Jangly powerpop with sideserving of moptops.
Release Date: 28th June 2025
Label: Last Night From Glasgow Records
Format: Vinyl / digital
Elegantly chiming guitars
What is it about Central Belt, Scotland, that has such affinity with West Coast jangle from 5000 miles away? And often 50 years away, at that? Take Teenage Fanclub, Cosmic Rough Riders and, in the melodicism, the Jesus & Mary Chain, that knack of allying a tune to elegantly chiming guitars seems innate. Is it something in the Irn Bru? Latest on the conveyor belt are The Morning Early, four fellas from Glasgow, who have picked up not only that baton, but have inhaled also strong fumes of Merseybeat, possibly from a singles collection found in the loft.
Actually first formed back in the 90’s, they disbanded that same decade, with only a single to their name, day jobs and responsibility pulling rank. Now, with the decades presumably instilling sense and wisdom, they, or three of them, have reconvened, along with a new recruit, to once more hit the yellow brick road. With that new recruit, Andrew Rennie, taking on the lion’s share of lead vocals and lead guitar, this is no take-over, so much a band effort does it sound, courtesy the lush backing vocals, guitar, bass and drums of Drew Sturgeon, Joe Smith and Stephen Peebles.
A sterling assault of sparring strums
The sound throughout a glorious retro wash, the atmosphere of Kelvingrove Bandstand on that balmy Saturday the Scots call summer. Opener, I Might Be Back Again exemplifies that, with the title a wry nod at their status, and is sterling assault of sparring strums. Over a backbeat, narrow and hard to master, Rennie launches off his vocal, with an urgency of intent, his colleagues not slow to attach their harmonies. Each verse ends with a howling of the title and a barrage of squalling notes from Rennie’s equally punchy guitar. You’re gonna hope he get’s lonely, that being the rationale of any return, and, with a further burst of very Stillsian guitar bluster, it stops. Just like that. (And nice to see the Stephen Stills style of histrionic, over the more usually encountered Neil Young.)
Notice Me picks up entirely locked into that same vibe, the flavour still fully Buffalo Springfield. Aaahs aah emphatically, and Peebles clutters around his kit with enthusiasm. Hush, now, what’s that sound? It’s a blimmin’ revelation, that’s what. In Your Mind then manages to cantilever in a direction unexpected, as, over a jangle supreme, the harmonies and melodies smack more of Merseybeat, or of Northern England, rather than Northern Britain. Think the Hollies or, better still, the Searchers. Another ridiculously good guitar solo gets reeled out and this all augurs well. An elegantly simple picked note descent follows, to usher in the first slower mood to be displayed, a faltering arpeggio built around the shared vocals. This is My Love, Waiting, all steeped in paisley patterns and patchouli. A piano honky tonks in from somewhere, adding in another unexpected further bonus.
pacemaker punch
Nothing’s Easy is more moptop, ’65 style, evoking, of all people, Gerry Marsden, with better production values and much more charge in his Pacemaker(s). This is a gloriously bizarre experience. A little to young for the full 1965 immersion myself, the music of that era seems always, on record, to be a little too tinny for the tastes of today. Well, not here it isn’t. The piano is back for All This Time, an evocative ballad that wings all the way back to California, if with a hint of Mancs miserabilism seeping through the progressions, however much the harmonies try to expunge that.
Great name for a song, Lust Is Gold, begins with a hint of the Carribean, ahead the doo doo doo doos immediately betraying the influence. I know there are a few demos of Graham Nash trying out his later material on his old band; this is how this comes over, and it works well. The shortest track here, the band sensibly don’t over egg it, leaving it as just enough to savour, as Another Day, Another Century tracks a further nook, that of a string drebched acoustic ballad. The fauxchestral backing is surreally perfect, as the vocals disappear into an echochamber. Cue kaftans as Granny takes a trip, as it, of course it does, fades.
A tremendous tomahawk of retro-adventurism
Truth In Your Heart envisages Crazy Horse playing early Jefferson Airplane, at least in my head. Where these guys have been getting their records from, I don’t know, but if they can’t get a gig lined up at Monorail, they need their money back. Human Machines is a tremendous tomahawk of retro-adventurism, as a swirling organ sweeps about an insistent guitar and processed drums. It is Beatle-y in the way Oasis used to be so good at, even offering up a token yeah yeah yeah in the lyric. (Nope, scratch that, it’s better and it’s a belter.)
A track tough to beat, for the closer they go for classy bonkers, Always On The Run jumps back even a year or two further, in their frames of reference, and opens with a guitar that, if not shaking all over, is certainly shuddering. Add some chugsteady guitars, pounding drums, and never more British backing oohs. For six minutes it dives and drives out the speakers, before a false end ushers in some fuzz bass and a coda that will still be with you tomorrow: “I wanna look in your deep dark eyes“. Repetition and escalation imprint the line further, the drums now all over the shop, guitars afrenzy, harmonies ever louder, until, before you know it, suddenly you are in some sweaty basement dive, hollering along as the backing dies away. Sure, it’s contrived but very contagious.
Catch it while you can.
Here’s a vid, Truth In Your Heart:
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