Album Review: Lonely The Brave - 'The Hope List'
Lonely The Brave are back with The Hope List, their third album; a dazzling and triumphant affair that spells exactly what we all need right now — the promise of something better.
From the first lofty and bright seconds of opener Bound, and the first few raw, intimately roared vocals from lead singer Jack Bennett — replacing the inimitable David Jakes, who had to leave the band in 2018 for personal matters concerning mental health — you can tell that this is a new iteration of the Cambridge quintet. The instrumental are vivid, clean, pure; the vocals are intensely passionate and ferociously powerful. While debut The Day’s War or sophomore Things Will Matter were almost melancholy, brilliant in their blurry haze of insistent, in-your-face angst, The Hope List seems a little more contemplative, and a little more optimistic. That isn’t to disparage their older discography; rather, it reflects a band fearlessly and assiduously refusing to break under pressure.
Of course, there lays the call-backs as it were; Chasing Knives, an inspiring and almost self-affirmatory pop number, seems to hark back to their older selves, while closer The Harrow, a crushing and poignant number that builds to crashing crescendos of guitar, is distinctively nostalgic for any die-hard fans of their debut.
Similarly, title track The Hope List seems almost as a follow on from This Day’s War’s title track; an emotional, heart-wrenching guitar-led ballad that likewise serves as a distinctly powerful interlude. And, like This Day’s War, The Hope List stands as a highlight.
Elsewhere, tracks like Keeper prove that the band can still produce hard-hitting anthemic beauties; a personal favourite, Jack’s outpouring of love and betrayal over a soaring guitar line and thunderous drums and driving bass seems the perfect epitome for the band’s new sound.
Yet this same change in tone creates a little incongruity in the songs. Opener Bound, for instance — about the hypocrisy and shallowness of society — sees Jack question the ‘broken trust’ of those trying to ‘save’ for the sake of meaningless victories. Lyrically, it’s rather bleak, outlying the inherent hopelessness in the insignificance of it all; yet the instrumentals remain bright, almost breezy. Somehow, though, it works perfectly. It becomes anthemic and new, as the band craft the song equivalent of a half-full glass. Likewise, Open Door, full of cheery synth and echoing guitars, exudes positivity; yet a building crescendo under Jack’s repeated screamed questioning of “was it enough?” thrown into the void offers a fragile vulnerability that only furthers the band’s retained brilliance.
For an album finished and released in the middle of a global pandemic, it’s simply brimming with positivity, full of life. A fantastic album that both belies and surges past the intense struggles the members have gone through, and one that will surely only add to the already renowned brilliance of the band’s live performances — whenever they end up happening.
Words by James O’Sullivan