A few years ago I reviewed Kid Kapichi’s second record. Here’s what you could have won. It was raging. At Brexit. At the Tories.
(Alright, the second one was mostly me.)
Fast-forward four years and “Fearless Nature” arrives sounding like a different beast — metaphorically and literally. The anger hasn’t vanished, but it’s been re-wired. Where once Kid Kapichi spat fire, now they stop, reflect, and twist the knife a little slower. If that sounds like softening, don’t worry. It really isn’t.
It opens with “Leader Of The Free World”, all menace and intent. “Turns out the first one was better than the sequel” is a line that barely needs decoding. Pick your sex pest. Your despot. Your hollow suit. The song stalks rather than sprints, setting the tone for an album that understands the power of restraint.
“Intervention” follows, wrapped in fuzz and buzz, the sound almost enveloping you rather than hitting head-on. It’s uncomfortable in exactly the right way. “Shoe Size” lurks too — small-town frustration bubbling under the surface, the kind of pressure cooker The Virginmarys have always understood instinctively.
Then there’s “Stainless Steel”, driven by a propulsive bassline and a first lyric that does exactly what a great opener should: “No one said it would be painless.” From there, the frailties are laid bare. This isn’t a band shouting at the world anymore — it’s a band interrogating itself.
That shift really comes into focus on “Worst Kept Secret”, where Wilson admits “I won’t be your salvation.” These songs were written during the summer of 2024, a period of deep personal change for him, and you can hear it. Rage gives way to reflection without losing its bite.
“Dark Days Are Coming” swirls and broods, and “Patience” feels like someone trying — and not quite managing — to leave something behind. It’s about the desire for a clean start, and the way that instinct gets tangled up inside you before you’ve even taken the first step.
What gives these songs an added sense of tension is the knowledge of what followed. Guitarist Ben Beetham, who co-produces the album, and drummer George McDonald have since left the band. That instability hangs over the record, sharpening its knife-edge atmosphere and lending extra weight to its uncertainty.
“If You’ve Got Legs” is more melifluous than expected, the chorus urging motion rather than confrontation. “Head Right” takes you straight into Wilson’s mental-health struggles, unvarnished and honest. “Saviour” carries a feeling of restart and rebirth — not triumphant, but necessary.
Closer “Rabbit Hole” looks back on youthful indiscretions — “I don’t know what’s wrong” — and maybe they’re not old, but that’s not really the point. Perspective changes everything.
“Fearless Nature” is reflective, cathartic, and quietly gripping. It’s the sound of a band that still wants more, even if the fury has been replaced by a dawning realisation that — as they put it themselves — “we’re temporary.”
This isn’t quite a fightback. It’s something more interesting than that. A calm, stubborn determination that the future — for them, and for us — surely has to be better.
RATING: 8/10
