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The Sounding Board

Part 1 more sweet than sorrow for Circa Waves

A weekly column where New Music Tuesdays live on. Conversation is encouraged in the comments.

Death & Love, Pt.1

Circa Waves don’t waste time setting the stakes and providing a raison d’être for the band’s sixth album, Death & Love, Pt. 1.1

Lead vocalist Kieran Shudall sings it plainly in the chorus for album-opener, “American Dream,” a short song about a big trip, larger aspirations and intrusive disillusionment: “Walking in Central Park
Trying to find my feet but the street got dark. I’ve seen things you won’t believe. Oh, I’m an English boy with an American dream.”

While a British Invasion aftershock seems incredibly unlikely in 2025, Death & Love, Pt. 1, released Jan. 31 via Lower Third Records/PIAS, makes a strong case that guitar-driven pop should still cause a transatlantic buzz. On the strength of big hooks and some sounds nicked from multiple waves of cool bands from both sides of the pond, Circa Waves crafted a tight, bright LP that often successfully channels the emotional grandeur hinted at in its title.2

This is especially true on tracks like “Like You Did Before,” “We Made It” and “Everything Changed,” which draw heavily from the well of mid-aughts indie rock. These songs are propulsive, catchy, feature nifty guitar work and build to enormous group-vocal choruses. “Like You Did Before” and “We Made It,” are well positioned as the second and third song on the album. They provide an adrenaline shot of energy early and clearly demonstrate Death & Love Pt. 1‘s virtues.

“Like You Did Before,” charges forward like a lost Room on Fire or Bows + Arrows track. It expertly deploys a pre-chorus lull that makes it that much more effective when the song blasts off into the nostalgia-laced fatalism of it’s “ki-ki-kill me now” chorus, and it boasts the best guitar solo on the album. “We Made It,” whirs, swirls and sells its hook with the breathy sincerity of a Hot Fuss single. “Everything Changed,” the album’s penultimate song, owes less to any one source, but with twinkling soft-strummed verses that swell into its Godzilla-sized stomp-along chorus, it would sound right at home on a burned CD in 2005.3 Its inflated pomp is also immediately punctured by the album’s playful, mostly manic closing track, “Bad Guys Win,” and that’s for the best. Going any bigger would guarantee implosion. Chalk up a triumph for album sequencing.

Death & Love, Pt. 1, isn’t all thrilling one-two punches, however. There’s a gulf between the two combos that highlight the album, and when the songs that fill it stand out, it’s not for quality. Momentum and pleasure suffer when the LP slows down for “Hold It Steady,” which aims for atmospheric new wave and falls flat. That’s partially because of some subpar crooning. While Shudall’s voice is versatile and effective throughout Death & Love, it can sound thin without backing bombast and bandmates. That’s not to say every up-tempo song is automatically strong. “Let’s Leave Together,” which references “Here Comes the Sun” in its lyrics and synth line, is grating. It also includes some of my least favorite lyrics on the album.4

Despite the occasional lyrical clunker and some mid-album scuffles, the sugar highs far outweigh the dull-not-bad lows. The net balance is an album stocked with sweet treats that lack the substance and nutrition of a meal. It’s possible the sequel implied by Death & Love, Pt. 1′s title will level up the project to something richer and even more fulfilling.

  1. Providing an accurate count is harder than you’d think. 2020’s Sad Happy is a double album released in two parts with release dates separated by months. I’m counting it once for the purposes of this column. With eight tracks and a “Pt.1” in its title, their latest also hints at a compound rollout. I’m including it as a whole unit in my tally. ↩︎
  2. There’s a lot of mid-aughts Post-Britpop and East Coast indie in this album’s sounds. There’s also an extremely direct Beatles reference, and the album opens with a crunch reminiscent of “Beetlebum.” ↩︎
  3. There’s one more incredibly direct reference point for a song on this album. “Le Bateau,” has a ton of It’s Never Been Like That-era Phoenix in its DNA. It’s a pretty good version of that sound, but I’d rather be listening to Phoenix. Sometimes I forget they were an excellent band before Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix. ↩︎
  4. “I get this feeling, get this feeling that you could be mine/ Wearing double denim, spitting venom like in ‘Cobra Kai’/ So take me away to some kind of place/ Where you could be you and I could be me, babe/ Yeah.” ↩︎