Tape The Radio - Heartache And Fear

To dissect one’s own life; to openly express your own faults, shortcomings and failures, is no easy task. To map them all out, openly, is something else entirely, but that’s exactly what London based Tape The Radio have done with their debut full length. The three piece have spent their time since the band’s inception back in 2008 carefully building on their collective life experiences, analyzing the intricacies of life and expressing them all into their thunderous debut album; ‘Heartache And Fear’.

The title track initiates proceedings, with its slow building guitars and soft vocal melodies setting the scene before the percussion is thrown in and together builds to crescendo before the first of the album’s many tidal wave strength choruses comes crashing in. This powerful yet carefully controlled sound is a delightfully engaging dynamic eminent throughout the record. Tracks such as ‘1989’ and ‘Suffer Me Suffer You’ utilise this form of tight percussion to drive them forward, and manage to steer clear of excessive melodrama and at points even hint at the grandiose of ‘Do You Like Rock Music?’ era British Sea Power.

On the surface this is an album of hook-laden, stadium sized anthems, but peel back that top layer and the truth is far more exquisite. The album has a visceral beauty in its sheer scale, yet at the same time employs a degree of deep focus; ensuring that all aspects of expression are given due attention. The earnest vocals being accompanied by such distinctly rigorous, near cinematical sized melodies, both carry and to an extent mask the darkness of many of the lyrics. This is both the album’s greatest asset and its only major flaw; it is produced in such a manner that whilst the vocals and music soar together, they feel too neatly rounded and polished. The album is too perfectly hemmed within itself, too neatly organised and distinctly lacking the rawness that the lyrics themselves suggest.

‘Heartache And Fear’ is a venture into the nature of existence; of the collective experiences of three young men trying to come to terms with self-identity. It’s an evocative experience, one that, more than anything offers a sense hope, of - if forgiven for the clichéd expression - a light at the end of the tunnel. Don’t let the polished veneer fool you; this is an album of deeply personal songs that explore the most intimate of emotions and events in a person’s life, and honestly what could be more intimate than one’s own personal heartaches and fears?