Get To Heaven by Everything Everything (2015)
Their first effort 'Man Alive' was a band finding it's feet. Their next release, 'Arc' showed a giant step forward in terms of songwriting ability and spawned classic weirdo anthems like 'Kemosabe' and 'Cough Cough'. Then came the most critical point in the life of any band - do they step up and make the leap into greatness, or do they fall back into relative obscurity? So many fall prey to the latter, but, with the release of 'Get To Heaven', the answer for this band was emphatically the former.
10 years after it's release this album still holds up as the high water mark in this band's existence. It is a seminal collection of 11 tracks that delve into the darkest parts of the human psyche while demanding you dance and sing along. Of course they aren't the first band to do the whole 'existential dread set to soaring music' thing and it is hard to avoid comparisons with Radiohead's magnificent 'OK Computer' while listening, but while Thom Yorke serves as a sort of space alien quietly lamenting how much of a mess we all are, EE's lead singer Jonathan Higgs - whose often frenzied voice goes from deep bass to wailing falsetto in an instant - sounds more like a bug-eyed doomsayer, tugging and your shirt collar and yelling "Can't you see, man.....we're all gonna die?!!!"
The enduring quality of this album is further evidenced by the fact that the band have recently released a ten-year anniversary edition in all formats and embarked on a sold-out tour playing the album in full. Luckily it is a work that is more than worthy of all such praise.
Beginning with twitchy electronics and a thumping bass-line, from the moment Higgs howls the lines "So you think there's no meaning in anything that we do?" there is an immediate feeling that you're about to go on a journey. You can tell almost instantly that what you're about to hear will be a leap forward from their previous work. It's a magical moment in any artist's life where that sweet spot is hit, and you know just who you are and just what it is you want to say. For Everything Everything, this moment is evident from the off. When the song, opener 'To The Blade', suddenly erupts into the full band, Higgs' plaintive wail surges into falsetto and we are in full swing. It is a frantic, pulsating start to the album which demands you sit up and take notice. The train has left the station.
Next is the band's biggest hit 'Distant Past', which is an aggressive, house music-influenced, banger. Higgs goed from high-pitched death-wail to all out rapping as he venemously snarls his lines over a thumping beat: "Saw off all my stinking limbs, blood dripping down my sunken monkey chin". As is continually the theme in this album, despite the dark lyrics, this song would not be out of place on a Friday night at Ministry of Sound. It is a positively euphoric floor-filler that rightly sits in high-demand at every live show.
The titular 'Get To Heaven' follows and this is where things really start to get interesting. Again, the music is joyous and would make sense on a Sunday afternoon at BBC Radio 2, however what is going on lyricially paints a very different picture. In essence, this is a song about a failed state, in which tanks roll down the street, the skies are blood-red and horrifying things happen like an elderly man burning himself to death. However, the protagonist of this horror show is primarily concerned with more trivial issues, such as forgetting their password or misplacing their parked car. If this sounds familiar it's likely because you are living this very existence as we speak. Somehow the mood of modern de-sensitization is perfectly captured in three and a half minutes, yet you barely even notice. Why? Because the melody is so infectious and uplifting, which is almost the entire point of the song and ouch my head hurts from the meta-ness of it all. Brilliant stuff.
'Regret' and 'Spring / Sun / Winter / Dread' are singalong anthems that again wouldn't be out of place at any festival on earth. The latter, however, is a real highlight of the album. Particularly the refrain at the end which builds to an orgasmic crescendo. "You are a thief and a murderer too, stole the face that you wear from a craven baboon, 'cause you did it to her and you did it to him, and you did it before, and you'll do it again" go the lyrics, Higgs' intensity rising with every repetition. Again, we are only five tracks in and the band have almost already perfected the 'dark ideas set to happy tunes' trope. But that is soon to change.
