A catchy, guitar-led debut where jangly hooks and catchy choruses carry stories of lives lived close to the edge.
There is something immediately familiar about Keyside, the debut album from Liverpool four-piece Keyside. Jangly guitars and almost sing-along choruses might suggest something uncomplicated, even nostalgic. But beneath the bright musical surface is an album that deals with addiction, grief, fractured families and the difficult business of simply getting through the day.
There is a distinctly Liverpool feel to the music. The strident guitars and melodic instinct draw on an indie sound reminiscent of 90s bands like The La’s and The Coral. Yet Keyside are not simply revisiting the past. There is an energy here that feels looks forward as well as back, and Dani-Lee Parker’s voice gives the songs their own identity. Scouse in tone, with a slightly drawn-out quality that can become almost a drawl, it has a natural hook that pulls you into the stories he is telling.
Runaway sets the tone beautifully. Reflective but immediately catchy, it introduces a relationship that feels increasingly claustrophobic, but with the desire to escape expressed clearly in the chorus. The contrast is important: this is music that makes you want to sing along while the lyrics reveal people trying to find a way out of circumstances that seem increasingly difficult to control. Angeline follows a similar musical path, with the guitars pushed further forward as Parker tells the story of someone struggling to hold herself together. “Wondering if God can hear your cries” is a simple line, but the combination of catchy melody and increasingly bleak subject matter gives it real weight.
Down My Way is slightly dreamier, its repeated declaration of independence offering a moment of optimism, while Lemon And Lime finds the band at their most urgent. The song builds from bass and drums before the guitars arrive, initially adding tension and then softening it with the familiar jangling sound. Its rush of freedom, nights out and reckless romance feels exhilarating, but there is an awareness that this kind of escape may not last.
Heaven moves into darker territory. Parker’s voice becomes softer and more plaintive as the song describes a family caught in cycles of drinking, medication and conflict. The repeated promise that “my loving will not back down” gives the song its emotional centre, suggesting both devotion and exhaustion. Musically, the guitars and voice gradually build towards the end, creating a sense of emotional release.
There is a similar mixture of energy and vulnerability in Comedown. The opening guitar has the feel of a call to arms, but the song itself is about uncertainty, emotional dislocation and the desperate desire to reconnect. The repeated refrain of “Never gonna come down” initially sounds triumphant, yet the later admission of calling “a thousand times” reveals something much more fragile underneath.
Rock My Love brings the guitars back to the fore while widening the album’s social perspective. References to PIP, bereavement and people trying to find their way after losing someone give the song a grounded quality. There is no attempt to romanticise hardship, but neither is there judgement. Cocodamol takes this darkness further, with the drug becoming both literal medication and metaphor as the singer offers himself as something to numb another person’s pain. References to privilege and dependency create an uncomfortable mixture of care, exploitation and addiction, made all the more unsettling by the song’s catchy refrain.
Elsewhere, Red Ruby provides a welcome change of mood, with a great guitar line and moments that recall classic rock and roll. Its celebration of a woman who has Parker completely “red” is playful and full of colour, even bringing the Mersey itself into the imagery. Nikita returns to the darker stories, its plucked guitar and atmospheric backing vocals accompanying two people trying to survive circumstances that have left trust dangerously fragile. “We’re just strays trying to make it through our days” could almost serve as a summary of the album’s message.
Michael (What’s Your Call?) offers another catchy melody and another story of loss. Its central question, “Is your heart still beating?”, gives the song an unusual tenderness, while the repeated offer that “you can call on me” provides one of the album’s simplest expressions of solidarity.
The album closes with Echoes, an appropriately affecting ending. There is a slight echo on Parker’s voice that suits the song perfectly as it moves through memories, regret and the painful aftermath of losing someone. As the guitars and vocals build, the song begins to feel almost epic without ever becoming an epic. The repeated question, “Can you hear me in the echoes”, leaves the album looking towards some uncertain horizon rather than offering a neat resolution.
What makes Keyside work is that the band understand the value of a good tune without allowing the music to disguise what their songs are really about. The jangling guitars, memorable choruses and Parker’s distinctive voice make the album immediately accessible, but repeated listens reveal a record populated by people dealing with addiction, grief, poverty, family breakdown and the consequences of choices that cannot easily be undone. And the responses to these issues are simple and tender: sometimes it is about getting through another night, making another call, staying when leaving might be easier. Keyside may sound bright, but there is plenty of darkness beneath those guitars. What makes the debut compelling is the band’s refusal to separate the two.
