Only a month on since their debut EP, Cold Lips are inviting us deeper, teasing us with the last week’s release ‘Muddy Water’.
The band are constantly writing and pushing their limits to build one of the most exciting and varied set lists and this new effort is undoubtedly a new route for the boys, murky and stark, but with a newfound elegance. They make patterns with the exposed nerves, awakening something within.
Opening with haunting flickers on guitar, the bass simply fades underneath. Immediately setting the mood and heightens the emotional stakes… all before a word’s been sung.
‘Muddy Water’ explores the gnarliest crags of the King Krule-esque vocals, we’re suddenly submerged by a lingering sense of dread. The depth in his voice creeps into a quiver, mimicking both the haze of loss and the displacement that grief leaves. We feel so far away from the band, yet never closer. We find no trace of their South Devon blues but rather a shoegaze inspired story.
Still painting on their chipped-brick landscape, none of the tracks previously released have sounded quite the same, but they all invariably feel the same. Where ‘These People’ and ‘Another Man’ used harsh, masculine riffs to conceal tender feelings, ‘Muddy Water’ is bare, and all the better for it.
With an added echo, the existential introspection of “Where am I now” simply swallows you up. You can’t help but pause and be alone with your thoughts rattling around like loose change.
Cold Lips come into their own lyrically on this track, weaving together poems and one-liners salvaged from a scrapbook. Elevating each potent line with harmonies, the backing vocals by Kit of KoCapoli add a higher range that flutters above the gruff tones. Her harmonies melt into the ‘scar tissue’ guitar solo. Softly gliding across the frets this time, it’s a delicate swell, so soft you can almost touch it. All leading to the final embrace, this retro rippled bridge has a reassuring sense of aloneness. Acting as the outstretched arm we’ve spent so long searching for.
‘Muddy Water’ has a realness rarely seen. It’s polished, with crystal clear production as always, but still celebrates and leans into the raw despair – revelling in a bittersweet intimacy. Cold Lips usually battle through angst and teenage tales, however, ‘Muddy Water’ stands alone. A track of acceptance. A ballad coming to terms with its own meaning: we hear the boys mature, keeping their adolescent in check and bravely opening a wound to us.
The track caught me off guard. The delivery of ‘I know it’s a mouthful’ chokes any innocence and boyish charm, the apologetic lump in his throat serves as a jagged reminder. Hearing the band so exposed creates distance between their two projects, they blur the genre boundaries they’ve only just assembled.
‘Muddy Water’ has well and truly left us in its wake, scrabbling around to pick up the pieces. Dazed and desperate, we’re longing for chapter two.
