Gloriously heavy, gloriously silly, and yet with a point never far away from the arched-eyebrow delivery, Soft Play (the band formerly known as Slaves) return with their first album in six years, and their first under the new name. While the name may have changed, little has changed beneath the hood, with the multi-talented duo of Isaac Holman and Laurence Vincent dispensing eleven tracks in just 29-minutes. With the fantastically vitriolic Punk’s Dead having led the charge by over a year, there was a danger that, by the time Heavy Jelly finally dropped, it’s sting would have long been drawn, but with ten equally charged tracks, such fears have proven unfounded, and Heavy Jelly lands as one of the best punk albums since Idles dropped Joy As An Act Of Resistance.
You have to wonder what a global audience will make of album opener All Things, given that it kicks off with a nod to a hymn that will resonate with anyone who channel surfed on a Sunday afternoon, skipping over the irritatingly banal Hymns Of Praise, but never quickly enough to miss the opening bars. Of course, it doesn’t last and, highlighting the increasingly polarised nature of British society circa 2024, the choral prologue gives way to a grinding anthem that sees Isaac screaming contradictions over a vicious, cyclical riff. It’s followed by the brilliant Punk’s Dead, which has Isaac pulling lines from Instagram in the wake of the band’s name change. It stands as one of the most thrillingly genuine and funny ripostes to be drawn from the social media generation, while Robbie Williams’ guest spot is absolutely inspired. Keeping the album moving at a brisk pace, the duo launch themselves into Act Violently, which has more than a hint of Sleaford Mods washed through its lyrics, and it’s hard not to identify with Isaac’s deftly chosen targets. Meanwhile, the chorus with its incongruously cheery melody does its best to batter its way into your brain. The vituperative Isaac Is Typing… is a stream of consciousness presented as a mid-tempo punk rock stomp, complete with dizzying chorus built around a nasty descending riff. Then, just to emphasise the frequent banality of life, the first half wraps up with the wholly and brilliantly ridiculous Bin Juice Disaster, which describes the titular episode in wince-inducing detail.
Opening up the second half, the bristling Worms On The Tarmac is a punk rock throwback that, production tricks notwithstanding, could easily be hauled from the spit-encrusted late 70s. An anthem for a hero whose ability to cause carnage is on a par with Soft Play’s live shows, John Wick emerges from a squall of feedback and then relates the story of the first film with visceral power. Next up, we get one of the band‘s heaviest cuts. Titled Mirror Muscles, it’s brilliantly catchy, even if the video makes you want to wash your eyes out with bleach [watch below at your peril], the dark groove the band deploy recalling a heavier version of De Staat’s equally catchy Sweat Shop. The scratchy Working Title is more of a surprise, not least because it taps into the sort of robo-rock found on QOTSA’s Era Vulgaris, only with Isaac’s punk sneer replacing Josh Homme’s dark croon, although the Beatles-esque conclusion allows an unexpected sliver of heartbreak to creep through the barrage. With the album racing towards its conclusion, The Mushroom And The Swan is a simplistic stomp destined to set the pit alight, especially when the chorus kicks in. Everything seems to be business as usual, only for the mushrooms to land, resulting in Isaac talking to himself over a psychedelic backdrop that induces a contact high. Perhaps surprisingly, it proves to be the band’s last scream, as Heavy Jelly ends with the sweetly folky Everything And Nothing – a gorgeous, heartbroken finale that sounds like Hot Water Music covering R.E.M.
A varied, vibrant album, Heavy Jelly sees Soft Play emerge from the lengthy shadow of their former name stronger, better, and more original than ever. Often funny, occasionally poignant, but always interesting, it’s one of those albums you can listen to a hundred times and find something different every time. As such, Heavy Jelly emerges as one of those rare albums where the hype is fully justified, and Soft Play deserve every plaudit headed their way. 9/10
