Fresh
Withdraw
(Specialist Subject)
There are a few album covers in the
music collection I’ve been amassing for the last 35 years or so that are
photographs taken from inside a home looking toward a window or two. There is something so appealing and intimate about
this. From the get go, one feels invited
and welcomed. As I listen to Withdraw for the 400th time
this week, I find myself getting lost in the cover photo. I feel like I’m visiting an old friend, sitting
in a comfy chair looking out the windows towards the setting sun. I’m admiring how the plants’ leaves turn
toward the light and wish I could absorb it’s nurturing power in the same way.
Withdraw is
the second album from UK four piece Fresh,
and once again, I am catching up with another band (debut album ordered!). Not only is this album as inviting as the
cover suggests, with its sharp, short, bright pop songs, but songwriter Kathryn Woods’ lyrics are as intimate
and personal as a conversation with your best friend. It all feels very real and powerful. A lot of bands have the upbeat/happy albums,
or more accurately, happy and or sad songs, or there’s the very serious
depressing songs that sound upbeat and joyful, but Fresh cram all of these
things into two minute songs without sacrificing melodicism. The clearest example of this is the exciting
and momentous sounding “Nervous Energy,” where the first verse feels triumphant
(“giving hi-fives out of a moving van / trying to soak up every moment I can”),
but then we quickly learn in the second verse that maybe this move is not so
welcome (“wishing things we back to what they were / feeling suicidal nobody
cares”), and that something is deeply wrong.
There is a sense of uncomfortable transition and of low self-esteem
throughout this brief album, along with a strong determination to overcome these
issues that make Fresh defiant and powerful, instead of pitiful. A move is again tackled in the endlessly
catchy “Going to Brighton,” but this time Woods tackles the notion with a
positive tenacity (“I feel a fire inside me” / “I refuse to be let down”). On “In Over My Head” Woods admits that she’s
looking for security, despite the move (“I just wanna feel safe in my own bed /
the rest of my life beckons up ahead / I’ve just got to embrace it”). On the other hand, in “New Girl,” Woods is
restless and doesn’t want to stay put as her depression sets in (“woke up last
night / with tears in my eyes / because I am fundamentally unlovable / packing
an overnight bag / wish I could never come back”).
Elsewhere, the beautifully touching
acoustic “Nothing” breaks hearts with the repeated refrain “everyday I tell
myself that I am nothing,” yet again, Woods fights this with the hope that one
day she will tell herself that she is “glowing.” For those of us with that negative self-opinion,
this is easier said than done, but you can sense her determination to make it
happen which feels incredibly encouraging, as does that lovely soothing trumpet
at the end. In the breezy “No Thanks,”
we find Kathryn taking a firm stand regarding her resiliency and strength (“I
am fire and light / I am fine on my own”), despite her insecurities.
I find this all so damn relatable,
because even though I feel a strong sense of doom and gloom weighing me down
pretty much all of the time, I find that I can still laugh and find moments of
joy and functionality. I’m sure I’m not
on my own with this and it is incredibly refreshing to encounter such vibrant
music adorning these nakedly honest lyrics.
Withdraw is a fun album to
crank up the volume out in the summer sunshine, and it can also keep you
company with understanding through those moments when you’re having “dark
thoughts again.”
I’m tapping into the lyrics here,
perhaps too much, because these kids bring the tunes! There is a tangible joy in their performances
that infuse these songs with electricity.
Myles McCabe’s guitar work is
stellar throughout, while the rhythm section of George Phillips (bass) and Daniel
Goldberg (drums) are tight. The
opening title track feels like a crashing mess – not far removed from flirting’s psychological dramas, while “Willa”
begs for frequent repeated listens at high volume, and I can’t get through this
without acknowledging the “Summer Nights” (Grease)
referencing pop song “Punisher.”
I cannot recommend Withdraw enough! Meanwhile, I will continue listening to the
album, as I gaze out the windows on the cover and wait for my copy of the first
album to arrive in the mail.
Fresh "Going to Brighton"
