Sheffield band’s new album is one of grit and struggle, with flashes of cynical humour, performed on a musically tight backdrop.
IV is an album which deals with themes of being stuck, nostalgia, regret and also provides a wry social commentary. Opener, Skin in the Game, deals with someone who is on the edge and is scared to move on, as he has too much to lose. “Maybe I could change but I don’t know where to start” captures that sense of ambiguity about change, and there’s desperation in the line, “Can we forgive and forget / Or is it Russian roulette?” The song has a real musical energy, with pumping piano and drums leading the way. The album might be characterised loosely as Southern rock, but the band take this in a number of directions and provide a fusion of sounds.
Next up is Nostalgia Never Gets Old, which, as the title suggests, is a song that looks back. This time to “bike rides” and “fist fights” but the feeling is melancholic and the summer sun “doesn’t seem to hit the same”. The song has a slightly slower tempo, but has a great union of voices in it. A guitar leads the way, which helps set the reflective mood of the song, which in turn is augmented by a lovely saxophone part at the end.
The two songs that follow, Buddy and Just Cos We Got Kids, are delivered in an ironic, almost comical style. On the surface, Buddy, which leans into country sounds, is a drinking song about unity; “I will drink with you when you run out of friends”. But sadness is the undercurrent: the friend is slowly stripped of everything. Just Cos We Got Kids is a weary social commentary: having kids “Doesn’t mean we’re in love”. This is another high-tempo song, with some great backing vocals and a brass section that adds musical depth. Tired cynicism is also a theme of Lump Hammer Lies later on the album. This is a tale of a hard-working man who feels he has been doing it wrong. Pressure is building, which is captured well in the line, “Jugular pumping / I’m about to say something I tried to delay”.
The emotional heart of the album is the title track IV. The intravenous line is used as a clever metaphor for needing something more, needing a new start, needing an injection for a fresh start. The song also offers a plea, “Not much left of me / Don’t think less of me”. The music matches the emotion of the song too: it is thoughtful and becomes anthemic, and the pedal steel here almost creates a crying sound.
Night Drive, another album highlight, has an almost classic rock structure. It starts reflectively, again with the use of pedal steel, but then there is a surge, almost as if the throttle has been opened and the driver has put his foot to the floor. The song even ends with a rousing guitar solo. The drive itself is a bit of a mystery, and the destination is uncertain, but it is covering up inner turmoil. We will “Never hear my shrieks above the stereo”.
The album ends with three quieter numbers. Sway Me Down is an acoustic-led ballad which is performed powerfully. It is a plaintive song about hurt and passion with the moving line, “Burn my chest / Through into my heart”. Heirloom has the keys leading the way and reflects on what we pass on and what gets passed on to us. There’s a fear, too, some things might not be enough, and it’s possible to “summon its spirit too often / and break the charm”. Highway draws the album to a close with a prayer-like anthem.
IV is the sound of a band settled in their skin, even as their songs wrestle with doubt, regret and the pull of the past. There’s a quiet chemistry at work here, where tight arrangements carry stories that feel worn-in and real. The musicianship is consistently strong, and at its best, the album balances grit with melodic warmth, though at times the musical palette can feel a little overfamiliar. It’s an album that invites reflection, but one that also almost demands a live setting.
