The Brighton-based trio Lowcocks is laying it all out again on “MayDay,” a tightly coiled, guitar band-style firecracker that feels like it’s down mid-crisis from a dive bar on some orbiting Saturn.
“MayDay” gets right into the whirlpool of its manic urgency. From the opening snare crack, The Lowcocks are not so much reintroducing themselves as a band who need to let off some steam post-album but as a group doubling down on wildness with intent. The jittery, hard-to-chase guitar work that marked Contender is still front and center nervy, sharply cut, and nearly mechanical in its insistence, while the bassline skulks down the center of the track like it knows something you don’t. The drums? They may as well be recorded in a burning building.
But beneath all the panic, the greatest weapon of The Lowcocks is melody. “MayDay” doesn’t merely thrash. It sings. A pop sensibility runs through all the tension, a hook that sticks even when everything around it seems to be spinning apart. It is the counterbalance that The Lowcocks perfected on their last record. The song is like something you’d send mid-freefall, half distress signal, half adrenaline shot. It’s not only a call for help but a dare to survive the plunge. You can practically see the smoke trails when the thumb of the fist-raising chorus comes in, driven by vocals that sound 50-50 desperate and defiant.
The deal doesn’t just get turned on “MayDay”. It gets ripped off entirely and tossed into the sea. It’s adrenalizing, a lean, chaotic anthem for anyone who finds themselves at their best near the edge of falling apart, and proof that the Lowcocks are not just staying in the ring but are ready to begin the next fight.