BLACK COUNTRY, NEW ROAD - Forever Howlong

The long-awaited turning point has finally arrived, in the studio too. Widely anticipated by the promising “Live At Bush Hall“, airy to the point of being disorienting, the chamber-prog swerve of fan favorites post-punk/post-rock act Black Country, New Road has now materialized into an LP whose music is disappointing at least as much as its ungainly cover art.

For anyone who's missed an episode: the Cambridge band shot to the center of the indie/alternative spotlight in early 2021, with a debut album immediately hailed as a masterpiece of the new post-post-punk – one that genuinely overflowed with Slint and Godspeed You! Black Emperor in every guitar interlock and klezmer hint. The follow-up, “Ants From Up There”, in 2022, drew more mixed impressions: some saw it as a successful reinvention of the formula in a more instrumentally expansive, openly chamber-music direction; others noted an irreconcilable mismatch between the singer's mournful, almost Joy Division-esque mood and the more festive colors of the arrangements. There must indeed have been difficulties in that marriage, because frontman Isaac Wood announced his departure from the group just four days before the album's release – for reasons related to his mental health. With him went the band's darkest, most unsettling soul, even as the group was increasingly being recognized – alongside Squid, Black Midi, Maruja – as a cornerstone of the so-called Windmill Scene, the most eclectic front of the new British post-punk.

With a completely new tracklist, a sound not far removed from early-era Arcade Fire, and violinist-turned-singer Georgia Ellery taking center stage, the 2023 live album had in short sparked curiosity about the band's new direction. Would they really manage to break free from Wood's charismatic presence? Would they find a new connection to their guitar-driven roots, or would their course keep heading toward ever more acoustic, prog-leaning territory? But above all: would longtime fans embrace the changes? Would the new direction manage to win over other listeners?

If the answer is “However Howlong”, it has to be said that it's rather confusing. But very clear as far as the sound goes: no retreat, quite the opposite – from the harpsichord and choir that open the first track, “Besties”, it's absolutely clear that the band's intention is to go all-in on the exploration of expanded sonorities. With a line-up capable of handling just about anything, beyond the classic rock instruments (mandolin, tenor flute, violin, saxophone and clarinet, piano, harmonium, accordion, baritone guitar and lap steel, banjo and, indeed, harpsichord), it would be a shame not to make extensive use of it. The baroque pop form turns out to be the most natural fit for giving space to such a vast tonal palette, and it's realistic to assume that anyone who's followed the band this far has broad enough taste not to turn up their nose too much at the abandonment of a more jagged, cutting palette.

Far less obvious, however, is whether old and new aficionados will be won over by the songwriting. Where the live show had a brilliant melodic grip going for it, here the lines and developments are tortuous, elusive. Not only do they steer well clear of any possible anthem-effect, but in an apparently deliberate way they do everything they can to avoid offering any handholds or impactful choruses. More than difficult, they sound contrived, inexpressive.

To cut it short: there isn't a single genuinely good track here, not even for love or money. Describing the first few minutes of “Socks”, one could invoke both Kurt Weill and Henry Cow during their collaboration with Dagmar Krause's Slapp Happy, but aside from a certain studied coldness there's very little here that recalls them – beyond the stylistic choices – least of all the solidity of the songwriting. Things improve with “Happy Birthday”: there's a recognisable climax, an effective play of surprises and harmonic resolutions, but however much structural intelligence the track displays, it never manages to generate real involvement: it spins its wheels, as if it lacked the emotional direction needed to make sense of its own intricacy.

The delicate opening of “For The Cold Country” tries to cast a spell, but fails to evoke the mood – somewhere between pastoral suspension and chamber-music lyricism – it's presumably aiming for. Something catches fire in the more agitated, unpredictable middle section – even so, the attempt to draw the listener in feels mechanical, as if what's lacking, first and foremost, is the band's own engagement.

“Nancy Tries To Take The Night” gathers good ideas, clever about-turns and potentially evocative passages, yet it can't justify its six-plus minutes of running time: as the clock ticks on, what you mostly want to do is stop listening and turn instead to those who've already learned to handle these avant-prog-pop tangles with skill (Fievel Is Glauque, for instance).

The record has everything it needs to work, but it never finds a balance between formalism and emotion. If the aim is expressiveness, you'd expect greater communicative force in its textures; if instead it's an exercise in style, then it would make sense to push it until it becomes unmistakably so. As it stands, though, it remains stuck in an uncertain, inert middle ground.

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02/05/2025