More about: Deaf Havana

The Present Is A Foreign Land, the sixth studio album from Norfolk rockers Deaf Havana, was never supposed to exist. You see, after rounding up a taxing 2019 world tour off the back of Rituals (their third album to chart in the UK Top 10), tensions within the band were at an all-time high. The joy of playing music together had completely disappeared, leading them all to the decision that they would play only a few more shows to clear away any of their remaining debts. After that, time was to be called on Deaf Havana, the band that had been their livelihoods since the mid-00s. These final shows were planned for early 2020 however, allowing fate in the form of COVID restrictions to come along and alter the band’s course. 

In a desperate bid to keep busy and rekindle his love for music, lockdown led guitarist Matty Veck-Gilodi to start writing songs again, thinking initially no further than one more big anthem to accompany the band’s eventual final shows. When the world started opening up again, Matty reached out to his brother and frontman, James Veck-Gilodi, who he hadn’t spoken to for over a year at this point. Speaking initially through their management, they decided to reconnect in the studio and get to work on their final song. 

However, once the pair got into the studio with producer Mike Horner (Hot Chip, Yonaka), the creativity started flooding out. All their heartache and pain from the last few years was suddenly breaking down the emotional barriers holding them in, allowing them to be captured in a new set of songs. Just like that, Deaf Havana was revitalised, but it was only the brothers up for ploughing ahead. With their longtime drummer and bassist out, the Veck-Gilodi brothers decided to continue the band as a duo – and they already had their first album written for this new era.

In its simplest terms, The Present Is A Foreign Land is the soaring stadium rock of Bruce Springsteen colliding with the moody, self-reflective pop of The 1975, but it is also much more than that. Stylistically, the brothers jump between varying shades of commercial pop-rock, bringing in elements of soul, ska, folk and electronica to keep things fresh and exciting.

Narratively the album tells the story of the band’s last three years, taking the listener through their whole challenging ordeal, unfiltered. At various stages, the brothers confess to their existential crises, relationship breakdowns, alcoholism, mental health issues and other intensely personal struggles. It can be a dark listen at times, but thankfully the uplifting nature of the music and splashes of hopefulness stop it from ever being too overwhelming. 

Opener 'Pocari Sweat' operates almost as a short prologue, setting the scene for the listener as to what the band have been through between Rituals and now, with James ending the track by doubtfully singing “How the hell can I come back from this?” Before you’ve had chance to consider the rhetorical question, '19 Dreams' kicks in, the song that was due to be the band’s final single. As you can expect it is the album’s most openly anthemic number, yet unmistakably tinged with the melancholy of nostalgia. 

Recent single 'Nevermind' is then the album’s first stop-still, lump-in-the-throat moment, as James details the hardest year of his life with refreshing honesty. Built initially on a simple acoustic arrangement, it soon becomes surrounded in majestic orchestral sways as it continues to tug hard on the heartstrings. It’s absolutely stunning and leads nicely into inspirational single 'On The Wire', which helps pick things instantly back up with its infectious pop hooks and powerful gospel vocals. 'Someone/Somewhere' is another one of the album’s more stirring moments, built on glistening guitars, pulsating electronica and some stunning guest vocal harmonies from singer-songwriter duo IDER, whose soft elegant voices help guide the song into a heavenly dimension.

The album’s title track then presents the thematic heart of the record, as the feelings of alienation and hopelessness in the words contrast the waves of upbeat instrumentation. The Peter Pan-channelling single 'Kids' remains a career standout too, with its huge singalong chorus of “We can stay young forever” belted out amidst shimmering synths and inch-perfect production.

Lead single 'Going Clear' is the big redemptive moment at the end, with James reflecting on his past toxic state of mind and drawing a clear connection between getting wasted and sobering up. Finally, 'Remember Me' is the glorious, perfectly bookended finale the album deserves, with surging guitars backdropping the song’s climatic, choir-sung refrain of “How will you remember me?”

Overall, The Present Is A Foreign Land is a magnificent rebirth – a deeply personal record from beginning to end, simply brimming with all the heart and resilience the brothers could muster. Although the Veck-Gilodi brothers probably didn’t realise it at the time, everything they’ve been through seems to have been a blessing in disguise. And whilst not everyone has been through the same battles as them, an album that documents coming through unimaginable lows to ultimately have a more optimistic outlook for the future, couldn’t feel any timelier. 

The Present Is A Foreign Land arrives 15 July via SO Recordings/Silva Screen.

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More about: Deaf Havana