Reviews
Franz Ferdinand – The Human Fear
Franz Ferdinand often rely on their trusted recipe on their sixth studio album, «The Human Fear». But it is the other moments that are truly exciting.
There was a time when you couldn’t get around Franz Ferdinand. When Take Me Out was a staple of every indie party where skinny-jeans-wearing hipsters went wild on the dancefloor. But that was long ago.
No doubt, with their self-titled debut in 2004, Franz Ferdinand shaped the great indie rock wave of the new millennium alongside bands like The Libertines or the Arctic Monkeys. And today, the album can easily be considered a classic.
Catchy riffs, a hopping and danceable groove, and Alex Kapranos’ meandering croon always made Franz Ferdinand’s sound attractive. Over time, they began refining their rattling rock sound with more electronic elements, culminating in 2018’s album Always Ascending. However, the album arguably doesn’t hold up to its predecessors.
Now, the Scots return after the longest break between albums with their sixth record: The Human Fear. «On the album, I’m talking about different fears that I’ve seen in other people: fear of social isolation, fear of leaving an institution, fear of leaving or staying in a relationship,» explained Kapranos to NME.
It must be frustrating for the band to have reached such heights with its first record. You’ll always be compared to this out-of-the-gate success, and you must struggle to preserve that legacy. How gracefully age Franz Ferdinand now on their new album?
Well, with a few outrageous exceptions, they dialled back the electronic heavy-handedness of Always Ascending. The Human Fear, a concept album around the titular emotion, seeks many routes to explore the topic. From the boldly stomping Hooked to the dragging, Greek-inspired Black Eyelashes and the Beatles-channelling Audacious.
There are definitely glimmers of brilliance on The Human Fear when Franz Ferdinand excel in what they do best: these rough-around-the-edges and addictively danceable anthems.
However, in some tracks, you hear them trying to cook with the recipe they’ve so perfectly refined but forget to add the spices—something that surprises and gives the taste a new spin.
The result: Franz Ferdinand become their own cover band. Songs like Build It Up, Cats, or The Birds aren’t bad, but they’re also not really exciting in the sense that there’s something new waiting for you.
The Human Fear is, in conclusion, a walk down the middle. Franz Ferdinand often autopilot on their heritage’s safety lane while occasionally stumbling across more experimental routes. That’s all definitely graceful but also a compromise of nostalgia and exploration. If you seek both—great. If only one of those, you’ll be left hungry by the end.
Artist – Title
Release: 10/01/2025
- Audacious
- Everydaydreamer
- The Doctor
- Hooked
- Build It Up
- Night Or Day
- Tell Me I Should Stay
- Cats
- Black Eyelashes
- Bar Lonely
- The Birds
Mon Rovîa’s «Act 4: Atonement» Is The Sound We Need Right Now
Mon Rovîa releases the final chapter of a musical journey. It is a warm embrace for the end.
It has been a while since the last big wave of indie-folk surged on the shores of collective consciousness. And, oh boy, did I dive in back then; I almost drowned in the sea of jangly guitars and half-baked stories. Anyone remember Mumford & Sons?
I‘m not gonna lie: After all this, I was saturated for a while.
But now, Mon Rovîa hails over the Appalachian hills with a new EP, Act 4: Atonement, ending his musical journey that started in 2023 with Act 1: Wandering and continued with Act 2: Trials and Act 3: The Dying of Self. Yes, it is a hero‘s journey and an exploration of himself.
In this context, it’s mildly required to explore the previous chapters again before diving into the latest work. And maybe I’m already too biased by the press release, but Act 1: Wandering indeed has a searching, even longing vibe. Act 2: Trials is very much still stripped-down, but some vigilant tones appear here and there, while Act 3: The Dying of Self expands into wider, more complex arrangements we will encounter in Act 4: Atonement again.
However, these nuances remain subtle. All the acts sound alike—with the ukulele and banjo as a sonic red thread. Maybe too similar, and I can‘t shake the feeling that Mon Rovîa‘s themes could have benefitted from more distinct profiles.
On the other hand, the Acts of Mon Rovîa focus more on the lyrics and themes rather than folk music‘s different facets. From loneliness and a desire for belonging to acceptance, resilience, loss, and love. Mon Rovîa undertakes a deep, almost surgical introspection, and the vulnerability coming with displaying one‘s soul is deeply impressive.
Andrew Lowe, aka Mon Rovîa, was born into conflict and later saved from the horrors of civil war in Liberia.
