Manchester group False Advertising returns with their recently released and long-awaited new album, The Sorry Window.
With the COVID pandemic coming shortly after the release of their debut album – 2019’s Brainfreeze (released via the legendary Alcopop! Records) – everything kind of went to pot (as with much of the rest of the world).
As a result, plans changed, momentum shifted, and the band had to regroup and go again. They spent their time whittling away at a new body of work between various spaces in their home city and North London’s Church Studios. Over the course of its 11 songs, the band touches on self-doubt, insecurity, denial, imposter syndrome, regret and much more. Clearly a labour of love and a battle of attrition, this album obviously did not come easily, but we’re very glad it did.
Led by songwriter, vocalist, guitarist and drummer Jen Hingley (who also co-produced the album and directed and edited the band’s most recent video – is there anything she can’t do?!) and with Josh Sellers providing bass, the album opens with Narrow. A thundering, grungey, alt-rock stomper that recalls bands like Nine Black Alps, Biffy Clyro and The Used. Clocking in at just under three and a half minutes, it’s a perfect slice of rock energy and is ideal as an album opener.
Narrow gives way to the recent single Acid Rain. At four seconds longer than the song that preceded it, we’re quickly noticing a pattern here. On this one, the energy is dialled up, and the tempo increases. It starts impactfully – with a powerful burst of instrumentation that eventually melts into a minimal, bassy throb in the verse, reminiscent of classic Pixies. By the time the simple but anthemic sing-along chorus comes in (the refrain of “and I feeeeel, it fall on me like acid raaaiiin” is instantly iconic), we’re in high voltage, full-throttle territory. With instrumental elements that are reminiscent of well-established American acts like Fall Out Boy or My Chemical Romance, as well as UK cult-faves The Subways, it’s not hard to see why this was chosen as a single.
Don’t Ask Me is a fuzzy, groovy, almost-funky track that takes the pace down a little. It’s full of snakey attitude, slinky vibes and smooth panache – coming across a bit like St Vincent, Jen’s vocal sounds massive. Every part of the tune feels perfectly measured and finely poised. Put together brilliantly, this was another prior single, although initially released a good while ago, way back in July 2024.
Falling Apart Forever takes the grungey vibe up a notch as it begins, and it doesn’t take long before it switches up to full-blown epic. Employing Pixies/Nirvana-esque quiet/loud dynamics to excellent effect, it oscillates between subtle and soaring. Overflowing with energy and character, it is instantly lovable and thoroughly undeniable.
Weak Ties is the most subdued the band have been so far. Gently pulsating and beautifully bubbling, it employs electronic drums and keys in addition to their usual mélange of instruments to add depth to their sound and another string to their bow. Delicate and weary, it feels heartfelt and earnest and reminds us a bit of a more tender version of Deftones in its overall mood.
The title track follows and begins with a post-punky bassline and percussion pairing. It feels propulsive and urgent as it begins, and it grows in both scope and size over the course of its duration. Jen employs a gentler vocal than what we’ve become accustomed to in the verses, and this is accompanied by more reserved instrumentation – less distortion and more clarity. In the chorus – and indeed at the conclusion – the whole thing ramps up and leaves you wanting more. Fortunately, we’re only halfway through the album at this stage.
Up next is You’ll Never which – with its combination of pounding drums and choppy riffs – feels pretty brutal. Almost nu-metal-like in the verses, it explodes into an alt-rock/grunge chorus that will leave you thinking about it long after its three minutes and twenty-two seconds have elapsed.
The Cold Open is a 42-minute synth-led interlude that feels like it’d be perfect for the opening credits for an atmospheric drama or perhaps a supernatural series. Or maybe a specific kind of video game menu… With ethereal vocals and minimal instrumentation, it creates a sense of ambient foreboding that leads into the recent single Next Big Thing.
A relentless piece of work, Next Big Thing is made up of rapid-fire vocals, fuzzier than thou bass, buzzsaw guitar and persistent, machine gun drums. Seemingly a tongue-in-cheek jab at the shark tank that is the music industry, it’s full of sharp wit and unmitigated vim and vigour. We bet this goes incredibly hard when heard live. We’ll have to keep our eyes peeled for London shows…
The penultimate track – Leave It Alone – bucks the three and a half minute album trend and clocks in at a comparatively hefty 4:53. Stylistically, it’s a bit of a left turn, but nowhere near as much as the song that follows – more on that in a bit. An uncharacteristically slow burner, it employs a reduced pace for the first minute and a half until the chorus kicks in. Or should that be kicks your face in? Jen yells “you wouldn’t leave it alone, no, no” and you feel like you’re potentially listening to the sound of rather intense regret – oh, the things we would undo if only we were given the opportunity to go again. What sounds like a violin is used here, which adds a lovely bit of tonal variety to an album that has a very distinct musical palette and identity – which is, of course, no bad thing – but a little deviation at this stage is rather welcome.
Closer High Ground (no, not that Higher Ground) is by some way the band’s poppiest moment. With electronic drums and bouncy, lightweight instrumentation and sweet vocals, it feels worlds apart from what has preceded it – almost like it would be at home on an Olivia Rodrigo album. The vocals remind us of Jenny Lewis – one of our favourites – at certain points, which we didn’t expect. But aren’t mad at.
A forceful, formidable, feverish sophomore album, False Advertising has undoubtedly cemented their place in the modern rock scene. The only way is up, we reckon.
Written by Kinda Grizzly
