By Monk

Artwork for The House Next Door by Craggy CollydeI live in a terraced Victorian townhouse. I have done for almost 30 years. When I first moved in, the people who lived in the houses next door, and next door to that, and next door again, were a mixture of elderly folks, most of whom had lived their entire lives in the same house (and would go on to do just that…) and young families just starting out on their first journey in life… Of course, as with most inner city areas, gentrification and studentification has changed the demographic quite substantially, and while the young families have started to return to the area, so too have the Air B’nB owners and unscrupulous private landlords also moved in on their respective pieces of the property action…

So, what has this pre-ambling commentary on social housing strategy in central Belfast got to do with the debut album from transnational punk rock stortytellers Craggy Collyde? Well, quite a bit actually, as ‘The House Next  Door’ harkens back to that era of three decades past, taking us on a blues-infused, punked-up, vodka-fuelled journey that is as retrospective as it is progressive as it is retrospective, eviscerating as it is enervating, as joyous as it is melancholic and all the while explorative and revelatory.

Crossing generic borders, switching from the Only Ones evoking ‘Do You Dream?’ and ‘I Don’t Think About It’ to the Stooges-infused ‘Hold Your Head Up High’ to the neo-noir acoustics of the title track or the folkish ‘Buried At Sea’ quicker than the AEW can transition a heel to a hero, ‘The House Next Door’ is an emotional and emotive, heartfelt ride into the darkest and brightest depths of the human soul, showcasing Craggy’s beatific and beautiful sense of lyrical incision and irony.

I might not like some of my new neighbours, but I definitely could get on with the ones who inhabit this particular house next door… I’ll bring the whiskey if they provide the vodka \m/

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