In 2019, Lowe stated in an interview: «I was born in Liberia, West Africa, and adopted and then taken to the States. I do not really have a hometown, I moved a lot growing up and so never really grew up anywhere. I started doing Mon Rovîa last year, and it’s been a steady journey. I couldn’t be doing any of this, though, if it weren’t for my faith in God and two of my closest friends who believe in me.»
In the face of this experience, his themes hit even harder. And most astonishingly, he never lashes out, never accuses but meets apathy and violence with gentle grace and empathy.
Best saved for last
Listening to all acts back to back, I conclude: Mon Rovîa saved the best for last. Act 4: Atonement assembles six songs, each utterly beautiful. In the final chapter, Rovîa reconciles, concludes, and distils lessons. Somewhere in the tearing tension between guilt and salvation, the songs uncover the power of forgiveness. It is, by all means, an empowering EP and a manual of how to settle your inner conflicts. And you better read it!
The compositions are also bigger than before but still maintain intimacy, like a warm and long embrace. Crooked the road quickly transforms from a simple folk song, driven by the ukulele and guitar, to a grander piece. Similar to Guilt; a killer. with its poignant slide guitar, deeply inspired by Appalachian folk tradition.
But it has to be They‘re Not There. where Mon Rovîa excels in sending a hopeful, encouraging message for all those struggling with their inner demons—accompanied by a simple but so touching composition.
Don‘t be scared
They‘re not there
It‘s in your head
This monster‘s lair
In Dead Man Walking., Rovîa gets even stomping with the usually sparsely utilised percussion. And towards the end, the climatic drone propels the song to an eery towering size.
Winter Wash 24 takes it down a notch yet still expands into a longing, nostalgic vastness. Here, Mon Rovîa’s voice sounds like an understanding smile, warm and smoothly caressing the soul and combatting apathy. He explains: «It’s about the elephant in the room—the cognitive dissonance we feel in the West; witnessing the horrors on our phones, stuck feeling helpless in any of our efforts. So apathy grows.»
Rust, the EP’s final song, is a sonic surprise. The signature ukulele and banjo sound is gone, replaced by a highlighted guitar, and a soothing piano lingers in the background, accompanied by rather conventional drums and, at some point, even strings. It almost feels strange, misplaced in Mon Rovîa’s universe. Only the same warmth and optimism connect Rust to the preceding songs.
Nevertheless, it’s an undeniably beautiful tune, and it also demonstrates that musically, a greater variety would have done the full arch of acts an excellent service. It’s a nitpicking-sized complaint.
The sound we need right now
With its overarching message of empathy, salvation, forgiveness and reconciliation, Act 4: Atonement delivers the sound, strength, and hopefulness we need going into 2025—a year that bears conflict and uncertainty. And even if you’re just left with a feeling of being heard, it was already worth it.
Mon Rovîa’s Act 4: Atonement is for anyone who seeks comfort. For anyone who wants to meet anger and aggression with grace and vulnerability. It’s for people who believe love will ultimately overwhelm hate.
Mon Rovîa – Act 4: Atonement
Release: 10/01/2025
- crooked the road
- Guilt; a killer.
- They're Not There.
- Dead Man Walking.
- Winter Wash 24
- Rust
Moonpools – Hide and Seek EP
The new EP by Swiss quintet Moonpools is a treasure chest full of jewels reflecting the brightest moments of shoegaze, dream pop, and alt-rock.
The success announced itself. When Moonpools released their single Never Mind in February, I not only already had a top-spot contender for this year’s best song but also an exciting outlook on their upcoming EP, Hide and Seek.
However, Moonpools, this five-piece band from Basel, Switzerland, respectably saved themselves a place in indie fans’ hearts in 2022. Their second EP, Damaged Goods, demonstrated the band’s evocative sound. «Damaged Goods makes lostness and confusion sound astonishingly energetic and hopeful,» I wrote about the EP’s title track.
Later, I also talked about Feel from the same record: «It is a bright shimmering pearl of dream pop, heavily drawing from dark wave’s melancholia and indie rock’s melodic qualities. It is a constant flow of self-doubt, fear, and helplessness, presented by Marcie Nyffeler’s angelic voice and wrapped into a bittersweet arrangement.
Singer and guitarist Marcie Nyffeler, her brother Jasper (drums), Francesco Vona (keyboard), Matthias Gusset (guitar) and David Blum (bass) have since been featured by BBC Introducing and played at the esteemed Montreux Jazz Festival last year.
