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Radiator Hospital - "Watching A Fire" | Album Review

by John Brouk

For those who observe the changing of seasons based on whatever decorations are currently being displayed in stores, you may have noticed that fall is fast approaching. If you are ready for fall, you may consider revisiting the exceptional Watching a Fire EP, that Philly based-DIY pop punks Radiator Hospital released last October.

This record served as the fourth quarter follow-up, a little "something extra," to the band's latest album, Can't Make Any Promises, which was released in March of 2023. Watching a Fire has more of the band's trademark homespun warmth and lo-fi charm, where sweet pop rock tunes coexist with more solemn introspective moments. Radiator Hospital can do a whole lot in five songs, with an impressive arch of emotions and musical timbres.

The crackly, lo-fi warmth hits you immediately with opening track "Don't Tempt Me," who's brittle and crunchy guitars rhythmically strum while taciturn electric piano notes dot across the sonic canvas and melodic and condensed vocals deliberate on the struggles of decision making. This combination of fuzzy punk aesthetic and catchy melody is also found on album standout "Sweetness of Yr Vision," a 90's-esque slacker rock bop with tight vocal harmonies weaving poetic lines of a mystical love.

Songs like "Human" shift the EP into different, darker territory as droning and fuzzed out guitars and keys, along with punctuated snare hits, amalgamate into a soupy, gloomy groove. Lyrically this song contemplates a fear of exploitation, in being nothing more than a means to an end. The titular track acts as a pastoral, instrumental reprieve with sustained keys crossing paths with electric piano arpeggios and a meandering bass line that feels like you are watching fish lazily swim around a slightly dirty living room aquarium.

For the EP's final track, the band offers up "Here At The End," whose electric piano tones and distorted overlapping guitar solos bring to mind On the Beach-era Neil Young. An appropriately moody end to a record characterized by its alternating emotions and energy levels. Much like the act of enjoying an autumnal bonfire with friends, Watching a Fire is a warm and crackly intimate experience whose lo-fi charm brings out the soul of these songs, and like the mesmerizing ability of fire, will have you wanting to continue to stay in this space, re-listening to this comforting and contemplative twelve minutes of music.