Gaffa Tape Sandy – Hold My Hand, God Damn It | Album Review

It’s apt that this is dropping on the final day of the Spring months. Angry, sharp, frustrated but indisputably warm, the full length from Gaffa Tape Sandy is the soundtrack to a summer of discontent.

The long awaited follow up to the band’s 2019 EP Family Mammal, Hold My Hand, God Damn It – like the name implies – is a bit of a demanding and aggressive record. But given the circumstances it has every right to be. Not only did the pandemic suck the air right from Gaffa Tape Sandy’s sails just as they where about to embark on the EP’s promotional tour, but the years that followed also saw the band being battered by the repetitive waves of modern living as they tried to correct their course. And just as they made their way through the storm of the pandemic – their sails patched and frayed, albeit in one piece – they suddenly, like all of us, found the treasures of youth behind us. Gone where the spoils of the days when one could just play giddy and fuzzy indie-garage-punk all day; it’s a soggy pirates life of taxes, car insurance and trying to remember the right recycling days for ‘ye. But thankfully for us, Gaffa Tape Sandy are the persevering types and this record see’s the Brighton trio channeling that rage into record rich with purpose and hooks.

Whereas the EP aforementioned was an excitable record full of instantly unforgettable earworms and adolescent-like energy, this record is unmistakably made by adults; ones who still cling to youth like faded pearls with burning hatred for the ravaging of age. The opening ‘Body’ and proceeding ‘Scrapbook’ may sound akin to a product of Family Mammal on the surface, but with their slight bite and the former’s lyrical subject about stumbling upon a legitimate dead body and the trauma that follows, the tracks only indicate towards the more aggressive and naturally frustrated drive of Hold My Hand, God Damn It. Third track ‘Dead To Me’ is where the records sinks it’s teeth in however. Whilst the track may be one of the album’s pre-released singles, the snarling, venomous and barked delivery of how Gaffa Tape Sandy address the concept of discarding depleted friendships like carrion is still shocking given how it just comes out of seemingly nowhere. The chipper ‘Evil, Evil, Evil’ may counterpart this resentment, but this initial run of tracks bares witness to Hold My Hand, God Damn It’s best quality; it’s dichotomy between fun poppy hooks and burning frustration.

Gaffa Tape Sandy’s earlier work may be brilliant, but in comparison to this record, it almost feels one-speed. Here, their penchant for writing massive, instantly lovable harmonies remains unchallenged and unfettered (something more than made evident with the breezy ‘Get Off’ and sweat n’ spit teenage fury of ‘Split’) but with this burning sense of drive, these harmonies engineered for good times ultimately feel like they have a genuine purpose. To say that the events of the last five years lit a fire beneath the band could be hyperbolic, but within this record it genuinely feels like Gaffa Tape Sandy are writing music for a reason than just for the fun and thrill. ‘Devour’ and ‘Medicine’ are two brilliant tracks that indicate this. Whilst ‘Medicine’ may be bound by an alt-rock twang that harkens thoughts of acts such as The Menzingers, ‘Devour’ is a downright ferocious melee that see’s the band clawing their way into almost metal pastures. In fact, so frantic is it’s fretwork, so raw is it’s vocals and so damn belligerent is it’s haste that there’s no doubt it’s going to raise a few eyebrows. But with it’s placement within the track-listing, it perfectly encapsulates the flow of the record and bares witness to this band’s growth as people and creatives.

But regardless of the simmering-to-flaring coals burning within the engine of this album, ultimately, Hold My Hand, God Damn It is still the product of Gaffa Tape Sandy. This is the same band we all loved shouting along to after one too many cans of Hooch half a decade ago, but like all of us, they have been changed by the passage into true adulthood. But rather hide behind a youthful facade, they have leaned into the altering nature of with genuine with new-found dynamism. No doubt the 2019 version of this act would struggle to write something as tender as the plucked existentialism of ‘Holding Hands’ or the reverb-clad rumination on one’s place in a fractured society that is closer ‘Queasy’. Here, Gaffa Tape Sandy demonstrate tremendous growth and find real purpose whilst reattaining their ability for massive summertime hooks. The may have been robbed of their wind in 2019, but with this, they’re no doubt going to find nothing but momentum.