Dom Lawson 

Lonely the Brave: The Day’s War review – slightly wet, fists-in-the-air stadium rock

Lonely The Brave's stadium rock debut is credible, but a little hackneyed, writes Dom Lawson
  
  

Lonely the Brave
Featherweight angst … Lonely the Brave. Photograph: Danny North Photograph: Danny North/PR

Emerging from the dewy-eyed haze found between the shimmering guitars of shoegaze and the winsome bluster of post-hardcore, Lonely the Brave sound very much like a band with both integrity and success high on the agenda. Much like their most obvious forebears Biffy Clyro, this Cambridge quartet specialise in anthems designed to fill arenas, but with a very pointed caveat that what they do remains several proud steps away from well-worn mainstream rock tropes. At their best, they nail this tricky balancing act with the skill of shrewd veterans: both Trick of the Light and The Blue, the Green have huge, fists-in-the-air choruses, and only the hardest of hearts could resist the brittle emoting of Victory Line or the elegant sentiment and sombre gait of Dinosaurs. Unfortunately, much of The Day's War relies too heavily on overly familiar chord sequences and featherweight angst, and it swiftly becomes hard not to yearn for a dash of the Biffy boys' brutish angularity to toughen things up a bit. Very much a band of their time, Lonely the Brave will doubtless be huge in a year or two anyway, and this provides a credible, if slightly wet, statement of intent.

 

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