Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 8.5/10
The shotgun response, the smell of cordite and the taste of vinyl hanging in the air, both delivered by the bang, by the initial thump of interest and the cackle of smoke hopefully left behind as they approach their targets. The 45 can be both lethal weapon and defender of the faith, of those that huddle behind it lapping up the possible devastation or those that live for the next note; either can stop the heart, either can make you regret past opinions and once held beliefs, only the vinyl 45 can hold hope when listened to all the way through.
For The Lonely Polar Bear, Martyn Carson and Phil Reilly, 45 is a number that cuts both ways, the feel of the shotgun, the revolving barrel that spins and perhaps holds a loaded hit, or at least a song that will be forever enjoyed as part of a set, all possibilities are to be heard and a the first song to be released of their forthcoming E.P. one that holds the standard high for the band.
The upbeat and the intriguing lyrics hold a kind of dominance over the listener that makes them unsure on which way to truly turn, a specialised skill when it comes to a song which could throw up more deliberations in its word play that first realised. The 45, the seasoned track on offer is such that it both disturbs the thought and embraces life in the same instance, a similar feeling that comes with many a great band’s truest moments, one delved in truth and deception. It is a feeling captured by the two musicians during the song, the meaning well hidden right through to the final obliterating beat and one that catches the listener off guard.
Music, like any type of art, is meant to comfort the afflicted and threaten the certain, 45 is perfectly adept at this and comes across as brave, gallant and full of drive, a track that is elegant but ferocious, a song so plumb it can build a wall that divides opinion on its meaning; a knock out track.
Ian D. Hall