David Wimbish and the Collection—Heavy Love

I've been a fan of David's music for a while now, having previously featured "Sermon" and "Almost Who I Am" on two of our podcasts. I knew the album was imminent, so it was a lovely surprise when Friday finally came around and it dropped.

When putting together the skeleton for this review, I found myself having to dig a little deeper than usual when it came to deciding which genres to include. There's definitely a singer/songwriter edge to the album, but there's also a hint of country running through it. Now, country isn't a genre that usually gels with me, especially when it leans into that "gosh, darn, gee" twang, but when the lyrics are delivered with an honest and authentic voice, you can't help but be enamoured.

It was around this time that I came across some suggestions of "Stomp and Holler", which I think is a first for an album featured on Indie Launchpad. Having looked into it a little, and listened again to some of the songs, I can certainly see the connection. There's something about that combination of acoustic instrumentation, foot-stomping rhythms and an almost rootsy energy that makes the description fit rather nicely. You can almost feel your inner clock thumping along, and before long your feet are tapping away too.

The album opens with "Closest Friend" and, while the music feels light and effortless, there's a definite tinge of melancholy running through the lyrics. The clever thing is how the music seems to lift those sentiments, adding a little shine that I'm not quite sure is optimism or hope, but certainly stops the song from dwelling too deeply in the sadness. It's a lovely way to open proceedings and sets the tone for what's to follow.

With 16 tracks on the album, I don't think there's much to be gained from digging into every single one, so instead I wanted to touch on what, for me, are some of the highlights.

I love the lyrics on "Miracle", a tale of watching someone close to you become blindsided by someone who perhaps isn't quite as wonderful as they initially appear. As the song unfolds, the red flags begin to emerge, but sometimes, when you're too close to someone, you simply can't see them. It's a situation I suspect many of us have witnessed, and there's something particularly relatable about watching it play out from the sidelines.

A track that feels deeply personal is "Thank You For Leaving". The music is great, as it consistently is throughout the album, but it's the lyrics that really get me. There's something wonderfully defiant about singing a sarcastic "thank you" to someone who has broken your heart, while simultaneously trying to pick yourself up, push forward and leave the hurt behind. It's a sentiment that could easily become bitter, but there's a sense of resilience here that makes it all the more appealing.

Although relatively short, "Nothing At All" packs quite a punch. Essentially a simple acoustic guitar-led track, there's a defiance running through it that carries the song from beginning to end. Sometimes less really is more, and there's something about its simplicity and delivery that I couldn't help but become attached to.

Probably my favourite track is "Almost Who I Am", which I think was the song that first brought David onto my radar and the first to feature on our podcast. Again, it's the lyrics that initially caught my attention, but as the song opens up, the music provides the perfect accompaniment. Everything comes together beautifully, resulting in a track that cries out to be heard on the radio. Well, perhaps with a little radio edit.

The other track we've previously featured on the podcast is "Sermon", and it's surely one that many people will relate to at various points in their lives. A song about being preached to might not immediately sound like the most enticing subject matter, but there's a wonderful story being told here. It motors along at quite a pace, and with those handclaps thrown into the mix, you soon find yourself tapping along. It's one of those tracks that has an infectious energy and is difficult to sit still through.

When I first heard "Stand By You", with its predominantly piano accompaniment, my immediate thought was of Lewis Capaldi. It's a heartfelt ballad, and I can easily imagine Lewis's voice sitting over the top of it. That's not to suggest it would necessarily make it a better song, but perhaps it's confirmation of just how much emotional weight David manages to pack into it. I could also imagine this being one of those songs that, performed live, would eventually have an audience drowning David out with their enthusiastic singalong. Maybe one day, or maybe it's already happening.

And finally, "Worry" is another more ballad-focused track, but this time with a much more intimate feel. It's a lovely way to bring the album to a close, leaving things on a more reflective note.

I've only had a short while to sit with this album, and the tracks I've pulled out are simply those that made an immediate impression on me. That's in no way intended to throw shade on the remaining songs, which I'm sure will all find their place as I spend more time with the album. With 16 tracks, there's clearly plenty more to discover, and I suspect some of my initial favourites may well change along the way.

This is an album that has felt like it was a while coming, but now that it's finally here, I can see it featuring quite strongly in my listening over the coming weeks and months. It's a thoroughly enjoyable release, and another reminder of why David's music has kept finding its way onto my playlists.