Mind-bogglingly Great
Today, their third EP, Hide and Seek, adds five more absolute gems to the treasure trove you can find beneath Moonpools’ surface.
Of course, the previous single releases are included, like the otherworldly slow-motion anthem Never Mind, floating right between melancholy and anticipation. This synth melody will not be anything but mind-bogglingly great.
Forget, the EP’s opener, shimmers in a veil of sadness, bittersweet and dreamy like the more voluptuous records of The Cure, like Bloodflowers. The closing Someday provides a lighter composition, with the acoustic guitar in the spotlight.
But there are also two exclusive songs on Hide and Seek. With Say Anything, Moonpools push down the gas pedal harder than anytime before—a driven, loud, and dense composition contrasts the revelling vocals.
The hopeful and uplifting synth hook reflects the song’s message, as Marcie Nyffeler explains:
«The song is a conversation between two people. One shares their insecurities and doubts, the other expresses their understanding and shows that they are there to support the other and loves them unconditionally. Sometimes you don’t even have to say anything, you understand each other without uttering a word.»
Say Anything is fighting with Never Mind for the most exuberant moment, yet, at least for me, melancholy trumps euphoria. Both songs, hymnic and larger-than-life, however, command attention.
Nothing to Hide, Nothing to Seek
But while the EP’s anthems grow exponentially towards infinity, a slow development in their shadows occurs, which you should not ignore but observe closely: See-Through. With over six minutes, the song borders at an epos building itself brick by brick, layer by layer. See-Through is a song for the patient, but it rewards with a haunting crescendo of devilish heavy sound and choirs from heaven.
With Hide and Seek, Moonpools almost put themselves and their already exquisite work on Damaged Goods to shame. It is more than a step; it is a leap up to the peak of Switzerland’s indie-rock hopefuls. Their talent for blending melancholy, beauty, and sophistication hides in plain sight; you do not have to seek their brilliance.
Keep Dancing Inc. – A Taste of Possibility
French trio Keep Dancing Inc.'s second album, «A Taste of Possibilty», features ten promising songs but fails to create sonic cohesiveness.
What is an album worth in the age of streaming and playlist domination? The Parisian trio Keep Dancing Inc. released their sophomore album—A Taste of Possibility—and it might provide one potential answer to that question.
Louis de Marliave, Joseph Signoret, and Gabrielle Cressaux initially found each other through a shared love for acts like «LCD Soundsystem, Depeche Mode, and Palma Violets,» as de Marliave states in the album’s press release. Adding in a constant fascination for synthesizers, the Beatles’ harmonies, and electronic formations like New Order and Hot Chip, the trio’s sound is easily deciphered.
Entering the public spotlight with their debut album Embrace in 2020, the dance-pop band followed with an array of singles—as it is best practice today—culminating in the EP Can’ttrio’s Get You Out Of My Mind that features four out of the ten tracks on A Taste of Possibility.
Recorded during the pandemic’s height, the process differed from before: «We were working with a more stripped-back sound of just a synth, guitar and drums and found that we were much tighter as a band,» states bassist Joseph Signoret.
But it wasn’t just the songwriting process or the live recording that challenged Keep Dancing Inc. The trio embarked on entirely self-producing the record. The band’s collaborative spirit meant that everyone could pitch in: «Everyone brings ideas to the table that we work on together,» explains Signoret further in the press release.
Keep Shifting Inc.
All this information sets the backdrop for listening to A Taste of Possibility. And it seems the album’s title is already engraved as a prophecy for what to expect. Keep Dancing Inc., so the perception, took the possibilities quite literally and explored their sound in all directions.
It starts with 96, an eclectic instrumental track featuring heavy guitar work, fuzzy bass lines, and playful synth melodies, pulling back the curtain of what Keep Dancing Inc.’s sound entails. There’s just enough jam session flavour and drive to create something intriguing.
From there, we arrive at A Taste of Possibility, the album’s namesake song. To say that it sounds different from the opener would be a gross understatement. We are greeted by summer-warm pop, refined with a pinch of funk. It is an almost unbearably happy sound.
And the sound keeps shifting colours from there on out like a hyperactive chameleon: Murders Mourns Again, criticizing Western hypocrisy, is a fast-paced rock sound, housing a bit of surf vibe and post-punk ambience.
