Paradise
It doesn't come much more grim than life in a gritty, remote Scottish city like Aberdeen. So says northeast native Ross Gordon, anyway, vocalist with rising, heart-on-sleeve rock four-piece, Cold Years. If you want a sense of the true sound of youth disaffection in post-Brexit Britain, look no further. This summer, the band will finally release their highly anticipated debut album Paradise – a title bearing more than a suggestion of sarcastic snarl to go along with the considerable bite found on the music contained within. "Our hometown is a shithole," Ross spits, with characteristically direct candour. "The album is called Paradise because Aberdeen is not a paradise. It's horrible, it's grey, and it's cold all the time. We all live and work here, and it's not very happy. It's quite morbid when you stop to think about it. But at the same time, it's home." Unlike the often-bleak subject matter that inspired them, however, the songs of Paradise burst from the speakers with a 'clear eyes, full hearts, can't lose' soul, spring boarding off timelessly vintage-tinged sounds, fueled by lung-busting choruses and buffed-up with a thoroughly modern-day, blue-collar punk rock sheen. It's a proud rock'n'roll record, capturing with unflinching honesty a world that offers little reason for hope, even if the songs sound anything but hopeless.