An outpouring of emotion on Porridge Radio’s third studio album.
There’s something quintessentially British (or specifically, English) about repressing one’s feelings.
We don’t like to make a fuss or, even worse, show weakness or indeed emotion. We must be stoic. We must keep our feelings in check and keep our own counsel. Obviously, it is and always has been incredibly unhealthy, but fortunately those perceptions are changing through the generations, even if the pace is glacial.
Of course the big losers are those who opt not to engage with their emotions, not least because they are denying themselves the cathartic release. Not so for Porridge Radio and specifically songwriter/singer Dana Margolin, who has a unique ability to harness the emotion and invigorate herself.
Not to say it’s pleasant experience. This, their third album, is stocked full of lyrics which make Margolin’s recent interactions seem unbearable.
She’s angry on Birthday (‘I don’t wanna be loved’) as she rejects affection to the point of exhaustion, or despairing of her own worth on Back To The Radio: ‘I miss everything now, we’re worth nothing at all’. The climactic payoff, as the instruments try but fail to suppress her, is slightly undercut by somewhat fey keys, but the melodrama is engulfing.
The band (Maddie Ryall on bass, Sam Yardley on drums and Georgie Stott on keys) skip along with her on Trying, almost Blur-esque in their jauntiness, as if reluctant to even consider one of her many self-doubting questions: ‘What if I never get it right/What if I never come back to life?’.
In contrast, on U Can Be Happy If You Want To they join in, shouting, ‘Back and back and back and back again, it hurts when I peel off my skin, I don’t believe in anything’, as a cacophony of piano loops build up after a phased, Cure-like guitar lick entices the listener in.
It may sound a bit overbearing, and indeed at points it is, but Margolin has a gift for biting, perceptive lyrics which can’t help but resonate. On the clattering Jealousy she informs that the green-eyed monster, ‘makes me bad but nothing makes me quite as sad as you’, as piano and guitars clatter.
Yet while the lyrics are heavy, Margolin’s faultlessly passionate vocals continue to mark her as having one of the most unique voices in British indie. Her guttural delivery is omnipresent throughout, but on tracks such as the rattling Splintered you can feel the weight of her emotions crushing her, such is her desire to be rid of the hurt.
The musicianship, in contrast, is generally pleasant and unchallenging, but occasionally the group unleash. The Rip in particular is built on a monstrous, reverb-heavy riff and tumbling keys while the wistful Rotten is marked by gorgeous arpeggio licks.
Elsewhere, the bone-dry acoustics of the title-track (‘now I want the end but I don’t want the beginning’) close proceedings wearily after the outpouring of emotion that has gone before.
The main achievement of Waterslide, Diving Board, Ladder To The Sky (a title partly inspired by artist Eileen Agar, representing the non-linear nature of the emotions of life, especially pertinent given the times we live in) will hopefully be resolution for Margolin and indeed for anyone else who has ever experienced a similar gamut of negative emotions.
Being both rousing and raw, it’s an uncomfortable but necessary listen.