Followed by the slowly building synth-pop in Chinese Town, we arrive at the mellow Can’talbum’s Get You Out Of My Mind—a reflection of long-distance relationship and isolation, and the acoustic-guitar-dominated You’reCan’t My Healthiest Addiction.
GPS then throws another wrench with its garage sound—inspired by Let the Beat Hit’You’re Em by Tru Faith. The admittedly funny ballad Pollination Nation Invasion, telling us about the first time experiencing hay fever, is followed by the building pop composition in Tell Me Again, while Radio, the album’s most straightforward rock song, concludes A Taste of Possibility.
Individually Great—But Not Cohesive Enough
There is something exciting about artists willing to branch out, explore different styles, and chart untrampled routes through the sonic jungle. Nobody who truly cares about music wants an album with ten copy-pasted songs.
But with A Taste of Possibility, Keep Dancing Inc. unfortunately went too far with the concept of variability. The album feels disjointed, only held together by an underlying story of creation and first times for the band itself—a story that remains ominous to the uninitiated. It is simply not enough to throw a bunch of singles together and call it an album… even with the premise of that title. There must be an apparent thread and maybe even a sense of direction.
However harsh the criticism might be that Keep Dancing Inc. shot miles past the idea of an album, it is by no means a criticism of their songs individually. Individually, they are great, each in their own regard.
One might enjoy the overwhelming happiness and retro-pop vibe in A Taste of Possibility or Chinese Town. Others may find the instrumental opus 96 or the post-punkish Murderer Mourns Again, easily the album’s best tracks, an incentive to listen.
The album’s overdone variability means that many might find one or two tracks they like—and forget about the rest. And it ultimately remains sad that Keep Dancing Inc.’s second album—after a promising and cohesive picture provided in Embrace—went overboard with their sonic kaleidoscope.
Maybe At The Crossroads
You can now argue that today’s world doesn’t need cohesiveness anymore. Who even cares about albums when playlists are the main driver for music discovery? And I wouldn’t necessarily disagree with you. In such a world, it makes sense to create bolder variety.
But then, there’s no need for an album anymore: You gain more attention by steadily releasing singles throughout the year. However, Keep Dancing Inc. decided to bundle the songs nonetheless.
On the other hand, we can give this a positive spin: Maybe we see A Taste of Possibility in hindsight as an album that was searching for the future—heavily impacted by the departure of a former band member, the pandemic, and an urge to experiment. Keep Dancing Inc. states that the album feels like «a big milestone» in their careers.
Each of the record’s songs provides a potential outlook on where the band might be heading. «We’re already thinking about what’s next now, like maybe developing a more minimalist sound for the dancefloor. But for now, we’re just happy to continue defining what Keep Dancing Inc. is all about.»
With the best of intentions, you could see it as a canvas full of promising ideas. And as a cliffhanger for the band’s further adventures.
Keep Dancing Inc. – A Taste Of Possibility
Release: January 26, 2024
Angie McMahon – Light, Dark, Light Again
Australian singer-songwriter Angie McMahon demonstrates artistic and emotional sophistication in her sophomore album.
It was the song Missing Me that introduced me to Angie McMahon in 2019. The single's raw and reduced composition felt like a long-awaited return to rock music's essence.
With Salt, the Melbourne-born artist delivered a highly praised debut album, even shooting up to 5th place in Australia's charts. Eddy Lim, reviewer at the Beat Magazine, wrote: «While Salt is primarily driven by deft guitar work and a tight rhythm section, it's McMahon's stunning vocal performance that unequivocally captures the spotlight.»
Four years passed, and finally, Angie McMahon released her sophomore work: Light, Dark, Light Again. And it sounds significantly different from Salt—already anticipated with the first single release, Saturn Returning—yet arguably even better.
I have been listening to Light, Dark, Light Again for weeks at this point, yet I still struggle to fully grasp the album and put my thoughts into sentences that pay justice.
There are obvious observations like the piano replacing the guitar as the main character in most compositions—a development that originated in the 2020 compilation of Salt songs in piano versions.
Or that, suppose Salt was a raw blueprint of blues-infused rock music, the new album seems like a natural evolution: Its compositions are more complex and refined, sophisticated gems of singer-songwriter brilliance, encompassing all from rock, folk, blues, and country music.
Or the connection to nature as a facilitator of healing with references in the lyrics and soundbites introduced in songs like the opener, Saturn Returning.
However, none of these facts scratches the depth of the brilliance Angie McMahon displays in the 13 songs of Light, Dark, Light Again. There is more to unpack here, maybe too much for a single review.
