bby - 1 Review
A debut from yet another impressive windmill band that is as as joyous and adventurous as it is endearingly overstuffed.
Back in April, big-hitter indie-pop band bby promised Rolling Stone UK that their first album would be full of ‘everything’, from folk to electronic. “Imagine, if you will, Mumford & Sons through the lens of Daft Punk”. Their debut album ‘1’ is a sixteen-track free-for-all that isn’t quite as slick as this quick-witted remark, but it is as joyous and adventurous as it is endearingly overstuffed.
This free-wheeling, maximalist debut is already impressive, given the infancy of the band. They found each other online and met for the first time in early 2023 - apt, given their interest in studying life and love in a digital age. Melodic lines reminiscent of woozy-pop duo Royel Otis, production like the much-overlooked rock band Opinion, and boyish charm reminiscent of Liverpool’s indie treasures The Night Cafe, the sound is one long, sloppy, pummelling jam session. Surprisingly, this is just as the band intended it to be.
bby are insistent on their DIY nature, knitting community-building into the very fabric of their craft. They are most infamous for their ‘hangs’ in a State 51’s Shoreditch warehouse, where their kitsch space has a double-decker sofa to encourage crowd surfing. They revealed to NME that these hangs are initiated haphazardly, where instagram followers sign up and the randomly-chosen ones get a text invite “love island style”. No set list, no problem - check out their fan-made music video for ‘hotline’ to see one in action. Track six on the album ‘Hang 27/10/24’ seems to have the quality of an iPhone recording from one of their gatherings. It’s a purposeful addition, stating clearly that they aren’t perfectionists, nor probing a grand ideology or offering. It’s early indie goofiness that Kerrang! would have streamed all day long back when they reigned the TV music scene.
The band are great at conjuring the mood, texture and tone delineated in their titles: ‘Fucked up’ is a wobbly Nirvana-esque rock track with a cacophonous ending, whilst ‘Pretty Boy’ sees swaggering, funk-guitar work layer thickly into it’s satirical nature. This alone shows real promise. The last-minute addition of surprising riffs or volta-esque closing halves see the majority of the highlights come crashing in when a song is near it’s end (think ‘Too High’ here, or ‘Breathe’). The music is in constant revision, so the listener can almost see the creative process. It’s both raw and rare to see that transparency in a society obsessed with editing sound-clips and images.
And yet. It’s raring, bold and ambitious, jam-packed with wispy tendrils of ideas that ultimately never solidify into something healthy to grab at. The order of the album twists and turns clumsily through the spread-eagled offering. The middle is full of slower songs dragged out several minutes too long, with chord-focused melody lines that are ridiculously close in key and texture. Three decent songs could have easily been one great one. You do the math.
With all the intimacy and vulnerability offered so willingly, it is an overriding truth that their best songs are about sex. ‘Hotline’ shot them from renowned Brixton scene Windmill obscurity to a cushioned spot in every hot indie summer playlist with it’s sly, delirious address to a lover: roll your eyes to the ceiling you can barely stand, rounded off with the reminder that if you really have to ask then you know they never came. All in the first 25 seconds. ‘Kinky’ opens with Strokes-esque guitars and barrels through bold pauses that dunk the listener headfirst into the simple, effective texture.
Here, look what we can do in a year, the cheeky chaps gesture grandly, golden retriever like, with their debut album. This is what music making is about. Two things can be true at once: the London band are injecting a welcome dose of fun, carefree charm into a scene often dominated by arrogant supremacy, and into an industry gate-kept by friends of friends with high brow fashion styles. And yet, they should have shaved off a few tracks, tightened up some of the changes, and let their impressively honest lyricism a moment or two on stage. Now to get myself to one of their ‘hangs’, and see it all played live.