by Nick Johnson (@nicholas.com.au)
There was a palpable air of surprise and delight when Standing Around Alive, a new Possible Humans record, popped up on Bandcamp one morning in October 2025. I had spent some time with the band in Melbourne and Sydney earlier in the year, and there was not a peep from anyone about a surprise release in store. For the band themselves, it was an exciting thing to keep under wraps, and a more fun way to approach the record than the usual drudgery of pre-release marketing. A surprise release that is rightfully lauded by fans in its epoch is no mean feat.
For anyone outside their local audience, the time between records only raised the question as to whether they'd emerge again – this somewhat mysterious post-punk adjacent group with an obvious appreciation for power-pop and King Crimson. The truth is, lifting the veil on this band was as simple as attending a live show, where their unreleased material would spend a few years forged in their live set, with some songs that would stretch and warp into extended improvisation before wrapping up nicely with a chorus that last appeared at least ten minutes ago.
This approach was favoured for their first record, 2019’s Everybody Split, but it was largely eschewed in favour of honing the material in the studio this time around with a more selective approach to live shows. By the time they played the new material at Sydney’s Nag! Nag! Nag! Festival with a straight face and no indication of what was to come, they were already a well oiled machine. They somehow managed all this in between bouts playing in other Melbourne bands like Gold Class and The Stroppies, giving the songs enough breathing space to be as fully fleshed out as they could be without giving in to the extended scrutiny that recording over a long period of time can be susceptible to.
For the faithful the wait was worth it, and for the healthily cynical it was more than imaginable. With no advance single to speak of the record shines as a unit, with every songwriter firing on all cylinders. The group sound more dynamic this time around, with a more full sound owing to the magic ears of recording engineer and label owner Al MacFarlane. The group also maintain their multi-songwriter approach, with contributions from just about every member, including the return of drummer Mark Hewitt, whose last effort on lead was their 2016 single “Cuz”. He returns here with “Dumb Cunts Bluff,” one of the more playfully psychedelic pieces on the record. His solo work as Nth Wheel is somewhat reminiscent of Honey Radar, if a little more measured in its flirtations with saccharine paisley worship. Neither are about to break out into their satanic majesties electric boogaloo, but their appreciation for this particular quadrant of the four P’s is there if you’re looking for it.
Guitarist Steve Hewitt takes his songs into unexpected left turns at a more galloping pace. The record's most dextrous fretwork is perhaps most evident on Steve's songs, notably the half-bar-in-advance resolution of “Ordinary Agony,” and again in “Dream of Time,” where a whimsical coda gives way to the ambience of Australian native fauna. It's a lovely way to finish Side A for anyone lucky enough to snag a physical copy. You'll be amazed where that song goes in seven minutes.
The most all out power-pop contributions come from bassist Leon Cranswick, who penned the absolute heavyweight tune “Feel Shit Hit,” his first on lead for the group. The rest come from Sam Tapper, whose live show energy is lifted and subverted by his freedom to roam the stage and floor without an instrument while the band locks in. He deftly splits the line between frantic and aloof whilst also delivering the more heartfelt, syrupy power pop numbers that you’ll undoubtedly double take at. This is the group’s strongest mode. You'll feel your heartstrings tug as “Slouching Hat” builds to its final climax, and again on “Claws In” for what is perhaps one of the most heartfelt moments on the record - “I’m missing that high I used to feel inside”. If you’re living in the same reality as the rest of us, it will hit you like a train.
There is a sense of earnesty and confidence across this record that makes it an incredibly endearing listen. A lot of rock music’s more hedonistic heyday may have its foundations built in virtuosity and showmanship, but it is just as engaging when treated as a series of musical stunts - a dud bend on a guitar solo, a chord resolution that doesn’t quite land. This is the beauty of creation and expression, the anticipation of whether something will resonate. It’s impossible to listen to this record without feeling the sheer satisfaction of every stunt landing with aplomb and finesse.
Power-pop’s foundations are in songs that make your heart swell, that put you in a reflective mood that can help you process your feelings about the world and your place in it. There’s often a romantic aspect, but it’s a less essential component these days. That is to say, songs like “Slouching Hat,” “Feel Shit Hit” and “Akimbo” will have you rooting for the little guy, internalizing the tension and release that the harmonies in these songs offer. You will have a moment in your life where you reach for “Feel Shit Hit,” and when you do, let it all out.