Our first forray into a different tone altogether comes in the form of 'The Wheel (Is Turning Now)', which is very much a song of two halves. The first being more of the same, with a buoyant indie pop track covering some dark and mature themes. The second half, however, simply consists of the lyrics "do you wanna know how far you've come?", which seem harmless enough. But somehow you feel like you're being sucked into some electronic abyss of despair. Every time those words are repeated, it somehow feels more menacing. It's almost as if the veil of the previous five tracks is slowly being lifted and they're no longer attempting to hide it. You are now going to have to take your medicine. It is a flawless transition into a much moodier part of the journey.
After this, things only get more ominous. If there is a centrepiece song to all of this dread and terror, then 'Fortune 500' is probably it. It seems any attempts, musically, to be joyful have by now been abandoned, but the subject matter is another thing altogether. To put into context, this song is a first-person narrative of someone who breaks into Buckingham Palace, murders the Queen of England by drilling her head open, under the influence of some unnamed ideology, and then, while covered in blood, starts to ponder if committing an atrocity is all it's cracked up to be. No-one (repeat: no-one) is writing songs on this level these days. Most people, myself included, are incapable of even thinking on this level, let alone perfectly encapsulating it all in a 4 minute pop song. It is truly an astonishing piece of work that you should go and listen to at once. If only to marvel at how lazy and benign everything else seems in comparison.
"I'm at the gates I'm climbing over the wall
To trepan the Queen and burn the dogs in the hall
A trail of destruction but at least it's a trail
I am prepared to take you by the throat
They sing in my ears and make me feel like I'm loved
I don't want this I never spoke up enough
Think of the people I am doing this for
I know the ways which I have been a slave
I've done the things that I was here to do
I've won I've won, they told me that I've won"
- Fortune 500
Before you can come up for air, you're suddenly being slapped yet again by Higgs' hyper-speed rapping on 'Blast Doors' - an urgent, relentless number that, again, has become something of a winner at their concerts. Then comes the towering 'Zero Pharaoh', a mid-tempo piece about what happens when tyrants take over your town. When Higgs cries "if all your children made it out alive, why would you ever go back?" you really do feel his pain. In fact, throughout this entire album you're reminded of DiCaprio's character in 2021 end of the world satire, 'Don't Look Up' - wherein he seems to be the only one understanding the danger we're all in and finds himself continually screaming "why won't you listen to me?!" That said, 'Zero Pharaoh" once again hides this horror in the music, which builds to yet another soaring crescendo with Higgs' voice eventually taking flight over a magnificent turn from the rhythm section. It is yet another album highlight.
We finish with what must surely rank as one of the least likely anthems of the 21st century. 'No Reptiles' is an almost indecipherable song that begins with Higgs sort of scat rapping words that I defy anyone to understand or make sense of in a very strange, high-pitched, sing-song voice. This is accompanied by a bass drum thump and the occasional out of place dread-piano. But the moment he starts singing "oh baby it's alright...." the song becomes something else entirely. Suddenly you're engulfed in a completely overwhelming, uplifting, arms aloft, sing-along, belter. This being despite the fact that you're all singing about fat babies in pushchairs. None of it makes sense and certainly none of it should work but somehow it becomes the most original song, and probably life-affirming moment, of the album.
Finally 'Warm Healer' takes us to our end and, thank god, the stranglehold releases a bit. As the band themselves put it:
"We decided to end with 'Warm Healer', which is almost soothing. Like saying 'c'mon let's have a hug' after all the trauma"
Despite not being nearly as intense as everything before it, it is an oddly beautiful track that serves as the perfect album closer and, as the thundering bassline of this song slowly fades, you're left with the feeling that you have just experienced something special. It's the sort of record where you can't help but sit and reflect after it's over. You've been through something. What that something was, you're not quite sure. But this is what keeps people coming back.
As a collection of songs, there is much to enjoy. As a treatise on the state of society in this day and age, it's hard to think of many better, or indeed more unsettling, documents. Make no mistake, despite all the great songs on display, this is in no way easy listening. This is music that demands your attention, pulls you in and doesn't let go until the needle lifts. Although it remains revered among Everything Everything fans, it still remains criminally overlooked in the landscape of modern music. A restless, genre-spanning, mind-bending classic that remains one of the finest records of any band in their generation and one that only grows more relevant with each year that passes. A must in any music fan's collection.
★★★★★
JB.
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