It sounds oxymoronic to say, but there’s a wonderful pessimism about Fightmilk that makes questioning (almost) every aspect of the world around you, fun? The London quartet’s follow up to 2021’s Contender is part social commentary, part break up advice, part blind rage, and mostly excellent.
The indie pop/punk crossovers take approximately 20 seconds before pointing their first finger on opener ‘Summer Bodies’, setting the tone for a record stacked with both whit and truth. Vocalist Lily Rae sounds almost morose as she exclaims “summer bodies are made when you hate yourself”; her outlook on the social media trend doesn’t become any more optimistic from there. It does however surround itself with a sumptuous, looping bass line that makes every declarative aimed at her target undeniably infectious.
Similar to how The Menzingers are able to take the lyrically misery inducing and make you beat your chest while you bellow every word, Fightmilk often juxtapose the topic with its backdrop. ‘Back From Tour’, a detailed depiction of the damage distance can cause to a relationship, has absolutely no right to be as heartwarming a listen as it is. And yet, the second Alex Wisgard lays down his summer-time, peak Two Door Cinema Club pick riff you’re transported to euphoria. That’s not to suggest there’s a denialism at play though, Rae spends the tracks’ bridge gorgeously bellowing “it shouldn’t be this tough, if it’s something that you love” it’s effortlessly great, and will hit home with, well, everyone?
Though it’s true that no one appears safe from their cutting comments for a majority of the record, it’s on ‘Eating For Two’ when Lily Rae fully takes the handcuffs off. It’s a scathing attack on the expectations of women with a side of rustic, dreamscape instrumentation. Rae laments the perceptions of others with the sarcastic “I could hibernate, I could live in the dark” before the shackles are fully unleashed for her most potent diatribe of No Souvenirs twelve tracks.
Perhaps the record’s most intelligent four minutes though comes in the way of ‘Canine’, Rae goes out of her way to dispel the idea that the track is an extended metaphor for interpersonal relationships. But even if this is simply an anthropomorphistic tale of dogs behaving badly, there’s a delicacy, a vulnerability to the songs stripped back yet open tonality. It brings an air of tranquillity and peace to a record that usually demands participation and analysis. Try to stop yourself singing along with Rae’s chimes of “you might be a little more bark and a little less bite”, it’s a mighty task.
Elsewhere, self-critique is explored on ‘Yearning and Pining’, the positives to the end of adolescence are energised on ’12-30’ and the title track reminds you that there may not be a greater purpose for either this record, or us being on the planet, and that’s okay. No Souvenirs is a smorgasbord of raw emotion, musical intelligence, juxtaposition and realism all wrapped into twelve songs that remind you that feeling bitterness may not be a bad thing after all. It’s certainly going to help Fightmilk on their quest across Britain and beyond.