Orla Gartland has pulled my heart to pieces (again) with her latest EP Freckle Season. With  a voice like maple syrup and lyrics straight out of a raw diary entry the songs feel incredibly real. As always, I love the contrast of Orla’s bright vocals with heavier instrumentation. The bass plays a dominant role in her music, and she demonstrates her expertise as a guitarist through using innovative lines and rhythms. Freckle Season is more brooding than her previous discography, and appears to mark a transition into a new era of songwriting.

The EP starts with Did it to Myself, which uses empty space and crunchy vocal harmonies in a way that will give goose bumps to your goose bumps. Orla has a way of connecting with the doubt that lives in the back of your brain. Her lyrics feel like they were written for everyone.

Figure it Out begins with a steady palm mute, building tension and hinting at the explosion of angst waiting for us in the chorus. Orla keeps us waiting with a dreamy pre chorus, pulling back the energy before releasing a monster of a chorus driven by distorted vocals. She plays with energy levels and implied tension for the duration of the song. Figure it Out is a punch the air, roll your eyes and pull the finger at your ex kind of a song. 

The final single on Freckle Season lowers the energy considerably, delving into a more thoughtful moment of grief. The swirling electric piano evokes nostalgia, linking with the themes of remembering the good things about a relationship. The specificity in the lyrics give the song sincerity. Orla is reminded of her love by every stripy tshirt, and the show Grand Designs. It’s too real to be fiction, and you can hear it in her voice.

Orla has a talent for taking every day thoughts and turning them to art. The fourth track on the EP, oh GOD explores Catholic guilt and a resentment for rules. The shifts in timing make you feel like you’re shaking your head to get rid of a crazy idea, or “shake off the shame”. It’s an impressive piece of songwriting.

New Friends completes the ingenious EP on a more mellow note. The gentle low fi guitar line is reminiscent of Rusty Clanton’s writing, and her conversational lyrics make the piece feel like a peek into a journal. Orla wonders how she must be thought of by her ex’s new friends, but it’s not in a bitter way. The song feels mature, and meditative. It closes the final chapter on her process of grieving for a love that wasn’t to be.

Overall Freckle Season is beautiful. It’s a complex and thoughtful collection of songs, whose lyrics are closer to poetry than words. The theme of moving through the stages of a breakup unite the EP, giving it meaningful direction. Orla should be proud of this moving anthology, which undoubtedly buried a piece of her heart in a time capsule.

Barry McLoughlin’s Do You Still Believe? is melancholy and nostalgic. The song invites the listener into McLoughlin’s heart for a while, as he wonders how a love from the past is spending her time today. He still thinks of her, and regrets “tossing her heart away”, but wishes her happiness. Lyrically charged, the song grips the listener as if reading a bedtime story. It’s genuine, and vulnerable.

McLoughlin contrasts a complex guitar line with a simple melodic line, creating a balanced and pensive piece. Like much of his discography, Do You Still Believe? is driven by guitar, showcasing an inherent understanding of the instrument. McLoughlin’s guitar playing pulls the listener into his headspace, utilising his expertise on the instrument without ever overplaying.

Currently working on acoustic instrumental pieces mellow enough to soothe the stormiest of days, Barry McLoughlin is well worth keeping an eye on. You can calm your nerves on Facebook or Spotify.

Grandpa Jack are the Brooklyn based psychedelic rock band that are making distorted waves with their latest release Trash Can Boogie. The four track EP is a wild ride from start to finish.

Self proclaimed “mustard enthusiasts”, Grandpa Jack refuse to play by the rules. The first track on the EP Right on, Ride on starts mellow and spacey before travelling through time into an authentic rock experience not of this decade. They revel in that classic fuzzy soundscape that pulls the middle finger at your eardrums. 

Clearly skilled instrumentalists, Grandpa Jack demonstrate their diversity with the second track Untold, which begins with an ominous bass solo. Eerie synths straight out of a horror movie crawl into your peripheral hearing as the song builds to a sudden pause. Untold is nearly eight minutes long, and I truly mean it as a compliment when I say I didn’t notice the first time I listened through. It develops enough to justify its marathon length, moving from post grunge into a psychedelic slow jam reminiscent of Concrete and Gold. 

Grandpa Jack utilise dynamics and shifts in tempo with expertise. The third track Imitation starts with a jungle beat before moving into that iconic distorted “chug” and grungy vocals. Imitation is foreboding, and keeps you waiting until it suddenly stops. They leave the tension hanging in the air, almost cruelly, like an unresolved yelling match.

Trash Can Boogie is superbly produced, and the final track Curmudgeon is no exception. It’s angry at the older generation, stating that they’re “the one(s) to blame and no one else”. Curmudgeon again plays with tension, using building chromatic chords. It’s an epic, angsty end to an epic, angsty EP. 

Grandpa Jack are prolific and talented, and they’re not stopping any time soon. Follow them on Facebook, instagram and twitter.

Justin Yates’ “Shedding My Skin” bops from bar one to the 3.25 mark. It begins with a funky guitar riff, which through listening to the rest of the album “Friend” I have come to know as characteristic of his writing. Half acoustic rap, half singer-songwriter the song is relentlessly groovy. He is clearly an accomplished guitarist.

Yates utilises his expert understanding of scansion to craft a stream of consciousness, that almost sounds like an message left on an answering machine. Yates speaks in metaphors to describe his moving on — “after the war the smoke will have to clear. I’m shedding my skin and starting new, my dear” demonstrating his impressive ability as a wordsmith. 

His vocal performance is raspy, and at times a little sassy. One of the hook lines “think about you” shifts to “thought about you”, making a quiet dig at whoever inspired this song. At times it’s difficult to hear Yates’ thoughtful lyrics, and so it might be nice in the future to hear his vocals turned up in the mix so the listener doesn’t miss anything. 

Yates is an absolute force to be reckoned with. No back injury or over-piled workload is going to stop him from grinding his way into the limelight and sharing his music with the world. We’re excited to see where his journey takes him next! Keep up with his antics on Facebook and Instagram.