On occasion, I am reminded of my infinitesimal smallness. Astronauts, part of the recent Artemis II mission to the moon (the first in over a half century), provided a stark glimpse into my speck-like nature in capturing an updated photo of the Earth. As I stared into the new dullened image, a far cry from the brilliantly-colored planetary photo that grazed my iPod Touch lock screen of past, I felt an encompassing cosmic humility: so many thoughts, experiences, and memories were contained in a singular snapshot it bordered on overwhelming. Simultaneously, I was struck by the normalcy of it all.
The debut eponymous album from My New Band Believe paints a similar picture. Cameron Picton, the genius behind the madness, created the fluid musical collective in the wake of the breakup of his influential band Black Midi. Expectations were high for their members’ post-Midi music, and My New Band Believe pushes against these pressures, managing to collapse entire lifetimes and universes into eight tracks that range from brief 2:30 minute sketches to 8 minute-long epics. The effects are spell-binding.
My New Band Believe contains so many multitudes it threatens to burst at the seams. Each song mutates rapidly, melding pieces together that do not belong. Yet, it always works. “Heart of Darkness” opens with fantastical guitars, then contorts into syrupy jazz, before melting into a haunting and droning finger-plucked finale. “Pearls” is a villainous approach to making progressive folk, answering the question “What would it sound like if Blackbeard had an interest in the music of Nick Drake?” The pace at which mutations occur throughout each song is astonishing, ideas flashing in and out as quickly as they were thought.
This lack of resolution is where My New Band Believe thrives. Opening track, “Target Practice,” is a symphonic cabaret that pits grotesqueness against beauty. “If we see you on a spike with holes for your eyes/We’ll just keep practicing our aim,” Picton sings before unleashing an encompassing string passage adorned with a choral arrangement so tender you forget about his violent proclivities. A denouement is never reached, however, as album highlight, “In the Blink of an Eye,” slashes immediately through the harmonizing chorus. It is an anxiety-inducing chamber pop collage that gallops, then sails, then soars.
Musically scattered, collectivity is the beating heart of My New Band Believe. The project is the product of 22 musicians and 21 singers coming together from the mythological Windmill scene and beyond. As with all projects to emerge from the esteemed, post-punk/avant folk-driven London scene, My New Band Believe is theatrically inclined. The antics are multiplied, though, just by the sheer manpower pumped into the project: the guitars are brighter, the strings swell higher, the melodramatics – more dramatic. Like a master maestro, the group’s ringleader manages to isolate the individuality of every instrument across complicated arrangements. The sheer spectacle of hearing Picton organize the chaos is awe-inspiring. Even greater of a feat, however, is the album’s complete lack of regard for expectations. Built on the back of a scene concerned with innovation, My New Band Believe develops an entirely new approach to making music.
As a whole, My New Band Believe draws largely from baroque forms, almost Shakespearean-like in decadence. Not unlike the great playwright, Picton assumes the role of a bard to translate complicated emotions and experiences into flowering songs. The simplified language of “Love Story” paints the picture of a failed relationship, finding beauty in the mundane. It is decorated with details of domesticity (“Chopping tomatoes/While you wash the rice”), celestial catastrophes (“A metal spike from the sky/Precise and poisoned”), and crushing realizations (“I’ll never find no other love”). “Love Story,” like all great Shakespearean dramas, twists conventionality into something more profound – it is not just another breakup song but rather an ornate masterpiece of subtle change painted in real time. Picton’s sentimentality also allows his references to land extremely well. A Carly Rae Jepsen lyric interpolation is a tongue-in-cheek “IYKYK” moment and a fellow Windmill-ian, Jockstrap, callback slot perfectly into his well-crafted stories. Most akin to his baroque compatriot, Picton’s non-linear portrayals always evoke meanings much larger than themselves.
Standing as the largest of these depictions, “Actress” is the culmination of all that makes My New Band Believe stunning. Undecided at its start, the track warms up with a primitive guitar pluck that Picton uses to cast his uncertainty surrounding fame into the titular character. The song delicately pushes and pulls, mirroring the internal strife surrounding the concept of “chasing your dream.” Ambitious while contemplating ambition, “Actress” blends the intelligent lyricism of the project with the larger-than-life acoustic sounds found throughout the tracklist. The project’s acme is also the only moment where Picton allows his musical army to fully unleash, creating a well-deserved moment of catharsis before bringing us down back to Earth.
This return to Earth is essential to the ethos of the album. My New Band Believe bursts with creativity but also temporalness. Grand moments are in foil with the minutiae of everyday, developing a sense of stable balance. The density of these feelings elicits reactions not dissimilar to mine staring at the newly captured photo of the Earth. Picton’s ability to pack in idea after idea after idea showcases an immensity that inspires humility. In the end, we are simply specks, but My New Band Believe proves we can create our own universes.