When you start the month and your major concern is a fear of flights and a font change on Word Online, life must be good. It is better when soundtracked by the quality artists of the last few years – the boom of UK music culture must be noted. Either the trees are dropping the signal intermittently or some shock radio static precedes the calm wash of acoustic beauty on opener Albatross. Wonderful stuff is expected of English Teacher. They have stacked the odds in their favour and paid back their self-confidence and the tall order of their own work on This Must Be Texas, a debut to die for. Perfect music for the Hull to King’s Cross train as the sun starts to reflect in your glasses and blind you. Spring is here in its full form, and so too is This Must Be Texas and all its simmering instrumental joy.
Lily Fontaine delights with inspired, punchy lyrics. Nothing less should be expected. The World’s Biggest Paving Slab still lingers as a damnation of those who walk across people, they think nothing of. Look how they grow. English Teacher depended on some exceptional singles, with Nearly Daffodils and the roaring perfections of Albert Road still fresh in the mind. The world’s smallest celebrity, as Fontaine describes it on Broken Biscuits, hits out at the lack of change despite the cultural cling-on. For those who survived on the already broken classics, this will sit right at home, the pill mentions and instrumental strengths of these jangle-like reactions to the struggle which comes from a sudden splash of focus. English Teacher adapts well though, to the sudden spotlight on their words and work.
Tapping into those early day memories, the water boiling over and the parental guidance or experiences Fontaine and the band experience as growing and flourishing instrumentalists, is a real treat. This Must Be Texas is a slick and heartwarming piece which will live and die on as one of the finest encapsulations of living in the UK. Its title track is a gut-wrenching proclamation of how similar and braggadocious we can be of the towns and cities we live in. All the heartbreak and troubles of each area linger on, they are not to be escaped with a move two hours down the road. Glitzy tech wonders on Not Everybody Gets to Go To Space make all the difference for this one. An arrangement of real wonder and exploration of the soul, where it could go if it were extracted beyond the pain we are struck by. It has flickers of Pulp’s Glory Days – the spoken word interjections, the passion for those not afforded for those stuck on the ground and unable to experience what is out there.
UK music has gained another essential addition. We are not in short supply of those talented collectives, but English Teacher is ahead of the majority. Put down the experiences and stereotypes as R&B does and the world becomes better for it. Sincere chemistry marks an ultimately impressive powerhouse of a record. It is up to English Teacher to make sure they do not peter out – but with work like this, the sentimental strength and the absolute, recognisable passion on You Blister My Paint and Sideboob will steer them clear of this trouble. Intense, inspired by the truth of the horror that is life and such a rewarding piece of work. Heartbreak and warmth stride through in equal measure for This Must Be Texas, an uplifting and tortured piece which makes the most of its autobiographical sentiment, reflected as an experience for the masses – and the truth of it pours from this gorgeous work.
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