Regal Cheer – Cans | Album Review

Looking back, it’s almost hysterical how many of us where begging for the return of normality – if one can call modern living that – when lockdown came barreling down.

Maybe it was just the return of a comfortable albeit dull routine that we all yearned for. Funny, how we longed for lives of 9-5 work weeks punctuated by silent commutes, searching for escapism via scrolling social media in the bathroom and buying Tesco meal deals just because we can’t be arsed to make lunch the night before work. Days of saying the exact same thing to bus drivers, collogues and friends. ‘Hows work, hows life?’, an acquaintance might ask at pub. Grinding, replies one’s inner monologue impulsively. Despite it being something we once longed for, working life is rubbish. However, thanks where thanks are due, because it also gives us Cans; the brilliant new record from Brighton’s Regal Cheer.

Composed of ten carbonated shots of effervescent indie-punk and clocking in at just shy of 18 minutes in total, Cans isn’t exactly what one would call an epic; at least not in the classical sense of the word. But such is the entire point of this record. Optimised for an age where every single second of spare time must be savoured, this is an album that distills the timeless joy of those sweat-and-lager scented shows where soul crushing monotony is briefly forgotten. As the opening shoves and barrages of ‘P.P.L’, ‘Castanets’, ‘Ante’ and ‘Feet Glued’ prove, every millisecond of this album is utilised to it’s full effect.

Forged of equal parts of frustration of energy, these tracks breathe a profound and ultimately relatable sense of urgency that comes from having the best years of live rented to someone else, something Regal Cheer exercise here with the unfiltered and unrestrained kind of DIY punk comparable to the likes of Buds., Brutalligators and fellow two-piece Origami Angel. As the two members that form this band scream out of their frustration and release their bottled tension with overt passion, it’s nigh on impossible to relate to their dread and desire for escapism to the point where one feels like they’re intimately occupying the same wavelength as the pair.

But of course, whilst this record may be interpreted as a liberation from the soul eroding grind of monotony, to call it a record that urges one to blindly escape the daily cycles of the life would be a fallacy. Instead, it’s one that accepts that the binding nature of work is nigh-on impossible to flee from. There’s no false promises of life beyond the grind, just comfort in that where not alone sat at our desks and counters. A highly subtle level of ennui is present beneath the ceaseless energy here courtesy of this, but that only amplifies the highly relatable sense of urgent frustration in this record. As the duo scream ‘please tell me there’s more to life than this, please tell me there’s more to life than what’s happening now’ within the more restrained ‘Forest’ and as the band detail how paying one’s rent on time marks a sign of a life well lived on the frantic and seething ‘Good Life’, one can just taste the bile and feel the energy of a bottled frustration and resentment.

As Cans comes a scrappy close with the punk melee of ‘Behavioural Patterns’ and the shout-along bellows of ‘On The Ground’ – one of the longest tracks on this record at two and a half minutes – one will undoubtedly feel rejuvenated come the end of this brilliant record. In a time where many bands are trying to pedal false narratives of living their best lives, with this record Regal Cheer have roughly and intimately captured the zeitgeist of surviving but not truly living in the modern day. A true breath of fresh air, this record is perfect as a pick me up just before another teams meeting that could have been an email and will no doubt soundtrack some of the most life-affirming gigs in the not so distant future. A crucial listen for anyone into modern DIY punk or true, honest and catchy music in any form.