The Royal Tunbridge Well duo’s four album is a solid return, featuring a heavy, abrasive punk-metal sound that lacks sugar coating.
Punk duo SOFT PLAY have had quite the career to date. The Royal Tunbridge Wells band – formed of Isaac Holman and Laurie Vincent – were initially called SLAVES and released their much celebrated debut album Are You Satisfied in 2015. Upon release, they suddenly found themselves darlings of BBC Radio 1 and later receiving a Mercury Prize nomination for their efforts.
After a further two records, the band appeared to go on a hiatus in 2018, returning in 2022 to reveal a name change from SLAVES to SOFT PLAY stating, “the name 'Slaves' is an issue [and] doesn't represent who we are as people or what our music stands for any longer.”
After six years between albums, the pair’s new album HEAVY JELLY is a solid return, typically featuring a heavy, abrasive punk-metal sound that lacks sugar coating. There’s also plenty of the welcomed (and unfiltered) lyrical charm of their past. The album opens with the blissful sounds of a church choir on ‘All Things’ before a dirty riff and Holman’s shouty vocals (“I’m the nicest d***head you’ve ever met”) enters the fray to pour a bucket of cold water over any pleasantries.
Explosive, irony-filled comeback single ‘Punk’s Dead’ slaps hard two tracks in and is a moment that the rest of the record struggles to live up to, however – an irony-filled statement on their controversial name change and not one the feint hearted (“What the ****’s up with a new name anyway? / Soft play, more like soft ****”).
The following preview singles ‘Act Violently’ and ‘Mirror Muscles’ did struggle to match the punch of the above and wearily pass by on the record itself. But it’s the run of three sub-two minute punk tracks – ‘Bin Juice Disaster’, ‘Worms on Tarmac’ and ‘John Wick’ – that win this album around for the casual listener. Quirky and quick-witted punk tales, creating a draw in their absurdness and anger.
The grief-filled final track ‘Everything and Nothing’ later takes an emotional left turn, carried by a sweet mandolin riff contrasting to Holman’s strained vocal delivery. Written during lockdown, it has the duo reflect on their intense and tragic journey that has seen them experience the loss of close figures. After a highly charged 25-minutes to this point, the closer is a beautiful moment of reflection and despair.
Overall, HEAVY JELLY struggles to match the high bar set on the duo’s nine year old debut, but there’s a heap of charm and punk edge throughout to keep you entertained, while the finale see’s them venture into emotive depths unimaginable before the name change. So RIP SLAVES and long live the SOFT PLAY. We have high hopes for you.
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