If “Life In Forward Motion” sounds like a cry for help, laden with guilt but mixed with a certain stoicism, then it’s not a bad precursor for what’s to come. Life has come at Deaf Havana fast, and on their seventh album they are laying it all bare.
“Carousel” finds them “locked in this little hell” – yet the chorus is so damn uplifting it almost feels like defiance. This is perhaps the most raw the band have ever been. “Don’t know how to run, don’t know how to rid these demons,” sings James Veck-Gilodi on “Break,” and it seems those demons are exorcised through the catharsis of the lyrics.
The acoustics of “Lawn Tennis” see him comparing himself to his old school friends – and anyone who benchmarks their life against those who seem to have it all figured out will get the sentiment. “Car Crash” is drenched in atmosphere as it reflects on happier times, while “Hurts To Be Lonely” swells with a huge, expansive sound. “Frida 1939” is devastating in its regret – wishing you could have said something before it was too late.
There are few laughs to be found here. “Dog” makes that plain, and “Cigarettes & Hotel Beds” continues the vibe. The title track itself, “We’re Never Getting Out,” can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel – though it is there somewhere. And by the time “Tracing Lines” hits rock bottom, divorced and back at his parents’ house, you realise just how deep this goes.
Veck-Gilodi has laid his struggles bare throughout, and the band have never sounded better for it. “I have always wanted to change myself,” he explains. “But I’ve also never really owned up to and accepted my mistakes. I’ve just punished myself, told myself that I hated myself and ended up cosplaying as a completely different person instead. All it took was for me to take the best parts from everything I have done and apply them without actually trying to totally change who I am in the process. Maybe it’s my age or mindset, but I accept who I am now and feel I know how to make myself a good person.”
That, really, is the key to “We’re Never Getting Out.” It is brave, brutally honest, and achingly human. Anyone who battles their own demons will find something of themselves here – and if you don’t, then good for you.
The brothers reckon it’s the best album they’ve ever made, and it’s hard to disagree. “We’re Never Getting Out” is the bravest record of their careers – and let’s be blunt: Sam Fender fills stadiums with a fraction of this talent.
Rating: 8/10
