Live at Bush Hall by Black Country, New Road
a testament to their creative force
By Abby Vela
The progressive, art-rock group Black Country, New Road shows a new side to their sound in their latest release, “Live at Bush Hall.” Having parted with the lead vocalist for their two previous releases, the UK band has taken the opportunity to both experiment with their storytelling and prove their endurance as a creative sensation—no matter the front person.
It was a shock to many when Black Country announced in 2022 that they would play live sets of solely unrecorded songs. With the massive success of both “For the first time” and “Ants From Up There,” the latter being named as one of the best releases of 2022 by critics and listeners alike, it felt like a bold choice to forgo their previous content completely.
“Bush Hall” takes a step toward something increasingly joyful, increasingly happy, then we’ve seen from Black Country, New Road thus far. Of course, you get those twinges of nostalgic longing, but it’s framed in a way that makes you want to cry tears of joy (I know I have). The album starts strong with the beautiful anthem, “Up Song,” a reflection on how far the band has come, their friendships, and how the members are forever tied to each other through their experiences. It’s joyous, fun, and makes you want to sing along at the top of your lungs— “Look at what we did together, BC, CR friends forever! <3”
“Up Song” sets a tone, and it is one that is carried throughout the rest of the album. As it progresses, the songs get increasingly theatrical; it reminds me of musical-theater cast recordings—shows like “Amelie” or “Come From Away” come to mind as having similar arrangements. The second song, “The Boy,” reads like a three-part storybook and is incredibly pastoral as the character makes friends with forest animals. “I Won’t Always Love You” represents transformative character development in the simple play on words, changing the “will” to “won’t” as the piece ascends into an orchestral build that makes your chest clench in suspense. Perhaps my favorite song on this album is “Across The Pond Friend,” where the vocalist sings about traveling, love, and hope for the future; this song is the one that reminds me the most of musical theater, as it just encapsulates the emotional complexity of the musical story that’s rarely mastered outside of the theater genre. The writers of each song (and for most, the writer alters with each different vocalist; yes, everyone gets a turn to sing on this album) paint a character transformation that’s simply intoxicating.
The second half of the album becomes much more reflective and melancholy, although I’d never go so far as to say sad. “Laughing Song,” which could be interpreted as talking about their past vocalist though I won’t make that claim, is a proclamation of mistakes made in a relationship, romantic or friendship or otherwise. This song also marks a turning point in the album, showing a type of meta self-awareness that strikes me as odd (though not unwelcome), singing “Laughing, I Won’t Always Love You / Trousers, Turbines, Up Song, Dancers.” It’s a harrowing song and prepares the listener for the pain to come.
“The Wrong Trousers” follows, and I’d dare say that this song feels like a last-ditch effort to save a friend from going off the deep end and show them that they “made something to be proud of.” It’s an incredibly painful song if you read it into the context of the band’s recent history, but again, I don’t want to extrapolate too far. It’s a beautiful song with a duet that will make you shed a tear.
And speaking of tears, many critics have regarded “Turbines/Pigs” as the star of this album, and it’s for very good reason. The nine-and-a-half-minute piano ballad has some of the most allegorical and cryptic lyrics. It’s incredibly painful and beautiful, with violins and flute joining the piano as the singer chokes out, “And I’m flying away, but I think I saw some turbines turning beneath me / Don’t waste your pearls on me, I’m only a pig.” The rest of the instruments come in and start this repetitive ascension as if to match the character flying, but the underlying chords are incredibly ominous. You can only guess the ending as the song resolves, leaving the listener on the precipice of something.
The final full song at the end of the album, “Dancers,” hails back to a type of Black Country, New Road, that people may recognize from past releases. While the song is starkly in a major key, it’s capitalized by orchestral chaos and builds similar to that of “Concorde” or “Opus.” The strings and piano flitter above the vocals and guitar, creating an incredibly beautiful statement out of a simple melody and chord progression. It’s a beautiful note to end on that flows perfectly into the finale—the reprise of “Up Song.”
“Look at what we did together,” the vocalist says, looking back on their musical careers as a band and the album they just made. This ending is a testament to the hardship that they’ve gone through together and how they’ve come out of it all alive, even if they’re a little broken, too. The piano echoes the melody of the opener, ending this incredible album, and this commentary, with a statement and affirmation: “BC,NR friends forever.”