Album Review: Deaf Havana - ‘The Present Is A Foreign Land’
‘The Present Is A Foreign Land’, the sixth studio album from rock outfit Deaf Havana, very nearly didn’t happen — emphasis, thankfully, on the nearly.
It was a little up in the air whether this album would ever come to exist. Over Lockdown, Deaf Havana — stalwarts and mainstays of the British rock scene, with a live album of their headline gig at O2 Brixton in their repertoire — almost didn’t make it. “Two years ago we were pretty much certain we’d never release another album... I never thought this would happen, and I’m so proud of it”, frontman and lead vocalist James Veck-Gilodi tells the crowd at Kingston’s Pryzm during the album release show for Banquet Records; “it’s taken us ten years to finally become the band we were meant to be... ‘The Present is a Foreign Land’ is the best thing we’ve ever written”. It wasn’t without its hurdles, with much of the band’s existing line-up being forced to walk away due to developments and changes during COVID, but the recording process saw brothers James and Matt reconnect and start a new chapter for Deaf Havana — and this album seems just the start.
At first glance, The Present is a Foreign Land is a little... samey. It’s great, sure; it’s easy to sit back and enjoy, let it wash over you like a pleasant wave of pop sensibilities, but at the same time it seems a little uniform. There’s pop, pop rock, and some pop rock ballads thrown in for good measure.
But as you listen to it more, you can’t help but be sucked into the world that James, Matt and company have created. It’s a little overly polished, perhaps; James’s vocals lose a little of their passionate might compared to any live showings, the instrumentals are sometimes a little subdued. But it grows. The lyricism is as introspective and existential as ever, perhaps even more so with a departure from any near self-indulgent wallowing/revelling in hedonism that could sometimes be found sprinkled throughout earlier works; it reflects a man both more comfortable with himself and more aware of his own flaws and shortcomings.
There’s a lot of questioning. First *proper* track 19dreams — following the at once nihilistic and yet inherently hopeful Pocari Sweat — surrounds the alienating presence of reality; approaching 30 and seeming to be stuck in stasis, Matt asks whether he’s really changed from his younger self. Acoustic and melancholic Nevermind seems to question whether the band or even James himself has a future, during some of the worst moments of his life; meanwhile, album closer Remember Me seems preoccupied with legacy, both personal and professional — quite literally, how they’ll be remembered.
But there’s also a hell of a lot of reassurance. Gentle, ballad-y track Trying/Failing emphasises the significance of constant incremental improvement; with the impression of a candid confession of guilt, the sudden shift to soaring strings promises better; title track The Present is a Foreign Land, noticeably the most tonally upbeat, acts almost like a carpe diem anthem — still a little pessimistic, perhaps, but one fuelled by anger and the need to change, to enjoy life as it comes. There’s the slightly on the nose Help, full of triumphant trumpets and what could easily be one of the most anthemic (and easiest to pick up) choruses the band have released over the past fifteen odd years.
And then there’s Going Clear. The first single released for this new saga, it was an incredible introduction and served almost as a turning point. Here too it might lose some significance but none of the effect, acting as an acknowledgement of guilt over the pain that addiction can cause.
There’s a few risks — the ambient pop, dance-esque number Someone/Somewhere, for instance, featuring IDER (an incredible inclusion, really playing both sides of the song) could easily have failed to land if the maelstrom of emotions displayed in the song had failed to land. There’s a lot of guitar-led acoustic numbers — brilliant if you like them, but perhaps a little alienating for any older fans hoping for some more rock.
But on the whole, a fantastic album and as good as a return to form as you could hope from a band who deserve to be a hell of a lot bigger than they are, particularly with such a tumultuous change in line up — let’s hope this pushes them over the cusp.
Words by James O’Sullivan
