Chinese Takeaway are an emerging nostalgic band from Sydney, Australia. Their focus is on crafting “bright pop songs that capture the essence of young adulthood”. The band has a way of sending their listeners back in time to when life was a little more simple.

Baby (Won’t Kiss These Tears Away) is a swaying, pining ballad about a lost love. A stunning, and vulnerable performance from Lauren Towler-Lovell makes the song feel real. Her use of eerie harmonies at poignant moments help to build the feeling of quite mourning for a relationship that’s falling asleep. 

Lyrically, Baby is earnest. “Baby don’t make love he only casts skeletons that plague our conscious at dawn”. It’s easy to get lulled into a state of empathy for the narrator, regardless of whether you’ve found yourself in this position before.

The band’s use of a sleepy slide guitar solo help to build the pensive atmosphere. Overall, the instrumentation is brooding, and tastefully executed. The production is clean and professional. 

You can follow Chinese Takeaway’s journey on Facebook and instagram.

Sofar Sounds was started by three guys who were frustrated by the music scene. They wanted  a space in which they enjoy music uninterrupted by boisterous crowds. They began by hosting a gig in a North London flat, and the rest, as they say, is history.

The London Sofar on the third of March was held in a looming, echoing 19th century church in Aberdeen Park. Behind the stage was a distorted image of an Indonesian waterfall as high as the ceiling; a live stream reflecting weather patterns and connecting us with the other side of the world. These nights are as much about the magic of the venue as the artists themselves. It was hosted by a bubbly, engaging MC who found out this was her role for the evening 10 minutes before the stepped on stage. She was passionate about the revolution that is Sofar Sounds.

The first act was the brilliant Gecko, who seemed at home in front of an audience. He started with the most hilarious “You Can’t Know All The Songs”, and somehow convinced a floor full of trendy hipsters to join him for the chorus. The atmosphere immediately lightened, and the crowd was on his side. 

Gecko proved his musicality with a moving ballad from the perspective of Rapunzel. While driven by his a sense of humour, the song demonstrated lyrical prowess. It was a display of comedy braided with feminism. He ended his set with his killer track “Breathe”, set for release on the 27th of March. Gecko was a tough act to follow, but Sarah Callaghan was the woman for the job.

Sarah rose from a heavy place. While she is no longer living in the darkness, she took us for a walk through her experiences and time there. Her performance held a raw, and real energy— I got the feeling that she was reliving the moments as she shared them. Her poetry was lifted by the occasional backing track punctuating her words.

Walking the tightrope between poetry and rap, the rhythm of her words hypnotised us. I appreciated her frank, and honest approach to her art. She drew us in to her life; a troubled past, a problematic father… We were there with her the whole way. 

Her set was made by her stage persona, which lightened the mood between poems. Her background in comedy was evident, as she appeared at ease in front of a crowd, and allowed us to feel comfortable to. It was fun to see a collaboration between Sarah and Gecko for her final piece. You can listen to Sarah’s EP “Jacob’s Ladder” on Spotify.

It’s not just any artist that can commandeer a violin, cello and french horn for a gig. From the moment Valerio took the stage it was evident that he was trained and skilled. He began with a rolling power ballad, displaying a well supported tenor. Balance will always be a challenge in the context of an unplugged performance, but the musicians did an excellent job of catering to his voice.

He moved into a soaring chorus on top of the warmth and support that can only be provided by tactful backing musicians. At times Valerio sounded like a male Regina Spektor. We were treated to a sneak peak of his next single, due for release on the 12th of March. During the intro not a thought was whispered, nor a beer can cracked. This is the magic of sofar sounds. 

Tir Nan Og are a experts at genre par kor. In a single song they can straddle rock, reggae, acoustic and punk music, while still remaining true to their roots as a celtic band. Their newest album From the Gallows leaves you pining for a crowded pub and a glass of whiskey.

The second track on the album, Hangman’s Tale evokesthe kind of rabble-rousing atmosphere that only tight folk harmonies and a well played fiddle can. It’s impossible to sit still while listening to the rousing bowing of Matze. Coupled with Sarah’s (breathy) flute playing, and Robert’s powerhouse vocals Tir Nan Og puts forward a full and dynamic sound. There is genuine talent in this six piece.

The band demonstrate their arrangement expertise by introducing a military-esque snare line in the middle of the song. Drummer Volker’s crafty shift in rhythm allows the song to stay fresh and exciting. Joggl’s rhythmic bass helps to drive that specific kind of fiery energy the band exudes.

In typical celtic fashion, Hangman’s Tale tells a macabre, but dynamic story. The addition of Sarah’s eerie whispered vocals makes the song feel like an old ghost tale. 

If you’re like me, and have a little bit of Scottish heritage, then Andi’s shredding bagpipes might awaken your inner Pict. The first time I listened through From the Gallows I had to fight the urge to fire a canon and storm a castle. In all seriousness, Hangman’s Tale is an impressive piece, and I’d thoroughly recommend a listen.

Tir Nan Og where an exciting discovery for us. You can discover them on Facebook, YouTube and instagram.

Porkboii is an emerging artist from Redlands, California. Trading in their journal for song lyrics, Porkboii’s music is vulnerable and honest. Following their two 2019 singles, Porkboii released an album entitled Love Letters, which explores their struggles with depression and interpersonal relationships.

The second track on the album You Only feels like the stream of consciousness of a manic pixie dream girl. It perfectly captures the crowded rambling you get in your head when you can’t stop thinking about someone, but your self deprecating tendencies tell you they won’t care. One line that really hits home is “I could put myself out there, but I have a feeling I’ll regret it”. You Only would work perfectly on the soundtrack for an indie romcom.

The simplicity of the production and arrangement is charming, and adds to the vulnerable nature of the artist’s writing style. Porkboii’s vocal performance is shy, connecting well with the feeling of low self esteem. In the future we hope that Porkboii might raise the volume of the vocals in the mix so that their beautiful lyrics don’t go unheard.

Porkboii has an alleged 25 songs waiting to be produced, and we can’t wait to hear them. You can jump on the hype train with us on Spotify and instagram.

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.