Life’s dark waters, loss of family, faith, community and self-confidence. Dan O’Farrell explores all this – and more – on his 4th album, The Fish That Learned to Drown. And he emerges from it all in one piece.
Release Date: 22nd January 2026
Label: Gare Du Nord Records
Formats: CD, Vinyl, Digital

LIKE A COLD, SHARP BUCKET OF WATER IN THE FACE
I’m sure that many At The Barrier browsers will be familiar with Dan O’Farrell – either in his guise as frontman and focus of The Difference Engine or, perhaps, as a mainstay of Southampton’s indie stalwarts, Accrington Stanley. Dan’s three previous albums with The Difference Engine – most recently, 2020’s Richard Scarry Lied to Me – have generated a dedicated, if cult-sized, following and those ‘in the know’ are suggesting that album #4, The Fish That Learned to Drown, might just be his best yet.
The album’s Press Release describes The Fish That Learned to Drown as being: “…like a cold, sharp bucket of water in the face. Bracing and troubling – like a tongue returning to a sore tooth – these songs probe life’s dark waters: loss of family, faith, community and self-confidence – but also remains empathetic and rousing, ultimately cathartic.” They’re certainly songs which provide Dan with the opportunity to browse the depths of despair but, as he points out, “Once you’ve scraped the bottom, the only way is up.”
WRITTEN FOR ELVIS PRESLEY…
For this new offering, Dan is joined by Rick Foot on double bass and vocals, Chris Walsh on drums and Rufus Grig on keyboards and vocals, with guest appearances also from Producer Andy Lewis and guitarist Charles Bueller. The sound is fresh, clean and well-balanced, with due priority given to Dan’s often thought-provoking lyrics, which come across clearly throughout the album.
According to Dan, opening track Heartbreak Hostel was “…written for Elvis Presley, but he never got back to us.” Andy Lewis’s rich production catches the ear immediately; the sound has a lot of depth and the acoustic guitars that drive the song along sit comfortably at the top of the mix. Dan’s lyrics are his first – but by no means his last – encounter with despair, but they do contain a shred of optimism, and the bright, poppy, tune adds to that feeling.

DARK PLACES
“You looked so scared when the statues fell, as if the slavers deserved more,” sings Dan in The Colonial Club, as he takes a hefty swipe at those who bemoaned the ‘destruction of our history’ during the BLM protests, whilst failing to recognize that history was, in fact, being written right there. I love, too, Dan’s repeated adaptation of the old “I’m not racist, but…” chestnut and, best of all, it’s all dressed in an irresistible cloak of light, jangly, pop.
Dan asks, in Cyanide Desire, why the things we love often turn out to be the things that kill us, before turning his attention to the push-pull experiences of his religious upbringing for God Etc. It’s a challenging song, with Dan taking a lyrical journey into some very dark places, before hinting that, amongst the darkness, there may, indeed, be a glimpse of salvation. Dan’s voice is deep and grave, and in stark contrast to the sparkly, tinkling accompaniment.
WHY CAN’T I JUST SING ALONG?
And the contrast between music and lyrical content is equally pronounced for Sunny Weather. The tune might be bright, breezy and jazzy but Dan’s lyrics – in which he expresses his reluctance to chill and enjoy the moment, convinced that he doesn’t belong – represent one of several expressions of self-doubt, a recurring theme of the album. “Why can’t I just sing along?” he asks, after declaring that he doesn’t fit with all the ‘sunny people.’
Problems with intimate communication are the next subject on Dan’s list of personal issues. With Alarm, he regrets his failure to overcome the counter-bluffing, toxicity and stand-off silences that arise whenever he attempts to communicate with a loved one. And, in keeping with the rest of the album, his thoughts are expressed to an alluring tune, with tinkling guitars adding an extra layer of sweetening.

A PAEAN TO GLOBAL WARMING
Don’t get the impression that The Fish That Learned to Drown is all doom and gloom. Self-deprecating humour is never far beneath the surface of these songs, and it actually breaks through in the dramatic Hang Me on the Wall. Dan’s lyrics list a variety of ways in which he could be forced off this mortal coil and Rick Foot’s rejoinders to each suggestion are hilarious. But, whether Dan ends up being hung, electrocuted or bled to death, the outcome will be the same; as he insists: “I’m not coming back!”
The tune to Loss may be light and bouncy, but Dan’s lyrics are anything but, as he considers the grief of parting and the pain of illness, before the pace is upped for the sharp, punchy, Asbestos Love, the album’s lead single. Described as: “A slightly demented paean to global warming,” it’s probably the album’s rockiest track.
A HAPPY ENDING
The anthemic Goodbye would, under any other circumstances, be the album’s closing track, but Dan has had other ideas, as we’ll see shortly. It’s a slow-builder with trilling guitars that add to the excitement and Dan’s lyrics: “When you’re always the hugger, never the hugged; never give judgement, always get judged,” are amongst his best. And the climax: “Everybody’s lonely all of the time” is sung with a sense of exhilaration.
But, dramatic as Goodbye may be, it isn’t the end. Dan still has a title track to squeeze in, and it’s probably the highlight of the album. Clunky bass, swishing cymbals and droning synth set the scene before Dan takes his final plunge into that pool of despair. “It’s easy to be swept along by hurricanes,” he sings but, as the guitars soar and the band let loose for the long coda, one gets the feeling that Dan, after all, is getting ready to take a stand against his demons.
And, yes, everything turns out well in the end. Dan, against the odds, finds peace and contentment and tackles those crises of self-confidence in closing track, Ursa Minor. “Once you wanted to be someone else, but it’s actually easier to live with yourself,” he concludes. He’s right, of course…
Watch the official video to The Colonial Club – the album’s Christmas single – below:
Dan O’Farrell online: Facebook / Instagram / Bandcamp
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