexualised, then ridiculed, then dehumanised — all in two lines. That’s what makes it hit so hard. The language is grotesque, but it’s not just being edgy for the sake of it. It’s showing exactly how abusers twist things: how they reduce a person’s confidence, pleasure, or existence into something ugly. Something “wrong.”

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This review is just a little fun, don’t take anything too seriously:)